by BA Tortuga
“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t. Why didn’t either one of us make a play for Zack?”
“We’re idiots.”
Josh started chuckling again, but this time the hysteria just wasn’t there. He was too fucking tired to maintain it. “We are. But we’re friends, huh? Fucking or no.”
“Yeah.” Cypress sighed. “I guess we both need that more right now than anything. The universe provides.”
“That was incredibly Zen, man.”
“I keep trying. Sometimes I manage to fool myself.”
“Yeah. I keep going for hip and cool with an edge.”
Cy looked over at him. “Does it work?”
“Only if you don’t see my apartment, which is totally lacking in microbrew or vinyl.” He had the look down, that was what was important.
“Well, and if you make sure you get all the paint out of your hair. Right now you look like a peeling artist in need of smaller jeans.”
“Good to go. Let’s go get my dog, huh? I need to bring him home.”
“Onward.” Cypress looked around where they were now, the buildings more organic, more in keeping with the rolling hills. “This is prettier.”
“This is the Balcones. It’s lush, huh?” He loved it out here.
“Does Kris live close?”
“He’s on Lake Travis. Steiner Ranch. I think the name amused him.”
Cypress blinked. “Because it’s not a ranch?”
“It’s a fancy-assed housing development. Swanky and upscale and waterfront.” Kris had bought it when the lake was down and so was the value. Kris could turn anything into profit but him.
Well, maybe even him, now. Five something million was a heck of a load of cash.
He turned into the drive of the boarders. “You want to come in?”
“Sure. That way I can meet Boomer on neutral ground first.”
“He’s never met a stranger.” He hurried in because, now that he was close to home, Boomer was on his mind. Josh wanted to take him to the desert, show him everything. “Hey, Cait. Is he ready for me?”
“Eternally. Are you ready to be enveloped in houndiness?”
Josh could see his boy bounding up the stairs, baying without having caught sight of him. Brilliant pup and his supernose of doom.
“I am so ready—you have no idea. Thanks for the extra time with him. I got busy up there.”
“You know I love him.” She opened the door, and he got ninety-four pounds of floppy, fish-butt bloodhound.
He landed on the floor, face buried in Boomer’s wrinkles as the pup barked and bayed, batted at him and chastised him for being gone so long.
“I know. I’m sorry. Never again, huh? Next time you’ll come with, I swear.”
“Oh, he’s the most amazing thing ever. I think I might have to paint him. All those wrinkles in motion.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Cait said. “He sleeps twenty-three and a half hours a day. He can pose for hours.”
“Lies! Terrible lies!” He shook Boomer’s head, playing with him. “I missed you, you huge dork.”
Boomer licked his face at least three more times before bounding off to meet Cypress.
Cy didn’t seem the least bit worried, and for the first time since he’d come home, Josh felt normal. Still pissed off, but less in that burn-the-house-down way and more in the stab-the-bastard-in-the-chest-if-he-shows-up way.
Dogs were supposed to lower one’s blood pressure.
He handed Cait the check he’d written out for her. “No problems, then?”
“He’s been a floppy-eared, drooling angel.”
“That’s what I needed to hear.” He got the leash on and grinned. “Come on, Boomer. Let’s go shed all over Kris’s backseat, maybe rub your peen on the console.”
Cypress hooted, and Cait snorted, but Boomer was ever eager to do his bidding and lunged for the door. He pissed on Kris’s tire, then jumped into the backseat and flopped.
“What a smart dog!” Cy sounded suitably impressed.
“He’s a keeper.”
One hundred percent.
“Come on, Cy. I’ll take you to home sweet shitty apartment.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Josh thought it did indeed sound like a plan. And it was always good to have one of those, even if it was wrong.
17
Business parties made Kris want to hit something. Hard. Especially this kind of get-together, where investors stood around holding drinks and bad-mouthed everyone.
He sipped his club soda, bored out of his gourd and hoping to sneak off home soon.
“Kris?” A pretty, lean man in pussy shoes with a size queen chest leaned on the pub table, a Miller Light in hand. “I bet you don’t remember me.”
