They were standing at the shoe display in the JC Penney store. Chase was happy. In fact, he was outright delighted to be in a department store shopping for clothes with his lover. From time to time, Brew, one of the sharpest dressers he’d ever met, would stop and ask a question. “How about these?”
“Too dressy, Brew. Won’t take a sharp rock. Can’t support your ankles.”
“Okay.”
Finally, they settled on a pair of Lumberjack X boots, rugged without looking bulky and constructed of some kind of ballistic material that breathed, with thick rubberized soles and Velcro instead of laces.
“Want to pick up a few tees?”
“Yeah, so I don’t have to wash clothes every night. And a few cheap jeans.”
“Cheap, Brew?” Chase was teasing him, gently. He knew Brew winced at the thought of wearing everyday denims.
“Sure. I don’t care if they’re not designer. As long as they don’t make my ass look like a sack of potatoes.”
Chase put his head close to his ear. “Not a chance. If you dress Apollo in a dish towel, he’s still a Greek god.”
Brew flushed deeply, and Chase turned quickly to rearrange the crotch of his jeans. He wondered whether Brew’s other lovers had told him how fucking handsome he was, how slender and sexy his ass was. In a way, he hoped not. He wanted to be the one to bring a flush to his cheeks, this experienced gay man who’d had probably dozens of lovers.
They walked back to the truck with enough muscle tees and denims to get Brew through a week of work without having to launder the clothes. He looked, without looking, at his lover’s arms, starting to brown up a little with the two or three days’ sun exposure. As far as filling out his old discarded muscle tee…that might take a few months.
As they walked, Chase thought about their conversation with Pa an hour ago at the house. Right now, he wasn’t sure whether he felt better, or worse, about the BLM situation.
As soon as his father came in, Chase had told him about their confrontation with Bailey.
“Yeah. I haven’t met him, Chase, but I’ve gotten some paperwork from the BLM. I also talked to a gent named Bruckner in Reno at the Land Records office. And today I spent some time in the county clerk’s office, then sat a spell with my friend Judge Connor.”
“Pa, you could’ve shared the burden.”
“I did, son. I gave you all the hard work, while I did all the talking.”
It had turned out Pa was on top of things, as much as he could be at this stage. “Chase, I was gonna go through all this with you as soon as I talked a little with Cranley. Too bad he’s in Chicago. I need to know what our legal direction should be before I go off all half-cocked.”
“You mean before I go off. Which I did anyway. He ticked me off, Pa. Made it sound like our land was his to take a piss on anytime he pulled out his pecker.”
“Yeah. I’d have been upset, too, son. Just keep firearms out of it. Ain’t either of us could take out a crippled kangaroo in a penny arcade.”
They had laughed, and Chase had reluctantly dropped the conversation.
Now, walking back to his truck, he brought it up again with Brew.
“Think your pa can help us out with the BLM?”
“I don’t know, big guy. He sounded a little glum about it when he mentioned it to me. He said something about ‘fighting city hall.’ But we were talking about something else at the time, so I didn’t pursue it.”
“Will you?”
Brew stopped on the sidewalk, while a few people stepped around them. “Yeah. Yeah, Chase, I will. Tonight, in fact.”
“What time is it in Chicago, Brew?”
“Good point. I think they’re two or three hours ahead. It’s…what?…about 5:30 now? I’ll call him as soon as we hit the house and let out Fuzz Nuts. Okay?”
“Great.”
“Besides, I need to find out how Uncle Don is doing. And see if Mom’s bearing up okay.”
“What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“Sorry. None of my business. I just thought…it’s his brother, right? He’s probably grieving inside.” Chase knew that stifled grief was worse than weeping real tears. A lot worse.
They were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, half a block from the truck. Brew began to walk again, and Chase kept step with him.
“First of all, Chase, it is your business. We’re together now. My family is yours. But as far as Dad opening up about his feelings…forget it. Never has, never will. End of sentence, exclamation mark.”
“Just call him tonight, Brew. Might open him up a crack.”
“He won’t expect it, for sure. He’ll think I’m calling for money.”
“Then let tonight be the first of a lot of surprises.” He looked at Brew, smiling, and his lover regarded him with thoughtful eyes.
“Surprises. Dad’s in for a shitload, isn’t he?” Then he began to grin. “Just wait ’til he finds out that his friend’s kid, the football star, is his little boy’s lover. He’ll freaking lose it.”
They got to the Dodge, and both men tumbled their packages onto the rear seat of the cab.
Chase was worried about Brew’s attitude, but he didn’t want to come off like a little old lady. He turned the key, keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror, and backed out onto Pine Street. “We want your father’s help, Brew, not his hostility.”
