“Art is for everyone,” Roy murmured. He added a few more strokes to his painting, then stepped back to admire the piece. He loved creating art, but hated special commissions. As far as he was concerned, art should be creative and allowed to flow, not dictated according to a special plan—especially without his input. He’d been given the project and told what to do. Don’t deviate, just paint what the mayor wants.

This piece would drive him to drinking. He’d been commissioned to paint a bold, abstract piece that still featured faces for the wall behind the mayor of Norville’s desk. It should be a snapshot of the town.

Roy groaned. He didn’t think the painting, under the direction of the mayor, looked anything like a cross-section of Norville. It was too clean and orderly…and boring. He’d added all the elements desired and none of his personality.

He glanced back at the mayor. If Floyd Gatlin liked the work, he could be done with it. If not, he’d have to keep working until Floyd was happy. His own paintings, his Depressions series, could wait.

“Well?” Roy asked. “What do you think?”

Floyd tapped his chin. “It’s colorful.” He stepped back. “It’s got action, too.”

“I tried to follow your directions exactly.” Roy folded his arms. “It’s quite vibrant, like you wanted.”

“Vibrant, but not gay.” Floyd nodded. “I’m tired of seeing so much gayness in town. We needed to get the movie theater razed or turned back into a theater.”

Roy didn’t see the issue with the hairdressing salon that the former cinema how housed, or the amount of gayness in Norville. The people of the town liked color and to be unique. That wasn’t bad. “You don’t like Dye Hard Style?” Roy frowned. “James is a great stylist. He cuts my hair and I’ve never been done wrong.”

“Uh-huh.” Floyd made a sound that reminded Roy of a grunt mixed with a groan. “Why don’t you try Cutting Up? They’re better.”

He’d seen the new salon in the strip mall at the edge of town. Where James was flamboyant and fun, Cutting Up was much more conservative. He’d bet every Cutting Up across the state looked exactly the same. “James is a friend of mine, too. I support my friends.”

“Well, to each their own, but I’d like for him to move outside of the Norville limits.” Floyd waved his hand. “I’ll take it. Send it over for framing. We have a plan for displaying it.”

“Sure.” He didn’t frame his works and preferred the edge of the canvas. “I’ll have it over in a day or two.”

“Perfect.” Floyd faced him. “You know, I like working with you. You don’t act gay, don’t shove it in my face, and don’t expect me to be understanding. You accept me and I can be myself.”

Roy seethed. How rotten! He couldn’t keep his tongue. “Mayor Gatlin, may I speak freely?” He had no idea how this man had gotten elected, but he didn’t deserve the role.

“Sure.” Floyd clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re friends here.”

Jesus. “I create work for you, that’s for sure. The thing is, I’m gay. I might not be as flamboyant as James, but it doesn’t make me any less homosexual. I am gay. Also, I don’t appreciate you talking about James like he’s a scourge. I might not throw my being gay in your face, but I don’t appreciate your saying I don’t expect you to be understanding. You should be a representative of the entire town, not just one section and not just those who voted for you. You can be voted out of office, you know.”

“Did you vote for me?” Floyd narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”

“My vote is private, but suffice it to say I don’t agree with your principles. Never have.” He chucked his paintbrush into the water cup. “Take the painting if you want. I don’t care. You can decide not to, as well. But know this, I will continue to be myself, which is gay. I’ll champion gay causes and will not take your bullshit. Please leave.”

“You’re throwing me out?” Floyd snapped.

“Yes, my non-understanding gay ass is throwing you out. I can’t listen to you insult me because I’m gay.”

“You’ve changed,” Floyd said. “You got famous and you think you can snap at people. See if anyone wants to buy your terrible art now.”

“At least you’re telling me the truth.” He opened his studio door. “Goodbye.”

Floyd stomped out of the building.

Roy slammed the door behind him. How dare Floyd talk to him that way? He’d prided himself on keeping his moodiness to his studio, but he’d been insulted. His friend had been slandered. Jesus. He’d been treated like a lesser person. He moved the painting off the easel and onto a side table. He couldn’t look at the work any longer, especially knowing he’d expended energy to create it, and now for nothing.

