Cleats in Clay

by Jackson Cordd

  Tuck reached out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Hello,” Bobby said with a smile.

  Marigold turned back and waved Rustler over again before smiling at Odis. “I’m guessing yer not with Tina anymore?”

  “Nope. She made her leave of me four years ago.”

  Rustler and Moonbeam finally made it through the crowd. Marigold turned to them with a grin. “I think Odie has big news for us.”

  Rustler stared over at the men, focusing a moment on Bobby. “Bobby Lane?” he finally asked.

  THE sextet ate and chatted warmly for over an hour. Tuck was surprised to learn the Sunflowers had just celebrated their eighteenth anniversary. The news left him feeling hopeful that three-ways could work in the long run.

  The older woman Odis had been conversing with earlier, whom Odis introduced as Harriet, the gallery owner, pulled Odis aside. “It’s almost nine.”

  Odis followed her to the platform next to the curtain. She gave a signal to kill the music. As the room hushed and eyes turned their way, she said, “Now for a few words from our artist, Odis Vorleik.”

  He stepped forward to a quiet spattering of applause. “Thank ya all for coming out here tonight. It’s been a while since I had a show, and nice to see ya haven’t forgotten me.”

  Another spattering of applause made Odis pause. “I’m sure you’ve noticed from the other pieces a bit of a theme running through the works. Well, no need to drag this out,” Odis said as he reached for the curtain button. “I present to you the central piece, Cleats in Clay.” Odis pushed the button, and the curtain parted in the middle and slid quickly open.

  The patrons in the room let out a hushed coo as they took in the phenomenal work that stood nearly five feet high. The piece’s tall central column was fashioned from a nearly transparent blue acrylic, giving the illusion of a jet of water flowing forth from a garden spigot resting at the top. At the bottom of the column, the acrylic beaded and bounced like water as it splashed over a pair of cleats, a dirt-smudged baseball, and a sheriff’s star badge, fashioned from white clay and coated with a shimmery glaze that looked nearly gold. While the background was stunning in its own right, the most spectacular part of the work was the three large hummingbirds that played and flirted around the column of water, seemingly floating in midair amidst sparkles of bursting pink fireworks that defied gravity.

  Marigold finally broke the silence of the room, first whispering out, “Fantabulous.” Then, she said a bit louder, “You have so outdone yerself, Odie V.”

  Bobby still couldn’t find words. Every area of the huge sculpture his eyes landed on bore some small token of him, or Tuck, or Odis. The molded monument to the three of them was beautiful beyond his describing. He glanced down at the placard, wondering how many zeros were in this work’s price tag, only to find the words “No Sale” displayed.

  Tuck noticed Bobby’s stare, then glanced down at the placard. He stepped over to the platform and quietly asked Odis, “No Sale? Why not?”

  “Bonehead,” Odis leaned over and whispered. “I made it for you two.”

  Tuck glanced over and saw Bobby shaking his head violently. Bobby spoke up. “Odie, that’s too fucking beautiful for us to just drag it home and throw it in a closet. It needs to be someplace where people can see it and appreciate it.”

  Odis looked over at Tuck, nodding in agreement. “Okay, then.” He went over to Harriet and told her to put a price on it. She scurried away, then returned a few moments later and changed the placard.

  As Bobby stared at the incredibly large number, Odis stepped up. “I’ve had more than enough. Let’s say bye to the Sunflowers and y’all can follow me to my hotel.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tuck agreed as Bobby nodded.

  Chapter 33

  THIRTY minutes later, they made it inside Odis’s hotel room. Before the door had even clicked closed, Odis stripped off the jacket and frantically worked the buttons to get his shirt off as he kicked away his shoes. Shirt finally removed, he ran over and stretched out on the king-size bed. “Get over here.”

  Bobby and Tuck both chuckled. “Somebody in a hurry?” Tuck asked.

  “I just wanna feel your hands on me,” Odis said. “So get over here.”

  As Bobby walked up to the bed, he saw the new splash of color on Odis’s chest, just over his left nipple. He stepped closer and saw the new tattoo of a yellow six-pointed sheriff’s star with a red algiz rune in the center. “A tat?”

  Tuck noticed it too. “Ya got inked?” Tuck laughed when he got close enough to make out the work.

  “Why’s that funny?” Odis asked.

  Tuck undid his pants and opened them enough to reveal his right hip. His new algiz rune in his sheriff’s star was done in black ink, but the tattoos looked nearly identical otherwise.

  Tuck sat on the bed and rubbed his large hand over Odis’s bare chest. Odis smiled. “I did think about a hummingbird but was afraid I’d be disappointed if it weren’t as good as Bobby’s.”

  While Tuck leaned down and locked lips with Odis for a gentle kiss, Bobby unbuttoned his polo shirt and slipped it over his head. He kneeled down on the bed close enough for Odis to see the new ink on his own chest, a small six-pointed star with an algiz rune. His new star was much simpler and positioned in front of his hummingbird, looking almost like a flower the bird was feeding on.

