valarltd | First Page Friday

Glad Hands
by Angelia Sparrow and Naomi Brooks

Blurb:
Chuck rolls his rig across the no-longer-United States, from Montana to Arkansas. He expects a fast run with no complications. What he doesn’t expect is Seven, a pretty blue-eyed drifter who turns not only his head but fires his blood.

His gayness tattooed into his very skin, Seven needs Chuck’s help to escape the very limited life Heartland forces upon him. And when the even more repressive Confederated States take an interest, Chuck and Seven are in for the ride of their lives.

First page

‘Hey, Chuck!’

Chuck Hummingbird turned on the steps of the little café outside Missoula,
Montana, Tribal Lands, and saw Dave Williams climbing out of the cab of his rig. He
smiled at the sight of his former partner. As he waited for Dave, he leaned against a
pillar of the porch, crossed one leg over the other, getting comfortable. Dave was
obsessive about walk-arounds at every stop. He picked at a fraying place on the seam of
his well-worn jeans.

‘Hi, Dave. It’s been a while.’

‘Been forever, Chuck.’ Dave hugged the tall Cherokee man, his hand going to stroke
the ponytail that fell to Chuck’s waist before he stopped himself. He looked a little
embarrassed. ‘Let me buy you breakfast, for old times.’

Chuck grinned. ‘You know I never pass up free food.’

They went in to the café and the pretty dark-eyed waitress brought them coffee and
toast. Dave shed his leather jacket and Chuck took off his shearling-lined suede coat.
Dave ordered for them both, remembering what Chuck liked. They’d run team for a
couple years, running together and more, so much more. Dave had been a nice guy and
they’d parted on good terms.

‘So, you still with the little Iroquois guy, Shenandoah, wasn’t it?’ Dave asked.

‘Nah. Will Skenando and I split a couple years ago. We were just too different and
he hated Seattle. Couldn’t take the rain and needed more trees. You still with Betty?’

Dave nodded. The pretty blonde accountant had been the final wedge in their
partnership. She refused, quite rightly in Chuck’s opinion, to marry a man who was
gone all the time and sleeping with his team driver to boot.

‘You’re a ways out of Pacifica, Dave. What brings you out to the Tribal Lands, white
man?’ Chuck winked, letting him know there was no malice in the words.

‘High Chief Mankiller has a job for me. My papers are in order. You still running
petroleum for Seattle?’

Chuck nodded and tucked into his eggs. Lisa always scrambled them right, so he
always stopped here. ‘It’s a steady job. I make one run a week, sleep in my apartment
weekends.’

‘Sounds sweet.’ They ate, talking of what they’d been doing for the last few years.
Lisa made a second pot of coffee for them and delivered it with a smile.

Chuck checked his watch. ‘Gotta roll. The crude isn’t going to deliver itself. Thanks
for breakfast. Let’s not make it four years next time, Dave.’ He snuck a peek at the bill
and left a more-than-generous tip.