“Um.” He smiled, trying for noncommittal. “I’m so sorry. Remind me?”
“I interned with the Judge in college. You and I actually went out drinking one night, when you were in college. Ben Freedman.” A perfectly manicured hand was held out.
“An intern?” Kris blinked. “Huh. I was drinking a lot then.” He pulled a wry face. “Can we just start over?”
“Absolutely.” The beer bottle was placed in the nearest trash can, then the man came back, offered his hand. “Hi. I’m Ben. These things are hideously boring, talk to me?”
Okay, that was charming as fuck. Chuckling, he shook hands. “God, yes. James just brokered a good deal for me, so I couldn’t say no.”
“I work in his lawyer’s firm. I couldn’t either.” The vibe was easy, nonoffensive but interested.
“Yeah? So what is it you do?” God, that was lame.
“You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m a telecommunications expert. Conference videos, that sort of thing.” He got a slow little wink. “In other words, I’m a well-dressed geek.”
“Oh well, I’m an overpaid cowboy.” Ben seemed nice. Kris would bet they could be friends. That was it, though. Not even a tiny hint of zing, which was a damn shame. He could use a little zing. Hell, a nuzzle and a ping would be welcome.
“Cowboys are an archetype, man.”
“I guess?” He took another sip of his water. “I mean, my dad beat it into me at an early age, huh?”
“He’s a man that absolutely knows what he wants and how to get it.” Diplomatic. Impressive.
“He’d an old curmudgeon, but I’ll tell him you said better.” Kris winked this time.
Ben laughed softly. “Would you be interested in going to get a real meal? Something that doesn’t involve soggy crab puffs?”
“Um.” He wanted to say no, because he didn’t want to lead Ben on, but he was starving. “Sure. Sounds good. Threadgill’s?” A man could tell a lot about someone by how they reacted to that question and what they ordered.
“Sounds perfect. They make the best fried pickles there and the cheese-a-dillos? Fried crunchy goodness.” There it was. The geek. It shone from Ben for a second, and it was adorable.
“Chicken-fried steak, Mister. I want my gravy.”
“You got a deal. You want to meet me over there?” Classy, not too pushy. He approved.
“You bet.” He set his drink aside and nodded toward the door, and if the urge to just get in his car and go home hit him at all, he could hide it.
They were parked only a couple of spaces apart. He had his SUV back; Ben had a Jeep CJ7 with the roll bar and a hardtop. The jacket came off and so did the tie, and then Ben swung himself into the old-school Jeep.
That was a good idea. Kris took off his coat and slid into his car, his belly growling.
Threadgill’s parking lot was halfway full, and Ben was getting out of the Jeep as Kris parked. The rain was beginning to fall, and he traded out his felt for his gimme cap, unbuttoned a couple buttons.
Okay. Smile. Be social. You remember how to do that.
“Lord. After all the dry, now it’s all rain.” Ben opened the door, and the scent of fried goodness hit him.
“Smells so yummy.” The rain and the
food.
“It does. I hate sitting in those parties and pretending that I have a tiny appetite. Men need meat.” Ben went up to the hostess station, smiled at the guy warmly. “Two, please.”
“Right this way, y’all.” The host led the way to one of the smaller rooms, which was quieter.
Kris hoped that wasn’t a bad thing.
“This okay with you, Kris? At least we can make less-agonizing small talk and not worry about the vultures listening to us, right?”
“I like it.” He was beginning to like Ben, for real. He could see why his dad would have taken him on.
Ben ordered iced tea, proving that the guy had been listening, paying attention. Kris hated to be a drag, but these days he just had a zero tolerance policy. Especially right now.
They shared fried pickles and onion rings. He ordered chicken-fried steak and Ben went for the burger. They chatted about nonsense—Willie Nelson versus Merle Haggard, the best cereal, and whether or not Will Ferrell was funny.
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “That elf was funny.”
Ben pulled a face, and Kris just cracked up. Yeah. Not so much.
“I don’t suppose you want dessert,” Kris asked once the plates were empty. “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”
“You know it. Are you a banana pudding or a pecan pie guy?”