He didn’t act gay enough. What a crock of shit. What did he need to do to act more gay?

He clubbed here and there, but never brought guys home. His last boyfriend, Billy, had sworn Roy was too picky. So what? Why was it so bad to be picky? He tried not to fall for anyone because he didn’t want to get hurt. That, and he needed to be calculated with his art. His paintings were the only pure gut decisions he made—he followed his instincts and let his inspiration take him where the painting needed to go.

He’d done so much to color inside the lines of his life. He didn’t drink or smoke, kept his image polished—save for his outburst with Floyd—and worked hard. He acted out only through his art. People respected him and wanted his paintings.

Would they now? He’d alienated one buyer because he’d gotten fed up with Floyd’s bullshit. He could lose a few buyers if he kept stirring the pot. He should’ve thought his actions through before speaking out. He’d screwed himself over. But at least he still had his pride.

He wanted to keep selling art. He liked creating and seeing the works in different environments. He’d paint no matter what, but he liked making his rent, too.

He scrubbed both hands over his face. His mouth and creative spirit tended to get him into trouble.

He was in deep right now.

Raphael, his orange cat, left his perch on the drawing table and twined around Roy’s ankles. Roy scooped the cat into his arms. If the world went to shit, at least he had his cat. Raphael was the most loyal creature he’d ever met.

“I think I fucked myself royally,” Roy said. “I think I made a mistake.”

Raphael purred as Roy stroked his head. At least the cat loved him.

His phone rang. He kept the feline in his arms and answered the phone. “Hello, Erik.”

His brother was his agent and his only living family member. Where Roy did art, Erik handled law. He admired his brother’s ability to understand contracts. All he saw was junk. “What’s up?” As if he didn’t know.

“Are you working?”

“I was. Why?” He’d just bet Erik already knew about the blown sale.

“I got a call from the mayor,” Erik said.

“I’ll bet you did.”

“He still wants the painting, but expects it for free,” Erik said. “He’s pissed, but you got him thinking.”

Oh God. “I did?”

“Sounds like. He’s thinking he needs to work on his appeal. He should be convincing all people in Norville to want him as the mayor, not just the ones who already voted for him,” Erik said. “You pointed out that he’s ignored the gay community.”

“I did. He said I didn’t act too gay and was understanding.” He gritted his teeth. “I handled the situation wrong, I’ll admit. I thought about my ego and pride, not the sale.”

“So?”

“Wait.” He paused. “What?” Normally, his brother encouraged him to follow the rules and make sales. Keep everyone happy.

“Someone needed to tell him he’s being a jerk. He doesn’t treat the gay community well, it’s true. James has a great business and so do Summer Rain and Arthur. They’re valuable to Norville. Plus, there’s the Gay Alliance. He needs to work with them, not against them. I doubt he’ll do a decent job, but you’ve opened his eyes.”

“But I messed up the sale, which doesn’t help me.” He had to think about the business end of his art as well as the creation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Erik chuckled. “Word spread that you’ve thrown the mayor out. Those who agree with you are clamoring for your art—even after a few minutes. Those people outweigh the detractors.”

“Already?”

“Uh-huh. You’re trending locally.” Erik laughed again. “Roy, you need to have more faith in yourself. I do.”

He put Raphael down. “I’m glad.” He appreciated having Erik on his side. Most of the time he thought Erik only cared about his making money.

“What set you off? The comments about James?”

“That and he insulted me in a backhanded way. It was rough.” He shook his head and paced the length of the studio. “I don’t know. Maybe I need to clear my head.”

“Probably, but you do need to be more forthright,” Erik said. “You’re a good man and a phenomenal artist. Be you. I swear you keep so quiet and people will start to think you’re dead.”

“I’m not.”

“Then act like it. Go out. Make little videos of you walking Raphael. Be original with that art in front of you, or find a new medium, in addition to your paintings.”

He groaned. “I like my mediums the way they are.”

