Lucky Charm by Alp Mortal
Categories: Contemporary Romance | Gay
Word Count: 8,329 Heat Rating: 3 Price: $ .99 Available here:
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After being given the strange stone that Lynn's son Will found on the beach, Rick finds that life is taking on an altogether different hue - can there be anything in the idea of a lucky charm? Once new romantic partner Tasche enters the scene, Rick's hopes of long-lasting love skyrocket but will his luck run out when an unfortunate accident destroys the charm?
Lucky Charm is the second story in the second series of The Tales of the Unexpected, a series of short unrelated stories which allow me to experiment with different voices and ideas, many of which get translated into other stories. I hope you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoy writing them. I am always very happy to receive your feedback. If you wish to contact me directly, please email me at: [email protected]. Visit the website, www.alpmortal.weebly.com, for updates on the next gay romantic story or crime thriller which I am working on. Thank you, Alp Mortal |
Be careful what you wish for
“I said Times 12, you fucking idiot, not Georgia - how many times do I have to repeat myself? And another thing ...”
I settle the contrite look on my face and wait out the tirade, hoping he bursts a blood vessel in the process of venting his spleen.
“... Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair; absolutely crystal clear.”
“Good! Now do it properly, and I want it before you go home.”
“Bu-”
“Better things to do? Get on with it!”
“Motherfucking arsehole; I wish you were burning in hell ...”
Young men thrust into positions of authority too early in their careers, failing to command respect, brutalising everyone and wreaking havoc in the neighbourhood of Prime Account Relations because they are so insecure and scared of just about everything - but Daddy expects, so he has to act the part and live up to his father’s expectations despite the fact that he’d rather be backpacking around India - and we’d all rather he was too.
“Why do let him talk to you like that?”
“Job preservation, Lynn ... Pretty soon, Daddy will promote him to Sales & Marketing, and we can go back to normal.”
“I can do the report again before I have to go and pick up William. Why didn’t you tell him that it was me that fucked up?”
“Cos he wouldn’t have cared; and you need to pick up William.”
“Come for something to eat later, yeah?”
“Okay; thanks.”
Every gay man needs a Lynn in their life. A single mum with a little boy, who is adorable, and too knowing for his own good. We look out for each other - especially where Robin Sinclair is concerned.
***
“William! Rick is here.”
My arrival is welcomed with a run and a jump into my arms, a hug and a kiss, and the extraction of a promise to read him his bedtime story, along with, “I’m five; you’re old.”
“But infinitely wise and I have tickets to the demolition derby this weekend ...”
A moment to process the information.
“Can we get pizza afterwards?”
“What you got to trade?”
“I already gave you my Captain America sticker.”
“Only because it was torn - you gotta do better than that, Will.”
“Found a stone on the beach that looks like a skull.”
“Show me after tea and we’ll do a deal; go wash your hands.”
Lynn hands me a glass of wine with the obvious question.
“He was in a meeting when I left so I put the report on his desk.”
“Such an arsehole.”
“By the grace of God, sweetheart ... You good if I take Will to the derby?”
“You spoil him; I could do with a day by myself to be honest.”
“Sorted then.”
“Why haven’t you asked that new bloke in Accounts out?”
“Out of my league-”
“Rubbish! Martyn left six months ago; don’t keep putting it off.”
“I know - what’s for tea?”
“Fish finger sandwiches, oven chips and homemade ketchup - don’t change the subject.”
“Perfect to go with this bottle of Lambrusco - why haven’t you agreed to go out with Roger?”
“Cuppa tea with your sandwich?”
“Pah!”
“It’s a bloody sight harder than they tell you.”
“Tell me about it, sweetheart - William! Tea’s ready ...”
William takes care of dinner table conversation, giving us a pop quiz on what the babies of various animals are called, which is part of a school project.
“I’ve got one for you, Will ... what’s a baby kangaroo called?”
His face is a mask of concentration; whenever he really has to think, he looks up at the ceiling.
“I do know but I can’t remember.”
“That’s the same as not knowing ... joey ... and the baby lives in its mother’s pouch - which is like a pocket.”
“Drake says that Estelle’s mum is a lesbian.”
You can count on a five-year-old to bowl you a googly.
“What’s that got to do with kangaroos?”
“Nothing; what’s a lesbian?”
“About the demolition derby on Saturday; wear your boots.”
“I haven’t shown you the stone yet.”
“Well; go and get it.”
He scampers off.
“Nice swerve.”
“Thanks. Jesus! How old is he?”
“Five going on fifteen. What would our mums and dads have said?”
“We’d never have asked the question.”
“Look!”
William bounces back and thrusts the stone into my hand.
“Found it on the beach ...”
I hold up the curio and have to agree that the pebble looks very much like a skull.
“I’ll take it in exchange for the ticket to the derby.”
“And pizza afterwards ...”
“Okay; deal ... Lesbian means gay - like me.”
