Hogtying the Bartender

by Charlie Richards

  Jimmy had been more than grateful. That didn’t stop him from obsessing about the call as he’d gotten up, gone through his bathroom routine, then headed to the kitchen to put the coffee on. That had given him plenty of time to think... and wonder.

  Jimmy could tell Vance was beyond exhausted when his words had come slower and slower and had even begun to slur. Listening to the man’s concerns as well as his claims, Jimmy wondered if Vance would remember them when he woke. As much as he wanted to believe the man, he feared if something did actually happen to drive a wedge between Vance and his son, Vance would blame him... just because he needed a scapegoat.

  “Wow, he sounds...”

  Oliver’s musing tone drew Jimmy’s attention back to his friend. When his friend didn’t finish, he nodded. “Yeah. I know, right?”

  “Too good to be true.”

  Jimmy sighed. “Yeah.” He hated admitting to that.

  “On the other hand, maybe he’s exactly as he seems. I mean, you did say he was completely exhausted when he was talking to you on the phone, right?”

  Cocking his head, Jimmy tried to understand what Oliver could mean. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Oliver waved one hand in front of him absently as he stated, “When you’re tired, your brain isn’t fully functional, right? You’re not preoccupied with choosing your words and saying the right thing”—he made air quotes with his fingers—”so he’s probably being more honest. Maybe you should give him a chance to prove himself. You said he has a whole bunch of gay friends, right?” Snapping his fingers, Oliver pointed at him. “And you did meet him at your work... which is a gay club.”

  Some of Jimmy’s reticence began to ease from his mind. “That’s true. A birthday party for his boss, actually.”

  “So it’s not as if he doesn’t have support if someone says something rude.” Oliver rolled one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Isn’t that what most people fear when they come out? Losing those they care about?”

  “Yeah, but what if that person is his own son?” Jimmy’s tension began returning as another thought struck him. “And what if his wife—”

  “Ex-wife,” Oliver cut in.

  Jimmy nodded. “Ex-wife. What if his ex-wife causes custody trouble?”

  “Then we get him a good lawyer.” Oliver snorted, scowling as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She can’t stop him from seeing his son just because he’s gay.”

  “He considers himself bisexual,” Jimmy pointed out. That made him think of something else, and he winced. “What if I fall for him, then he decides being with a woman is so much easier?”

  Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it again. Jimmy watched a muscle flex in his jaw. Then his friend licked his lips. His friend was clearly in thought, ideas rattling around in his head.

  Finally, Oliver sighed and shrugged. “Isn’t that a risk regardless of who you fall in love with?”

  It was Jimmy’s turn to open his mouth, then close it. “Huh.” No way could he refute that. “So... you think I should go for it?”

  Oliver tipped his head, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Do you like him?”

  “Well, yeah, obviously,” Jimmy replied, frowning. “I mean, the guy is hot, kisses like a dream, and when he touches me, I—”

  Snorting, Oliver rolled his eyes as he held up his hand. “Yeah, I already got that you desperately wanna do the vertical humba mumba with him. No need to wax poetic about the size of his dick, size queen.” Even as Jimmy felt blood rush to his face and knew he blushed, his confusion must have been on his face, for Oliver smirked as he continued, “You both talked about chemistry, but that’s sexual. You can’t bone twenty-four-seven. I wanna know if you like the guy... as a person.”

  “I’m not sure I understand the question,” Jimmy admitted.

  Oliver snickered. “You remember how you told me how annoying you found Lars’s habit of drinking straight out of your milk carton? Or how you couldn’t talk to him about finances because he paid for everything on his credit card?” As he spoke, Oliver lifted his hands and began ticking off his fingers. “Or you didn’t have any movies in common? How you couldn’t talk about anything beyond how was your day and where do you want to go to dinner or lunch or whatever? And let’s not forget how you could never buy your favorite thing from that Thai restaurant we love because Lars didn’t like how it made you taste too garlicky?”

  Jimmy snorted before mumbling, “That certainly wouldn’t be a problem with Vance. He loves garlic.”

