Coasting Read online

  Coasting

  By Yvonne Trent

  What happens when you need something but don’t know what it is? Why not look in a place you never heard of?

  Out and proud elementary school teacher Cal Hamilton thought he was happy in Philadelphia, but after a breakup, he steps back to reassess his life and discovers something is missing. He gets in his car and drives south with no idea what he hopes to find. The flip of a coin leads him to a small town in Mississippi—practically a different world from the city where he grew up.

  Police officer Billy Labarre keeps his sexuality mostly to himself, but he knows just what he needs to fill the hole in his quiet small-town life: the right man. Unfortunately attitudes toward gay men still leave a lot to be desired in the rural South, and it’s hard to meet someone. It’s not likely his perfect match is just going to show up out of the blue….

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  By Yvonne Trent

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  THANK YOU to my sister-in-law, who I’ll just call B, lifelong resident of Ocean Springs, MS. She helped me with material I’d forgotten since the few years I lived there. Even now, forty years later, I still make time to ride around Front Beach, East Beach, and the marina by myself whenever I visit. I love the coast. Also, Sabina, and Gayle, my friends and fellow writers, for their beta help. An especially big thank-you to my editors who made this whole process a great learning experience and turned my little story into something coherent. I’ll try to keep the “mind-hopping”—I love that word—down in future stories. I laughed at some of the comments and grumbled at others, but please know how much I appreciate your input.

  A few of the locales in the story are real. Here are a few links so you can see the beauty of the Coast and Ocean Springs.

  www.walterandersonmuseum.org

  www.nps.gov/guis/index.htm

  You can find The Shed BBQ and Blues Joint and, of course, OS on Facebook. There are quite a few YouTube videos of OS.

  Chapter 1

  THIS REALLY wasn’t how Cal Hamilton had planned his summer. He’d usually be teaching summer school for a few weeks to kids who would rather be swimming, and then he and Stan would take a week or ten days, if they could manage it, to go away where they could be alone and not worry about work, correcting papers, or menus. Five summers with Stan in their own world. And where was he now? Alone on the road, heading to who knew where. The alone part? Well, that was Stan’s fault… mostly. Being on the road? That was his own coping mechanism. Getting away from what was comfortable and familiar, spreading his wings, if only for a few weeks. Or maybe a month, depending on what he found at the end of the journey.

  It was the middle of June, and the Fourth of July was a little more than two weeks away. The summer sun beat down on the parking lot of a rest stop off I-95 in Jacksonville, Florida. Luckily there were plenty of trees on the grassy field, giving shade to the picnic tables, but it didn’t do much for the heat. Or the humidity. It got hot in Philadelphia in the summer, and the humidity could get bad, but not like it was in this part of the country. It felt as if someone had hit him in the face with a pillow as soon as he exited his car. It was hard to breathe at first, and it took him a moment to get used to the thick air.

  Cal stood under the leafy cover of a large tree, trying to cool off. He had no idea what kind of tree it was. All he cared about was what shade it could produce. It seemed to be a losing battle, as the heat and humidity caused his shirt to stick to his back and beads of sweat to form on his forehead and run down his face. More than once he had to reach up with the back of his hand to wipe it away before the droplets ran into his eyes. He would have preferred sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of his car, but he had been driving for hours already, and he desperately needed to give his legs some exercise. It was times like this he wished he had bought a larger car. After a few minutes of light stretching, he walked the short distance to the Welcome Center, used the restroom, then got a can of his favorite, Dr Pepper, from a vending machine.

  He held the cold can to his forehead. It felt good, but he was thirsty, so he tipped it to his mouth and took several chugs. The dark liquid was sweet but refreshingly cold, and he had to laugh when the inevitable burp sprang from his mouth.

  “Excuse me,” he said aloud, even though there was no one in his vicinity to hear the burp or the apology. At least he was being polite. His mother would be so proud to know her lessons had taken hold.

  He took a deep breath and looked out at the busy highway as cars and semis whizzed past. A lot of pickups went by, several pulling boats, the drivers no doubt heading for a lake or beach on which to spend some lazy time away from work and the daily routine. Or possibly they were returning from a nice weekend on the water since this was Monday morning.

  Cal was a teacher, off for the summer…. Well, until the middle of August, anyway. He loved his kids. He loved seeing the excitement on their six-year-old faces when they learned something new or when he told a story that excited them. But he needed a change of scenery since the breakup with his partner of five years. It was about as amicable as a breakup could be, but it was still a life-altering event. Hence the spur-of-the-moment road trip instead of teaching summer school like he had done in past years.

  He walked around the grassy area for several minutes, continuing to give his six-foot frame a little exercise and twisting his back to get the kinks out.

  Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. Despite the eye roll, he was happy to hear from his mother, even though it had only been a few days since he left her house, the house he had called home until he graduated from Penn State. The eye roll was joined by a smile as he spoke.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, sweetheart, it’s your mother.”

  “Yes, Mom. That’s what the caller ID read.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me. If you weren’t… wherever you are, I’d pop you upside the head.”

