by Sean Michael
When she gone, Ty took a drink of his beer. “So you used to be a country singer. Not one of those twangy ones, I hope.”
“I did and I suppose twangy would depend on your definition, but I wasn’t never accused of it, no.” He chuckled and took a swig.
“Maybe you’ll sing for me sometime and I can judge for myself.”
“Oh, I don’t sing anymore.” He fiddled with the silverware, seeing the eyes of family, of friends wanting to know why, of all those wonderful men, why he lived. “I bet I could rustle up a CD or two, though.”
“Oh, your pipes were hurt in the accident, too? I’m sorry, that’s a really rough break.” Ty looked out at the beach a moment. “I didn’t mean to bring up hard memories.”
“Oh, no. No. I... I can. Well, I figure I can. I just don’t.” He blushed dark, shook his head. “Not my line of work anymore.”
“You never sing? Ever? Not even in the shower?”
“Nope. Not ever.” It was the truth, too. Not once since the accident. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. “I play sometimes though, if a band needs me.”
Tyler shook his head. “I can’t imagine not singing along to the radio, or belting it out in the shower.” Tyler blushed suddenly. “Christ, I’m being unbelievably rude, I’m sorry. Again.”
“Oh, hey. Don’t.” Kit reached over instinctively before stopping himself. “I mean, no one ever asks about it. I mean... it’s been almost six years and no one talks about it. It’s okay.”
“Yeah? Cool.” Tyler gave him another one of those easy-going, lingering smiles. “I was kind of hoping I was leaving a good impression, not making you crazy.”
“No crazy-making. Honest.” He smiled at Vera when she brought the salads. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She beamed at him and patted his shoulder. “You’re very welcome, Kit.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” chimed in Tyler, wicked grin on his face.
Vera gave her son an arch look. “You could learn a thing or two from Kit about manners, young man and I know I taught you better than that.”
“I said thank you!”
“You sassed me, is what you did.” She bent and kissed his forehead again. “I go off-shift in five. Beti, that’s with one t and an i apparently, is going to bring out your food. She’s new so be nice, but make sure she serves you right. Will I see you for supper on Sunday night, Ty-baby?”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Good boy.” Tyler got another kiss and then they were left alone again.
“I didn’t intend on getting your ass chewed, honest.” Kit was fighting his grin for all he was worth.
“Naw, she was right -- I was sassing her.” Tyler gave him a grin. “She’s a great lady, but to be honest I’m glad she’s off-shift now.”
“Yeah? Too much mothering for one night?” Kit dug into his salad, munching happily.
“Well when a guy’s out with another guy, he doesn’t necessarily want his mother around, you know?” The words were casually said, Tyler looking at his food and then glancing up at him.
Kit was never going to stop blushing. Never. “How did you know?”
Tyler gave him a sweet smile. “You flirted back.”
“Oh.” Nope, never going to stop blushing. “Did you mind?”
“Did I mind? That you flirted back? Why would I mind?”
“Well, I guess I usually wait to know someone better first.” Kit chuckled, grinned. “’Course, I’ve met your mom now.”
Tyler laughed. “You have! In some countries that makes us practically engaged.”
“Oh, they have a hell of a time pairing off us lame ponies, Ty. I’d make sure I had one hell of a dowry first.”
“I was with a chick in a wheelchair for a couple of months. Dead from the waist down, but what she could do with her mouth? Woo. And her mind was sharp. Too sharp. She finally dumped me for a physicist.”
“No shit?” Kit chuckled, shook his head. “I’m a musician. Not too terribly sharp.”
“Yeah? How are you with your mouth?”
He blinked, surprised and more than a little stunned, then managed a recovery. “Honestly, I do all right in that arena, but my claim to fame is my hands. Any man who can pick like I do? He can make your body sing.”
Oh, God. Had he just said that?
“Well there you go, Kit, sounds to me like you’ve got a hell of a lot to offer, lame pony or not.”
“Thanks, Ty. I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He gave himself a solid, strict thump as the food came. Ty was right. This self-pitying bullshit was frigging boring.
