Florida Panther

Billy slipped by his mother in the kitchen and out the back door. He started to grab his bike, but decided he would rather walk. He strolled down the gravel drive, out to the road. He looked to the right to see if any traffic was coming from the heart of the community that anchored the reservation, then to his left where the road bridged over the Feeder Canal. It was a short walk, for his home sat at the corner of 162 and West Feeder Road which ran parallel the canal down to where it connected with another and bridged over to South Boundary Road. He wasn’t going that way (too far on foot), instead he crossed the bridge over the canal, down 162 for about a hundred yards, then jumped over the ditch and into the woods.

It was a familiar trail, one he had followed for years, ever since he turned thirteen and could slip away without his mother calling him back. During his younger years, he pretended to be an explorer, the first of his people to come to the area. Then he did explore the harsh woodland, the grasslands, and the swamps. He found places, hidden places, he wanted to believe he was the first human to stand within, a place almost sacred. The natural terrain became a safe place, a place he could slip away to think, to consider how he was struggling with school or holding onto friendships or with himself. School became a struggle for he felt exposed. In ninth grade, his grades slipped, and he had to regain his focus, find it within himself to pull it together. By the school year’s end, his grades were back to his normal A’s and B’s. But the cause was still there, lingering in the periphery, always in the corner of his vision like the boys he felt such desire it made him breathless. John Cypress, the tallest boy in his class, cock sure and athletic, one all the girls flirted with. Howard Billie, handsome to the point Billy considered him pretty. And Mitchell Jumper, his best friend and one he found it harder and harder to look in the eye. He was afraid Mitchell would see it, the attraction he felt toward him.

I’m gay, Billy thought for the millionth time. A million times he thought of it, how it made him different from all the other boys on the reservation. He had tried to think what other boys could be gay, but the environment didn’t allow it. A small community where everyone knew each other. Knew who they were dating or just fucking. If one person found out he was gay, then everyone would soon know.

There had been times in twelfth grade, sitting with his three closest friends, Mitchell, Susan Jumper (Mitchell’s first cousin), and Louise Shore, he had considered telling them. He had the words in his mouth ready to come out time and time again, but he could never set them free. Never move his lips to let the words come forth, revealing an aspect of himself no one else knew.

He was nineteen, nearly a year since he graduated from high school. He wanted to call himself a loser, but he knew it wasn’t true. He had a good job and parents that loved him. His mother was a teacher and his father managed Tiger’s farm, a large citrus orchard, and a herd of cattle. Tiger’s husband died suddenly, heart attack, a few years ago, and Tiger came to his dad, her first cousin, asking him to come run her farm. Many had assumed she would lure her youngest son back after he finished college at university, others thought she would sell out and settle into being a grieving widow. Billy scoffed at the notion, for Tiger would never be a woman who sat around feeling sorry for herself. But it had surprised him and everyone else when she came to his dad asking him to run the farm. Now Billy worked on the farm too, feeding cows, herding them from one pasture to another, and helping with the citrus harvest. He was saving up for his own place, maybe one of the apartments back on the reservation on Eloise Osceola Street. Maybe being out on his own would relieve some of his anxiety.

 

Billy circled around an area of swamp following the slip of land that fingered into it. He came to the end of dry ground and stood looking out over the calm waters, so peaceful and quiet, but he knew it was an illusion for there lurked gators, venomous snakes, and now the python, an invasive species finding its own niche in this harsh terrain. But he wasn’t afraid for he had been taught to respect the creatures of the swamp and grassland and woodland of this country. Each one was just seeking its own place and he wondered if there was a place in it for him.

He eased down against a live oak, moss hanging long from its branches, and relaxed. Legs outstretched, he dug his fingers into the soft sandy soil, then inhaled the air, the mossy rotting ripeness of it. He rested his head against the trunk of tree and began to daydream as he did often. This time he daydreamed Mitchell was gay too and they came out to each other, confessed to feelings for each other, and they would kiss and touch and…

He could never take it further because having Mitchell do so went against everything, he knew about him.

There were places online where he could interact with other guys, but any real contact would be over in Miami, Fort Lauderdale, or Pompano Beach, or maybe to the west, in Naples, Bonita Springs or Fort Myers. He lived in the center of the southern part of the state, a place surrounded by farms and natural lands scarred by man. The nearest town was Immokalee, and it was just a small town, a population less than 25,000. Maybe he should hit up some guy if for no other reason than to lose his fucking virginity. It seemed to be something that hung over him, a black mark, a curse. Nineteen and still a virgin, his only relief, his right hand. The thought of it, how he would respond to some guy, the chat that could occur. Then a date…

His eyelids grew heavy as his mind spun a story, one that slowed down, became meaningless, the details of it refusing to form as his fatigue overtook him.

 

A splash echoed through the woods and Billy startled awake. He blinked and kicked with his feet then pushed himself up along the trunk of the tree until on his feet trying to figure out where he was at. It was dark, far too dark, only a bit of moonlight giving some illumination. Dark twisted limbs of live oaks, tall spindly pine, and out in the water, old cypress were dark shadowy figures. The water was black, reflective, no ripples left from the splash that startled him awake. He was still in the woods below his home right at the edge of a swamp.

“Shit,” Billy uttered with the realization he had slept too long and now he had to find his way back home with the only flashlight, the one in his cellphone.

