by BA Tortuga
“Who wants to know?”
“Kris Cerny.” He stepped forward, trying to see inside.
“Zack Jung. Pleased.” The dude didn’t even move. The name set off bells, though.
“Zack from AA? You can’t be babysitting Boomer. He’d be all over me.”
“That’s me. Come on in.”
Wait, did the dude live with Josh? Surely he would have known that. His next shock came when he walked through the door. The place was empty save for a mattress and box springs and some bags of trash.
“I’d offer to let you sit…. I mean, you can have an edge of the bed, if you’d like?”
“Where the fuck is Josh?”
“He moved to New Mexico.”
“What?” No. Josh leaving him, he could see. Josh leaving Austin? No fucking way. “When?”
“Uh….” The dude looked at his watch. “Maybe forty-five minutes ago?”
Kris stared, then looked back at the door. Just like that. Oh fuck, who was he kidding? Josh had every right to go, and they’d been losing each other for at least six years.
“Yeah, I know, right?” Zack leaned against the counter of the pass-through. “So, seriously. Did you really not tell Josh about your brother until last week?”
“He told you that?” Kris felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. “That wasn’t his fucking story to tell.”
“He did. He came to me in hysterics, spilled his guts, cried for hours. Have you ever seen him like that? Where he’s not fucking rational anymore because he’s been broken somewhere that it can’t heal? Where he can’t open his eyes anymore?”
Kris crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve seen him hit rock bottom, if that’s what you mean. And yeah. I told him last week. Sue me. I’ve never told anyone else in my life.”
“Why not? Why is it some big secret?”
“In my family it is, yeah. Look, I’m not gonna discuss my psychoses with you.”
“Okay. Shall we discuss how Josh got sober? How he’s lived in this apartment because he promised you he wouldn’t take a paycheck for, what? Ten years? Oh, I know, we could discuss how he did everything he thought you wanted so that you’d take him back, and it didn’t work.”
This son of a bitch knew everything. Kris found his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Right. Did he tell you how he almost killed us? How he burned the fucking bunkhouse down? What about how I begged him to give up the booze for a year or more before I moved out?” Kris knew he was a dick, but he wasn’t the only one to blame here.
“Yes. Yes, he did.” The words were simple, quiet, and held no judgment. “I also know he asked for your forgiveness and tried to make amends. I won’t make excuses for him. He had to hit rock bottom. Do you know what happened? Why he ended up in meetings? If you don’t, you should ask. It’s an important story.”
“No.” Kris had no idea what had happened. He just knew one day Josh was actually at the gallery, working his ass off, and his hands didn’t shake anymore. “I don’t know.”
“You should ask one day. He would tell you. He’ll tell anyone who asks.” Zack shrugged, and Kris saw where Josh had learned the elaborately casual motion. “I’m biased, I know. I love him. He’s my best friend. He says you love him, still, now, so why won’t you forgive him?”
“Who says I haven’t?” Forgiveness was such a foreign concept to Kris. If you fucked up, you didn’t do it again. That was how life worked.
Zack laughed, the sound surprised and strangely not the slightest bit mean. “Buddy, if you’d forgiven him, even once, he’d be in your bed and your biggest issue would be whether that huge drooly mutt slept in with y’all or not.”
“What the hell does that even mean, then?” Kris threw his hands up, which he’d always thought was just an expression, but there he was doing it. “I’m not Jesus or some AA group leader!”
Zack looked at him for a long minute, then shook his head. “Josh is smarter than I thought. He told me it wasn’t that you wouldn’t forgive him, it was because you couldn’t. That totally sucks.”
He was gonna rip his hair right out. God, Kris wanted to punch this guy for knowing all of Josh’s secrets when he knew jack shit. He wanted a fucking beer. At this point, he just wanted his head to stop pounding.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Kris said. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Me either. I promised Josh I’d clean the apartment and turn in the keys for him.”
Kris looked around the tiny room with the peeling wallpaper in the kitchenette and the persistent smell of carpet glue. The thought of his vibrant, art-loving Josh living here made him queasy. “I’ll help.”