  “I’m too tall for you to reach that high. If you’ll remember, I’ve been too tall since eighth grade.”

  “Tenth.”

  “Ninth,” they said at the same time with a hint of laughter to the word.

  “Where are you, anyway? It’s noisy there. You’re not talking on the phone while you’re driving, are you? What did….”

  Cal had to interrupt her sermon, or he’d be listening for the next half hour as she expounded on the dangers of talking and texting while driving.

  “No, Mom. I drove till I got sleepy and managed to sleep for a few hours at a rest stop, and now I’m outside Jacksonville, Florida, drinking a Dr. Pepper and trying to decide which way to go, south or west. I was getting ready to flip a coin.” He really hadn’t thought about that method of decision-making, but it sounded good at that moment.

  His mother was quiet for a few moments. “Do it. Take out a coin and flip it.”

  Cal wrinkled his brow.

  “Go ahead. I’m waiting.” And he knew she would wait forever too.

  He gave up, put a hand in his jeans pocket, and pulled out a nickel. “Call it, Mom.”

  “Heads you go west, tails it’s south.”

  He flipped the coin and it somersaulted several times in the humid air and fell onto the well-manicured grass withou
t making a sound. He bent down to see what fate had set for him. He suddenly realized he didn’t want it to be south and hoped he’d see the face of Thomas Jefferson. When he looked, there was ole Tom, staring up at him.

  “Well?”

  “I guess I’m heading west from here, Mom. Hope you called it good.”

  “You know I did. Have I ever steered you wrong, sweetie?”

  “Never, Mom. You’re the best. Maybe I’ll find myself a real live cowboy if I make it to Texas.”

  “You and your cowboys. As long as he truly loves you, that’s fine with me.” Those words were because of his ex, Stan. “Love you, and don’t forget to call every once in a while.”

  “Love you too, and you can still call me, but maybe just in the evenings for a while. You just happened to catch me on a break, and as I remember it, I’ve been told not to talk on the phone or text while driving.”

  His mother gave a little laugh.

  “Tell the gang hi for me. Bye, Mom.” The gang included his three older brothers, their wives, and many nieces and nephews who all still lived around Philly. He smiled whenever he thought about them. He was lucky to have a family who enjoyed each other’s company.

  After taking care of some bathroom business and getting a small bag of Cheetos, the puffy ones that left orange stains on fingers and got stuck in teeth, and a bottle of water from the vending machines, Cal adjusted his Phillies cap, jumped into his red Toyota Corolla, which was good on gas, and headed for the I-10 and whatever adventures he would find in the west. He didn’t really want to stay in Florida, anyway. He was looking for somewhere more laid-back. Maybe somewhere he could learn to fish. Fishing was supposed to be relaxing.

  “I’ll have to learn how first. Maybe I’ll find someone to teach me. A fishing cowboy.”

  He was picturing a tall, lanky but muscled body in tight jeans and no shirt. And a cowboy hat. Gotta have the hat. And boots. “Hmm. Now that may be interesting.”

  He shook his head, clearing his mind. He didn’t need to be thinking about half-naked cowboys while driving. Instead he turned the volume up on the radio, but all he got was static. He hit the scan button and found a country station. Even though the idea of a cowboy was nice, he didn’t necessarily like country music.

  “I don’t think so.” He pushed scan again; more country music. “Well, damn! Don’t they have any real music down here?” He switched to his XM soft rock station and left it there when he heard Eric Clapton’s guitar. At least it was decent music.

  It was late afternoon and he was getting hungry. The Cheetos hadn’t been very filling. A green exit sign in Pensacola took him off the highway, past a Chick-fil-A and other fast food places, and into the parking lot of a Zaxby’s Chicken Fingers restaurant, chosen only because he had never heard of it and it had a great name. The food was good, and he ate quickly, anxious to get back on the road. Car fueled and body fed, he continued west, passing through Alabama and into Mississippi. The only trouble he had with traffic was in Mobile where the lanes merged as I-10 entered the tunnel under Mobile Bay.

  It was just over an hour later when he saw the large blue Welcome to Mississippi sign with its curly intertwined Ss. He had a familiar fluttery feeling in his stomach. He knew it wasn’t the chicken he’d had in Florida. It was the same feeling he had when something big was going to happen. It was the same feeling he’d had on his sixth birthday when he knew, he just knew, he was going to get that new shiny red bike he wanted… and he did. And again when he was eleven and tried out for the lead in the school play against Jeremy Schultz and nailed it. He made one great Peter Pan. Luckily that was before he hit a major growth spurt.

  Yep, he felt that something big was going to happen, and it was going to happen here in Mississippi, of all places.

  He looked around at the scenery. Once he crossed over the I-10 bridge from Alabama and passed small towns he’d never heard of…. Pascagoula with its large shipyard, Gautier, and others, the scenery changed to trees. Lots of trees. Big trees. Big like the trees he only saw on his yearly visits to the Poconos with his mom to see the fall leaves in their colorful splendor before the winter set in. He certainly didn’t see trees like that in Philadelphia. Well, there were trees in Fairmont Park, but not like the tall pines that lined the road here. And everything was so green.