  “Ah, see? Already a point in his favor,” Oliver said with a wink. Then he sobered. “Then of course, my personal favorite, any time you turned him down for lunch because we already had plans, Lars became pissed.”

  Sighing, Jimmy reached over and grabbed his coffee mug. He heaved to his feet, wanting a refill. “I get it. You think Lars is a douche.” Oliver gave him his patented oh really expression, complete with his left lip downturned as he lifted that same eyebrow. Jimmy didn’t know how he managed it. “Okay, an asshole. I agree, okay?”

  “Glad to hear it, but that’s not quite what I was driving at.” Oliver followed Jimmy to the kitchen of his small apartment with his own mug, which he set on the counter and slid toward the coffee pot, obviously requesting a refill. “What I was wondering is if you like conversing with him? Can you chat? Do you have common interests? What’s he like out of the bedroom? You said he made you dinner? Did you eat in silence before fucking, so you don’t know? Or what?”

  Jimmy jerked, the coffee he was pouring from the carafe and into his cup splashing over the counter. Hissing, he hastily put the carafe back. As he grabbed a couple of paper towels to wipe up his mess, he scowled at Oliver.

  “What the hell, Olly?” Jimmy grumbled. “What’s with the verbal attack?”

  Oliver barked a laugh as he grabbed a couple more paper towels. As he crouched and wiped up the coffee that had dripped off the counter, he stated, “Not a verbal attack, my bestest buddy. Just tryin’ ta get ya thinkin’. Ya know?” Standing back up, he grinned broadly, not a hint of remorse in his gaze. “You did say your New Year’s resolution was to make smarter relationship choices, remember?” He shrugged, his voice taking on an innocent tone. “I’m just trying to help.” After throwing away the wet wad, he took a few steps away and leaned on the counter. “So. Answer my questions.”

  Jimmy opened his mouth to snap at Oliver again, but he closed his mouth just as quickly. Turning back to the coffee, he again picked up the carafe. He filled his mug, then did the same to Oliver’s. After putting the carafe back on the warming plate, Jimmy grabbed the paper towels he’d used and threw them away.

  During those few moments, Jimmy thought about his friend’s questions. This was why he’d invited his friend over, after all. His buddy didn’t pull punches, speaking his mind, but he was always looking out for his best interests.

  Oliver was the brother Jimmy had never had—another reason his mother didn’t want to accept that Jimmy was gay. She said it was Jimmy’s responsibility to marry, then produce a son to carry on the family name. While he wouldn’t mind having a child of his own—someday—he sure as hell wasn’t going to marry some hapless woman, making both their lives miserable, to get it.

  Jimmy finally once again met Oliver’s patient gaze. He smiled, that move alone telling his friend that he wasn’t upset. “Yes, we have the ability to talk to each other. Listening to him talk about the farm and the pigs was really interesting. He offered me a tour,” he admitted. “And I accepted. I can’t wait to see the tiny piglets. He also said he could give me horseback riding lessons. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  Excitement surged through Jimmy at the prospect. While he hadn’t thought about it for years, when he was young, he’d asked his parents for riding lessons. They’d refused, saying they couldn’t afford it.

  Instead, they’d enrolled him in baseball... which he’d sucked at.

  Pushing aside thoughts of his past, Jimmy foc
used on Oliver... and saw his wide grin.

  “What?” Jimmy asked warily.

  Oliver laughed. “I can’t wait to meet this guy. I haven’t seen you so excited about something in a really long time.”

  “Uh...” For just a second, Jimmy felt an odd possessiveness. “Well, we’ve only been on one date, so, um... I’m not sure when—”

  Snorting, Oliver walked over and grabbed his fresh coffee. “Don’t worry, hot stuff.” He waggled his brows. “I won’t try to steal your guy.” His eyes narrowed on a growl. “Not like your hussy of a sister that one time in high school.”

  Jimmy groaned. “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up.”

  Thinking about his unsupportive parents was hard enough. His sister, Mary, younger by a year, always tried to one-up him. As far as Jimmy was concerned, she should have been the boy. Mary was a natural athlete, all the boys loved her, and she excelled at college.