“So will I,” Ty told him with a wink and more than a little interest.
He couldn’t help but grin back. Ty was a fine-looking man, all sex and gold-skin and sensuality pouring from him. Damn.
They ate in relative silence, the food good, solid and real rather than some of those showy dishes that left you still hungry.
He ordered one more beer and nursed it. No way he was going to get home if he didn’t take it easy, but it felt good relaxing and just being with Ty.
Ty shared a story or two about some of his favorite bikes and a bit about growing up near the beach. “It gets into your soul, living out here.” Ty grinned. “I don’t sleep half as well if I can’t hear the waves at night.”
Kit nodded. “My house is about twenty miles from here, right near the water. I always wanted to live by the ocean. Got a ramp built where I can roll out, early in the morning.”
“Sounds really nice. How long have you been there?”
“About three years now. I was in the hospital for a good bit. Then rehab. I had the house and studio built so I could live there, be comfortable.” Kit nodded. “It was worth the wait.”
Ty nodded. “I’m surprised we’ve never run into each other before.”
“Well, I’m still getting used to the legs. In fact, today’s a record day for keeping them on.” Kit stretched, hands rubbing his knees. “When I’m in the chair, I tend to stay home. With these? I do some better about being social.”
“Does it hurt?” Ty asked. “I mean, if it bothers you to have me ask, just tell me to shut up and mind my manners.”
“No, it’s okay.” Kit frowned. “You ever worn a real tight pair of new shoes? This is kinda like that, except I’m resting my weight on a shit-load of scars hanging at my knee. It just gets to aching after a while.”
Tyler nodded. “I get it. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does, but I’m alive and ten of us aren’t, so I can’t really bitch.”
“A smart man knows to count his blessings instead of focusing on the negative. The waves’ll still be hitting the beach tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Kit stretched. “That they will. And, as much as I’m loving watching these waves, Ty, if I’m going to drive myself home, I’m going to have to head that way.” He surprised himself with the depth of his regret.
“Will you be all right?”
“Hmm?” Kit grinned, nodded. “I reckon. If I get too sore, I’ll find a resting place on the way.”
Ty took out his wallet and handed across his card. “Call if you run out of steam and I’ll rescue you.”
Kit took the card, digging out his own. “Same to you.” He grinned. “You never know when you might need rescuing.”
Ty returned the smile. “I’d imagine I’m more likely to need it than you.”
“I’d be happy to rescue your ass, Ty. Anytime.” He blushed as he said it, but meant it, so he let it stand.
“You might be sorry if I take you up on it.” Ty gave him a wink.
Laughing, he shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think so.” He stood, groaning as his knees complained. “Okay, I do need to go. I’m reaching the end of my tolerance and I have a bit of a drive ahead of me.”
Tyler stood and shook his hand. “It was really nice to meet you, Kit. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Same here. Please, let me know when you want to get together a
nd discuss the next steps.”
“What are you doing Thursday night?” Tyler flushed a little. “There’s a party on the beach. Lots of music, some food.”
“I...” Kit couldn’t take his chair down, but if he was careful, he could walk down on the sand. Hell, if he tried and fell, he could just turn his cowboy ass around and go home. “What time and where?”
“Diana beach -- it starts at five and if we get there ‘round then it shouldn’t be too crowded yet. We can stake out our spot.” Ty looked pleased.
“Okay. Should I meet you there, then?” He grinned. “And what type of beer should I bring?”
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot and the beer should be cold.” Ty took his hand again, giving him another squeeze. “See you Thursday.”
“Good deal.” He left money on the table and turned, heading toward his truck, slow and steady. As he headed out of the driveway, Kit figured he might want to take a few walks on his own beach during the next few days, just to practice.
Chapter Three
Tyler sat on the rail at Diana beach, feet swinging as he kept an eye out for Kit’s red truck. He was a little surprised at himself, at how eager he was to see Kit again. Something about the man held his interest, though, called to him.