“Yeah? I’d like that.”
“Might as well.” Kris grabbed the broom. “Though I imagine it will surprise them that anyone cleaned this place.”
“No shit. Can you believe they charge a thousand plus a month for this dump?”
“That’s obscene. Hey, what’s your position on carrot cake and coffee?”
“Dude, I’m in AA. I live for coffee, and carrot cake is better than sex.” Zack offered him a quick, wicked grin.
“You might be right. I’ll buy if you help load the mattress and box springs in my truck.” He could use them for one of the bunkhouses at the ranch.
“You want them? Rock on!” And just like that, he felt like he had someone else willing to be his friend. How fucked-up was that?
Fucked-up and wonderful and all Josh’s fault.
26
The sun beat down on him, the heat not quite matching the brightness, and Josh found it was okay with him. He was in his studio with the huge bay door wide open, flinging paint with happy abandon.
It stunned him that he’d been here a month and a half, and he had sold every piece he’d offered up to galleries, to restaurants, stores. His skin was stained from sunshine and paint, and he hadn’t put a shirt on in a week.
He wasn’t really sure when he’d changed his pants.
“Josh? Josh, you here?” Cypress ducked into his studio, his hair all decked out in some new dye, the ends of the dreads all woven with beads and charms. Fancy.
“Hey gorgeous! Love the doodads.” His hair was in ten or twelve braids. His neighbor, Keelyn, was practicing for beauty school, and it kept it out of the way.
He headed over, offered Cy a quick kiss on the cheek. “Lonan bring you? He can come in, you know.”
“He’s contemplating the big fish lizard outside. Very Darwin, man.”
“Thank you. Dave across the street has a welding kit, and he lets me play. I don’t suppose you saw Boomer?” These days he was living the communal life—food, dogs, art supplies.
“He’s contemplating Lonan’s chicharrones. Come eat with us.”
“Yeah? I’d love to.” He wiped his hands on his shorts. Dude, crusty. “Let me grab a shirt and such.”
“Yep. I’ll introduce you to water too.” Cypress winked, and Josh had a moment of worry if Cy thought he needed a bath.
“I’ve been working. Lots.” He felt a little like he was drunk on it, even.
“You’re skinny.” Cy poked him in the belly.
“You have no room to talk, butthead.”
“Hey, I’ve been eating lots of stuff. Salad. Lentils. Some kind of weird corn taco Lonan is obsessed with.”
Josh’s belly rumbled. “I could murder a plate of enchiladas. Let me wash up real quick. There is kale ginger juice in the fridge.”
Cypress cracked up, and he heard Lonan’s deep bass rumble outside as the man talked to Boomer.
“Y’all doing okay?” He worried about them. Lonan seemed to always be there, but then, Cy always seemed a little lost.
“I’m fine.” Cy pushed him. “Get dressed and washed, now. You’ve become a little desert baby. I bet there’s a ton of sand on your ass.”
He waggled said ass, playing right along.
Cy made gagging sounds, which made them both laugh even harder. Josh washed up real quick, humming. “What
are we eating?” he asked once he’d found a clean shirt.
“I want a pizza.”
“I haven’t had pizza since Austin.”
“Mine Shaft, then,” Lonan said, wandering in with Boomer. “Hey, Josh. Nice fish lizard.”
“Thank you. You can have it, if you’d like. I’m going to make a squid next.” It was hard, working in metal, but it made more sense than clay.
“You know we’re landlocked, right?” Lonan was so deadpan it was hard to know if he was joking. He herded Josh and Cy out to his big truck like a border collie.
“I have noticed that. It’s creepy, a little, knowing that we don’t get a hurricane season.” Not that Austin ever actually got anything to show for it but heat and humidity, but it was the spirit of the joke that mattered.
“Monsoon season can feel like Austin,” Cypress said, and Josh hooted. There was no way. Even when it was raining, New Mexico wasn’t as humid as Texas.
“I’m ready to learn all about the weather here.” Including the freezing his ass off part. He’d have to buy wood, propane. A coat.
It was exciting as hell.
