Chapter 1

The remainder of the story, except some brief narrative, is in first person from the protagonist's perspective.

"I've had enough of your bullshit Rainy, enough for a lifetime—two lifetimes. You're such a bitch. Why did you sleep with her?" Sonny's face looked sallow, a mix between depression and anger.

"I can't help it," I whispered, looking at the fireworks exploding in the air and wishing they were exploding in me.

"This is it! We're finished. I want monogamy, and you don't do monogamy." Sonny glared at me after she spoke. I felt her eyes digging right through me. I said nothing. What could I say? Sonny knew what she was saying, expressing only the truth. I didn't do monogamy; instead, I did everybody and anybody, as long as they were female.

I pulled out an organic cigarette and lighter, looking away and firing up. Blowing a few blue smoke rings in the air, we stood watching fireworks for a few long minutes. People were feeling hopeful as the planet recovered from the reckoning of the various terrorist attacks, nuclear accidents, and chemical spills of the pre-Thorogood era—Thorogood, the supposed savior of the new millennium.

Sure, a few queer haters protested, looking at us with disdain, but that often happened since Reverend John and his group of radicals became active over the last ten years. The crowd, separated by an invisible line between different sexual preferences, stirred restlessly. Police milled about looking for problems, arresting two or three queers indiscriminately for no apparent reason.

This July 4th fireworks display, a holiday of some significance to the old guard, exploded forth in wonderful celebration in the United States of America. According to the history books, the day marked when the country gained some type of freedom from the now suffering land of Great Britain, Europe being much of the focal point of the devastation forty years ago.

Finally, Sonny spoke, "So, you're just going to stand there as if nothing is going on? You hurt too much." Sonny made me hot when anger flared in her fiery blue eyes, and her eyes fired like a sunrise.

I looked away from her, becoming excited over her impassioned gaze. Pulling a pint of tequila from my recycled postal bag, I drank my fourth shot, and then offered her a drink. She knocked the bottle from my hand. Unsteadily, I bent down, picking up the bottle before it emptied. Standing up straight with the world spinning like a carousel, I wiped my lips with my forearm. After another drag on my cigarette, I asked in a slurred voice, "Wanna smoke another joint?"

Reaching for Sonny's hand expecting her to relent as most of my women did, I took hold of it. She jerked her hand free from my touch. "Bitch," she cried, and then her fist collided with my chin.

Immediately sobering, I dropped my bottle and smoke, seized her hand, twisted it behind her back, and drove her face first to the ground, lying on top of her as she wrestled underneath. I pinched the small area between her thumb and index finger enough to cause her pain.

"I don't want to hurt you, and you know I can ... calm down." I gritted my teeth, trying to control my anger. She eventually cooled off, stopping her wiggling. Letting her up, I fought an internal battle of anger and hormonal need. I relished a little rough sex.

Sonny rose from the ground and spit on me. Reacting without thought, I pulled my arm back to punch her out, but managed to control my rage at the last second before doing something daft. The coppers were out in full force, and I still desired sex with her. Cleaning the spit from my face as I bent down to get the remainder of my smoke, I purposely slowed my heartbeat, a practice mastered from many hours of yoga. Moving closer, I dusted off her jeans, saying in a sobering voice, "Sorry Son, but you knocked the shit out of me."

She swung around and hustled off, giving me the middle finger as she did. Looking at her fine ass and taking a final warm drag from the remaining cigarette, I scoffed at the girl's audacity to want monogamy. Fuck monogamy, neither of us understood the true meaning of the word, only sex ventured forth as our anodyne of the spirit.

On our first night together, we seduced her former girlfriend. One night with me, and I owned both of them, but they never possessed me. There were too many girls in Jacksonville to be with just two...

But the goddamn Cuban came along and fucked everything up. I fell for her.

Me, I'm pure drug dealing Tejano trash, but some say I look more Hindi. Hailing from a small South Texas berg, I arrived in Florida from the decimated coast of Cali six months earlier in my home on wheels; a hydro powered twenty-year old RV. After several narrow escapes with the locals, I, along with my orange mutant kitty cat, Fidelity, and my friend, Herman, managed to find a place we liked a little more than Texas or Cali. The area tolerated poor queer folk like us more than the rest of the country. Nonetheless, even here things were getting fractious.