Queer Dirty Laundry

QUEER DIRTY LAUNDRY

BY JASON LLOYD

Copyright 2014 Jason Lloyd

Published by Ginge Publishing at Smashwords

Edited by: Jessica O’Donnell

Cover Art & Design: Jason Lloyd

Content Contributor: Kyle Frankenfield

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book not transferable. It is for your own personal use only. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language, which may be considered offensive by some readers.

This is a work of creative nonfiction from a certain time in the author’s life and is based on a true story. All of the names of the major characters and other identifying details have been changed, and some of the characters described are composites of various people and experiences the author had.

NOTE: The author published parts of this book on his blog called, Queer Dirty Laundry. This book is set in present time with flashbacks to the past. The jump from present to past and vice versa is indicated by ***** symbols.

First Edition

Published in the United States of America.

ISBN: 9781310649332

For Mom,

I am eternally grateful for you. You can read this book, just skip over the sex stuff.

"As rare as true love actually is, true friendship is still harder to find."

—Jason Lloyd, Salty Aftertaste

Prologue

40 Minutes After

I hung my head out of the passenger side window and breathed in the dewy air. A light breeze blew through my red hair as the car came to a halt at a traffic light. I watched as the sun dipped in and out of the clouds, but as the traffic light turned green, and we started to move forward, my attention was drawn somewhere else.

Suddenly, it was like an explosion that went off in my mind. All of these images and people became jumbled memories as my thoughts ran into one another. It was a slide show of my life moving too quickly. I never thought much about my death before, but as these images played out in my brain, it was all I could think about.

The things I wanted to do and the things I have done played a mental Lifetime movie starring a washed up actor with poorly dyed red hair. Was this going to be how my movie ended? Where is my happy ending? Do real people actually get a happy ending? What will people think of me when I’m gone? This Lifetime movie version of my life sucks. God, he is a horrible actor! I want someone with a cute butt at least!

You always regret the things you never had the courage to do. What screws everyone up the most are the pictures that play out in our heads of how our lives should be. Nothing haunts us more than the things we are too scared to say. I mean… I always thought my actions spoke for themselves, but sometimes people receive mixed up messages. They hear their versions of the truth but never really know your version. There was still more I needed to say and things I needed to do, but clearly, fate had other plans.

I have always been a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. That just maybe the stars hold our fate. I would like to believe in fate. Serendipity. Kismet. I guess I am like a sappy Hallmark card in that way.

It is amazing how the human brain can think about so many things in the matter of a few seconds. I went from daydreaming about my day to memories growing up, to death. Now the images of people I love tiptoed into my distressed psyche.

I always thought I knew what love was, and I assumed I had been in love before, but now, at this very moment my head is cluttered with doubts. Were my past relationships real? Did those ex-assholes really love me? I doubt any of them actually did.

I wanted a knight in shining armor, but what I got were douchebags in ripped jeans. Maybe I had no idea what real love actually was. Maybe I missed him, maybe I have not found him yet, or maybe I just missed my chance.

Now I wonder if my serendipitous fantasies will ever come true. Was it too late? Has my time run out? Perhaps love was not this black and white; maybe it is mixed with an array of colors that you only see when you are truly ready.

Unfortunately, the only color I can see now is bright yellow. The sky is turning light gray, indicating that a spring storm is in the distance, but my focus is not on the sky—it is on the headlights of the tractor-trailer heading straight for the passenger side of our car. Maybe I will never get a chance to see those colors…

Chapter 1

40 Minutes Before

I can hear the sound of Kevin’s subwoofer thumping away in his white Nissan Altima down the street. The sound gets louder and louder. It tickles my eardrums, and I know it would only be moments before he busts through my front door. He is proud of his subwoofer. When I ride in the car with him, the bass always tickles my balls. It is a pleasurable vibrating experience. The sound pulsating through the speakers creates a calming feeling; after all riding with Kevin, you need that comforting feeling. He is notorious for his sharp turns, abrupt stops, and occasionally parking on sidewalks.

While slipping my jeans on, I hear his car pulling into my driveway. Some sort of Selena, Britney, Ashley something or other pop diva, bellows out from his speakers. If my neighbors did not know he is gay, his music choices sure would announce it. I can hear his brazen steps on my porch, like a herd of elephants trampling through. There is no subtlety; Kevin is here.

My doorknob turns; the front door opens a crack, and a scruffy looking Kevin pops his head in and smiles at me. His dark brown hair is messy, and it appears he has not shaved his face in a while.

Hey bitch, he says with a laugh.

Hey Monkey!

Kevin opens the door all the way and prances in. He is wearing pajama bottoms that say, Naughty or Nice? and a white t-shirt he cut the sleeves off. The t-shirt most likely had yellow stains from his armpits. He cuts the sleeves off many of his shirts; it is his version of recycling. I bought the holiday themed pajama bottoms for him for Christmas, but it is now almost May.

Kevin wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. I feel incredibly short with his body pressing up against mine. He lets me go, and I pull away slightly. His cologne wafts up my nose. He smells nice, at least he showered.

He frolics up to my refrigerator and opens the freezer door. He does this every time he comes over. For some reason, he always checks to see what food we have in our freezer.

What are you looking for? Your dignity is not in there, I announce with an evil leer.

Ooo… tater tots, Kevin coos.

Why do you always look in my fridge when you come over? I ask.

Do I? he asks.

Yes, every single time. You do it even when we aren’t planning on eating here. I laugh.

Must be force of habit. I like to know what my options are.

Kevin walks over to the glass cookie jar on the counter, opens it, and pops a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. He wipes the crumbs from his hands onto his pajama bottoms.

Um, nice outfit, by the way, I say as I look him up and down and flash him the gay judgmental look. Your blue Converse shoes really set this look off.

Thanks.

We have time. Where are your clothes you’re gonna change into? I ask. I was used to Kevin showing up to my house resembling a hobo, but he always changed before we went anywhere.

I’m gonna wear this down and change when we get to Jelissa’s. I have a nice outfit for dinner. I don’t want to get it wrinkled, Kevin says.

You’re gonna wear this on the train? I point my finger up and down at his undesirable ensemble and shake my head.

Yes, Jason.

You do remember that we have to then walk from the train station to Jelissa’s apartment?

Um… Duh!

I can’t believe you are going to wear PJ bottoms and a stained t-shirt in center city Philadelphia! I exclaim.

Don’t forget the Converse shoes, Kevin says as he lifts his foot up and waves the Converses at me.

The shoes are the only thing I approve of, I laugh.

Well, I did something right then. I am sure I will blend in with the rest of the city. I won’t be the only one wearing PJ bottoms, I’m sure!"

"Yes, but I don’t know those people! You remind of that website, People of Wal-mart," I say.

Oh good. That is the look I am going for, Kevin giggles.

"Next thing you know you’ll be axing me a question and saying yous," I state.

Hey Jason.

Yeah Kev.

Can I axe you a question? Yous gots any bottles of pop. I needs a drank. Kevin flashes me an evil smirk.

Cute. I shake my head at him.

I know.

Okay, let’s forget about your outfit. I just got my haircut yesterday, and this shirt is new. I am going to wear this down there and for dinner. How do I look? I ask as I stand in front of him. My ginger hair is cut short and is nicely gelled. I have on dark blue jeans and a purple and white plaid button down shirt. I think I look good.

Kevin looks me up and down. Oh my god!

What? I ask.

You look like JonBenét Ramsey! Kevin laughs.

I can’t believe you compared me to a dead little girl! I exclaim while giving him the evil eye. I put a light jacket on and head for the front door.

What? Kevin says. I hear the