Ringo, Slippery Banana: A Beautiful Love Story (Iron Orchids Book 7)

  Ringo, Slippery Banana

  Iron Orchids

  Danielle Norman

  Copyright © 2020 by Danielle Norman

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission from either the author and or the above named publisher of this book with the exception for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.

  The name Danielle Norman® is a registered Trademark

  Iron Orchids™️ is a pending trademark.

  It is your responsibility to know the law: 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act, 112 Stat. 2860

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Ringo

  2. Dash

  3. Ringo

  4. Dash

  5. Ringo

  6. Ringo

  7. Dash

  8. Ringo

  9. Dash

  10. Ringo

  11. Dash

  12. Ringo

  13. Dash

  14. Dash

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Binge Read Me

  Box Set Madness

  Sneak Peek—Roads Traveled

  Find Me

  Meet Danielle

  Special Thanks

  Ringo, Slippery Banana

  A gorgeous man, a sexy fireman, and a crazed gunman walked into a Drag Queen restaurant on a busy Sunday morning.

  It sounded like a joke until…

  The shooter fled, I was left bleeding on the floor, and the sexy as hell fireman peered into my eyes. Why couldn’t I have choked and got mouth to mouth resuscitation?

  This was our story.

  Two men.

  One raging inferno of emotions.

  He was rugged boots and a red fireman helmet, who kept more than fire gear in his closet.

  Most days, I was glitter stilettos and red lipstick, and the only thing in my closet was a couple hundred pairs of fabulous shoes.

  I was ready for love, to shout it from the rooftop, he still needed a safety net.

  Together we created a flaming hot romance...

  To Jeanne, Pamela, and Carol

  “In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.”

  — Coco Chanel

  Prologue

  Ringo

  Eighteen years ago—

  Flicking my foot, I tried to free the pebble from the duct tape that wound around my shoe in hopes of keeping the sneaker together until I could finally afford a new pair. It was time to add more tape, since the edges of the tape had rolled down, and the sticky side was acting more like a magnet, trapping small rocks, leaves, and even bugs.

  I flung my book bag over my shoulder and cut around town the long way home, not that Weaverville, North Carolina was that big, but it would take me longer to get home at least. I was stalling and I knew it. I rubbed my palms down the front of my jeans for the fiftieth time.

  I could do this, I could tell Mama, it was going to happen sooner or later, I needed to come clean. We didn’t exactly live in a big city and to top it off not even half a percent of us were black. Now, add me to the mix and I was going to be one of a kind in this small white-bread town.

  I pulled open the screen door and was welcomed by the sounds of my sisters Aeisha and Avon, playing in their bedroom. The smells of pork chops and boiled cabbage filled our small house.

  The only thing that made me smile at this moment was the fact that my brother, Alden, was working. I didn’t need him here making things worse.

  “About time you got home, boy. Get your homework done, then get cleaned up because dinner’s almost ready. Tell your sisters the same.” As quietly as Mama came into the room, she turned around and walked out.

  But this time I followed her. “Mama, can we talk for a second?”

  “Talk while I’m cooking.” She took a quick glimpse at me, then turned back around to face the stove. “What’s on your mind?”

  I rubbed my palms on my jeans and smacked my mouth several times to create moisture, since my tongue had gone so dry. “Mama, I don’t fit in here.”

  “This is your home, of course you do.”

  “No, I mean around here, this town. I don’t fit in. I’m different.” Mama stopped, turned, hands resting on her hips, she was getting ready to preach that we were all different but I stopped her. “I’m not talking about us being black. I’m talking me, just me. I’m gay.”

  “You best be meaning that you’re happy.” Mama turned the stove off and then came over to the table where I was seated and sat across from me.

  “You know what I mean. I’ve never been like Alden. Mama, I like boys. I’m attracted to them.”

  My mama sat there for several seconds, quietly, all I wanted her to do was to say something.

  “Alex, pack what you want to take with you and leave.”

  “But, Mama.”

  “I’m not your mama anymore, boy. Get out of my house. We’re black. We already got other folks hating our skin color but being gay, you got God hating you.” Her voice was low and calm, her words like slivers of ice.

  Ringo

  “Here we fucking go again. Oh, excuse me, I mean welcome to Bananas. I’m Ringo, your fabulous host for this morning’s celebration of the rise and come of the big man.” I waited for everyone to stop laughing before I continued. “We will begin in a few minutes, so make yourself comfortable, order your food, and if you need anything just yell for Alice, everyone will answer.”

  Alice was part of the theme at Bananas, the wait staff wore fifties-style uniforms and all of their name tags said Alice except for my manager’s, which said Flo, and the kitchen crews’, which all said Mel. And if anyone didn’t grow up on the original or reruns of Alice then they could just kiss my grits.

