Page 36

W e kissed!

The thought raced through my mind every time my phone buzzed with a new notification. Our QSA chat had been popping off all day, and Cohen’s texts sent electric jolts through my body. He had messaged about the rally, about hanging up posters, about everything except what had happened last night.

I didn’t know where to go from here. All those quiet moments we’d shared were roaring loudly in my head. Too loud to ignore like I had three years ago. They were resounding with second chances, and I didn’t want to screw things up between us again.

My hands thrummed under the SUV as I twisted on the dolly.

Another notification vibrated against my thigh.

And then another. I hurriedly dug my phone from my jeans and swiped to unlock the screen.

The group chat was still open to Sawyer and Kennedy’s discussion on the orientation for our new members.

Cohen’s latest reply still didn’t show any indication whatsoever of how he felt about us, just excitement for the thirty-seven new members.

The phone’s glow was bright in the darkness beneath the engine.

I held it above my face, my thumb wavering on how to reply.

Maybe they can help with the last speakeasy.

I backspaced. Do you really think we can make a difference?

Backspaced again. What if the voter registration is a waste? And again.

There was only one conversation I needed to have right now.

After swiping out of the group chat, I searched for our old message thread.

His last message was still there, but this time was different.

This time I typed out a message to see if we could talk about what had happened.

It was what I should have done years ago.

Deep breaths pushed through my lungs as I waited.

The thought of how this could be a fresh start for us raced between each inhale-exhale.

Faster as a new notification flashed across my screen.

Relief pooled in my stomach. Cohen wanted to talk tomorrow after the rally prep.

Before I could reply, another text flashed, making me do a double take.

Billy Peak

I’m sorry, Fastball. After the mayor’s bullshit, I get how it wasn’t easy for you. I shouldn’t have run my mouth

I reread his message in shock. Never had I thought that the same dickhead who had made jokes about “brotein” would be apologizing to me. But here he was extending that proverbial olive branch. A ghost pain radiated from my eye as I considered how to reply, but then another message came through.

Billy Peak

I’ve talked to the guys on the team, and we want you back. We need you

The past and the present and the future were all melding together.

I wasn’t sure if I should even accept his apology, even less sure if I wanted to play baseball again.

I’d once loved it, or thought I had. There were a lot of things I thought, I told myself as I began typing. And I’ve been wrong before.

Zeke

I’ll think about it

I quickly shoved my phone back into my pocket, shoved that decision out of my mind. Whatever I chose to do, it wouldn’t be for him or the team or my father.

I heard the door close, and the dolly’s wheels creaked over the art deco tiles while I scooted out to see if we had a new customer. Blinking away the sudden brightness of overhead lights, I saw Mom leaned up against the toolbox. She was holding a letter and reading with a deep scowl on her face.

“Everything okay?” I asked cautiously, sitting up.

She glanced at me, and I saw the anger in her eyes. “I just grabbed the mail from out front,” she said. Her voice was as strained as her knuckles gripping the paper. “The mayor has issued a citation to Roaring Mechanics for participating in prohibited activities.”

What? I stood up quickly and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Can I see?”

She exhaled roughly and held the paper out for me to read.

The top line noted it had come from “The Mayor’s Office of Beggs, Alabama.

” Then in a big red font, just like on his ordinance posters, the word “CITATION” screamed.

I scanned through the details I already knew—the event date, what happened, what ordinance it broke—until I saw the final line.

“Two hundred bucks?” I asked, looking up at her. “I’ll pay it since it was my fault.”

“No,” she said with a severe shake of her head. “You won’t be paying it, and I won’t be either.”

“But it says right here,” I continued, reading the letter, “that future infractions could mean losing your business license.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She rubbed at her temples, determination in the firm set of her mouth. I knew that look, had seen that look when she’d fought in the divorce proceedings against my father. “I am not paying for violating his homophobic bullshit.”

“But—”

“No buts, hun. It might seem like just a couple hundred bucks, but it’s more than that.

Paying it means you did something bad. Other than, ya know, lying and sneaking around, you did nothing bad.

I need you to know that, okay?” I nodded in understanding.

“It was technically a party, which was well within my right as a business owner. There also happened to be queer kids there, and by the looks of the place everyone enjoyed themselves…Did you?”

I thought back to that night, how it’d felt to just exist in the crowd of people. How I hadn’t been afraid. How I’d felt safe before Buchanan destroyed everything. “Yes,” I decided. “I did.”

