ThisIsYours_ValKovalin.pdf.pdf

THIS IS YOURS

EPUB ISBN-10: 0985114533 ISBN-13: 978-0-9851145-3-4

MOBI ISBN-10: 0985114541 ISBN-13: 978-0-9851145-4-1

PDF ISBN-10: 098511455X ISBN-13: 978-0-9851145-5-8

Text and cover art published by Val Kovalin at VK-NOW Books

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place, and incidents are

products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to

actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without

permission in writing from Val Kovalin. This includes paraphrasing and/or

quoting beyond the limits of the "fair use" doctrine of copyright law, i.e.,

anything beyond brief quotations contained in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work,

including copyright infringement without monetary gain, is illegal. This

document is registered with the United States Copyright Office.

Publisher's Note: This e-book contains non-explicit scenes of gay romance.

BLURB:

Alejandro Sandoval + Roberto Gallegos = love forever. Alejo looks back to

one night in June 1980, when he and Bobby were fourteen years old. Only

days before, they realized their attraction to each other. But now, Alejo’s dad

has invited over his buddies to watch the most anticipated boxing match of

the year. Anything could happen during the fight. And anything could

happen to Alejo and Bobby as they struggle to keep their newfound love

secret while soaking up the macho atmosphere of Mr. Sandoval’s Fight

Night. It is a night of love and revelations for Alejo and Bobby.

FREE short story, sex scenes: none, 11,000 words of story, not counting

additional text such as excerpts and blurb.

Author’s Note: In the universe with which you and I are familiar, pay-per-

view television was just starting to reach the sports world in 1980. That June, the

Durán-Leonard I boxing match in Montréal, Québec, Canada was one of the first

fights ever to be broadcast on pay-per-view and close-circuit television.

However, boxing fans who lived in a small city like Albuquerque, New

Mexico, USA, would have found pay-per-view television unavailable back then.

Instead, they probably would have waited a month and watched a replay of the

fight on ABC’s Wide World of Sports on Saturday afternoon.

They wouldn’t have seen the undercard fights. Nor would they have seen the

chaos in the ring at the end of the main event. In this story’s version of 1980, the

Sandoval family has pay-per-view, and Alejo and Bobby get to see it all – just as if

they were ringside in Montréal, watching that fight .

* * *

Alejandro Sandoval + Roberto Gallegos = love forever. Bobby, love of my

life. It’s our anniversary and this is my love letter to you. I want to explain how

much you mean to me.

I count our anniversary from further back than you might think. Not from

when we first moved in together as two guys starting college. Not from when we

first came out to our families. I look way back to the afternoon in June 1980, when

we first realized our mutual attraction. We were fourteen years old.

A few days later, my dad invited over his buddies to watch the televised

WBC Welterweight Championship fight between Panamanian challenger Roberto

Durán and American champion Sugar Ray Leonard. Dad’s big Fight Night event

showed me a world that I couldn’t wait to jump into with both feet. To be a man

among men. My mom and sisters were not invited. This all-male event centered on

watching the most violent and individualistic of sports, boxing . The word itself

filled me with awe.

Bobby, you and your brother were there on Fight Night with my dad and his

friends treating us as if we were grown up. You remember. You loved it as much

as I did. That night, I realized how much we might lose if you and I were

discovered to be a gay couple.

* * *

In 1980, my parents’ Mexican restaurant became very successful. My dad

bought his first luxury car, a midnight blue Lincoln Continental. He also got pay-

per-view television so we could watch the championship fight to be held at the

Olympic Stadium in Montréal.

Dad wanted to be the big man and host an amazing evening for his admiring

guests. On the day of the fight, June 20, he asked Mom to straighten up our

spotless house, as if his buddies would notice a speck of dust on the carpet,

especially in their excitement to see world-class boxing. Mom laughed at him and

went to work the late shift at the restaurant. After all, it was Friday night, a big

night for eating out.

My sisters were between their junior and senior year in high school that

summer. That night they were dressing up to go to the movies with their friends.

Dad thought they were going to see the PG-rated The Empire Strikes Back , but

they were really planning on The Blues Brothers , rated R, opening that night. Not

that I would ever tell on them.

Nobody else in my parents’ social circle had pay-per-view television, and

Dad expected a crowd to show up for Fight Night. In desperation, he handed me

the feather duster. Normally, he wouldn’t want his only son doing housework, but

he needed to plunge the Tecate and Dos Equis beer into the tub of ice resting on

our second-best coffee table. He had to set out the tortilla chips, guacamole, and

homemade salsa.

So Dad did all that while I dusted our wall shrine in the front hall. Bobby,

you remember that wall shrine. The little shelf held a bowl of plastic roses and a

seven-inch statue of the Archangel Michael with his sword poised to slay a

muscular, but cowering, Satan. Michael had his foot planted upon the head of

Satan, who was bald as a cue ball.

My sisters emerged from their bedroom to wait for their ride to the movies.

Both were gorgeous with big hair all fluffed and curled. Both wore platform

sandals with that cork wedge that looked so cool. Their shiny blouses glinted with

metallic threads. Christina wore designer jeans, but Graciela had on a stretch mini-

skirt that only reached to mid-thigh. Dad took one look and rushed over like a

watchdog, guarding the property line.

“No, no, no, mijita . That skirt? Your mother and I don’t let you wear things

like that.”

“Da-a-a-ad. I borrowed it from a friend.”

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