“You need to evolve.”

“Maybe.” Damnit. He didn’t want to evolve. He wanted to follow his heart and creativity. “I hate making videos.” He’d rather swallow his own tongue.

“Why don’t you get a boyfriend? Let him film you. I know a guy who’d be perfect for you,” Erik said. “He’s quiet, sweet, and loves the law. His name is Francis and you’d love him. Francis and Roy has a good ring to it.”

He loved his brother, but this pushiness annoyed him. “I’m good. I don’t need to be introduced to anyone.” Besides, he’d met Francis and wasn’t a fan.

“You’ll like him.”

“I’m fine.” How many times did he have to say that?

“You need to stop being picky,” Erik said. “You’ll price yourself out of the market and be lonely.”

“So? There’s nothing wrong with being picky. It means I know what I want and won’t settle for less.” He stopped pacing. “I need to go. I want to take Raphael home before I go to Dye Hard Style. I’m supposed to show work at Crush Gallery tonight and want to look my best.”

“You can’t take Raphael there? James won’t mind.”

“Maybe not, but Raphael would rather go home.”

“If you’re seen out walking Raphael, maybe you’ll attract a man who will love you and can stand your cat. If he doesn’t know you have a pet, with your luck, you’ll meet a guy who hates cats. Then where will you be?”

“Besides confused by your statement?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then began to clean up the studio. “Love me, love my cat. No budging. Speaking of not budging, the mayor still wants that painting? I’ll leave it by the door for you to pick up. You can deliver it to him since he likes you more. I need to go, okay? I made the appointment for five and it’s a quarter after four.”

“Is it because James has a dog? I hear he got a dog.”

“Which is why I’m taking Raphael home—another reason why. I need to go. Is there anything else?”

“Nope. Have fun. I’ll get the painting to the mayor, but you need to do something interesting and put it online,” Erik said. “Film yourself.”

“Right.” He hung up on his brother. Why did Erik have to be such a pain in the ass? He affixed the walking harness and leash onto Raphael after he finished putting his brushes away. Once he tucked his keys, wallet and phone in his pockets, he turned off the lights and locked up. He headed down to the street.

People seemed to like watching him walk Raphael. How many people walked their cat? Not many.

He and Raphael crossed Memorial Park to his apartment. He took Raphael inside and ensured his water was fresh. He filled Raphael’s bowl with kibble. If Raphael wasn’t happy, then neither was he.

“Are you good?” He took the harness and leash off Raphael. “I’ll be back, okay? I’m getting a freshen up.”

He watched Raphael eat. “You’re a good boy. I wish I could find the human that liked me in the same way. Then I’d get Erik off my back and I might not be so lonely.”

Raphael stopped eating and glared at him.

“Save for you, of course. Sorry.” He shook his head. “I need to go. Don’t tear up the carpet.”

Like the cat would listen.

He left the apartment and walked the three blocks to the salon. He loved the atmosphere of Dye Hard Style. The marquee gleamed and the posters for movies previously shown at the venue were still in the lighted frames. He didn’t think the building looked so bad. The feel created a sense of fun and a carefree equality. It brought joy to Norville.

He headed inside to the receptionist desk. A new guy—new from the last time he’d been there—stood at the ticket carousel. “Hi,” Roy said. “I’m here for my appointment with James.”

“Aren’t we all?” The pink-haired boy shrugged. “He’s with a client. Have a seat.”

“Sure.” Roy frowned. Every time he visited, there was a new receptionist. Couldn’t James keep decent help?

Roy stuffed his hands into his pockets and admired the plasterwork. James had kept most of the original features of the theater. The concessions counter featured hair products and combs instead of candy and popcorn. The posters inside were still from when the theater showed films. James even kept the running lights around them. The place felt like a movie house without the movie playing and with salon chairs and mirrors.

James strode around the corner from behind the ticket gates. “Roy.”

“Hi.” He smiled and withdrew his hands from his pockets. He had no idea what to do with his hands if he wasn’t creating art.