He was usually pretty casual about his relationships. There were always exceptions. He never would have picked an ex country singer as one, though.
He grinned as he saw Kit pull up, hopping off the fence and heading for the truck. By the time he got there, Kit was swinging his legs out, wearing jeans and a black tank top, giving Tyler a look at beautiful, strong, tanned arms and pecs. He had to grin at the ubiquitous ball cap over the shorn brown hair.
“Ty. Howdy.”
“Hey. I’m glad you made it.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the invite.” Kit was moving easier, steps more natural as a towel and a folded lawn chair were pulled from the back of the truck. Ty got a glimpse of a folded wheelchair and a guitar case before the hard cover was locked down. “How’s it going?”
“Good. You don’t need the chair you know, I brought a couple. I hope you don’t mind -- I went ahead and chose a spot, put out the blanket and chairs, brought down the cooler.”
“Oh, cool. Saves me the carrying of it.” Kit stowed the chair away and gave him a smile. “Lead the way.”
“You got it.” He’d chosen the spot with care, somewhere not too far from the parking lot, but out of the main crowd and still affording them a decent view of the ocean and close enough they could hear the bands rather than the crowd. Kit looked like he approved, settling carefully in one of the chairs, legs looking odd and stiff on the sand, tennis shoes digging in.
“Comfortable?” Tyler asked, crouching by the cooler and pulling out a couple of beers.
“Doing good, thanks.” Kit took a beer, nodding. “Thanks again for the invite, by the way. It’s a damned pretty evening for a party.”
“It is,” he agreed, settling in the other chair. “Nice way to get to know a man, too.”
“It is.” Kit grinned and laughed, eyes crinkling up. “So, twenty questions?”
“Deal. I’ll go first.” He took a swig of his beer, considering. “Where’d you pick up that accent?”
“Enid, Oklahoma.” Kit nodded. “How many tattoos do you have?”
“Just the one, but there’s a lot more to it than what you can see.” He gave Kit a wink. “Any siblings?”
Kit’s laugh was fucking sweet. “No. Only child. My mom died when I was two. Are you a natural blond?”
Kit blushed nice, too.
“I am and I can prove it, if you know what I mean.” Oh yeah, Kit blushed real nice. “You bi or gay?” Tyler asked.
“That sort of depends, I guess. I’ve slept with both, but only been in serious relationships with men. Which do you figure that makes me?”
“That would depend on whether or not you were attracted to both. I mean, if the women were just the nearest warm body or an experiment or trying to convince yourself you weren’t gay...”
Kit was glowing, but nodded. “One was because we were lonely and one was wanting a baby. It was nice enough, but not... deep? Intense, maybe?”
Tyler gave Kit a long look. “You’d make a good father,” he said quietly. “So you’re not looking for a relationship with a woman. You looking at all?”
“I didn’t think so. I...” Kit swallowed and looked at the ocean. “I haven’t had sex but once since the accident, and it was... bad. I’m comfortable with the fact that I lost that. It’s hard to ask a partner to accept the scarring, the deformity. Are you involved with someone?”
“If you’re asking am I seeing anyone seriously, then the answer is no. If you’re asking if I’m sleeping with anyone then the answer is sure -- I’ve got a lot of friends who’re happy to help a guy out when he’s in need and I feel the same way ‘bout them. You jack off at all since the accident?”
“I... Yeah.” Kit shifted, nodded. “I’m handicapped, not dead. What’s your favorite song?”
“Favorite all time just one song?” Tyler took another haul on his beer, watching Kit move.
“If you’ve got one, yeah.” Kit reached down, moved his legs to a more stable position.
“I don’t know if I could pick just one. V loves Elvis, owns every record he ever made, but Love Me Tender was always her favorite. I can remember hearing it most nights growing up.” He shifted his chair around a bit, moving a bit closer to Kit, also angling slightly so he could see the man a little better. “Any time I hear it I stop whatever I’m doing and sing along. I suppose that’s the closest I have to a favorite. What’s your favorite food?”
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Do you have a pet?”
“Nope. You ever have that baby?”
