Open Sky

by Nickie Jamison

  “No. I did. She told the funeral people not to let me in.”

  Birdie rubbed her temples. “Stop. You’re not going to turn me against Helen. She’s been more of a mother to me than you were.” Birdie fought the urge to pick up a shot glass and throw it as hard as she could at Selena’s face, pushing the thought down until it made her stomach ache.

  “Them Johnsons don’t have your best interest at heart. I’m your mother,” seethed Selena.

  “Selena, it takes more than giving birth to make somebody a mother.” Birdie slid out of the booth and was less than two steps away when Selena stood up and began screaming.

  “Don’t you walk away from me.” Selena shrieked, “I am your mother,” over and over like a banshee.

  Birdie looked at Selena, baffled. She didn’t know if she should scream back or what the hell to do. Heads turned and Birdie could hear the murmur of curious onlookers, feel the tingle of a mob spoiling for a fight. The boys appeared on either side of Birdie.

  “Let’s take this outside,” said Luke, ushering the raging Selena out of the booth.

  Selena slumped against him and Luke had to hold her by the belt to keep her upright. In the cool night air, the sound of badly played rock music couldn’t compete with the chirps of crickets.

  “Let me talk to my little girl.” Selena tried to shove Luke away. He let go of her and she stumbled into Tucker who caught her before she fully hit the ground. “Oh, you’re the rich boyfriend. You know she’s fucking him?” Selena jammed a finger in Luke’s direction.

  “That’s none of your concern, ma’am.” Tucker said sternly.

  “You’re all crazy.” Selena’s slurring was becoming worse. “I ought to tell everybody about how you really are.” She tottered toward Birdie and got only as close as Tucker’s hold on Selena’s forearm would allow. It was close enough that Birdie could smell the dark scent of cigarettes and cheap whiskey on her mother’s breath. “You think you’re the shit now, you shouldn’t even exist, Mary.” Selena carried on. “You fucked up my life.” She reached out to slap Birdie but missed.

  “I fucked up your life?” Birdie lurched for her mother, but Luke caught her around the waist before she could make contact with her fists.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Luke said.

  “Bullshit,” Birdie huffed and made another lunge. Luke held her back.

  The wail of sirens pierced through the noise of the gathering crowd that Birdie had been too focused on her mother to notice. Shit. A few people had their phones held aloft, snapping pictures and recording video, no doubt. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck. Birdie tore away from Luke’s grasp and walked in a tight circle, trying to burry a lifetime of anger in the pit of her stomach.

  “What’s going on here?” Sheriff Cranford bellowed.

  “Jim, tell her,” screamed Selena. The flash of red and blue over her twisted face made Selena look much older than she was.

  “What are you on about Ms. Bird.” The sheriff’s gaze bounced from person to person, taking in the situation. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m trying to talk to my goddamned child and these two piss asses won’t let me.” Selena reared on Luke. “Just like his fucking bitch mother.” Her fists landed hollowly on the arm Luke held up to defend himself from her flurry of blows.

  “She’s three sheets to the wind, Sheriff.” The waitress, Jenny, pushed through the throng of people.

  Is anybody still in the bar?

  The sheriff jerked Selena off Luke and she scrambled to hold her balance. “Get your hand off me,” she yelped like a hurt dog.

  “Third time in two weeks, Selena. Don’t make me cuff you.” Sheriff Cranford warned.

  “Fuck you, tell Mary the truth, Jim.” Selena’s voice rose in pitch.

  Birdie looked on helplessly, her body vibrating with the need to scream in frustration.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” bellowed the sheriff. Despite the sharp slaps to the sheriff’s arm that had a hold of her, he wrestled Selena toward to open backseat of his Crown Victoria.

  “Bullshit. Tell her Deputy Cranford,” Selena hollered as she was shoved into the car and the door slammed behind her.

  “Luke, tell your mamma not to worry about coming to get Selena till tomorrow.” Sheriff Cranford eased into his vehicle and sped away.

  The crowd dispersed slowly. It took a moment for Birdie to register what had happened. She wheeled on Luke. “What was he talking about?”

  Luke shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Can we go home now?” Tucker said. His shirt was torn and he looked like he’d crawled out of hell. Poor thing. He wasn’t used to this rough and tumble life.

