Sweetwater over Sweetgrass

“We’re going to have to make a decision, Wanda. Are we gay? Or aren’t we gay?”

“Well — *my* old lover is a psychopathic killer. Enough to turn a woman against gaydom. And *yours*…”

“Marcus, I know,” spoke Pete Archer, a Sagittarius through and through. Big Wanda? Aries of course. Horns of Hatton.

She looks downhill into the heart of the village, shifts her sturdy weight in her chair. “Well. One things for sure is that I’m not going to take orders from that Grey Scale woman who recently came in and just took over the place. Freed *Annie* for Pete’s sake.” She then looked blankly at Pete. “Sorry — I-I know you don’t like expressions using your name.”

“That was a long time ago, Big Wanda.” He flipped his hand. “Forget about it.”

“I’m sorry your mother never let you go to school. All the advantages lost–”

“I said forget about it.” There was finality in his voice now. Pete had forgiven his ma, his pa, his bro, his ho sis who joined the 1st Prostitutian Church of the Deep South when she was only 15. But now a woman of 30 and straight in her ways. Except she was gay as well. Was *he* gay? Maybe Big Wanda and he should do the big dirty again. Test all those different kind of moves out once more. But he could just be bisexual — no harm in that. Except it is frowned upon by the community here. He’s either in — or out. Can’t flip both ways.

“Let’s head to the Deep South again,” he offered. “Love Letters in the Sand.”

A big smile spread across Big Wanda’s face. Maybe they won’t have to stay here after all.

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