Desert Days, a Serialized Novel, Chapter 3
By Rocco Sargent
The following chapter of the serial novel, Desert Days, is R-rated and not appropriate for the young or impressionable. For an even more explicit, X-rated version, buy the latest batch of chapters on Amazon for your Kindle Reader.
Chapter 2 Recap: Jason is glad when five o’clock hit and he could head over to the pub for a beer with Rick. A random find puts him in the site boss’s office at a competing construction company. Jason and the site boss quickly moved past flirtations and into some steamy action. (You can read previous chapters here.)
Rick had cut a meeting short with his editor at 4:30 on Friday to make it to the pub by five. “I’ve got a lead from the construction site. The museum,” he said, not mentioning the lead was more likely to lead to a good fuck than a news scoop.
He hurried into the pub just before five and sat at the bar. Construction sites were notorious for working until the last possible minute so he wasn’t expecting to “run into” Jason early.
Once he settled onto his stool, he noticed the bar was slow. Just a few guys watching football on the big screens. The pub had been constructed to bring a bit of Ireland over to Palm Springs. The walls were panelled with dark wood and decorated with antiques and soccer gear. The lighting hung down from bronze tubes that matched the hardware along the bar.
Surprisingly, the bartender spoke with an Irish accent. “What can I get for you?” he said to Rick in his brogue.
Rick looked up, surprised by the accent. He was pleasantly surprised to see a freckled, red-head in his early thirties behind the bar. “A hard cider I guess,” Rick said. Always on the lookout for a hookup or a new story, Rick couldn’t stop himself from asking a few questions.
“Did they hire you for the atmosphere?” Rick asked.
“Nobody hired me,” the bartender said. “I own this joint. Did you want a look at the menu? It’s genuine Irish food.” He pulled out the menu card and put it in front of Rick. Then he reach down and pulled out the bottle of cider for Rick.
“I don’t like blood sausages cooked in a goat’s stomach,” Rick said before he could stop himself. The comment was a bit too sarcastic, especially to the owner.
The bartender didn’t look amused. A heavy silence sat between the two men for a few moments. “Ain’t that the bloody truth, mate,” he said and smiled. Rick felt relieved for not having offended the man. “Truth is I’m a chef. All of this was someone else’s idea but now I am stuck with it. I was trying to make a better name for Irish food, but these days I am just pressing beers for the site workers.”
The bartender was clearly in the mood to chat and Rick was always happy to chat with a handsome man. Especially one with an accent. Rick took a swig of his beer and said, “I have to warn you. I am a reporter for The Sun. So anything you say could turn into a story.” Rick liked to mention he was a reporter. It was an easy conversation starter.
“Are you as conservative as that Republican ass you work for?” the bartender said referring to Rick’s boss, the editor.
Rick laughed. “He’s not a bad guy. He makes all the conservatives in town happy with his fiscal views and married life, but he makes the gay guys happy by supporting gay rights. He’s more of a libertarian than a conservative.”
The bartender extended his arm, covered in ginger hairs. “Fergus here. What’s your name?”
For more on Jason, Jack, Fergus and the rest, buy the latest batch of chapters of Desert Days on Amazon for your Kindle Reader. Rocco Sargent is the nom-de-plume for a freelance writer who lives with his partner in both France and California.