  Birdie sighed. “I need to talk to your mother, Luke.”

  * * * *

  The lights were out in the big house when Luke, Birdie, and Tucker returned home from Rigley’s. Talking to Mamma would have to wait until tomorrow. Luke cuddled on the couch with Birdie and Tucker. The three of them sat wrapped in the quilt that Luke used as a throw blanket. On TV, soft dialogue from Magic Mike was interspersed with Birdie’s sniffles and heavy sighs. Luke stroked Birdie’s hair and Tucker held her hand.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Tucker asked. His voice was a low rumble in his chest. He gave Birdie a soft kiss on the cheek.

  “It’s funny, on the plane I was fantasizing about what I’d do if I had you both in my bed.” Birdie’s lips turned up into a slight smile.

  Luke wasn’t sure if her smile from the wishful thinking or the shadow of Joe Manganiello’s swinging dick on screen, which was the closest Hollywood would ever get to showing an actual penis during an R-rated film. “No rule that says you can’t do that. I mean if Tucker’s up for it. I’m game.” Luke arched an eyebrow at Tucker. He’d wanted to bang Tucker since the moment he’d laid eyes on the guy at the airport.

  Tucker grinned.

  “I’m going to go to bed. Let you two bond or fuck or whatever. Have fun,” said Birdie. She kissed them goodnight and wrapped the quilt around her shoulders like a cloak, taking it with her.

  “Now I’m cold,” Tucker said, rubbing his arms.

  “I can warm you up.” Luke scooted closer to Tucker and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

  Tucker relaxed against Luke’s chest, his head resting on Luke’s shoulder. Tucker smelled fabulous, the sharp spiciness of his aftershave mingling with the fresh scent of clean skin. Lust tugged at Luke’s gut. “You smell nice,” said Luke.

  Tucker chuckled low in his chest. “Same.”

  Thank God for showers. “Birdie says I smell like leather and sunshine.”

  “She isn’t wrong. She was worried we wouldn’t get along.”

  “I think we get along just fine.” Luke wanted to taste Tucker, explore the man’s body with his tongue. Boldness surged through him. Luke touched Tucker’s cheek, the barest hint of Tucker’s five o’clock shadow prickling Luke’s finger tips. Luke raised Tucker’s face to his and leaned in.

  Their lips touched, electric passion arcing between them. Luke pressed forward, lips parting, tongue darting out, exploring. He and Tucker tangled together, a crazed flurry of lips, teeth, and tongues as if they were trying to swallow one another. Luke tugged gently on the curls at the nape of Tucker’s neck, dropping his wild kisses along Tucker’s jaw, blazing a trail to the soft of Tucker’s throat.

  Tucker gasped, his hands searching for the hem of Luke’s shirt, working it free from the waistband of Luke’s jeans. Tucker’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of Luke’s shirt, the first and second buttons were difficult, but after that he found a rhythm and Luke’s shirt fell open easily.

  Luke hummed with pleasure as Tucker’s palms explored Luke’s exposed skin. Tucker raked his manicured fingernails over Luke’s nipples. The tiny rosebuds stiffened with want and a jolt of lust sizzled down Luke’s spine, his half-mast cock snapping to full attention.

  With a swift movement, Luke whisked Tucker’s shirt off and tossed it behind the
couch. Their lips met once more in a fevered dance of pure desire. Luke guided Tucker down to lay on the couch.

  Luke kissed Tucker on the chin, his tongue dragging across the cleft. From there he moved down over Tucker’s neck, nibbling and butterfly kissing every inch of visible skin. He nipped at Tucker’s right nipple, his thumb and forefinger giving the other tiny bud a soft pinch before circling around and around the hard nub.

  The thickness of Tucker’s erection brushed against Luke’s belly as Tucker writhed with each exquisite touch of Luke’s mouth on bare hot flesh.

  Luke continued his onslaught, down across Tucker’s flat stomach. Luke’s hands worked at the buttons of Tucker’s jeans, popping it with practiced precision. The zipper hissed as Luke pulled the brass tab down with his teeth. Tucker’s dick strained against the exposed cotton of his underwear, heat radiated from his core. Luke shimmied Tucker’s jeans and boxers down and Tucker raised his hips enough to allow their swift removal.