He fumbled to get the flashlight turned on, then shined it around him to make sure he was alone. He scanned to the right, then he turned and scanned to the left passing eyes staring back. He gasped, then held his breath as he moved the light back, until on the eyes that appeared to glow yellow. They blinked but didn’t move, just stared back.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds, and the eyes moved, and he saw the dark body rise from the ground, then turn to the side. A Florida Panther. Really a cougar, and his flashlight picked up the light tan, the white around the mouth and the dark fur around the yellow eyes. He heard its deep purring, and it seemed to vibrate the night. It looked at him and he felt his fear give way to awe, then curiosity. They stood still, he and the big cat.

Billy felt his ancestry, his ties to this land, and he felt something else. An inner strength and fortitude. Fear blended into courage as he faced the yellow eyes.

The panther moved silently away disappearing into the dark woodland, leaving Billy standing alone. He laughed, tilted his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs, animalistic, a primitive cry, then he just stood by the live oak, its twisted limbs hovering just above his head, and let his breathing return to normal.

 

It took far too long, but Billy came out on 162 somewhere well below the canal and his home. It was after eleven and he knew his parents would be worried. His cellphone had stopped working some time before and he had to use the light of the moon to make his way. He jumped the ditch and moved out into the middle of the road, its dirt and gravel surface so light it seemed to glow in the dim moonlight. A path that would lead home, or if he were to turn the other way, further away. He considered it; what it would mean to take off, knowing the perceived adventure of it would not be how it would play out. He knew it would hurt his parents and lead nowhere. He turned toward home and began to walk.

The road was straight, a line of soft white glowing through the dark woodland, and Billy walked down its center. He knew it couldn’t be far to the canal and the bridge that would take him to the other side and his home tucked into the woods. Then he realized he was casting a shadow, one that stretched out in front of him. It was a dim thing, barely noticeable, but as the sound of an approaching car neared, the shadow grew distinct, in sharp focus, legs, arms, body, and at the top of the too long body his head. Then the dark night turned blue, the light radiating behind him, pulsing with a rhythm of its own, and he turned to see it was one of the police cruisers for the reservation. He stopped in the middle of the road as the car pulled up close and stopped. When the driver’s door opened, he saw it was Jack Cypress, John’s older brother who followed in their grandfather’s footsteps becoming a police officer.

“Billy Osceola, what are you doing out here at this time of night?” said Jack as he came to the front of car. “Your parents are worried sick.”

“I feel asleep in the woods and…”

“Damn, Billy, are you still roaming in these woods. You’re going to get snake bit or something.”

“I’m okay and going home.”

“Yes, you are, now get in the car.”

He had never been in a police car. Only those that broke the law were seen in them, and he stood in front of it as Jack went to the driver’s door.

“It’s not far; I can walk.”

“Get in the car. Jesus, Billy, no one will see you in it,” said Jack, and Billy heard the amused tone, one that acknowledge his hesitation.

Billy slid into the passenger seat, and it seemed crowded, too tight, for the computer monitor was mounted in front of the dash and over toward the passenger side. He buckled up then sat back.

“Why are you out here? Is there some problem you want to tell me about?” asked Jack.

“What? No! Nothing is wrong.”

“Then why do you roam around in these woods. John told me you did it all the time and that he thought something was wrong.”

“John said that?”

“Yeah, and Mitchell too.”

“It’s nothing,” Billy replied looking at Jack for the first time since getting into the car.

“Nothing,” Jack repeated. He sat behind the wheel, blue lights flashing and the car in still in park.

“Aren’t we going?”

“In a minute,” said Jack. He looked over at Billy, face in shadow from the brim of his hat so Billy couldn’t see his expression. “Look, I know the reservation can be tough. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere and…and…it can seem so isolated at times. But if you really need to, you can leave. You know that, right?”

“Leave? Did you ever think about leaving?”

“Maybe.”

Jack put the car in drive and cut off the blue lights as he slowly accelerated. Gravel hit the underside of the car adding to the sense of motion, then Jack radioed back to the station he had found Billy and was taking him home.

“My parents called you?”

“It was dark, you weren’t answering your cellphone, and your car and bike were at your house, so yes, dumbass, they called us,” Jack replied, chuckling, and shaking his head.

As the cruiser crossed the bridge, Jack slowed.

“Billy, if you ever need to talk, call me. Okay?”

“Talk about what? I told you there is nothing-“

“Billy, I heard you before. Nothing is wrong. But if you just want to talk, call me. No one needs to know about it either. We can go to Immokalee or Ave Maria, or to Naples, grab lunch or something and just talk.”

Billy considered the offer and wondered if this was the opportunity he was waiting for. The chance to talk to someone about his secret, one he hadn’t had the nerve to discuss with Mitchell or Louise or Susan, and especially his parents. “I’d like that,” he uttered in a low voice as Jack steered them into his drive. His parents were standing on the front porch, and as Jack drew near, his mother raced down the steps toward them with his father following.

 

For two days, Billy thought about Jack Cypress, the rookie cop. The late night out on 162 with only the moonlight illuminating his way, then the cop car coming up behind him, blue lights flashing. Then the offer. Just talk, and he wondered what Jack sensed from him, or maybe knew from what John and others had said. But Jack couldn’t know his secret; no one knew it.