“Yes. Her momma died in the bus. Cate lives with her grandparents on the east coast.” Funny how Kit could talk about so much loss with such a peaceful look on his face. “Do you play an instrument?”
“Like every boy in California I wanted an electric guitar and bugged my parents until I got one. I can still mess around on it some. Do you want to sleep with me?”
Kit looked over at him, eyes a little shocked, a little stunned. That long throat worked hard for a second. “Yes. Does it matter?”
“Seeing as I want to sleep with you, I guess it does. I’m not in the habit of bedding unwilling partners.”
“Oh.” Kit watched him for a moment longer, then nodded. “You got any soda in that cooler? Two beers is my limit for driving.”
Tyler wondered at the change of subject, but shrugged mentally and went with it. Kit likely wasn’t the kind of man who slept around easily even before his accident, Ty imagined that was even truer now.
“Yep, coke and ginger ale and munchies. We can get something off the grill when you’re hungry.” He gave Kit a considering look. “We done playing?”
“Nope. I’m just thirsty and trying to stretch out my beer consumption.” Kit grinned and reached for the cooler, fishing out a coke. “What do you do on your days off?”
“Surf, paint, make-out, work on bikes.” He grinned over at Kit. “What about you -- what do you do for fun?”
“Oh, I hang out, jam every now and then. I have a pier that I sit on and watch the water. Adam is trying to teach me to swim better in the pool over at the rehab center. I workout. Normal shit.” It was obvious that Kit worked out, the man’s upper body was cut and sculpted, fine to look at. “Hmm... my turn. What’s your favorite color?”
“Just one?” Tyler shook his head. “I guess blue if I’m forced to choose. What’re you doing Saturday night?”
“I’m having a little jam session at the house -- two tiny bands that I think will make one great group. Would you like to come out for an early supper and maybe stick around? The music should be fabulous.”
“I’d like that very much, Kit.” He grinned, looked like Kit was interested enough. “What should I bring?”
“Just yourself. I�
�ll throw something on the grill for supper.” He got another grin. “Is it my turn again?” Ty reached for a coke and nodded. “When’s your birthday?” Kit asked.
“July 11, 1971. When’s yours?”
“June 20th, same year. Sucks having a summer birthday, don’t it?” Kit was relaxing, that warm laughter coming easily, the stiffness of his body gone.
“Are you kidding? It’s the greatest.” Tyler laughed. “V used to take me and all my friends to the beach and we’d grill hotdogs and play in the water. She’d give out prizes to whoever brought her the most interesting beach stuff. It was the greatest.”
“Oh, man, I hated it. Hotter than hell, all the chores you didn’t have to do when you were in school having to be done, and everybody was off visiting family or working animals.” Kit shook his head, chuckling. “It was better when I got older, but when I was a boy? Damn.”
Ty chuckled. “Well I’ll have to see what I can do to make it up to you this year. How do you feel about tequila body shots?”
Kit’s laughter was loud, happy. “Oh, Christ! Just remind me to start in my chair, yeah? Can you imagine me otherwise? Good Lord! You’d have to pour me into a bed.”
“That doesn’t sound too terrible, Kit.” He winked and watched Kit over the top of his can as he took another drink.
That blush came back, but the stiff nervousness didn’t and he got a slow grin. “We’ll have to see what you think after I have a few and am laughing over some joke my imaginary friend told me.”
“You’ve got imaginary friends, too? Cool.”
“A man’s got to have friends to yell at the TV with, Tyler.” The look was almost serious, the laughter almost hidden.
“Have you got a lot of friends?” he asked, Kit’s words making him suddenly curious. “Of the flesh and blood variety I mean.”
Kit tilted his head, seemed to think some. Then he shook his head. “No. I’ve got Adam and his wife, Kerri. They live next door and I trust them with my life, but that’s about it. I know a bunch of musicians, people in the industry, but they’re not friends, you know?”
“Seriously? Aren’t you lonely?” He couldn’t imagine that. Couldn’t even dream of a world where there was only one couple he could call friends.