  Bananas was my pride and joy, it was a place where I could be me, a flaming drag queen with a love for showing off. Today, Sunday, was our busiest day. Probably because we were famous for our tabernacle drag queens in choir robes who sang old hymns and shouted, “HeyMen.”

  Many of the faces were ones I recognized, like my girls over in the corner. Ariel, Leo, Katy, and Sophie had become my family, since I no longer had one, their choice not mine. Whether it was Christmas, my birthday, or one of their kids’ school plays, I was never forgotten or left out.

  I continued to scan the crowd and tried to say hello to everyone. “Hey sexy, welcome to Bananas.” I moved across the room. “Woo-hoo, happy to see you back so soon.” This was me, the real me, not some boy pretending to blend in to the confines of what his family considered acceptable in the small North Carolina town of Weaverville, where my sexy-as-fuck mocha skin was one of fifteen people in the entire town of four thousand.

  I continued strolling my way around and then stopped when my eyes landed on someone I hadn’t seen in ages. “Girl, where have you been?”

  “Oh, Ringo, long story made short, broke up with my boyfriend. Let’s just say I’m way better off.”

  “Girl, you know what they say. If a tree in the woods falls on your ex and no one sees it, still hide the chainsaw.”

  The crowd laughed because everyone eavesdropped at Bananas, we had
no shame in our game. That and I was talking into the microphone. “I’m glad to have you all here on June first, the official start to what I like to call, Me Month. All right, all right, Pride Month. Now, let’s have a coming to Jesus.” I held up one hand like I was fucking Eva Peron and this was Evita, and then I walked off the stage.

  “HeyMen!” several people from the crowd shouted.

  “Charmaine, Gypsy, Ivanna, Anita, you’re on, go,” I called out, and the first four queens hit the boxes. We had a main stage but also box stages that were heavy as hell but could be moved around the room so the queens were in the middle of the crowd. I was the owner, but there were ten drag queens at Bananas, which meant all of us ruled the scene. We were performers by nature and fabulous by birth.

  I did a quick change into my choir robe, slid on a blonde bouffant beehive wig, and switched into killer heels. Sorry, I wasn’t about to wear those god-awful fifties style block-heeled shoes even for this, those bitches were ugly.

  As the end of song one, “Upon this Rock,” came to a close, Duchess, Calliope, Fuchsia, and Esmerelda joined them for a rendition of “Coming in the Sheaves,” but of course, we changed that last word to sheets. After another moment, Lotty and I moved to join Calliope at the front stage and picked up harmony with her for the end of the hymn.

  “We are going to sing a new one for you today. It took me a bit to find just the right twist.” I wiggled as I said the last part. One of my favorite things to do was to look at lyrics and figure out a way I could change them just enough to be totally recognizable and people could sing along but at the same time just a tad bit dysfunctional. “It’s called ‘Going Down to the River.’” The music began and I started to sing, “Going Down, Going Down, I’m going down to find my peace piece.” As I sang the notes trilled through the air, this was my happy place, always had been. I loved to entertain. “I’m going down, going down—”

  Shouts erupted through the diner. Screeching of chairs and their metal frames crashing into each other warred against the shattering of plates and terrified screams. I turned and faced a man in the entranceway.

  It was as if we had all fallen into a vat of taffy, making everyone move slower as they traipsed through the thick gooey candy, but in reality it was only a second or two. The man was in normal street clothes, he was wearing a mask, and there was a gigantic cross around his neck. “Fagot. Abomination. Against God’s holy plan.” He lifted the gun as I shoved Calliope and Lotty to the floor.

  I heard the crack of gunfire long before I felt the fiery heat explode in my chest.

  The deafening bang of gunshots sounded again and again and again.

  When they ended, the silence that followed was hollow.

  “Lotty, Calliope.” I tried to yell, but I didn’t have any air to project my voice. “Ariel, where are my girls? Is everyone okay?”

  “Ringo! Oh, shit. Help, somebody help me.” Calliope screamed as she pulled off her robe and attempted to staunch the bleeding from my wound. “There’s so much blood, help me.”

  “How is everyone else?” I tried to force out, but it hurt to speak, each breath burned.

  “I don’t know, stay still, you’re hurt bad, boss, please don’t move.” Calliope readjusted. “We need medics, please.”

  “Shhh, calm down, 9-1-1 has been called.” I listened to the voice, it was familiar, Sophie, I think it was Sophie. “Lock all doors, check the back doors as well. Let no one in until we see SWAT.” Yeah, Sophie, it was definitely her. She was cool as a cucumber. “Anyone have medical knowledge?”

  “I do, I’m a nurse at Florida Hospital,” someone said.

  “Great, can one of you Alices go back in the kitchen and get some gloves for her from the cooks?”