He relived the ride back and how Jack had said maybe when asked if he ever considered leaving. Eventually his thoughts turned to the physical person. Jack Cypress, twenty-four or close to it, for they were five years apart in school. A big gap for little boys growing up into men. But now the five years didn’t seem such a gap. Even in general appearance they kind of looked the same. His hair was darker than Jack’s, black, whereas Jack had dark brown hair, but they both had dark brown eyes, so dark they looked black. And they were about the same height, Jack maybe a bit taller than his five foot eight, but Jack was more muscular. He thought of the bulging biceps, how they stretched the sleeves of the short sleeve shirt. How the body filled it out, tight across the chest and shoulders but loose around the stomach even sitting down. He pictured Jack working out with weights, then remembered one time John mentioned lifting weights with his older brother. There were so many times he had looked in a mirror wondering if he looked good and if a guy would be attracted to him, and he knew he was being foolish. He had a lean muscular build from hard labor on the farm and some working out during high school so he could play baseball. Not as much as Jack but he felt he could hold his own. But being lonely, isolated, still a virgin hurt his confidence, and he wondered when he would do something reckless.

Then he thought of the yellow eyes and he felt his fear fade from thought.

 

Jack sat at his desk in the open office area of the station, his grandfather in one of two offices, Howard Shore, the captain in the other. He went through his citation book, wondering which would end up in court forcing him to do the same. He glanced at the clock wondering how the afternoon could pass so slowly, knowing it did so since he had two days off and it the weekend to boot.  He considered a weekend in Fort Lauderdale, maybe hit a few bars, then a club if no luck meeting someone at a bar. It had been too long since he was with someone and there was that itch that needed scratching in the worst way.

The phone rang at Betty Mae’s desk, their receptionist and administrator, a jack of all trades Howard liked to joke, but they all knew the truth of it. Betty Mae kept the place running and organized, and that attitude hovered in the air over them for her voice would carry across the room with authority.

“Seminole Tribe Police, is this an emergency? Jack? Yes, he’s here. I’ll connect you.”

Jack heard his name, then Betty Mae swivel in her chair, and he looked up to see her looking his way.

“Line two is for you.”

“Thanks Betty Mae,” Jack replied as he picked up the call. “This is Jack Cypress.”

“Hey, I was…was you serious about getting together to talk?” There was no introduction, but Jack didn’t need it to recognize Billy Osceola’s voice.

“Yes. You want to get together and tell me what is bothering you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I can get the day off. We’re not real busy right now.”

“You want me to come by and pick you up-“

“No. Can I meet you somewhere? I could park my car at the recreation area,” said Billy, referring to the parking lot and boat ramp on the canal where it goes under I-75.

Jack lowered his voice and turned away from the others in the room. “That is not a good place to leave a car at night and if we’re late coming back-“

“Where then?”

“I know the owners at the service plaza. Park in their lot as far away from the building as you can, and I’ll let them know to expect your car on their lot. I assume that white Chevy truck I saw at your home is yours.”

“That’s it.”

“Okay. Be there, say…ten thirty in the morning.”

“Where will we go?”

“Not sure but I’ll decide on something,” Jack replied, wondering where indeed.

 

Jack drove down the gently curving highway as it followed the old canal. The canal needed cleaning out having filled in some and the banks grown up, but it still carried water south to the one that ran along Alligator Alley. The interior filled with the dull roar from the Jeep’s all-terrain tires and the music playing over the satellite radio station. It was all just white noise for he was more focused on Billy and what he needed to talk about. Jack tried to imagine what it could be. He knew it wasn’t a situation at home, not like John Hensley who had to be put in foster care due to his abusive father. Billy’s mother, Laura Osceola, was a third-grade teacher, which he had had himself and he could not imagine her doing anything to hurt Billy. Then there was Sam Osceola, a man so kind and light-hearted, who never spoke ill of another. It wasn’t something at home that troubled Billy.

Then he wondered, gave thought to what it could be. What if…no, that wasn’t possible. But it could be, and he tried to picture it, but the service station came into view, then he saw the old Chevy truck out in the corner of the parking lot, and he pushed the idea away.

As Jack pulled across the parking lot, he saw Billy climb out of the truck and come to the rear of it, waiting for him to pull up. He had barely come to a stop when the passenger door swung open, and Billy was climbing into the Jeep.

“Let’s go,” said Billy.

Jack maneuvered down to the interstate interchange, hitting the ramp to go west.

“Where are we going?” said Billy.

“To a place I know just below Estero Bay.”

“Barefoot beach?”

“Yeah.”

Jack noticed the fidgeting and the way Billy looked out the side window more than the windshield.

“I don’t know I can say-“

“Wait. Not now,” Jack interrupted. “Let’s just enjoy the drive over and listen to music. Is this, okay?”

“Yes, I like this,” Billy replied, referring to the song currently playing.

Jack saw Billy physically relax, settle down in the seat and no longer turned away from him. He hoped by the time they got to the place overlooking the intercoastal waters Billy would be ready to talk.

 

Billy followed Jack into the old restaurant or was it that old. South Florida was such a harsh environment, nothing kept a new look for very long. Paint faded and cracked, eventually chipping away. Fabric awnings faded too. Metals rusted, aluminum oxidated, and asphalt dried out and alligatored. Inside the cool interior he saw the same wear, floors that were sanded to a dull sheen by foot traffic, areas where the sun shined in bright and harsh, paint was faded, even the pictures on the wall were washed out. But the place was busy, with locals and tourists. They followed the hostess through the dining room, out a door to a deck area overlooking the water, where she sat them at a small table along the railing. Two couples were climbing out of a boat docked at one of the piers and coming up for lunch. A waiter passed with a tray of drinks, brightly colored and each with something topping it. Slices of fruit, a little paper umbrella, or sprigs of herbs.

“Welcome to the Blue Dolphin, what can I get you to drink?” said the waitress.

“Coke,” said Billy.

“You still have that Dogfish IPA?” said Jack.

“Yes, and can I get you an appetizer while you look over the menu?” said the waitress.

Yeah, bring an order of the coconut shrimp.”

