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Midnight Cowboys
Midnight Cowboys
Midnight Cowboys
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Midnight Cowboys

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Two young men from very different backgrounds end up roommates at a state college in west Texas in the latter part of the turbulent sixties.

Riki is the black sheep of a wealthy family, on his third and final chance to avoid the draft or disinheritance. His big dream is to be a hot guitarist with a rock band, and he has a weakness for recreational drugs that make him feel better about himself.

Jerry is a true son of Bible Belt America, happy to be able to go to college and perhaps rise above the lower middle class level of his family. The two form an unlikely friendship that develops into a deeper bond as they experience drugs, sex, and rock n' roll in their heyday.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJMS Books LLC
Release dateApr 27, 2020
ISBN9781646563470
Midnight Cowboys
Author

Deirdre O'Dare

Deirdre writes gay romance channeling a prior life’s gay male twin she calls Danny. Fascinated by love’s diverse shades and guises, she explores and experiences a range of attachments. She still believes in happily ever after, that Love is the One True Thing and genuine Love is never wrong. For more information, visit deirdredares.blogspot.com.

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    Book preview

    Midnight Cowboys - Deirdre O'Dare

    Midnight Cowboys

    By Deirdre O’Dare

    Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

    Visit jms-books.com for more information.

    Copyright 2020 Deirdre O’Dare

    ISBN 9781646563470

    * * * *

    Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

    Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

    All rights reserved.

    WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted.

    No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission from the publisher, with the exception of excerpts used for the purposes of review.

    This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Published in the United States of America.

    * * * *

    Midnight Cowboys

    By Deirdre O’Dare

    Prologue

    Crockett State College

    South West Texas

    September 1967

    Richard Riki Robards shoved the scuffed door open before he skidded to a stop. Grim and austere barely described the room he viewed. He’d seen sweeter jail cells. Oh shit, oh goddam fucking shit. And I’ve gotta share this grody overgrown closet with a roommate?

    He stepped aside as Sanchez shuffled in with the fourth load of Riki’s stuff and dumped it in the middle of the dark, dreary room.

    Tha’s it. Sanchez, the senior Robards’ current man of all work, huffed out an aggravated breath. I’m goin’ home now.

    That left nothing for Riki to say except, "Gracias. Hasta luego." Although he knew Sanchez did not care for him, that was okay. Neither did his family, really. Riki was on his own now anyway. Taking a step through the door, he caught sight of his reflection in the streaked mirror hanging over a battered chest of drawers. He addressed the image aloud.

    You gotta make it work this time, my man. You’re down oh and two here. It’s either become a college student for real or head for boot camp. No other choices.

    For an instant, he saw himself with a shaved head and a baggy camouflage uniform. The picture was not pretty. No, his party was over. Family purse strings had been tightened with a severe hand. And a Robards, he had been informed, did not run off to Canada as an alternative to military service. If he even attempted it, he’d be disowned completely. This time, he’d better buckle down to produce decent grades and acceptable behavior. Or else. After failing in one college and being expelled from another, he was running out of options.

    Exhaling a ragged sigh, he stepped aside at the sound of footsteps closing behind him. He turned to see a slender fair young man stumble to the door, holding a box balanced on his right shoulder, while he dragged a clumsy, abused-looking suitcase with the other hand.

    Hi, the stranger said, in a low, somewhat hesitant tone.

    Wish I was.

    At that, the other man’s eyes widened for an instant before he schooled his face to a neutral expression. Yeah, right. The new arrival glanced at the number on the door and then gave a nod. You picked your side yet?

    Riki shrugged. I’ll take this one, the right.

    Okay. The newcomer dumped the box onto the desk in his half and propped the suitcase against the foot of the second single bed. He took a couple of deep breaths. Those stairs are a bummer. Just one more load, though.

    For a moment, the two of them stood, taking each other’s measure. The newcomer wore a light yellow Oxford shirt, button down collar and all. With it, he had on neatly pressed khaki slacks and…penny loafers? Did anyone really still wear them these days? Riki suppressed a smirk. Holy shit, a real preppy type nerd, dork or something, like square squared. Still, despite the uncool attire, the guy wasn’t bad looking.

    Part of Riki wanted to launch into a sneering attack. Something held him back. Maybe a vague sense of self-preservation. No use making an enemy of someone you had to live with, even a guy who might be induced to help with your homework or do papers for you. Fast as a riff on his Strat, Riki shifted mental gears.

    Hey, I’m Riki. With two ‘I’s,’ like Jimi.

    Err, Hendrix, you mean?

    Yeah, the man, the hip one, the killer.

    Okay, cool. I’m Jerry.

    After a beat, Riki surprised himself. Need a hand with your shit?

    Nah, just one more load. My typewriter and another box. I can deal with it.

    * * * *

    Jerry clattered back down the stairs. He moved his rusty VW away from the loading zone before he grabbed the last of his stuff. With his portable typewriter under one arm and a second box tucked against his right side, he headed back up to

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