Chapitre 2: Chapter 2
Today, they live a discreet life together as unmarried lovers. Dillon works a variety of shifts in law, and Jason processes his patients’ sessions on Third Street, listening to a selected few of Redder residents’ problems and their detailed obsessions, love interests, and bizarre life tales. Together, as boyfriends, Jason and Dillon meet at the cottage for dinners, make love next to the heat-sharing hearth, and pass John Grisham novels back and forth, comparing novel notes with each other. They sometimes go grocery shopping together, take weekend trips to some of the lake’s small islands, and visit Reddering’s, the local pub where men who frequently find other men attractive.
Reddering’s is where they’ve met and discovered bliss. A shitty pub with deer skulls on the walls, country music, and two draft beers to choose from. Dillon calls this specific moment in their lives Pissing at First Sight. Six years ago. Almost to the day. The two men stood side-by-side in the pub’s bathroom and urinated. Dillon also calls the moment Pee Dating. Jason knows why:
Between the two of them, Dillon was the one who started the initial conversation that had brought them together. He looked to his left while standing at an American Standard urinal and said, “Nice blue eyes, guy.”
Jason looked to his right. “Brown beard. I like that on a man.”
“Great shoulders and blond hair. You’re cute more than handsome. A pretty boy.”
“So I’ve been told.” Short pause. A dick shake. Another visual once-over of the man next to him. “I’ve seen you around Redder. Lots. Can’t really place you, though.”
“You probably have seen me. Officer Dillon Snyder at your service.”
Another shake. Flush. “A cop. I dig cops. Always have. They turn me on.”
“In or out of their uniforms?”
“Does it really matter?” Jason walks to the sink and begins to wash his hands.
Dillon follows suit.
“Is it illegal to buy a hot cop a drink?”
“It all depends on the drink and if you think the cop is really hot.”
Jason winks at Dillon. “Something strong and with a punch.”
“I can do whiskey.”
“Wecan do whiskey,” Jason corrects, tells Dillon his name, what he does for a living, and continues to wash his hands next to the cop, beginning something with him.
Jason also knows: they slept together on that first night after meeting. Jason had a small flat above a law firm. Dillon admitted that he liked Jason’s naked and tight bottom better than the flat. No joke. Jason let him spend the night, and a few more nights after that.
More things Jason knows: the next morning, they had breakfast together: coffee and donuts; a cop’s delight. Dillon really didn’t care what the meal was at the time as long as he could stare into Jason’s blue eyes and try to prevent himself from helplessly falling for the guy.
Over the donuts, Dillon said, “You have no speeding or parking tickets. Your record’s clean.”
“Thanks for doing a background check on me.”
“A cop has to know who he just spent the night with.”
Jason teased, “I’m sure you can find a reason to put me in your handcuffs, officer. I’m not a saint.”
Dillon agreed.
Jason seduced him.
They’ve been together since, but only as boyfriends.
The next step in their lives is marriage, Jason thinks. He wants a ring from the cop. He wants a license to go with it. Maybe someday this will happen for him, and for Dillon. Maybe not. Jason will ride it out, though, because he loves Dillon Snyder, everything about the officer of the law. His most important romance. 2: Ruddy Hill
March 28. Jason crosses his legs and writes in his leather notebook: Christopher Tarrington. Chris has been a patient with him for the last few months. The guy is twenty-nine. Looks like a young Harrison Ford. Jason reads: self-absorbed, single, selfish, non-drinker, no drugs. Eventually, he lifts his gaze from his notes and stares at the patient across from him. He listens.
“I drive past Bradbury’s house in my Nissan Leaf again. He can’t hear it because it runs on batteries. A quiet thing. Often too quiet. Up Ruddy Hill, near the strip club called The Man Place. The hill is steep. Twelve degrees. Nothing to mess around with. It’s a tricky hill, and you have to know how to swerve up its winding terrain. You don’t want to get stuck on it during a snowstorm, which you probably know. You don’t want to be spinning down it without brakes, out of control.
“This session isn’t about Ruddy Hill, though. Never will be. This is about Bradbury Dune. I know where he lives on the middle of the hill: 2928 Ruddy Lane. Two other bungalows sit on either side of his sky blue house. All three of them are small bungalows. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. You’d think there would be more city trees around the threesome, but there isn’t. Instead, the bungalows sit behind an empty parking lot that has cracked asphalt and splotches of weeds around the turf. Ruddy Lane does a solid S-curve in front of the homes, leading up the steep hill.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone