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feel any less guilty.
    Pearl had been at the mansion since I was a baby, hired to clean
    and cook and take care of me, mostly the latter as it turned out.
    24 Rob Rosen
    Meaning, she was owed more than just my weak apology.
    Finished with our meals, I excused myself and went to my
    room, belly so full it felt ready to burst. I got out of my clothes
    and slipped into my pajamas, then hopped into bed, the list
    again folded opened and on my lap. With the news of Granny’s
    passing, I hadn’t given much thought to the people that worked
    for her, for the mansion itself, to the will and all it entailed. I
    was a Jackson, like Granny was, but that’s where the similarities
    ended. For better or worse, Granny made me into a Yankee. Odd
    but true. And a gay Yankee at that. What did that mean for all
    our futures? Or had Granny taken care of that as well? Guess,
    I’d have to wait and see. No use putting the cart in front of the
    horse just yet.
    And speaking of horses, their handler was sneaking into my
    room at that very moment, a smile on his face, a plate in his hand.
    “Pearl left me a snack,” he said, by way of greeting, gently
    closing the door behind him.
    I folded the paper and sat up, spotting the biscuits he was
    holding out for me. “Pearl’s snacks can make a grown man weep,”
    I whispered, making room on the bed for him.
    He hopped in, snuggling next to me, good and tight. “Thank
    goodness I ain’t no grown man just yet, then. Shame to get these
    biscuits all wet.” He grabbed one and set to work. Reluctantly, so
    did I. Well, maybe not reluctantly. After all, I wasn’t full grown
    just yet, either. And there was always room for one of Pearl’s
    biscuits.
    I put my arm around him and he slid into my crook, head on
    my shoulder, both of us contentedly chewing away. “You going
    to the funeral tomorrow, Zeb?” I asked, hopefully.
    He laughed, despite the direness of the question. “Your granny
    would haunt me until the day I die if I didn’t, Trip. Woman was
    vengeful in life; in death, Lord only knows what she’d be like.”
    I nodded and laughed right along with him, setting the plate
    on the nightstand. “Yep,” I said, sinking into my down pillow as
    he rolled over, his hand on my chest, body soft and warm against
    southeRn FRied 25
    mine. “You have a point.”
    His hand moved south, landing playfully on my crotch. “So
    do you, Trip. So do you.”

ChAPteR 2
Sweet Iced Tea
    The next morning I woke in my old bed, not feeling anything
    like the randy teenager I used to be. Well, a teenager at any rate;
    the randy part was taken care of those several times the day
    before. Sadly, however, my caretaker was already up and gone.
    Seems like the horses needed Zeb more than I did. Only, the
    horses didn’t have to bury anybody that day. In other words,
    I may not have needed my flanks brushed, but my own needs
    weren’t any less pressing.
    Fine, fine, so I’m being a bit overdramatic. But, I mean, I
    wasn’t yet thirty and had no mom, no dad, no family. Granted, by
    all accounts, I had a mansion and a bunch of servants, but, uh,
    but… okay, I see your point; hard to feel sorry for a guy with a
    mansion and bunch of servants. I get it. But, truthfully, it didn’t
    make me feel any better. Not a lick. I stared up at the ceiling and
    shook my fist at Granny. “Not a lick!” I shouted. Then I shook
    my fist at the floor, too, because the odds seemed so much better
    that way. “Not a lick!” I shouted again.
    “Boy, who you talking to?” Pearl asked, kicking open the door
    with her foot while holding a tray overflowing with breakfast, a
    pot of piping hot coffee, a yellow flower in a porcelain vase.
    Again I stared at the ceiling, smelling the wonderful aroma
    coming off the tray. Well, maybe just a little lick, but from a small
    tongue . Then I looked at Pearl. “Morning, Pearl. And nobody in
    particular, to answer your question.”
    She tsk ed me and set the tray down. “City done made