The Maine Events by Rodney Riesel (most important books of all time txt) 📕

and took a couple steps back.Donnie doubled over with his hands on his stomach. Allen reached down andpicked up the largest of the many pieces of driftwood. As he moved toward thedriver, Donnie rose up.

“Stop,” Donnie said. “He's mine.”

Allen handed Donnie the branch. Donnie waved him off.

“I don't need that,” Donnie said. He rubbed his belly as heturned to face the driver. “Two of you couldn't do it.” He took a step forward.“Four of you couldn't do it. Are you coming back tomorrow with six assholes?”

The driver didn't respond.

Donnie put up his fists.

The guy who was sitting on the curb stood up.

“Sit down,” Allen ordered.

The guy did as he was told.

Donnie and the driver circled. Someone in one of the carshonked their horn. The driver jabbed with his right. Donnie knocked it away.Donnie deflected his left jab too. The driver tried a haymaker. Big mistake.Donnie stepped back, avoiding the punch. At the end of the swing, Donnie leaptinto the air and performed a spinning back kick against the driver's righttemple. He staggered to his left. Donnie steadied himself, and then delivered aroundhouse kick to his left temple. That one brought him to his knees.

“Would you like me to stop?” Donnie asked.

“Screw you!” yelled the driver.

Donnie delivered a front kick to the man's chest, drivinghim backwards to the pavement. He stood above the man, looking down at him.

“Just ask me to stop,” Donnie said.

“Screw you!”

“You wish.” Donnie kicked him in the ribs as hard as hecould. “I can do this all night,” he said.

“That's enough, Donnie,” said Allen.

Donnie kicked the man again.

“Donnie, he's had enough.”

“Has he?” Donnie asked. “Have you had enough?” He lookedover at Allen. “Has he had so much, that he'll never do this again? Will hejust keep driving the next time he sees a fag walking along the street …minding his own business?”

“I don't know, Donnie,” Allen replied. “Come on, let's go.”

Donnie stared down at the beaten man. “Don't do this again,”he warned. He turned to see Tim getting to his feet. “And you,” he said,pointing, “You'll be a lot happier when you finally figure out who you are.”

Tim chuckled nervously. “What's that supposed to mean, man?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Donnie replied.

The rednecks shuffled their feet and cast suspicious looksat each other. Donnie shot Allen a wink that said, The seed of doubt hasbeen sown.

Donnie noticed the backed-up traffic for the first time.“Nothing to see here, folks,” he said. “Just some rednecks getting their asseskicked by a gay man.”

“A gay man and his friend … who isn't gay,” Allenadded.

Donnie shook his head. “Just had to get that in, didn'tyou?”

Chapter Nineteen

Allen stood in his bathroom Saturday morning, leaningagainst the sink, and staring into the mirror at the scab on the tip of hischin. He thought about going downstairs and asking Crystal if he could bum aBand-Aid, but he'd end up spilling the beans, and in five minutes it would beall over the motel that the mystery writer and the gay man (which sounded toAllen like a bad sitcom) had been in a brawl. He reached back and felt the lumpon the back of his head. The lump had a nice scab on it as well. He pushed onthe lump.

“Ow,” he whispered, and winced.

Donnie had emerged from the fight with no visible injuries.He had commented that his stomach and ribs hurt pretty bad. Even more so whenhe and Allen laughed as they recapped the encounter afterward.

“I really could have used you in that fight last night,Frankie,” Allen said, walking back into the bedroom.

Frankie was lying on his back in the warmth of a rectanglepatch of sunlight, where the late morning sun was shining through the picturewindow.

“Comfortable?” Allen asked the dog.

Frankie ignored him.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

Frankie was on his feet in a flash.

“I figured that would get your attention.”

Allen grabbed the leash off the table and opened the door.

“Come on, dog.”

The two went down the stairs and out the office door.

“Hey there, Jackie Chan,” Allen said, when he saw Donniesitting in his chair, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Allen,” Donnie said.

“Morning, Allen? What happened to Blue Eyes?”

Donnie shrugged. “I don't know,” he replied. “We're friendsnow. We've been in a fight together. Calling you by a pet name just doesn'tseem appropriate anymore.”

“I guess you got a point there. Say, what are you doinglater tonight?”

“Probably turn in early.” Donnie paused for a second. “I'mthinking about heading out tomorrow.”

“No kidding. Going home?”

“No, I think I'm going to take a ride down the coast. I'venever been further south than Virginia Beach. Maybe I'll drive down toFlorida.”

“What about work?” Allen asked, figuring the man must have ajob.

“I took four weeks off for the wedding, and I've still gotanother two weeks of vacation that I haven't used, so I don't have to be backjust yet.”

“Well, if I don't see you before you leave, it was nicemeeting you, and have a safe trip.”

“Thanks, Allen. It was nice meeting you as well.”

“I was kinda hoping you would be around a little longer toteach me some of that kung fu shit you did last night.”

Donnie laughed. “That was karate, Allen, not kung fu,” hesaid. “And it took me twenty-five years to learn that.”

“Yeah, I don't have that much time.” He paused a moment,then said reflectively, “You know, Donnie, I've been thinking. It must berough, as a gay man, constantly having epithets thrown at you and getting intofights. Don't you get sick of it?”

“Sure I do. But like the great philosopher Ron White says,'You can't fix stupid.' But you can mess with their feeble little minds. Rightnow, for instance, those peckerwoods from last night—especially Timmy—arescared shitless they secretly want to blow the old silent flute. It'll be awhile before they call anybody a fag again.”

“I must say, I admire your attitude,” Allen said. After amoment, he added awkwardly, “Look, I want to say I'm sorry I said I'm yournot-gay friend. It just came out. Guess I'm like a lot of guys, thinking Ialways have to assert my masculinity.”

“Water under the