“We need to get you boots,” Cy said absently, rubbing Boomer’s ears. The big hound would visit Daisy the basset while they were having pizza.
“Will my biker boots not work?”
“Nope. Need lining.” Lonan kinda communicated in grunts and clicks.
Boot lining…. He wasn’t sure he even knew what the fuck that meant, but he nodded like the world’s biggest bobblehead doll. “Sure.”
Cy grinned at him, and Lonan snorted, and it took them maybe five minutes to get to Madrid and The Mine Shaft. Josh loved that he could walk in and smell beer on tap and really not react in any way.
He had his work and his weird little studio and the whole desert to explore.
Life was pretty damned fine. So if he missed Kris late at night when he was not asleep and the moon was huge, well, he could get past that pretty easily.
Okay, fairly easily.
Or even maybe it hurt a little, but a nice fantasy-laden handjob eased it.
Cypress kept telling him that sooner or later they’d go trolling for dates in “Santa Gay.” Somehow they never got around to it.
He didn’t think either of them were ready for dating. He wasn’t sure he remembered how. That didn’t matter. Work was best.
“Three Cokes, Lena,” Lonan was saying. “Three grilled pizzas. One Greek, one pesto chicken, and one pepperoni and green chile. Oh, and brisket nachos.”
Josh looked at Cy. Cy looked at Josh. Then they both cracked up. So good to have a friend to laugh with.
That alone would have made the move worth it. Now he just needed to get Zack to come visit. Poor guy needed a break from the drama with his former sponsor.
Talk about going off the rails. Jesus.
“Josh, man. Honey. Come be with us for a while now, huh?” Cy’s hand covered his.
“Sorry!” He pushed Austin out of his thoughts and smiled at Cy. “I’m right here. Nachos ahoy.”
“Good man. I started a new piece today. I’m making a head.”
“Like a person’s head? A giant head?”
Lonan just groaned, the sound creaking like two stones rubbing together. Poor guy had not two artistic genes to rub together.
It took all kinds. Josh wanted, just for a second, to introduce Kris to Lonan. He thought they could be friends.
Then the nachos came, and Josh’s stomach growled loudly enough that even Lonan laughed, broad face splitting into a wide smile.
“Nachos ahoy!” The three of them spoke together, then dug in, art left behind in favor of cheese and guacamole and crispy corn chips.
27
“Thanks for coming into town, Kris.” Ben gave him a quick hug, and even from outside the shelter, Kris could hear hundreds of hysterical dogs barking away.
“Thanks for inviting me.” He hugged back, tickled to be out and about instead of working his ass off at the ranch. It had taken him a couple of weeks to realize he was getting the ranch ready for him to leave it, just like he had his Austin house, but he sure was. Going into Austin to see Ben for the Town Lake adoption drive might just be what he needed to shake off his funk. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“Mostly we need to exercise the dogs they’re featuring today so they’ll be calm when they’re out for showing.” Ben volunteered at the shelter a couple of days a month, but Kris hadn’t in too long.
“I can do that.”
“I thought you might be able to. You strike me as a dog lover.” Ben was looking like the world’s geekiest Ken doll. It was adorable.
“I am. I used to have a weird mutt named Precious. When she got cancer a few years ago, I didn’t have the heart to get another dog.”
“Aww. I have Snickers, and no, I didn’t name him. He’s an English bulldog.”
“My sister named Precious.” He grinned, thinking how the dachshund mix had peed on her shoe and Tyna had drawled, “Well, isn’t that precious.”
“Sisters are something else. I have three.”
“I just have Tyna, my twin. My brother, Kane, passed away when I was ten.” Kris waited, but nothing happened. No lightning strikes from God or anything.
“Oh that sucks. I’m sorry. Is being a twin cool?” And that was that. No drama. No weirdness.
“It has its moments. Sometimes it’s just a giant pain in the ass. So are you the baby?”
Ben led him inside, where they signed in and he got a volunteer nametag. “Is it that obvious?”
Kris chuckled. “You are a people pleaser.”
“So long as I’m pleasing the right ones, huh?” Ben smiled at the older lady working the desk. “Marnie, who are we taking out?”
