It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from Off the Rack, an upcoming novella that I’m serializing for my newsletter readers.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
If there is one place a person should not see the engagement announcement of his rotten, filthy cheating ex it’s at a wedding.
Leave it to Desmond to ruin even this little soiree. It wasn’t like I got invited to a lot of my co-workers parties. They seemed to think I was off-putting which was ludicrous. I chalked their dislike to simple jealousy. I was a tall, thin, rich, handsome, out-and-proud gay Asian-American who had not only attended IFA Paris but graduated top of my class. No sooner had I tossed my mortarboard then Joy Ann Ping had headhunted me for her fashion design team at Pings & Things, a clothing company with the LGBTQ+ perspective at the fore. In under a year I’d been named Joy Ann’s junior head of the highly coveted urban youth department as well as dipping my fingers into ladies evening wear. I’d even designed a gown for Ashely Laine, the star of the longest running soap opera on American television, The Bold and the Brazen. It had gotten rave reviews when she walked the carpet at the Daytime Emmy’s. Morgan Hara was just about as perfect as his grandmother claimed he was.
Other than my lisp and the fact that my fucking ex-boyfriend was now engaged to the man I’d seen him sucking off – in my shower – not a month ago. Jocks. I swear I will never date another athlete ever again. No matter how good they look bare naked.
“You weren’t as good in bed as I claimed you were,” I snapped at the picture of one tall Black man and one teensy bottle-blond, White man making kissy faces while showing off their matching platinum bands. A server walked past carrying a tray of pink champagne. Oh yes, a toast to the groom and groom was coming up. God help us all. Weddings. Miserable things. I knew I should have stayed home and shampooed the vomit my cat had graced me with this morning out of the carpet. This is what happens when you’re kind to co-workers. They invite you to things. “Give me that.” I reached for the tray. The server’s dark eyes flared. A small skirmish broke out which I won because I won at every fucking thing. “Go now. Shoo.”