  “I am not discussing that with you,” Jimmy countered. “Now let’s go relax and watch the season finale of Survivor. I recorded it.”

  “Oh thank god!” Oliver cried dramatically. Walking backward, he strode toward the sofa even as he pointed his finger at Jimmy. “And don’t think I don’t realize you changed the subject. I am meeting this man sooner rather than later.” He winked. “Somebody’s gotta vet him for you.”

  Even though Oliver sounded jovial, Jimmy heard the seriousness in his tone. He crossed to his friend and wrapped him in a hug, being careful to keep his mug away from his friend’s back. Feeling Oliver reciprocate, holding him, he rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Jimmy murmured.

  “Of course, Jim-Jim,” Oliver responded softly. “I always got your back.”

  Jimmy knew that, too. He didn’t know what he would have done without his best friend. After he’d dropped out of college, his parents had threatened to kick him out of the house unless he re-enrolled. Jimmy had immediately called Oliver, who had a small place since he’d spent the last two years as an electrician’s apprentice. His friend had instantly offered Jimmy his couch.

  Releasing his hold, Jimmy crossed to his sofa and settled on what he considered his end, while Oliver sat cross-legged on his own end.

  “So, if this works out with Vance, maybe we can find you a hot cowboy,” Jimmy stated conversationally as he turned on the TV. He immediately began searching through his DVR but paused a second to leer playfully at his friend. “Maybe his friend Brand. He’s big and broad. Your favorite.”

  Oliver scoffed before replying, “Only if Brand isn’t interested in more than a fuck buddy. I swore off relationships, remember?”

  “What?” Jimmy frowned. “You’re still on that kick?”

  Scowling at Jimmy, Oliver nodded emphatically. “After the Rodger incident, hell yeah! No more relationships for me.”

  Jimmy opened his mouth to counter Oliver, but spotting the fierce expression on his friend’s face caused him to snap his mouth closed. He nodded, instead. He knew Oliver had been badly burned by Rodger—not just cheating, but setting Oliver up to be the other man. Jimmy knew it had broken his friend’s trust in love.

  Maybe someday Olly will get that back, and I’ll stay by his side every day until he finds his own prince charming.

  While Jimmy figured he was putting way too much faith in a man he’d just met—thinking of Vance as his own prince charming—he couldn’t help it. He really did like the guy. The heady glow that had flooded his abdomen when his cowboy had thanked him for cleaning his kitchen... it had nothing to do with arousal.

  Pushing the feeling to the back of his mind, since there was absolutely no way he wanted to name the sensation, yet, Jimmy returned his focus to Oliver. “Don’t worry. We’ll all do lunch or something before too long. That way you can meet him.” Seeing Oliver’s disbelieving quirk of his brow, Jimmy reached over with his hand which held the remote and shoved his upper arm. “Knock it off. It’ll happen.”

  Oliver laughed and nodded. “Good.” Then he indicated the TV. “Now put on the show. I wanna see who wins.”

  “Well, I know who you want to win, since you think Mario is a hottie,” Jimmy teased as he started the two-hour finale episode underway. “In all his big, bronzed buffness.”

  “Hell yeah! He’s totally drool-worthy,” Oliver immediately replied. “Why the crap do you want Sophia to win? She’s controlling and overbearing.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “And if Sophia was a man, she’d be called decisive and commanding. It’s a double standard.” Seeing Oliver’s lifted brow and half-glance, Jimmy added, “You know... when a woman works hard and demands to get her way, people call her a bitch, but if she was a man, others would call him motivated?”

  Oliver immediately nodded, relenting. “Yeah, I see.” Then he grinned as the opening theme song began. “Here we go!”

  Turning his attention to the boob tube and the silly reality TV show that he and his buddy just couldn’t get enough of, Jimmy absently wondered if Vance would watch Survivor with him. Lars never had, calling it juvenile, fake, and even asinine. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as the characters’ antics drew him in.

  Over the next couple of hours, Jimmy and Oliver relaxed, focusing on the TV show. They shouted at their favorite characters when they thought they were making a mistake, cheered for them while they were doing challenges, and booed at the other players when something went right for them.