“Pie, for sure. I might go for ice box.” Chocolate pie sounded so yummy.
“Rock on. I have a serious jones for the pecan pie. Reminds me of my MeeMaw’s.”
“As long as you get the ice cream so I can have a bite.” He would get whipped cream on his pie.
“I think we have a deal, sir.” Ben laughed, motioned the waitress over. “Coffee?”
“I’ll stick to tea, thanks.” Coffee was Josh, and he didn’t need that right now.
Ben ordered a coffee and the pies—one with ice cream—and settled back in the booth. “Thanks for hanging out with me, man. I appreciate it.”
“I do too. I’m not the best company, and I’m sorry, but it’s been a good evening.” Kris smiled, meaning it too.
“I think you’re doing fine. I don’t need fireworks and dancing bears.”
“Well, that’s good. I might be able to dig up a bottle rocket, but I’m fresh out of bears.”
Ben snorted, and was still cackling when the damn coffee came. The cup their server set in front of Ben smelled so good, and Kris felt a wave of anger mixed with sorrow all over again. He was so stupid.
“Hey, you okay?” Ben almost reached for him, then pulled back.
“I—yeah. I’m fine. Oh, pie.” Thank God for pie interruptions.
Ben let it go until about halfway through dessert. Then Kris got “If you need a friend, just to talk, whatever, I’m cool.”
“I don’t want to dump on you, man. You didn’t sign on for that. Thanks for the offer.” Kris hated that he might be spoiling Ben’s good time.
“I signed on for supper and escaping the party with a hot guy. You have totally delivered.”
“Thank you.” Kris took another bite of pie, and his mood improved with the sugar. “Bad breakup.”
“Ouch. I get that. Mine is married now, four kids. Four.”
“Wow.” He blinked. That sucked. At least Josh was still gay. “Mine is really pissed at me for selling our art gallery. He deserves a fresh start, though. Needs it.”
“Sometimes a clean break is the thing, I guess. I’m not so terribly good at it yet.” Ben pinked, and God, he was cute. Too bad he wasn’t Josh and Kris wasn’t ready to move on.
Kris wasn’t ready to even consider it.
Yeah, he was the fucking king of clean break.
“I’m trying. It’s been about a week since I told him about the sale, so I’m raw. Thanks for the sympathetic ear.”
“Oh man. I bet. Okay, so I’ll wait to hit on you even a little and just go with I like to go and do and a guy can’t have enough friends, right?”
“That works for me.” He gave Ben a grateful look. “That way I don’t have to say no thanks, and we can hang out and have the occasional fried thing and ice cream.”
“Rock on. I’m going for a long bike ride this weekend, ending with tapas. You interested?”
“I am.” He surprised himself by saying yes. He used to mountain bike a lot, and he decided right then that he needed to get out more, that work had become his alcohol.
“Rock on. Give me your number, and we’ll deal with times and shit closer to the day.”
“Here you go.” Kris just handed over a card. “I’m glad you came and said hi, Ben. I really am.”
“Me too. Seriously.” Ben took a card of his own, wrote a number on the back, and handed it over.
“I’ll use this, I promise.” Kris said it to himself as much as Ben. He needed to stop isolating himself.
“Cool. Share my ice cream, man. I’m heading toward brain freeze.”
18
“It’s so busy. Is it always this busy? I mean, I don’t remember much about my trip years ago, but it wasn’t like this.”
Josh looked over at Cy and shrugged. He guessed so. Compared to Santa Fe, it was hugely crowded. “It didn’t used to be. Everyone wants to be here.”
They’d done the Capitol building, the Governor’s Mansion, then Congress and 6th. They were going to wander SoCo, too, but Cy looked like he could use a break. His cheeks were flushed, and he was looking peaked. “What’s your position on Vietnamese food?”
“I like it. There’s a great pho place in Santa Fe I go—used to go to with Lonan.”
“Mekong River is, like, two blocks down. It’s amazing. Wanna?”
“Please.” Cypress gave him a hunted sort of look, one that said save me.
