Beer Truck

By Emily Carrington

When TJ, a famous country star, finds out he has cancer, he retreats to his hometown to heal away from the paparazzi. Uncomfortable living with his parents, he gets a job as a beer truck driver.

Harvey is the owner of a local bar. He’s been following TJ’s career because the two of them used to be lovers. But TJ insisted on being in the closet. Now that Harvey’s older, he can’t imagine burying himself like that ever again.

But when TJ walks into his bar, both men are shocked by the attraction that still blossoms between them. But neither will budge in their beliefs. How can they possibly find happiness in each other’s arms?

Publisher’s Note: Content trigger warnings for both internal and external homophobia and physical illness (cancer survivor).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Jun 2, 2023

Book preview

Prologue

I can’t sing, it hurts to talk, and you’re telling me I have what?

The doctor, a healthy-looking woman who might feature in one of TJ’s songs eventually, repeated herself but it still sounded like so much gobbledygook to his ears.

In English? he asked, then regretted it. She was from another country, and he hadn’t meant to sound so, well, countrified American. I’m sorry, he said humbly. I just… don’t understand.

You have cancer, she said.

He gaped. What? he nearly shouted.

It’s very treatable, she went on.

In my voice box? He put a hand over his throat as if hiding it from her view could change her words. But, but… I quit smoking three months ago.

There is no direct correlation between smoking, or other destructive habits, and laryngeal cancer.

He caught the word that time, deciphering it. Lar-en-gee-al? He sounded it out. Like from the larynx, right?

She nodded, her auburn curls bouncing gently.

For a moment, he focused on her curls, thinking of all the redheaded women who’d made it into his songs. Most of the other country singers he knew sang about blonde ladies, but for him, well, it had always been a redheaded person who’d turned him on.

Please don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Hickey, the doctor said. Quitting smoking is good for you, and I’m proud you took that step. But laryngeal cancer can come from many places, and we don’t have a definitive answer for what caused your Stage 1.

Stage… Stage 1. As in, not too serious.

She nodded and smiled gently at him. Most likely you won’t even need surgery, just radiation treatments. Those are no walk in the park, but they’re easier on your body.

Will I be able to sing again? he asked, his life as a star flashing before his eyes.

You should, she said.

Should? he all but squeaked. He coughed, which hurt, and tried for his most commanding, in-charge tone, one he’d used on countless prostitutes who hadn’t known exactly what they were getting into. I will not lose my ability to sing. If surgery’s necessary, we’ll go for it. If it’s radiation treatment, that’s fine. I will not lose my voice.

The next ten minutes or so went by in a blur as he fought to understand all the words she poured on him. One thing she said stopped his spiraling fear, not because it was comforting but because he got a clearer picture from it than from anything else she’d said.

I suggest you take a few months off from touring or you could cause irreparable damage.

He got up. I’ll go call my manager now.

Mr. Hickey, we’re not quite done with your --

I’m done, at least for now, Doc. Send me all the notes in that electronic chart thing and I’ll set up all the radiation appointments at a discreet place. He flushed. Not that you haven’t been discreet, but it’s hard to keep things secret in Nashville.

Where will you go? I can find the best treatment center for you wherever you’ll be recovering.

That made him sit back down. Okay, he agreed, and he gave her a zip code in Pennsylvania.

She began typing in her computer and came back with Either a hospital in Philadelphia or one in Colton will have good treatment options for you.

I’ll take Colton.

Chapter One

The music for the gathering was the weirdest mix Harvey had ever heard. As he served drinks for the extremely co-ed bachelor party, he heard the Carpenters, Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, Evanescence, Lily Allen, and a host of others that he didn’t know. He knew the music had no significance for one of the bachelors, Peter, because Peter was completely deaf. So, maybe Abe, his soon-to-be husband, had chosen everything? That didn’t seem likely. Peter and Abe were a team and rarely did anything solo anymore. Ever since their first night, when they’d met in this very bar, they’d operated almost as one unit, or at least that was how it looked from the outside.

Harvey remembered fondly approaching Abe, pronounced Ah-Bay in the Japanese style, on Christmas Eve a few years ago, asking if he and Peter wanted to be Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Considering that Abe was the shorter and smaller of the two, Harvey had presented him with the blond wig and belted jacket/skirt combination. Abe had asked Harvey to wait to offer Peter the other half of the costuming, but Harvey had jumped right in, loving Christmas in general and especially Christmas Eve at Maurice’s. He’d fumbled his explanation because even though at the time Peter could still hear the low thrum of a loud bassline, he hadn’t been able to hear speech and Harvey couldn’t sign more than I love you.