Billy watched the waitress go back into the interior then he looked out over the water. It was a place that seemed familiar, like the places he had visited with his parents over the years, down in Naples or back on the east coast, going to Fort Lauderdale, Hollywood or North Miami, or crossing Biscayne Bay to Surfside. Jack hadn’t said much since they hit the road, and even now sat quietly just watching him. The waitress returned with their drinks.

“Do you know what you’ll have for lunch?”

“Billy, order what you want; it’s on me,” said Jack.

“Grouper sandwich, blackened,” said Billy.

“And you?” said the waitress, looking at Jack.

“I’ll have the burger and add bacon.”

The waitress disappeared once again inside, and Billy found himself ready to talk.

“You won’t tell anyone what we talk about?”

“It’ll just be between us.”

“And you…won’t freak out or anything, like leave me here?”

Jack was surprised by the comment, looking across the small table with raised eyebrows, wondering what could be so bad. “No, of course not.”

Billy leaned in closer, keeping his voice down. “Jack, I feel so isolated, so alone sometimes, I don’t know what to do. I think about leaving, you know, take off for Miami or Tampa…or Atlanta or even Seattle.”

“But you have friends and a supporting family and-“

“Yes, but they don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

Billy tried not to do it, but he felt tears pool up in his eyes until Jack was blurred.

“Billy, relax, it can’t be that bad, unless you killed someone and hid the body in the swamp.”

Billy laughed, then choked, He wiped his eyes then shook his head no. “No, it’s not something like that.”

“What is it?”

Billy lowered his head, then looked up. “I’m gay.”

“OH!”

It came out wrong, not because he was so surprised, but because it was the one thing, he had considered but didn’t dare believe.

“You won’t tell?”

“No, that is for you to tell when you’re ready.”

“I’m not sure I will ever be ready.”

Jack considered it, how time could pass so quickly while one held such a secret. He took another drink and sat back looking at Billy who once again was fidgeting.

“Billy, relax, it’s okay. I understand.”

“Do you?”

There it was: an opportunity to make his own confession. Why Jack Cypress, twenty-four years old with a good job was still single. But it felt wrong, like he would be taking something from Billy’s confession.

“Yes, I think so.”

“You dealt with it before, with someone else on the reservation?”

Billy looked at Jack, desperate to hear that someone else on the reservation was gay, that he wasn’t the only one.

“Yes.”

“Who was it?” Billy blurted out, then regretted it, for he knew Jack wouldn’t tell him for if he did it would mean Billy couldn’t trust him to keep his secret.

Jack smiled, shaking his head. “Let’s stay focused on you. Have you met anyone, maybe gone over to Fort Lauderdale for a weekend just to hook up, have a good time?”

“No.”

“So, you …”

“A virgin? Yes. Are you going to make fun of me now?”

“What? No, that is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not like the reservation gives you a lot of opportunities to meet someone and…I imagine it could be kind of scary going out for the first time to some bar or club or connecting with someone online.”

Their food arrived and Billy slowly began to eat. Jack finished first and motioned for another beer while watching him.

“Most of the people on the reservation might take some time to get used to it, but I don’t think that would be the case with your parents,” said Jack.

“Maybe, but would you take the chance?”

“If you’re going to live on the reservation, sooner or later you have to tell them.” Jack wondered when he would take his own advice.

“I’m afraid everyone will reject me.”

“I don’t think everyone will.”

“No? If you were in my shoes, could you go back there and tell them? Hey guys, I’m gay. Are you okay with that?”

“You were friends with Mitchell, right?”

“And Louise Shore and Susan Jumper.”

“Well, Louise and Susan are at college, but Mitchell is still around. Start with him.”

“I almost told Mitchell once, but your brother walked in on us.”

“John? His timing for fucking up something is impeccable.”

Billy laughed, really laughed for the first time, for it was something he thought too and to hear John’s brother say it made him feel he had been right to change the subject that night.

“So, this is it, the reason you roam the swamps and avoid people. I overheard Michell tell John some time back that you were avoiding everyone.”

“They were dating and wanting to go on double dates, and…I wasn’t going out with someone just for appearances.”

“Can’t blame you for that.”

Billy considered it, everything Jack had said. He knew Jack was right, that sooner or later he had to tell his parents. It didn’t matter if he stayed on the reservation or left, they deserved to know. The problem was he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to live on the reservation, with his people, but he wanted them to accept him, let him feel a part of the community once again.

Billy looked across at Jack, sizing him up, while considering his own situation. A rookie cop who was still single and as far as he knew had not gone out with anyone since his prom in high school. He gave thought to it, that maybe Jack and he were more alike than he knew. He gave the idea of Jack being gay form, made it real for just a second, that the man across from him was the same.

“What about you? When are you going to settle down?” said Billy.

Jack scoffed, then chuckled. He sipped his beer, sat the glass back down, then looked at Billy. “We’re here to talk about you, and I assume you got everything off your chest, or is there more?”

“I think being a closeted gay guy on the reservation is enough, don’t you?”

“Yep, I think that is more than enough for you to deal with. What do you say I pay the check and let’s head back. I’ve got plans tonight,” said Jack, thinking how the conversation with Billy had wired him up and he was ready for an excursion to Fort Lauderdale for the night.

“Plans?”

“I’m going over to Fort Lauderdale to hook up with a friend,” said Jack, thinking it would be a new friend, one that could satisfy his need for a bit of intimacy, even if it was casual.