“Cool.” They headed down the street, Josh guiding Cy around the panhandlers. Not that the Plaza didn’t have its fair share of those, but Madrid? Hell, they were more likely to have a lunatic wandering about.
Josh thought his name might be Cypress. The thought made him chuckle.
“What’s funny?”
“I was thinking about Madrid. It’s a magical kind of place.”
“It is! You need to see where I’m from, too, Pojoaque. And Chimayo. We should go to the Santuario.”
“I’d love that.” Hell, he was seriously considering breaking his lease and heading west, just going and seeing if the high desert could heal him.
“Me too. I mean, this is amazing, but you can’t hear yourself think. Art is hard when there’s no space between your ears and your brain.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I…. Is there much space to rent where you are?” He felt weird asking, and he wasn’t sure how to leave Austin, but he thought he might need to.
“You can always find a place in Madrid, but you should totally look at, like, Placitas and Bernalillo down by Albuquerque, and at Truchas and Chimayo and Taos too. They all rock.” Look at how animated Cypress was now.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, but….” Maybe it was time for a change. Time to take a chance.
“I would love to have you closer. I can get Jaine to e-mail you. She’s a rental agent.” Cypress sniffed hard when they walked into the restaurant.
“Is that a good sniff, bad?” He thought it smelled like pure heaven.
“Good. I love the smell of lime and lemongrass.”
“And jalapeno. God, pho or B6?” Decisions, decisions.
“What’s B6?” Cypress asked, sitting with him at a tiny table in the long, narrow restaurant.
“Grilled pork on top of vermicelli noodles and salad. So good.”
“Hmm. I think pho. I miss it.” Cy bounced, looking like himself again.
“Cool. I’ll get B6, then, and we can taste each other’s. You want iced tea?”
“I do. You think they might have mint for it?”
“I bet they do. The hardest part will be getting someone to understand what you’re asking for. Do you know the Vietnamese word for mint?”
“Hung.”
He blinked. Man, Cy
had just pulled that out of his ass. “No shit?”
Cy shrugged. “I’m good at languages. I even speak Tewa. There are like, twelve hundred native speakers left. Lonan, he speaks Zuni.”
“So… are you mad at him?” Josh was. Mad. At Kris, not Lonan.
“Not anymore. Mostly I miss him. We were best friends, and now he barely speaks. He’ll do anything I need, but it’s weird and awkward.”
“I bet. I’m sorry. I’m pissed off. I don’t think we’re ever going to be friends, me and Kris. I’m not sure he’s liked me for a long time. How crappy is that?” How fucked up that he’d been pining for a guy who didn’t like him?
“Oh, you might surprise yourself.” Cypress gave him a sad smile. “Love is a crazy thing.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. It’s a giant pain in the ass, mostly, and not in the fun, spanky way.”
Cy laughed and clapped his hands, and the server came to take their order. Cypress managed to get mint in his tea, even.
The food was good, the company was better, and they still had South Congress to wander along. Funky shops, galleries, maybe a cupcake from Hey, Cupcake.
“You look like you’re happy, honey.” Cy patted his hand.
“Looking forward to our afternoon, that’s all.”
“Good. I feel better too. Maybe it’s the humidity.”
“I can’t imagine how bad it has to be for you. It was only a couple of weeks for me, and the humidity is weighing on me.”
Josh thought he saw Kris and some guy on bicycles, right out there on the street. No way. No fucking way.
Kris had gotten too tight-assed to pedal.
Oh. Oh, that was funny.
He started laughing, just cackling away, and Cy looked at him. “What?”
Josh shook his head, rolling with it, the sound wilder than the joke deserved, but it felt so good.
Cy peered at him, concern etching his brow. “You’ve lost it.”
“Uh-huh.” But it felt like he’d got a little of his own back. As if he might start to heal. It was about damned time, right? “I just… needed a laugh.”
“I can see that.” Cypress’s expression smoothed into a smile. “You have a great laugh.”
“Thank you.” Cy seemed to bring it out of him, that spontaneous joy. Josh was grateful. Friends like Cy were few and far between.