  Suddenly the flutter was back. A large green sign at the side of the highway, the one that showed what awaited at the next exit, loomed ahead.

  Ocean Springs it read, and under it, Gulf Islands National Seashore.

  “This must be the place,” he said as he put his blinker on, moved over to the right lane, and slowed for the exit. The town’s name sounded nice and kind of peaceful, just what he was looking for, and Cal hoped it lived up to its name.

  He followed the signs and turned down the busy street with the usual motels and gas stations found by most interstate exits. As he drove past even more trees lining the road, along with small businesses dotting the landscape, he decided he liked what he saw. And what he didn’t see. No city skyline, no tall buildings with lights that blocked out the view of the night sky. It wasn’t dark yet, but he imagined the night sky would be clear and the stars readily visible.

  He was willing to give Ocean Springs a try.

  Chapter 2

  BILLY LABARRE parked his patrol car in the designated spot outside the Ocean Springs PD. He didn’t get out right away, even though he was more than ready for his shift to end. His thoughts were on the man he saw getting out of his car in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn two hours earlier. Billy had watched the man closely as he walked toward the motel lobby entrance from his parking spot. His interest wasn’t because he suspected the stranger of doing something illegal. Nosiree. Far from it, in fact. A red baseball cap hid most of the young man’s face, but there was something about him that had sent sparks through Billy’s body. Out of curiosity he’d glanced at the parked car as he left the lot and saw the Pennsylvania tags. Out of state and a Yankee to boot. Billy sighed, figuring the odds of ever seeing the stranger again were slim. He couldn’t help thinking that would be a damn shame.

  A tap on the car window brought Billy’s attention back to the police station.

  “Plan on spending the night out here, Sarge?”

  “No. Just collecting my stuff. Leave a clean car, remember.” He made a show of gathering up the few sheets of paper that were on the passenger seat and then locking the car. He entered the building and managed to focus enough to greet his friends and walk into the locker room. It had been a long, hot shift, but no different than any other in the summer on the coast. And it was only June.

  “Hey, Labarre, got plans for the ev’nin’?” Lt. Joe Temple, the senior patrol officer on the shift, called down the row of lockers where the men were in various stages of undress as they changed out of their uniforms. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Some of us are fixin’ to head down to the Bay Coast for dinner. How ’bout joinin’ us?”

  His Southern accent was still quite evident and even more pronounced than a lot of the locals. He had grown up in a small town in rural Georgia and retired on the coast after twenty-five years in the air force, his last hitch being Keesler AFB across the bay in Biloxi. He’d joined the Ocean Springs PD soon after. He still carried his military presence in his posture and shaved head; a few hours a week at Planet Fitness and jogging on the beach maintained the not-yet-fifty-year-old body a younger man would be glad to have.

  “Sure, Boss,” Billy said, glad he didn’t have to go home to an empty house right away. “I’ll meet y’all there in half an hour. I want to shower first. It was a scorcher out there.”

  “Yeah, wouldn’t want you to o-ffend the lovely Bethanne.” Still a bachelor, the lieutenant had a thing for Bethanne Lewis, one of the waitresses at Bay Coast. Billy knew they had been “keeping company,” as his grandmother would have said. In fact, he knew it was becoming quite serious between them. He seemed to take the gentle ribbing about their age difference in
the manner it was given. He often said he just felt lucky to have found her.

  “Like I could. You forget I’ve known Beth since kindergarten. No way she’d be offended or surprised by anything I did or didn’t do.”

  “Well, stinkin’s a whole nother story.”

  The other men in the room laughed.

  “Jest git a move on, Labarre. Cold beers are awaitin’.”

  Billy undressed quickly and wrapped a towel around his waist for his walk to the showers in the back; he didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to step under the shower and wash the heat and sweat from his body.

  His mind flashed to the stranger in the motel parking lot, somewhere it didn’t need to go in the locker room at work. Just thinking about the sight of him walking into the building caused his heart to beat a little faster.

  No use thinking ’bout him, Labarre. He’ll be long gone before you ever see him again. What would you do with a damn Yankee anyway? He’ll probably be gone in a day or two.

  The shower relaxed him, and he realized how tired he was and was thankful he was off for the next two days after a busy seven-day workweek. Two officers had called in, one sick and the other with a family emergency, so he had picked up the overtime. The money was nice and there was no wife or kids to mind if he got home late or worked extra hours. Although he didn’t have any real plans for his days off, he was sure sleep was going to take up a major part of the time, at least for the first day.

  He debated not going to meet the guys and just heading home for pizza delivery, beer, and some mindless television. Then the thought of some good Bay Coast fried shrimp and homemade corn bread changed his mind. Thirty minutes later, as promised, Billy walked into the Bay Coast Cafe on the corner of the two main streets in the center of the old downtown area. The building was new, built several years prior on the site of an old service station, and made to look like those of the French Quarter in New Orleans, wrought-iron railings and all.