It had gone off rather smoothly after Abe stepped in. Harvey would never forget the way Peter’s eyes widened with obvious appreciation and lust as he’d viewed Abe in that red skirt.

Now, here they were, ready to get married in a couple of days.

Harvey pressed his lips together and turned away from the sight of the couple swaying on the dance floor, Abe guiding Peter with discreet touches that looked only slightly sexual. But from the shine of Peter’s eyes, he was feeling the full effects of his lover’s motions.

Being grumpy at a couple’s bachelor party wasn’t kosher or polite, so Harvey refocused on pouring drinks. Or would have if anyone had been there asking for more. Instead, everyone, damn, every single person in the bar, was paired up and dancing.

Harvey bit his tongue to keep from frowning or showing any other sign of displeasure. He wasn’t actually displeased, just feeling left out. Granted, on nights like this, he or whoever was tending bar usually made a hefty surplus of tips, but he hadn’t wanted to be here for this. He had been invited; told he could bring a plus one. But he had to work instead. His business partner, CeeCee, was busy. Her daughter had some sort of medical emergency. And the regular Saturday afternoon bartender had COVID.

He tried to focus on thoughts of CeeCee’s daughter, who was like a niece to him, but he honestly couldn’t, and not just because CeeCee hadn’t revealed the nature of her teenager’s medical issue.

It was the sheer number of couples. From Mike and Aidan Delaney, easily the oldest pair in the room, to their nonbinary young adult, and Ash and Ash’s lover Theresa, the youngest. Everybody else was in a twosome. He wasn’t jealous. Or at least he refused to be where anyone could see him. But, damn, he missed having someone in his life.

All right, that wasn’t exactly true. He had occasional flings. But nothing serious. Not since college. Even his three-week, whirlwind relationship with CeeCee had ended, although not badly. They’d both decided working and sleeping together wasn’t for them. During that time, he’d casually referred to CeeCee as his partner, more out of desperation to have someone in his life than because he’d actually thought they had a hope in hell of making things work out. When they’d broken up right after Christmas, he’d blushed to think he’d given her that title.

He longed for a return to the days of his early twenties, when life had been a song and --

And I was trapped in the closet, banging a man who dropped me the first chance he got. Realizing he’d been speaking aloud, if softly, Harvey shut his mouth. And here came Aidan, almost the tallest man in the room as well as the oldest. Okay, oldest among the partygoers. At forty-two, Harvey had a year on him. And damn it, he was the only single person here.

Forcing a smile, knowing the blind man couldn’t see it but also understanding the expression would carry in his voice, Harvey asked, Get you anything, Aidan?

Just wanted to check on Dustin and CeeCee.

That made Harvey’s smile genuine. Dusty has the VID, which he’s probably tweeted to half the town by now because he’s so bored. He doesn’t have many symptoms but knows our zero-tolerance policy. CeeCee… What could he say when he knew so little and wasn’t sure what she wanted bandied around? She’s okay.

Aidan nodded. And you’re okay?

Damn it, the man was too perceptive for someone who couldn’t see light or dark. Or maybe it was just a casual question. Maybe Harvey was just being paranoid because he’d had run-ins with Aidan’s intuitiveness before. So, instead of lying, because that might be caught, he asked, How’s Mike? Are you two really going to go for a third adopted child?

Aidan grinned. Mike’s fabulous, and yes we are. Then he sobered. But are you okay?

Damn. He should’ve known he couldn’t fly under the radar. I’ll be fine.

Anything I can do?

Harvey leaned closer and murmured, Give me some space. I’m grumpy tonight.

Aidan said easily, Sure thing. But if you want to talk, you know where to find me. And, swinging his white cane before him, he started away.

Pasting that fake smile back on his face, Harvey watched as couple after couple wandered by. Not all of them were holding hands but enough were that his own palms itched for someone else’s touch.

Quit being a Grinch, he thought at himself. And, when that didn’t work, he added in a low voice, I’m. Absolutely. Fine.

* * *

TJ sat on his bed in his childhood room and stared at the wall. He’d been back in Marisburg for almost