We’ve had this conversation because of my relationship with Martyn, which we never hid from William.
“You used to love Martyn; he was funny.”
“He was hysterical; I did ... When a lady likes other ladies, they are called lesbians ...”
“I wish you and mummy would get married.”
“Uhm ... why?”
“Then you’d have to give me things and I wouldn’t have to give you my stuff.”
“Really?!”
“Can we read The Tailor of Gloucester?”
“Sure ... get ready then ...”
“I said Times 12, you fucking idiot, not Georgia - how many times do I have to repeat myself? And another thing ...”
I settle the contrite look on my face and wait out the tirade, hoping he bursts a blood vessel in the process of venting his spleen.
“... Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair; absolutely crystal clear.”
“Good! Now do it properly, and I want it before you go home.”
“Bu-”
“Better things to do? Get on with it!”
“Motherfucking arsehole; I wish you were burning in hell ...”
Young men thrust into positions of authority too early in their careers, failing to command respect, brutalising everyone and wreaking havoc in the neighbourhood of Prime Account Relations because they are so insecure and scared of just about everything - but Daddy expects, so he has to act the part and live up to his father’s expectations despite the fact that he’d rather be backpacking around India - and we’d all rather he was too.
“Why do let him talk to you like that?”
“Job preservation, Lynn ... Pretty soon, Daddy will promote him to Sales & Marketing, and we can go back to normal.”
“I can do the report again before I have to go and pick up William. Why didn’t you tell him that it was me that fucked up?”
“Cos he wouldn’t have cared; and you need to pick up William.”
“Come for something to eat later, yeah?”
“Okay; thanks.”
Every gay man needs a Lynn in their life. A single mum with a little boy, who is adorable, and too knowing for his own good. We look out for each other - especially where Robin Sinclair is concerned.
***
“William! Rick is here.”
My arrival is welcomed with a run and a jump into my arms, a hug and a kiss, and the extraction of a promise to read him his bedtime story, along with, “I’m five; you’re old.”
“But infinitely wise and I have tickets to the demolition derby this weekend ...”
A moment to process the information.
“Can we get pizza afterwards?”
“What you got to trade?”
“I already gave you my Captain America sticker.”
“Only because it was torn - you gotta do better than that, Will.”
“Found a stone on the beach that looks like a skull.”
“Show me after tea and we’ll do a deal; go wash your hands.”
Lynn hands me a glass of wine with the obvious question.
“He was in a meeting when I left so I put the report on his desk.”
“Such an arsehole.”
“By the grace of God, sweetheart ... You good if I take Will to the derby?”
“You spoil him; I could do with a day by myself to be honest.”
“Sorted then.”
“Why haven’t you asked that new bloke in Accounts out?”
“Out of my league-”
“Rubbish! Martyn left six months ago; don’t keep putting it off.”
“I know - what’s for tea?”
“Fish finger sandwiches, oven chips and homemade ketchup - don’t change the subject.”
“Perfect to go with this bottle of Lambrusco - why haven’t you agreed to go out with Roger?”
“Cuppa tea with your sandwich?”
“Pah!”
“It’s a bloody sight harder than they tell you.”
“Tell me about it, sweetheart - William! Tea’s ready ...”
William takes care of dinner table conversation, giving us a pop quiz on what the babies of various animals are called, which is part of a school project.
“I’ve got one for you, Will ... what’s a baby kangaroo called?”
His face is a mask of concentration; whenever he really has to think, he looks up at the ceiling.
“I do know but I can’t remember.”
“That’s the same as not knowing ... joey ... and the baby lives in its mother’s pouch - which is like a pocket.”
“Drake says that Estelle’s mum is a lesbian.”
You can count on a five-year-old to bowl you a googly.
“What’s that got to do with kangaroos?”
“Nothing; what’s a lesbian?”
“About the demolition derby on Saturday; wear your boots.”
“I haven’t shown you the stone yet.”
“Well; go and get it.”
He scampers off.
“Nice swerve.”
“Thanks. Jesus! How old is he?”
“Five going on fifteen. What would our mums and dads have said?”
“We’d never have asked the question.”
“Look!”
William bounces back and thrusts the stone into my hand.
“Found it on the beach ...”
I hold up the curio and have to agree that the pebble looks very much like a skull.
“I’ll take it in exchange for the ticket to the derby.”
“And pizza afterwards ...”
“Okay; deal ... Lesbian means gay - like me.”
We’ve had this conversation because of my relationship with Martyn, which we never hid from William.
“You used to love Martyn; he was funny.”
“He was hysterical; I did ... When a lady likes other ladies, they are called lesbians ...”
“I wish you and mummy would get married.”
“Uhm ... why?”
“Then you’d have to give me things and I wouldn’t have to give you my stuff.”
“Really?!”
“Can we read The Tailor of Gloucester?”
“Sure ... get ready then ...”