 

Sam helped Billy get the sofa into the apartment while Laura organized the kitchen, taking the new dishes from the dishwasher and putting them away. It had been three months since Billy had had lunch with Jack making his confession, and since then he planned everything out. Getting his own place first, for he still feared getting rejected and kicked out, despite what Jack said about his parents. The apartment gave him a place to call his own and not worry about trying to find a place to rest his head at night if things went sideways.

“Let’s put it on that wall where I can look out the window,” said Billy leading the way across the room with the sofa.

“You know you didn’t have to do this,” said Sam.

“But I want my own place.”

“I get it, but this doesn’t mean you can’t come home.”

“I still expect you on Sundays for lunch,” said Laura from the kitchen.

“Jack Cypress asked about you yesterday,” said Sam.

“You spoke with Jack?” said Billy.

“Yeah, ran into him at the gas station.”

“Filling up that thirsty Jeep, no doubt.”

“It was his police vehicle, which is probably no better,” said Sam referring to the crew cab Ram trucks the police department used.

Billy had spoken to Jack only a few times since their lunch, for he had been so busy with work on the farm and getting his own place, buying furniture and all the things he hadn’t considered before, like bedding, towels, and all the stuff he would need in the kitchen. They crossed paths a few times, at Ann’s Diner or the service station, and being in public, it made him cautious, keeping their conversation short.

“When we finish, let’s go get some lunch,” said Laura.

“Sounds good. We just need to get the coffee table and the chair up here,” said Sam.

“And my television,” said Billy.

 

Sam stood at the window looking out over the small parking lot. Billy sat in the chair and Laura on the sofa.

“Dad, can you sit for a second, I want to talk to you about something.”

Sam sat next to Laura, and Billy saw the concerned look, like Sam expected something was wrong.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you and didn’t know how.”

“You’re gay,” said Laura in a low calm voice.

“What? How did you know?”

“I’m your mother. I tried to make it something else, not because I thought it was wrong but because I saw how miserable you were and thought it had to be something easier for you to deal with, something I could…fix.”

“You can’t fix this.”

“I know, but there is nothing to fix.”

“You knew too?” said Billy to his dad.

“We talked about it, wondering if we should bring it up or wait on you to come to us,” said Sam.

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Life is way to complicated for us as it is, and this will be something else you have to work out how to deal with and I will support you any way I can.”

Billy sat back wondering why he waited so long or why he doubted them.

“Have you met anyone? Another boy?” asked Laura.

Billy scoffed, shaking his head. “On the res? No.”

“You should date, meet others. It’s why you feel lonely.”

“I know, but it seems like such an effort for it’ll be a trip to one of the coasts.”

“Maybe something will work out.”

 

Jack saw the Osceola’s going into Ann’s Diner, wondering if they had Billy moved into his apartment. He had replayed their lunch so many times it took on a special memory, almost surreal in some aspect. His trips to Fort Lauderdale had been an attempt to put Billy Osceola out of his mind and that confession of being gay. The trip that afternoon after their lunch he had picked up some guy on vacation and fucked him to the point of exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, where he was from, or even what he really looked like.

The next two trips ended up with him in his hotel room alone. He just wasn’t feeling it and the guys he met who pushed hard for him to take them back to his room made him desire them less. He had run into Billy a couple times, and he felt like a hypocrite. The advice he gave him he knew he should have taken it for himself.

Just a short distance past the diner, he swung the truck around and accelerated away, heading to his parents’ house. He pulled up his father’s number and called for the system to ring him. One ring, two, then three and his father answered.

“Hey son, what’s up?”

“Are you at the center or at home?”

“I’m at home having lunch with your mother.”

“Don’t leave, I’m on my way. I want to talk.”

 

Jack eased the back door closed and headed toward his truck. He wiped his eyes, then glanced back picturing his parents sitting at the dining table. There had been an initial shock, then some push back, until there was resignation. It had been surprising how his confession of being gay was unexpected. Surely, after six years of not dating anyone, they might have some clue. But his parents had a perception of their son, and nothing was allowed to interfere with that image.

With truck running, he radioed in that he was going back on patrol, then just sat for a minute calming himself. He knew it could have been worse, but he had hoped it would have been better. Now he needed to give his parents time to reflect on him being gay.

Back on the road, he headed toward the center of their community where he would circle the south side on Buffalo Jim, Cypress Hammock Circle, then Susie Bille Trail out to the canal where he would circle back and take George Billie up to Henry Osceola Road and back toward the center of the community. 

Sitting at the stop sign at the end of Henry Osceola Road, he was going to turn left on Eloise Osceola but switched off the blinker and turned right instead. He cruised along slowly past the single-story houses until the two-story apartments came up on his left, and he looked for the Chevy truck. Instead of Billy’s white truck, he saw the blue Ford that belonged to Sam and realized it was backing out of a space with Sam behind the wheel and Laura in the passenger seat. He pulled to the stop sign, checked to make sure the coast was clear, and turned left, then left again at Horseshoe Road knowing Sam would turn right.

 

His shift finally over, beer in hand, Jack sat on the small porch in the front of his house and watched a plane’s lights move through the sky. The lights were no brighter than a star, but their movement made them visible, and he watched them move at what seemed a slow pace.

“Shit,” Jack uttered aloud, then tipped his chair back against the wall letting his head rest against it. He took a deep breath and wondered how Billy would respond to him if he confessed, he too was gay. It seemed like something that would happen in high school, not between two grown adults.

Henry rode by slowly, no doubt coming from the casino over in Immokalee. It was how Henry killed time, pushed away the loneliness after his wife passed away and his youngest left home, taking a job in Oklahoma. The old Chevy truck rumbled by then braked to turn into a drive four houses down.