“Then we won’t be paying it.”

“What about your license?”

“Let them try.” She wadded up the letter and threw it toward the trash bin. “He trespassed on my property, and I learned enough from that brutal divorce about how going to court can ruin a man.”

“Go off.”

She stood up from the toolbox, absently adjusting her mechanic shirt. “This only furthers the need for Carmen to win the election,” she said. “All the campaign endorsers are meeting tonight to make a plan B if things don’t go the way we want and we don’t get enough votes.”

The weight of her words pressed down on me, and I nodded in understanding.

Nothing had gone the way I’d wanted since coming out.

This summer was evidence of that. I’d only wanted to prove myself with the idea to have speakeasies for Pride.

Too much had happened since because of me, and doubt made me worry that I’d ruined everything.

“Zeke?” Mom’s voice cut through the haze. “If your eyebrows pinch together any tighter, there’s only gonna be one of ’em. Everything okay?”

“Just a lot on my mind with Founder’s Day and just…”

I let out a sigh, chewing my lip. A vote for Bedolla won’t amount to anything replayed in my mind. Would voting for Carmen in two weeks even matter? It was intimidating to think how a singular vote would even help.

“Can I ask you something about this election?” She nodded. “How is a vote supposed to change anything?”

“Hey.” She studied me, the overhead lights reflecting the emerald of her eyes. “It’s not just a vote,” she explained in a soft voice.

I shook my head, that same confusion from watching the news muddling my mind. “But what my father said at dinner—”

“Don’t listen to him,” she interrupted with a raised hand. “Each vote will join the others who are fighting back because of you. Who knows what will happen on Founder’s Day, but it’s just the start.”

A month ago, Buchanan had climbed up to the pavilion, and my father had stopped me. He’d told me the mayor’s plan wouldn’t affect me if I kept my head down and stayed quiet. However, it had affected me, affected all of us. But I didn’t know if I had a plan B.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if Carmen loses, though,” I admitted. “If Buchanan enforces more ordinances.”

Mom considered me for a moment, my words hanging between us.

“That was how I felt when I made the decision to leave your father,” she admitted.

“The worry of not knowing what would happen next nearly stopped me. I had to focus on what I did know, and that was making your life better. Our life. Then it became the easiest decision I’ve ever made. ”

“I don’t know what to focus on, though…” If she had wanted to make my life better, then who was I doing this for? I hadn’t known who would show up at the speakeasies or what they’d cause in town. Then everyone played a part in something bigger, something more important that had been set in motion.

“Hun,” she began, “what you should do is focus on who you are despite the election. No matter what happens, you’ll still be you.

And you have been working hard with the QSA, for people like you in Beggs.

Don’t let that citation fool you, because nothing you did was wrong.

You’ve certainly lived up to your namesake this summer. ”

“How so?” I asked, resting back against the SUV.

“Obviously, attention-seeking—”

“Ha.”

“—being fearless, daring, and, most importantly, you knew what you wanted and spoke up. I’m so proud of you and your friends for this community you brought together. I know that no matter what happens, it won’t stop you from being you.”

Silence fell between us as the baseball game of thoughts played in my mind.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. If I was the same guy Billy wanted back on the team or the person I’d tried to become.

My gaze drifted to the portrait of Zelda with her coy smile.

All I knew was that Mom had named me after her favorite woman in history.

As though I was destined to be just as loud and rebellious as her. As my mom.

“Just promise me you’ll continue to speak up regardless of what happens here in Beggs,” she added, pulling me into a hug.

What she’d said about plan B reverberated in my head as she held me tightly.

It made me feel like a child again, like we were in the garage at our old house.

However, I now knew I couldn’t stay quiet the way my father had taught me back then.

I’d spent so long comparing myself to him, when really it was Mom and me who were the same.

It wasn’t because we were capable of fixing everything—we were capable of changing out what was broken.

After I’d spent all those years learning from her, she was still teaching me something new. Something just as meaningful.

“I will,” I finally promised as she stepped back.

“That’s my boy.” Her voice was sure, her smile assuring as she checked her smartwatch. “I’m gonna start closing down, and then we can grab takeout for dinner.”

“Hey,” I began, nodding toward the SUV’s hood, “do you think you could help me change the spark plugs before we call it a day?”