“Jake and Trike, please.”
“Oh, Jake’s a good boy. I’ll take Trike. He’s a little bit of a shithead.”
“Is he bad on a leash or just really pent-up?” Kris knew shelter living could be tough on a pup.
“He just has a metric fuckton of energy, and he’s bored. He’s a shepherd-husky mix.”
“Lord, that’s not fair in Austin, you know?” Poor dog had to shed a pound of fur a day.
“I know, but he’s here.” Ben headed to a cage where this stunning blue-eyed beast paced. Oh. Oh damn. Look at him.
“Hey, Trike,” Ben murmured. “Sit. Come on, buddy. Sit for your leash.”
The dog stood, tried to stare him down, and he waited. Trike wanted out of the cage; Trike knew it, and so did he. It took a good three minutes, but Trike’s butt hit the floor.
“I can take him on if you want to get Jake,” Kris said. He was kind of in love, and wanted to work with Trike for a bit.
“Sure. Jake? Jakey boy?” A huge, goofy black lab mix lumbered out, all ears and feet and slobber. The most fascinating part was how Trike lit up when Jake appeared. Someone had a buddy.
Interesting.
Jake came over, totally submissive, tail wagging so hard he knocked himself down. Good Lord and butter, look at that.
Ben got to laughing. “You slut! Are you sucking up to Trike or Kris?”
“Either way it works.” Kris opened Trike’s cage and attached the lead to the harness the big guy already wore. “Let’s see what you got, buddy.”
Trike led him directly to the door outside to the dog run, the strength there surprising and challenging and making him smile. Trike could run with his bike, he would bet. That focus would serve him well.
Ben jabbered with him as they walked, talking about everything and nothing as the dogs stretched under the sunshine. Jake was a ball fiend, chasing a tennis ball over and over, while Trike tried to pull him to Houston, maybe.
When Kris let Trike have his head, though, the big husky herded Jake in circles, playing and teaching the eight-month-old beast manners.
God, he liked them both.
Three hours later, Kris was covered in dog hair, and he was hot and tired. He’d also filled out two adoption forms a
nd had been assured Trike and Jake would be going home with him in just a few days.
“You are a total sucker, man.” Ben was obviously tickled as a pig in shit. “Lunch?” Ben finally asked him, and Kris nodded, relieved that he didn’t have to resort to nibbling kibble.
Dogs.
He was going to have dogs again. Made him a little panicked, because what if he decided to leave the ranch? Still, he had to take them. They needed a home, and he needed someone to love.
They headed for the nearest Whataburger, and Ben laughed at him, clapping him on the back. “Guess you’re finally ready to forgive Precious for dying on you, huh?”
There was that damn word again. Forgive.
“Can I ask you something?” The line at Whataburger seemed as good a place as any to discuss something like forgiveness.
“Surely. Ask away.” Ben was like the perfect sounding board, yielding, never judging. Just a good guy.
“What is this forgiveness stuff supposed to mean? Really. What exactly is someone looking for?” Kris tried to get it, he did. His family had just raised him up with the scorched earth policy, that was all.
“You mean, like practically, or in your soul, because I think those are two different answers.”
“I don’t know. Either. Both.” He just needed perspective.
“Okay, well, I think practically, when you forgive somebody you stop making them pay for something they’ve stopped doing. If you forgive a debt, the payment and interest stops, same with people. If I fuck up and you forgive me, then you don’t bring up the mistake over and over, and you don’t act like I’m fixin’ to fuck you all the time.”
“Okay.” Kris let that sink in. Payment and interest. Yeah, he could see how holding on to shit might be like variable interest rates.
“Souls are harder.” Ben checked the line and went on. “I mean, forgiving someone in your soul hasn’t got a… a time limit or a way to associate it with money. That’s when someone’s done something bad, and no matter whether they made it right or not, you let the anger go and… well, I know it’s probably a hick thing to say, but you just let God have it, huh? You just say, yeah, it hurt, but holding it inside is worse than anything they could have done to you. That forgiveness belongs to you, not anyone else.”