Jack climbed to his feet, dropped the empty bottle in the recycle bin, and went inside to get some sleep.

Billy washed up at the old sink under the live oak behind the bar. His arms were greasy up to the elbows where he had been working on a tractor, then changing oil in the other two and the old truck they used to pull trailers. The sun was high in the sky, brutally hot, and despite the shade of the tree, he felt the heat in the air, so hot it made each breath feel insufficient, like an asthma attack. He watched his dad ease through the gate to the pasture pulling the trailer with the water tank on it. There were two troughs out beyond the reach of the water lines, and they filled them with the tank. It was a task he normally would do, but being better at repairs, his dad told him he would do it, to focus on repairing the tractor, then he could leave for the day.

Billy lathered his arms one more time, then rinsed them feeling the tingling sensation of having been scrubbed with a brush. He dried them with paper towels and headed for his truck.

Behind the wheel, he switched the station to see if the other one was playing anything decent, wishing he had satellite radio like in Jack’s Jeep. Coldplay was playing and he smiled at his luck. He put the transmission in drive and headed toward the road. He saw the Dodge Ram with the blue light on top and Police down the side pull into the drive blocking his way out. Jack Cypress climbed out and came to him. He rolled down the window as Jack came alongside his truck.

“Jack, something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for dinner one night…when you’re free.”

“What time do you get off, for I’m done for the day.”

“I clock out at three if nothing comes up.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking one of the Mexican places in Immokalee. It’s close by and cheap.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that works for you.”

“I’ll see you at five.”

“What is your apartment number?”

“Twelve.”

 

Jack pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and parked next to Billy’s truck. Billy sat next to him silently since leaving the restaurant. He felt his heart racing and his palms were sweaty. And he felt alive, every pump of the heart loud in his ears. He pictured the look on Billy’s face when he admitted to being gay and how he didn’t confess earlier for he thought it would take something from Billy’s confession, that last time was for Billy, not him. It had made him feel like a hypocrite ever since.

There was the look of surprise, then the most mischievous smile that turned into a laugh. Out loud, filling the restaurant until everyone was looking their way.

You’re gay too, Billy whispered across the table once he stopped laughing. Does anyone know?

He told Billy about telling his parents and how they had finally called him to say everything was alright. Then he told of calling John, his brother, who disparaged him for taking so long that he already knew. If John knew, then Mitchell has to know, don’t you think? Billy said he didn’t think so, for Mitchell couldn’t keep a secret and John knew it, and Mitchell had not said anything about it. But he would know soon, for Billy was having lunch with him on Sunday and was going to tell him.

Jack shut off the Jeep and watched Billy climb out realizing it was happening. The thing he had envisioned for years, him living openly, and it only took Billy Osceola to confess to him first.

Billy stood by the open-door looking in.

“Do you want to come up?”

Yes. Yes, in the worst way, Jack thought as he looked at Billy Osceola. Familiar features with their own unique appearance, one he found attractive. “If it’s okay.”

“Come on, keep me company for a while.”

Across the parking lot to the front door where he stood behind him as he unlocked the door. Billy stood to the side, door behind him, leaving barely enough room for Jack to enter. Their arms rubbed and it made the hairs stand up on it and sent a shiver down his spine. He moved into the small apartment seeing the neatness of it, everything in its place. The walls were still bare, but their photos on the end tables, a small figurine of a horse on the coffee table and the kitchen looked functional, one that was used with a coffee maker, microwave oven and knives in their wood block.

Jack stood in the edge of the living room and watched Billy lock the door and come toward him.

“You want something to drink? Water? Soda?”

“Are we really going to pretend otherwise on why I’m here?”

Billy smiled then shook his head.

“Come here,” Jack uttered in a low commanding voice, and he watched Billy come up to him.

He placed his hand on the back of the neck. He leaned forward while pulling Billy toward him. They kissed.

 

Billy felt his shirt fall open, then hands against his bare chest. Over the stomach, upward, until rubbing across his nipples. He moaned into Jack’s mouth. He moved as guided, eyes closed, letting Jack direct him. He bumped into the small side table by the sofa, then sensed the darkness of the small hall between bedroom and bath. He was pushed against the bedroom door feeling it swing open behind him. He felt alive, skin sensitive to every touch, cock stirring with his arousal.

He bumped against the bed then fell back on it, Jack moving over him. Lips pressed against his own, then moved along his jaw, and down his neck as hands pushed his shirt open. The lips moved across his chest, then kissed the right nipple. A tongue dragged over it, rough, stimulating, making him moan. Hands tugged on his jeans until the button slipped free, then tugged the zipper down as the lips moved over his stomach. Soft kisses and the drag of tongue over his skin along the top of his boxers as hands tugged jeans down. He opened his eyes and rose up to watch Jack stand at the foot of the bed. Jack took off his shoes and socks, then tugged the jeans until each leg was free. He was down to his boxer and the flimsy garment suddenly felt too confining. He raised his ass letting Jack slip them off. His cock rolled over heavily on his abdomen as eyes took him in.

Fingers grazed his thighs as Jack moved down between them. Lips touched his hip, moved across his abdomen, finally touching his cock. A kiss to the head, then moving down until manipulating the nuts in their loose sac. He spread his legs wider apart, giving Jack permission to keep going. He lay back, eyes closed clutching at the bed as the lips moved up his cock, then closed over the head of it. He moaned as his cock sank into the warm wet mouth.

As lips slid up and down his cock, fingers manipulated his nuts until tugging on them, pulling them tight into the bottom of the tightening sac. He moaned and pushed upward feeling the heat engulfed his cock.