  All in all, Jimmy found it to be a relaxing afternoon.

  Chapter Nine

  “When are you seeing him again?” Brand asked as he helped Vance lift a board into place, replacing one that had been broken by one of their huge hogs. “It’s been a couple of days, hasn’t it?”

  Vance nodded. “We talk on the phone every day,” he admitted, unable to stop himself from smiling. He enjoyed listening to Jimmy’s melodious tenor. “I went to see him at work last night.”

  That had been Sunday night—again. He just hadn’t been able to resist seeing him, and he found the lighter crowd on Sundays to be much more manageable on his nerves. Vance had also arrived early enough to catch Jimmy before his break.

  Hell yeah!

  “Oh! Is that what that smile is for?” Brand teased, snorting.

  Vance chose to ignore his friend. “He has Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, so in answer to your question, tomorrow. He’s going to swing by mid-afternoon.” Glancing Brand’s way before pulling several nails from a pouch on his tool belt, Vance asked, “Which reminds me. Will you take the emergency cell phone for tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Of course,” Brand immediately replied. “I’ll keep it for the evening, too, and give it back in the morning.” When Vance opened his mouth to counter the offer, Brand laughed and shook his head. “Just nail in the board and don’t argue. I’m tired of holding up this damn thing, and we have four more to go.”

  Snapping his mouth shut, Vance did as Brand suggested. “Thanks, Brand,” he said instead while placing the nails in his other hand.

  Awkwardly using that forearm to hold the board in place, Vance grabbed the hammer. He used it to pound a nail into place. Finally able to move his forearm from the board, he shook it out a second, then pounded two more nails into place.

  Vance crossed to where Brand waited while grabbing a few more nails. After handing the hammer to Brand, he placed a nail into position, trusting his buddy wouldn’t smash his fingers. His faith was well-founded, and after a moment, three more nails had been set.

  Stepping backward, Vance turned to grab his end of the next board.

  “So, what do you guys talk about?” Brand asked curiously as they both positioned the board just below the previous one. “What are you going to do tomorrow?”

  “I talk with Jimmy about the same shit I talk to you about, I guess,” Vance stated, mildly confused by the question. “Work. Movies. Likes. Dislikes. Family. That shit.”

  “Holy shit, really?” Brand sou
nded way too shocked. “You told him about Darlene and her continued requests? About how you tolerate her abuse?”

  “Abuse?” Vance thought that an extreme word. “She doesn’t—”

  “When was the last time she berated you for not being man enough to take care of her the way she deserves?”

  Vance’s hand slipped on the nail he held, and he slammed the hammer into the flesh between the knuckles of his thumb. “Fuck!” he cried, dropping both hammer and nail. Holding the wrist of his left hand with his right, he hissed through the pain, all the while glaring at Brand. “I told you that in confidence,” he said on a snarl.

  Brand scowled as he glanced around pointedly. “There ain’t no one here, Vance, so it’s still in confidence. And you told me because you were drunk.” He tried to lower his end of the board, but it creaked and hung at an awkward angle due to the nail Vance had already embedded, plus where it hit on the board above it. “Shit. Can you hand me the hammer and a nail? If I put this down, it might warp or crack something.”

  Focusing through the pain, Vance nodded. He released his wrist, tucking his hand against his chest. When he bent down, he nearly staggered as his head swam from the pain. Vance gritted his teeth and snagged the hammer, then one of the nails.

  Vance shuffled over to Brand, holding them out. “If I end up with a broken thumb because of you and your big mouth, I swear to god I’m going to deck you.”

  Grimacing, Brand swept his gaze over Vance’s face. He obviously didn’t like what he saw, for he murmured, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to distract you like that.”

  While Vance watched Brand pound in the nail he’d given him, he eased sideways a few steps and leaned against the wall. He focused on his thumb, cradling his injured hand in his free one. Ever so carefully, he inspected his finger. The flesh between the two knuckles had already begun to swell, but he found he could move it—a little anyway—and god did it hurt.