“Why aren’t you in my chair? It’s your time,” James said. A large black dog followed him around the room.

“I was told you were with a client.” Roy made his way through the turn-style. “Who is this? I’ve heard about him, but I haven’t heard his name.”

“This is Doob. He showed up and follows me. I truly think he believes I’m his person.” James shrugged. “I like him. He’s the most loyal animal or man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t bite or growl. Just hangs out like a hippie.”

“Hi, Doob.” He petted the dog’s head. “Are you keeping him? You should. He could be the mascot for the salon.”

“I know. I’m debating keeping him, but he’s got to have a family who misses him. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He’s the perfect dog.”

“Except he got loose.”

“Could’ve been that he got scared in a storm, or left behind… There’s a lot of stuff that might have happened.” James shook out the cape. “You’re going to Crush tonight, correct?”

“I’ve got four paintings there and Mikael is having his opening tonight. I thought I should support him,” Roy said. “Not that he comes to my gallery openings.”

“Because you’re smart and keeping the lines of friendship open. You’re selling your stuff and supporting him. It’s a good thing.” James snapped the cape around Roy’s neck. “And if you happen to draw people to the show because of your status, then that’s not bad, either.”

“You make me sound like a dick.” He relaxed in the chair. “But you’re onto something.”

“I know. I’m perceptive.” James tipped Roy back over the sink. He washed Roy’s hair. “What’s happening in your life? How is Roy?”

“I stuck up for you to the mayor.”

“No shit?” James asked. “Is he still determined to close me down?”

“Yes.”

“Bastard.” James rinsed Roy’s hair, then toweled his head and sat him up. “Figures.”

“He said I should go to Cutting Up. Why?” Roy asked. “You cut my hair. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

“Then don’t. Ignore him and let me make you adorable, doll.” James cut and shaped Roy’s hair. “Honestly, I’m tired of him. He’s trying to bring me down.”

“Floyd? I think he’s harboring a crush on you.”

“You’re serious?” James laughed out loud. “He’s married and has kids, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I am beautiful. I’ve also decided he won’t get me down. I’m not going anywhere. I joined the Gay Alliance and I’m looking forward to keeping Norville colorful.”

“Good.” Roy sighed. “You’re doing well with your side of the equation. I hear you’re good with your side hustle, too.” He had to ask subtly about getting a date. Unfortunately, he had no subtlety.

“My dating thing.” James laughed again. “Oh, doll, yes. I love when I pair people and it works out, but I do have a sixth sense about it. You know?”

“Yeah.” He hated sounding so withdrawn and sad, but why lie about the truth? “Would you know who to hook up with me?”

“You’re looking for a date? I thought you had a boyfriend. Not Mikael, but Donny? No, was it Bernard? Shit. Who were you dating?” James asked.

“No one. That’s why I’m asking for you to help me. I’ll pay.” He needed to do something to get out of his lonely rut.

James stopped cutting. “I don’t charge. I should, but the matchmaking is me strictly trying to find the right guy for you.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“I do.” James resumed styling Roy’s hair. “But I want you to trust me.”

“I do. Completely.”

“Good. I want you to go to Club Jester on Tuesday—in five days if you can’t count—at nine in the evening and go to the Viper suites. All you have to do is say you’re there because James directed it and they’ll let you back. I know Amos and he owes me, so it won’t be a problem.”

“Who am I meeting?” He tamped down his excitement. He hated blind dates, but he couldn’t wait to see who James had picked.

“It’s a surprise, but trust me that this is exactly who you need,” James said. “Think you can do that? I can tell you’re tired of being on your own. I couldn’t name your boyfriend, and I know everyone, so that means you haven’t had one for a while.”

“True.”

James spun him around to look at his reflection. “Well? What do you think?”

He never doubted James would make him look good. The cut and style worked with his face. But the date… Did he trust him? “I think I’m excited to go to Club Jester.”

“Perfect.” James removed the cape. “You’ll love him.”

“I hope so.” He didn’t take many leaps of faith, but this felt right—like he was looking at his future. It sure looked rosy.