The fingers moved below his nuts, almost ticklish in their touch. He knew what they wanted; he wanted it too. He brought his feet up on the bed, knees up and spread wide apart. The fingers moved down touching him in a way never touched before. The soft grazing contact down to his tightness. Then the rubbing across it until the fingers centered on it. He moaned and shivered when penetrated. He angled his head back and with mouth hanging open, moaned louder as the finger moved inside him. Two fingers penetrated him, then three. He shuddered and undulated beneath Jack grinding his ass down on the fingers.

“Jack,” Billy uttered breathlessly.

Jack rose sliding hands up each thigh until behind the knee. A push and the knees were soon against Billy’s chest as cock rubbed against his own. When did Jack get out of his jeans, Billy wondered feeling the open shirt rake over his legs as cock was pumped along side his own. When a hand released on leg, Billy felt the cock being moved down to his opening. He felt the rub up and down then the push against it.

“Put it in me,” Billy whispered.

He clutched at the bed and shuddered with his first penetration. As cock bore into his depths, slowly, inch by inch, he slowed his breathing and lay still, focused on the feel of it. His tightness as cock pushed into him. Then the fullness of the penetration, a man’s cock inside him and his own flexing with his arousal where it was pinned between them.

When lips touched his own, he opened his eyes to see Jack over him. He closed them and kissed back as hands moved along his arms until fingers intertwined with fingers. Jack held him down and slowly fucked. Billy submitted to it as cock tugged outward then pushed back in, over and over. Jack grabbed him behind the knees again and pushed down. Hovering over him, Jack began to fuck faster, harder, until the sense of in and out were blurred to just the feel of cock inside him, moving with a relentless pace.

Suddenly he felt empty, and Jack was up on knees between his legs.

“Roll over,” said Jack.

Billy rolled to his stomach and Jack grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up onto his knees. He kept his head down on the bed as cock moved between his ass cheeks, then down over his hole, then into it, once again penetrating him. It sank into him until he felt hips against his ass pushing to get deeper, as if Jack thought he could crawl up inside him. He pushed back with the same delusion.

The hands held tight to his waist as Jack fucked him. A pace that was fast and brutal, the sound of flesh smacking flesh echoing in the room. Only the sound of the cheap bed banging into the wall was louder. Then a pace that was slow. Agonizingly slow, Billy feeling every goddamn inch tug and push at his opening.

During a particular slow fuck, Jack took each shoulder and pulled Billy to stand on his knees as cock continued to fuck. His own cock angled up, head wet and dripping. A hand took it, smearing its slick down the shaft stroking him to the point he didn’t think he could take it. He shuddered and pushed back on Jack’s cock. He shoved his hips forward, driving his cock through the fist.

“I’m going to cum,” Billy uttered as he lay his head back on a shoulder pushing his torso outward and ass back on the cock fucking him.

“Do it…do it, come for me,” Jack exclaimed while increasing the pace of his fuck.

Billy felt his body tighten, every muscle. He felt the surge of imminent release, then his cock flex in Jack’s fist. Then he cried out as his cock flexed with one ejaculation after the next. His ass spasm around Jack’s cock, who didn’t slow. It was too much, such a release, he shuddered and pushed his spurting cock through the fist, then shoved back on Jack’s cock.

“Fuck,” Jack exclaimed, then he whispered it over and over breathlessly as he shuddered with his own release.

 

Bodies still sweaty, both still gasping for breath, lay against each other kissing and touching and whispering utterances of desire and want and need. Billy rolled to his side with Jack sliding up behind him. Cock moved between his thighs, pushing against his sac. Then it was pushing inside him, sinking deeper and deeper.

“Yeah…fuck me,” uttered Billy, voice low and husky.

And Jack fucked him, slowly, driving all the way into his depths. The bed softly rocked with the rhythm of it. A reinforcement of its movement, the nature of one man inside of another. Billy stroked his own cock as Jack moved inside him. Then he shifted over, pushed Jack to his back as he slid over him on his lap, cock still inside him. He lay against the hot sweaty body and moved his ass on the cock, grinding down on it while moving his hips in the most primitive way. Seductively, physically, he moved his ass on Jack while stroking his own.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jack uttered as he held the narrow waist feeling the movement of the body on top of him. He looked over the shoulder down the lean smooth torso to the hand stroking cock. “Come for me…do it…come, Billly, come for me.”

The cock swelled thick in the fist, then exploded. Wad after wad spurt from the cock raining down on the smooth toros. Jack ran a hand over the chest and stomach smearing the hot release over the sweaty skin. He brought a wet hand to his mouth capturing the taste of Billy. It was too much. He bearhugged Billy to his chest and thrust upward, harder, faster, shaking the whole bed. He fucked until his muscles burned from the exertion, then he shoved upward while pushing Billy down on his cock just as it exploded with his second release.

 

Jack stood by the tub as Billy adjusted the temperature wondering how it could be so good. To find someone who pleased him so much it scared him, and it be someone on the reservation too. He looked at the body, lean, masculine, sensing its sex. The shower came on and Billy stood turning to him.

“It’s warm now,” said Billy, and Jack just nodded as he stepped in behind him.

Billy stood under the spray, and he moved up behind him pressing their bodies together. Billy had submitted to him twice and he wondered if Billy would ever do otherwise. He held the narrow waist and kissed the back of the neck. He felt his cock stir being trapped between them pressed against that firm ass.

Billy turned his arms and hardening cock slapped against his own. He looked down at them, how they were so similar. Same length, same thickness, only Billy’s cock was darker whereas his matched his general skin tone. Both were framed by jet black hair, and both were getting hard. He watched as Billy became playful, working hips to make cock slap against cock making the two of them aroused.