  “Oh cool,” Odis said when he pulled back from Tuck.

  “I guess we all think alike,” Bobby said before moving in to kiss Odis while Tuck pulled off his shirt.

  “Loki’s nuts,” Odis said with a sigh as he reached up and pulled the men down next to him on either side. “I really missed you guys.”

  “Oh,” Bobby teased. “How much?”

  “About ten pieces’ worth,” Odis said with a grin. Tuck and Bobby both gazed back, looking puzzled. “I was only supposed to do five pieces for the show tonight, but keeping myself distracted in the studio while you’s gone, I came up with fifteen sculptures.”

  “Wow.” Tuck kissed him slowly on the lips. “Busy little bee, huh?”

  Odis chuckled. “I even got into your toy drawer too.”

  Bobby grinned. “Why am I not surprised.”

  “It’s not the same, though,” Odis said as he slid his hands down to the men’s crotches to fondle their growing erections. “Ain’t nothin’ like the real thing.”

  “I thought you’s tired,” Tuck teased as he ran his hand along Odis’s stomach.

  “Not too tired for my boys,” Odis replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Bobby reached down and unclasped Odis’s slacks before zipping down the fly. “Boys, huh? Last time you said we were big men.”

  Odis pulled Bobby down into a warm and fuzzy kiss to shut him up as Tuck worked his hand into his open slacks and fondled his swelling dick. Odis felt Tuck’s strong hands pulling down his boxers; then a hot and moist mouth surrounded his dick, bringing it to full attention.

  “Oh shit,” Odis hissed out as he pulled back from Bobby. “That ain’t your hand.”

  “Just let us say hello,” Bobby scolded before he smothered Odis in another kiss. Odis squirmed underneath him as Tuck worked his hot mouth up and down on Odis’s swelling dick.

  Odis squirmed again and tried to pull away as his orgasm drew closer, but Bobby held him pinned with his kiss and firm hands rubbing across his chest. Tuck slowed his movements but applied a bit more suction, drawing the orgasm from Odis.

  As he came, the little man bucked, and Bobby released his mouth. Odis whispered, “Oh fuck,” as he panted and his body shivered, releasing weeks of sexual tension into Tuck’s mouth. Tuck greedily suctioned and swallowed.

  With a grin, Tuck crawled up to the head of the bed as Odis continued to pant and spasm.

  Sounding almost hurt, Odis asked, “Why’d ya do that? Make me come so soon?”

  “Too tired for any big-assed thing,” Tuck told him. “But it seemed like you needed it,” he said with a crooked smile as he
gazed over at Odis.

  Bobby nodded. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow,” he added as he undid his jeans and worked his way out of the denim before throwing them to the floor. He started to hug in to Odis until he saw Tuck sitting up and struggling with his cowboy boots. Bobby jumped up and ran around the bed to help while Odis also undressed. Tuck was soon naked to his boxer-briefs.

  Bobby crawled into the middle of the king-size bed and rolled to his left side. “Over here, Odis,” he said as he patted the bed in front of him. Tuck spooned in against Bobby’s back, resting the fiberglass cast across his hip as Odis turned out the lights. Bobby wrapped his arm around Odis when he crawled in front of him. Bobby heard Tuck yawn as he patted Odis’s chest.

  As the three of them settled in, it dawned on Bobby that he’d forgotten to tell Odis about the Timmin’s Cycle. Well, he thought with a yawn, it can wait until tomorrow. Or even until we get home. A grin spread across his face when he realized his own thought. Texas, and these men, felt like home now. Another yawn pulled him toward sleep as he hugged against Odis and nestled into Tuck. It felt so nice to have a home again.

  Appendix

  Letter from Nathan found in safe by Bobby and Tuck on April 6:

  Hey Lover,

  I know you have spent the last months utterly pissed at me because of the things I’ve kept from you. And I know it will be at least a year after finding this note before you can appreciate my final gift. Right now, you probably don’t even want to look at them, but eventually you will.

  I’m not sure when you might see this note. The window of possibility is open from as early as April to as late as August, depending on how things roll out.

  But, if Tuck is the one reading this to you, then even though Tuck may disagree as he rubs his cast, things really have rolled out by the best scenario.

  I’ve really hated keeping all this secret from you. So many days, I had to fight not to spill my guts about the aneurism or my visions. But Sharon helped keep me on track. Not so much directly, but the memory of how it changed our relationship back when I had that weak moment and spilled everything to her back in high school kept me steady.

  Right now, you’re probably craving answers. Most of those answers will be buried somewhere in my journals. (Yes, I know, another fucking secret, I bet you’re thinking)

  Please don’t blame Sharon or Ivette, they don’t deserve it, and know very little, actually. So leave the poor girls alone.

  Just as background, you should read the first three red notebooks before looking at any others. Most of the time, you don’t, though. I only see Tuck, Odis, and sometimes Sharon reading those. But I wish you would.