They drove for a few minutes in silence. Chase thought he’d probably ticked Brew off and he resolved to stay silent on that subject the rest of the evening. His eyes were resolutely on the road. Then Brew spoke, surprising him.
“You’re right. I’ve been needing you, Chase. Someone to slap me upside the head when I get too cocky or belligerent. Thanks.”
Chase flicked his eyes to meet Brew’s. He let out the air he’d forgotten to breathe the last minute or so and smiled at him.
“You did the same for me today, when I was ready to tear that asshole a new asshole.”
“Hey, one for all, and all for one.”
Chase took the terrier out to the backyard, while Brew took the packages upstairs, then joined him. The little thing was shaking its ass and offering a ruined baseball, its stitches hanging from probably thousands of refusals to let go.
“Let go, boy. Let go, and I’ll throw it.”
They both laughed with real merriment as the dog shook its head in furious denial, grimly determined his ball would stay right there in his teeth, thank you very much.
They sat in the kitchen while the dog ate. Chase watched as Brew found the number he needed, then thumbed the “ring” button. He looked up from the cell and addressed Chase. “Figure I better call the house instead of Dad’s cell…let ’em know I care.”
“Hello. Aunt Sally? It’s me, Brew. Yeah, Brewster. Good to hear your voice. Yeah, you, too. How’s Uncle Don? Oh, he’s in bed, huh? Yes, I know it’s been tough. I’m really sorry.”
He listened for a while, not saying much. “Anything I can do, you just let me know. Um, Aunt Sally, can I talk to Dad? Should I call his phone? Hey, thanks.”
Brew began to pace the length of the kitchen, trying to avoid the dog, who’d nosed its food bowl across the tile to the center of the room. “Hi, Dad. Yeah, everything’s fine here. The house is still in one piece. Ha-ha. Yeah, in spite of me.
“Dad, I’m gonna need your, ah, expertise. No, no, I don’t need money. I’m trying to help Roy Grayson and his son Chase…Yep, I’m working out there, all day, every day. I, um, I appreciate your saying something to Roy. It’s just what I’ve been needing, Dad.
“No, really, I’m okay. Like I said, I’m trying to help Roy square things with the freaking BLM. They’ve crawled up his butt and won’t leave…Yeah, they’re claiming that some mining company holds the right to part of his ranch.”
Brew paced back and forth, listening to his father.
“Right. Roy did that, Dad, like you advised him. He talked to Reno; he talked to the county clerk. Even a judge. Would you give him a call? Tonight? Find out what he found out. Give us some direction. We can try to pick it up from this end.”
He listened again for a minute or two. “Well, I went to school with his son…Yep, the renowned Chase Grayson. But besides that, he’s a great guy, Dad. I can see why you’re friends. He thinks you’re about the sharpest knife in the drawer. Do you have his number in your phone? And you’ll call him tonight? Good…good. Um, Dad, can I speak with Mom? Wait. Wait, before you give her the phone. Just wanted to say thanks again for helping me, and…keep your chin up. Hurry home…Okay, thanks.
“Hi, Mom? How are you, darling? Yeah, I know the deal. Everyone’s clustering right there, no privacy. I just wanted to say I love you. Everything’s great here. And…”
Chase was trying to get his attention. When Brew finally put his hand over the cell and looked at him, he said, “Ask your mother the dog’s name.”
Then Brew started laughing. “Oh, yeah, I have a friend here with me, Mom. His name is Chase. You’ll like him totally. He says to ask you what’s the name of the freaking dog. MacKenzie, eh? You’re right, Mom. I am happy… Okay. Okay, dear one, I’ll call on Dad’s phone tomorrow or the day after. I love you, too. G’night.”
He walked to Chase, stuffing the cell in his back pocket.
“I thought maybe you two housewives were going to trade recipes or something.”
Chase thought that Brew had never looked sexier or happier. He was fingering back the length of hair hanging in his eyes, letting it fall forward again in easy, soft curls. The smile on his mouth was reflected in his eyes. His jaw line was already beginning to shadow over. He stood, balls out, almost between his legs, daring Chase to react to his body language.
Chase spread his legs a little more, readying himself. “Hey, I’m tired of hearing you call that little thing ‘Fuzz Nuts.’ He’s a Scottish Terrier and expensive. Probably purebred. Named after some powerful dude. I don’t underestimate a guy because he’s small, with hairy balls.”
Cracking up, Brew threw a fake right, and Chase countered easily, still sitting in the kitchen chair, catching him around the chest with one arm, holding his face rigid with his thumb and forefinger. He took huge delight in overwhelming his mouth, invading the back of his throat with his tongue, then biting his lips until Brew spoke into his mouth.
“I yield. I yield, damn it. MacKenzie it is.”