“Will you let me?” asked Billy.

Jack didn’t comprehend what was asked at first, then he unwrapped the words, made them the question asked. Will you let me?

“Yes,” Jack replied. He turned to the wall, shifted his feet back and apart. “Do it. Put it in me.”

Billy moved behind him and he held his head down, eyes closed, focusing on the cock rubbing across his ass. He reached back spreading his cheeks and the cock rubbed up and down between them. He moaned and pushed back against it. It centered on his tight opening, and he felt how it pushed against it and how he wanted it, wanted it so bad he pushed back feeling the stretch of his opening as Billy penetrated him.

Hands held his waist, fingers digging into the firm flesh. Lips touched the back of his neck and moved across the shoulders. And cock pushed into his depths until hips pressed against his ass, then it began to fuck. The fuck of one’s first time, energetic, physical, building up a brutal pace, and his own cock stuck straight out rock hard and dripping. He loved the feel of Billy’s fuck. A good vigorous fuck.

A hand snaked around his waist and took his cock. As cock pummeled his insides, the hand stroked his cock.

It seemed impossible that he was on the verge of release so soon. Hadn’t they just started to fuck, but the shower began to cool, and he knew the lie of his sense of time. He felt Billy slam against his ass and kept jamming hips against it and he knew. Billy was coming.

Then the cock was no longer inside him and Billy was spinning him around. The shower was cut off and Billy squatted down in front of him. His cock disappeared in Billy’s mouth, and he watched him move on it. He leaned back until shoulders rested against the tiled wall while Billy sucked his cock. He watched how the mouth slowly took more and more of it until nearly taking all of it. Then he tilted his head back and shuddered with another release, filling Billy’s mouth with cum.

 

Weeks became months, and it spread around the reservation. Jack, the rookie cop was dating Sam and Laura Osceola’s son, Billy. A gay relationship, one most were not sure how to feel about it. They knew the Christian rhetoric, but they knew their own traditions, an acceptance of the two spirits within one. So, there was a truce, a holding of judgement, while enjoying the human weakness for gossip.

It didn’t matter, not to Jack or Billy. They cared not who accepted them and who didn’t if their families supported them. Jack’s cruiser could be seen in the apartment complex’s parking lot, or Billy truck in the drive at Jack’s house, with the smoke of a grill drifting upward into the sky or the living room curtains open to the two of them watching movies or a basketball game, the sport Jack like the best.

And if one were so inclined to snoop, like Billy’s neighbor at the apartments, they could be heard having sex. Physical, playful, at times rambunctious.

 

Billy carried a box marked kitchen down to his truck, passing his father on the stairs going up for another box. His mother was in the kitchen boxing up the last items, the stuff in the junk drawer. In the parking lot, Jack was arranging the boxes in his Jeep so they wouldn’t topple over on the drive to his place.

“Son, you sure about this?” asked Sam.

Billy stopped on the landing and looked up at his dad on the balcony. He saw the concern; had for the last three months while his moving in with Jack had been planned out. He smiled up at his dad, nodding his head.

“I’m sure.”

Sam nodded, then looked down at Jack, who was looking up concerned.

“You hear that?” Sam asked Jack. “He’s sure about this. Are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then. I guess we have a move to finish.”

It was wintertime, the middle of January, and the day was calm, clear, with temperatures in the upper seventies. The sixteenth, to be exact, a milestone to be remembered by Billy. He couldn’t believe it had been nearly two years since their first date.  Within a couple of hours, Billy few possessions were in Jack’s place ready to be unboxed. Clothes to the dresser drawers emptied for him, or the section of the closet cleared for him. The kitchen would keep the best of their appliances, utensils, and canisters, with the rest donated to charity, the same one that took the furniture from the apartment. Two households put together as one.

That night, despite bodies fatigued from the move, Billy moved over Jack, slowly, gently, driving into his depths with a passion, a hunger larger than norm. He held Jack down while pushing into his depths, over and over until filling him with his load. Then he lay on his back, legs wrapped around the waist as Jack fucked him, drove into his depths giving him the sense of fullness, of a connection he clung to with such desire and need it frightened him at times. But never to the point of regret, just the opposite. To trust someone unconditionally, to love them, to desire them; it made him breathless to think about it.

 

Jack followed Billy down the narrow paths made by deer deeper into the woodland below the Osceola home, the place Billy wandered as a teen. They reached a section of the swamp with its large cypress trees rising out of the dark murky waters. A splash of water, then just the sound of birds in song trying to lure a mate. It was getting late, the sun low in the western sky and it made the understory dark, deeply shadowed, mysterious.

“Come on, this way,” said Billy leading Jack down a narrow spit of land into the swamp.

They hadn’t gone far, maybe a hundred yards, when Billy held up a hand for Jack to stop. Jack slipped up next to Billy and looked in the same direction Billy was staring. He saw movement, just the slightest shift in color. Then there was a low cry, the swamp scream as some called it, and he saw the Florida Panther move through the woods quickly disappearing.

“Did you see it?” asked Billy.

“Yes,” Jack replied, heart racing and realizing he needed to breathe.

Billy had told him of seeing it, or one like it, that night long ago. Of how it scared him, made him wonder if he would be attacked, then finding the courage to stand still and watch the mysterious creature of the swamps and woodlands. Billy had considered it an omen, a sign, and when Jack had shown up to take Billy home, it was another sign, one that led to discovery, to intimacy, and finally, the two of them living together.