  If this is April or May as you read it (or should I say, as Tuck reads it that seems to happen in most early scenarios), I know your biggest bone of contention is how I could allow April 3 to happen. I know that will have been a horrible day for you, but you’ll have to trust me. Maybe after you read some of the past journals and you see some of my past decisions and consequences, you’ll be more willing to put faith in me. But April 3 had to happen. Any attempt to forestall or avoid it leads to a much worse disaster because of the gears already in motion.

  I guess I need to back up a little on that explanation. When I took my little road trip in August (Tuck: July-August of six years ago, in the yellow three-ring binder is where to find details about our little “accident”… I know you’re anxious to read about it), I confirmed then how integral Tuck was to a life with you and Odis. Dammit, I’m getting sidetracked. I’ll have to get back to those two later.

  Anyway, on my road trip in August, I ran into a squirrelly dude, Carl Travie, at the gas station on my way out of town. When I touched his arm, I saw all the details of April. As Tuck would put it, there’s a fox in the henhouse of the Sheriff’s Department. Carl is actually a cousin of the Thursons who set himself up to be their “inside man” with the law enforcement office. If April 3 doesn’t happen, later evidence will surface of Carl’s duplicity, leading to May 7, a very bad day. Trying to confront Carl results in a hostage situation that spirals out of control and leads to five deaths, one of them very close to home.

  Also, if the fire doesn’t happen on April 3, a much worse one will spark on May 14, with strong winds blowing from the west, as they tend to do in the summer months, and parts of the town will succumb. The charred ground seems to keep that one from starting.

  So please trust me. April 3 is the best scenario.

  Okay, I’m sure by now thoughts of Ricky have crossed your mind. Especially if you’ve already had your little heart-to-heart with Tuck (I only see Odis there about half the time). Anyway, your suspicions are right. I did see it coming. But like so many of these other situations, we were caught up in gears already in motion. Nothing you did could have prevented that outcome. The details might have been slightly different, but it seems Ricky was destined to take his own life.

  By the time we met on June 3, Ricky’s psyche was already damaged beyond repair. Gerry gets sole blame for that. His manipulations and abuse left Ricky so battered and broken, Ricky couldn’t see any other way out.

  And don’t worry, it will all catch up with Gerry in June. His latest victim won’t be as scarred, cajoled, or intimidated as the others, and he gets the word out about Gerry’s predatory truth.

  Once Gerry is no longer at the house, you will have an opportunity to mend some bridges with your mother. But don’t expect too much. Gerry has been feeding her bullshit for the last twenty-five years, leaving her saturated with poison. I’m sorry it won’t result in more. Try not to set yourself up to get hurt again.

  Okay, back to Odis and Tuck.

  I’ve never in my life seen a bigger mess than those two. They’re like star-crossed lovers five times over. Even Shakespeare would have thrown up his hands at dealing with them.

  So, you’re probably wondering how all this even came about. Well, from the second I walked into that Key West gallery and saw Odis, I had an image of you two (Odis and Bobby, in case Tuck is reading this) along with that stupid rune stuck in my head. That rune plagued me and nagged at me like an evil spirit. After talking to Odis, I also saw Tuck. It took some time for me to realize the rune was speaking of unity between the three of you.

  But the whole thing was such a complicated quagmire. I did my best to set things up for you to meet Odis first and provide some hints to guide you along the way (by the way, hope you enjoyed the Arvin book, I found it strangely comforting. Don’t let Odis read it, though; just trust me on that).

  I can only hope things work out. I still see a 5 percent chance that you meet Tuck first, which will complicate matters a bit, but it should still be workable.

  If things take one of those twists and you don’t find this until July or August, your concerns will be of a much different variety. I can only say, I tried to deal with Mother as best I could, and trying to get you away from the business is for your own sake. I don’t see anything but misery ahead for you if you stay in Boston. You have to get your ass out of here. If Texas is screwed (and don’t give up on it too soon, Odis is stubborn but not stupid, and Gertie can be a strong ally), then look to Denver. Follow that lawyer kid’s lead to Colorado.

  Well, I guess this is it. I’ve always kept my promise to look out for you, and I still am, by steering you in the best possible direction after I’m gone.

  I wish I was there to give my Buzzer a warm hug when I say thank you. I sincerely mean that. Thank you for letting me have a more or less normal life, and I will always love you with all that my heart has to give.

  You never failed to leave me the space I needed, to be who I needed to be. Don’t ever forget to do that. Your future lovers will need it as much as I did.

  Hugs and Kisses Forever,

  Nathan Ichabod Price

  P.S.: I left you something in the attic.

  About the Author

  JACKSON CORDD first attempted writing in junior high, when he put together an eight-page comic boo
k. His lack of drawing skills doomed the work to failure, though. In high school, he learned to rely on the words alone and placed third in a regional short story contest his senior year. (He still feels he didn’t get first place only because of the homoerotic elements).

  To get a steady paycheck, he works in the software industry writing and proofreading programs and manuals, but he returns to weaving the tales of his hunky fantasy men at night.

  Visit Jackson on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id= 100003616877972.

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