  “I’ll get them,” Ronald, my head cook, said.

  “Is anyone else hurt, shot?” It sounded as if Sophie was moving away from me and then someone knelt beside me.

  “Ringo, I’m a nurse,” a soft voice said. “Ringo, can you hear me?” Why was she constantly saying my name? Did she think I had forgotten it?

  “It burns.”

  “Okay, I’m going to try to help. I have to ask because I have no protection, are you HIV positive or have been with someone who is recently?”

  “No. Not HIV.” Each word I had to fight to get out.

  “I’m Jackie; let’s see what we have here.” She lifted the robe and suddenly the pain got worse.

  “Here you go,” Ronald said as he handed gloves to Jackie.

  “Thanks.”

  “Ringo, how is your breathing?”

  Breathing, it was hard, I felt like I was doing double work for half the intake.

  “Ringo,” the woman called again. “Can you answer me? How is your breathing?”

  Ahh, shit. “Hard. Hurts.”

  The sounds of sirens seemed to be coming through on surround sound followed by loud banging that rattled the very air I was trying to breathe.

  “It’s SWAT, I’m letting them in,” Ariel called, her voice shaky but strong. She was okay.

  “Everyone, stay where you are,” a booming voice commanded.

  I wanted everyone around me to be quiet so I could here Sophie, she was talking to someone, “I’m Sergeant Lang’s wife, and that’s Lieutenant Christakos’” I smiled knowing that she and Ariel were taking control. “The place is clear, the shooter left, all doors and windows have been locked and remained locked since the shooter fled.”

  My eyes, batting open and closed, I saw the guy in front of SWAT make a circular signal, and the others all spanned out quickly. Within seconds they hollered back, “Secured!”

  He picked up his radio. “Let paramedics in.” He turned to the crowd. “If you are not injured, please grab a chair and move it toward the back and have a seat. Officers will be in to speak with you momentarily.”

  “Move, I’ve got it.” The man’s voice sizzled like bacon in a hot skillet, and Jackie moved away from me. “I’m Dash.” Oh my god, he looked just as tasty as bacon too. The gorgeous man immediately started shoving his hands under my robe, under my shirts, and on my legs. “I’m attaching an EKG to you, okay?”

  “Yeahhhh.”

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Alex Derring.” My name had never been so hard to think of.

  “How old are you, Alex?”

  “Thir…four.”

  “Thirty-four?” he asked as if I hadn’t just said it. “Your heart is picking up speed, I need you to try and slow it down, so I can try to stop the bleeding.”

  “Yeah.” I was panting.

  “Good, listen to my voice. I need you to try and slow your breathing, okay? You’re doing great,” Dash soothed.

  I opened my eyes wide enough for a second to really take him in, and he and I connected. I knew it sounded stupid, but there was this exchange. Then he wiped something really cold against my arm, and the moment was broken.

  “Oww,” I grumbled as he slid a needle into my arm.

  “I know, it’s like field dressing a soldier, but you’re fierce.”

  “Hell, not fierce,” I groaned.

  “You must be really popular here,” Dash said.

  “I own the place.”

  “Tell me, what do you all know about him?” he asked but I wasn’t sure to who.

  “He is single,” Calliope answered. “His birthday is the end of July, but I can’t remember the exact day. He always reminds me.” I chuckled at that.

  “Calm down, I’m just trying to stop the bleeding, okay?”

  I nodded or at least I think I nodded. All I did know was that suddenly my body was shifted, rolled, moved, and jerked.

  “We’re going to slide a backboard under you.” When he rolled me back it was onto a hard cold surface.

  I relaxed as I was lifted and moved. I heard lots of voices but I was watching the man next to me. I didn’t, no, couldn’t let him out of my sight.

  “Hold on for me, we are going to lift you into the back of the truck.”

/>   When my hand grabbed hold of his, it was out of reflex—that was all. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you,” Dash stated as once again, my body was shaken and then there was the loud thud of the doors closing. “I need to clip this on your finger.” Dash and his partner worked while someone else drove. “Will someone contact your family for you?”

  “I don’t have any. Just me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dash said to me, I think. “IV, I used a sixteen gauge,” he said as the other paramedic made notes. “Blood pressure is fifty-two over thirty-four, pulse ox is down to sixty-nine. Stay awake for me. Some of the people called you Ringo is that your name or is it Alex?”

  “Alex . . . Alex Derring.”

  “Alex. We’re almost there.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just added .3 Etomidate,” Dash rattled off, it will take the edge off.

  Then a scratching, choking feeling washed over me and down my throat, then that feeling was gone.

  “Relax, Alex, breathe through your nose, relax.”

  Floating, I was floating.

  Then there were loud voices all around me, and the whitest lights ever were stinging my eyes. God, could someone turn those damn things off?

  Dash