The Driving Force to Love (MXM) ✔

Chapter 2

Dean Axle Lance

I swiveled slowly back and forth in my chair behind the counter. My phone was cold in my hand. I sighed as I stared at the black screen. It had been weeks since I called my son. I had told myself not to get my hopes up, that it was expected he wouldn't return the call of a biological father he never met, but the silence still hurt. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up to the ceiling. I had no idea what his family told him about me. I knew he knew I existed because Margaret Kinsington told me so when I tried to see Vincent on his eighteenth birthday. That attempt hadn't gone well and I just ended up arguing with Margaret like I always did. Either her or her son Greg. I just wanted to see my son. I'd been trying ever since I heard about a toddler running around with golden eyes like mine. Jennifer hadn't even told me.

I supposed that was to be expected when you sleep with a married woman. Jennifer left me behind long ago for Greg. They were married, they had their own son together. It was expected that Vincent born in their wedlock would be theirs too.

The bell above the door jingled. I opened my eyes as my gaze went to the door. Frank walked in. I was surprised that he found a leather jacket to fit his wide girth and short frame. It was easier to find jackets like that to fit taller, bigger men.

"Where's your bike?" I asked him. I normally heard the loud hum of my customers' motorcycles before the bell on the door of my shop.

"It's getting too cold to ride it," Frank said. He came up to the counter and put his forearms on it so he was slightly leaning towards me. "The wife drove me," he said.

"Where is she? Why didn't she come in?"

"I told her I needed a moment to speak with you. She's waiting in the car."

"Okay. What's up?"

"I'm thinking of buying her a motorcycle as a Christmas present. Her favorite color is hot pink. Do you think you could find a bike that would fit that description by Christmas?"

I got off the chair and went to stand in front of him directly behind the counter. "Probably. I can always paint one to match the color you want."

I took out a couple of motorcycle magazines for him to flip through to give me more of an idea what type of motorcycle he was looking for because hot pink did not tell me much.

"You dating anyone right now?" he asked as he flipped through the pages.

He and the rest of this small town were too interested in my love life. I supposed there was no one quite like me in this town though. They had to get their gossip from somewhere. I was always the target of that gossip if I was dating someone. There was no one else in town who was bi or gay let alone pan. The town went crazy that one time I dated a trans man. I had been pretty open about my sexuality for over twenty years. Ever since it was clear Jennifer was going to choose Greg over me. At first I went by the term bisexual. Pansexual came later once I learned the term and more about myself.

"No," I said. "Why do you always ask that?"

"What else is there to talk about in this small town? Don't you know we all live vicariously through you? The women can drool over the men you date and the men can drool over the women. The trans thing though. That's just weird."

"At least I date people my own age and don't divorce my highschool sweetheart to marry a twenty year old girl during my midlife crisis," I said.

His hands froze as he flipped through the pages of the magazine.

"Sorry," I said. "The trans thing," I said using his own words, "isn't weird. They're just people who love and hurt the same as anyone else. What is strange about that?"