42
" She was prepared for him to shut her down, when Behr shrugged a shoulder and said, “Yeah, sounds good. I think it’s a good idea for you to get out of the house. But,” he said, stepping back into the kitchen and leveling her with a hard look, “only if I tag along.”
“What? Why?” Cheyenne questioned, not understanding the need for chaperones.
“Because it’s safer that way,” he reasoned. “I have a couple things to take care of first, so it will probably be a day or two. I expect you to wait for me, though, Cheyenne,” he said, his brilliant blue eyes holding her in place. “It’s safer that way.”
She was preparing to argue when she realized that she wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to venture out on her own yet anyway. It might be a shock to her system after locking herself away for so long. For laughs, she decided to give him a hard time anyway.
“But…” she started. He cut her off with an upraised hand.
“No buts,” he said sternly. “It’s not safe and you know it, and besides, that’s what you have two strapping young men like us for.” He clapped a grinning Dehstroy on the back.
Cheyenne threw her head back and laughed.
“You, young? Ha!”
“What?” Behr said, acting offended. “I’m young.”
“Prove it,” Cheyenne challenged. “Show me your birth certificate.” When he pursed his lips, she laughed some more. “What’s wrong? Didn’t they make birth certificates yet when you were born? No?” She looked between the men, taking in their sheepish expressions. “Well, then. I’ll leave you two to work on clearing that schedule.” Waving, Cheyenne left the kitchen and headed upstairs to her room to lie down. "
― Brandi Salazar , A Warrior's Betrayal (Brotherhood, #2)
45
" God came up and kissed Day on his forehead. When Day looked over at Johnson, who was still slowly sipping his soda, the guy did look lonely as hell. Before Day could say something kind, his other headache strolled in.
“Oh hell. What the fuck is going on in here? This must be the officer’s gay alliance club meeting.”
Day blew an exasperated breath. “And now that you’re here, Ronowski, all members are present and we can begin.”
Day smiled as God and Johnson practically spit their drinks out laughing.
Ronowski fumed. “Day, you’re going to stop calling me gay! I have never been gay! I will never be gay, and I don’t like anyone that is gay! So stop saying that before people start believing your bullshit!”
Day clapped his hands together once. “Okay everyone those are the notes from last week’s meeting, now on to new business.” Day leveled Ronowski with a stern glare. “Ronowski, you are gay, man. You’re tightly closeted. But you are indeed gay, ultra-gay. You’re fuckin’ Marvin Gay. You crash landed on Earth when your gay planet exploded.” Day moved away from God and stood in front of an openmouthed Ronowski. “Come out of the closet already. It’s so bright and wonderful out here. Dude, I’ve seen Brokeback Mountain too, don’t believe that bullshit. No one cares who you fuck…ya know…like you tell me every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life,” Day said exaggeratedly.
He stepped in so close to Ronowski that he could smell the body wash he used.
“Let a man bang your back out one time.” Day leaned in to the man’s ear and felt Ronowski’s body give a fierce shutter. “I mean pound your ass so hard that you can’t walk straight for a week, and I guarantee you, you’ll want to march in the next gay pride parade, wearing nothing but a glitter jockstrap and a fuckin’ hot-pink feather boa.” Day stepped back and saw the beads of sweat that had popped up on Ronowski’s forehead. Satisfied he’d proven his point he refilled his coffee and left the break room. "
― A.E. Via
47
" A boy is in the parlour what the pit is in the playhouse; independent, irresponsible, looking out from his corner on such people and facts as pass by, he tries and sentences them on their merits, in the swift, summary way of boys, as good, bad, interesting, silly, eloquent, troublesome. He cumbers himself never about consequences, about interests: he gives an independent, genuine verdict. You must court him: he does not court you. But the man is, as it were, clapped into jail by his consciousness. As soon as he has once acted or spoken with eclat, he is a committed person, watched by the sympathy or the hatred of hundreds, whose affections must now enter into his account. There is no Lethe for this. Ah, that he could pass again into his neutrality! Who can thus avoid all pledges, and having observed, observe again from the same unaffected, unbiased, unbribable, unaffrighted innocence, must always be formidable. "
― Ralph Waldo Emerson , Self-Reliance
49
" I'm afraid it's not nonsense," Genghis said, shaking his turbaned head and continuing his story. " As I was saying before the little girl interrupted me, the baby didn't dash off with the other orphans. She just sat there like a sack of flour. So I walked over to her and gave her a kick to get her moving." " Excellent idea!" Nero said. " What a wonderful story this is! And then what happened?" " Well, at first it seemed like I'd kicked a big hole in the baby," Genghis said, his eyes shining, " which seemed lucky, because Sunny was a terrible athlete and it would have been a blessing to put her out of her misery." Nero clapped his hands. " I know just what you mean, Genghis," he said. " She's a terrible secretary as well." " But she did all that stapling," Mr. Remora protested. " Shut up and let the coach finish his story," Nero said." But when I looked down," Genghis continued, " I saw that I hadn't kicked a hole in a baby. I'd kicked a hole in a bag of flour! I'd been tricked!" " That's terrible!" Nero cried. "