  Tucker was goddamned beautiful. The man’s hard cock, thick, veined and nestled in a ring of neatly trimmed dark curly pubic hair, flopped back against his belly.

  Luke trailed a finger along Tucker’s dick, tracing the pulsing veins that ridged his skin. Tucker gasped in his excitement, a low groan of need working its way up from his chest. Luke wrapped his fingers around Tucker’s cock, massaging the cleft of the head with the pad of his thumb. It was like holding an iron rod wrapped in hot silk. Luke pumped his fist, stroking up and down Tucker’s length. He bent down and kissed the tip, his tongue flicking over the split, scooping up a droplet of pre-cum. “Hold your dick, I’ll be right back,” said Luke, taking Tucker’s hand.

  Tucker held his own cock, thumb moving over the ridge where the head met the shaft. “Hurry up,” said Tucker, his green eyes shining mirthfully.

  Luke paused long enough to shut off the TV before sprinting up the stairs to the master bedroom, glad he still had his jeans on, because running with a hard-on was not pleasant. Birdie lay in the middle of the huge bed, the quilt pulled up high around her neck and her feet poking from the bottom. Luke grabbed the unopened box of condoms and new bottle of lube laying on the pile of papers and his tablet. The iPad hit the floor with a thunk, followed by an avalanche of Open Sky Ranch’s financial reports.

  Fuck. Birdie stirred but didn’t wake up. Luke planted a kiss on her forehead and backed slowly out of the room.

  Back in the living room, Tucker still laying on the couch, hand around his stiff cock. “What took so long?” he purred, voice velvet smooth.

  The sight of the naked man, lying in wait drew a pang of want straight through Luke’s belly, his cock pushed against the crotch of his jeans. Luke tossed the box of rubbers onto the end table and eased himself down between Tucker’s long legs.

  Luke kissed Tucker hungrily, working his way southward on Tucker’s gorgeous body. “Knees up,” said Luke, dragging a teasing finger along the inside of Tucker’s thigh. Luke wedged one of the couch’s throw pillows beneath Tucker’s hips, bringing Tucker’s spread ass cheeks and tight little hole closer to Luke’s face.

  With one hand, Luke cradled Tucker’s heavy ball sack, giving him full access to Tucker’s puckered opening. Luke circled the soft flesh with his tongue, pushing the tip in just enough to make Tucker tremble and moan excitedly. He kneaded Tucker’s testicles, applying exquisite pressure.

  “Fuck me.” Tucker breathed the words out with low growl of ecstasy.

  Luke sat back on his heels and unbuckled his belt. He started to pull the leather from the loops of his jeans.

  “Don’t take them off, just push them down a little.” Tucker watched Luke partially undress, the denim of his jeans and cotton of his boxers bunching at mid-thigh.

  Luke tore open the box of condoms and rolled one on his hard cock. He poured a generous amount of lube into his palm and applied it to Tucker’s hole. Tucker shivered with the cool sensation and some of the slick jelly dribbled onto the throw pillow.

  Good thing I don’t like these ugly ass pillows. Luke arched over Tucker, the tip of Luke’s penis pressing against Tucker’s sphincter. Slowly, he pushed himself balls deep into Tucker’s ass. Luke pulled back and surged forward, relishing the squeeze of Tucker’s body around him.

  Tucker dug his heels into Luke’s ass cheeks and his hands found purchase on Luke’s hips, gripping into his muscles. Luke’s hips moved in rhythm, his onslaught of Tucker’s hot opening quickening. Luke’s mouth found Tuckers with passionate rough kisses.

  Luke balanced himself above Tucker with one arm and with his other hand, made long strokes up and down Tucker’s thick shaft. He timed each stroke up with the retreat of his own cock and the down strokes with every thrust of his hips.

  Sweat dampened Tucker’s hair and beaded across his chest. Their foreheads touched and Luke gave Tucker a soft kiss on the lips. Luke rose to his knees and took hold of Tucker’s hip with the hand he’d been using for balance. A bead of sweat trailed from the nape of Luke’s neck down over his spine, the cool droplet sending a current of electricity through his body. He watched Tucker beneath him.

  Tucker’s head was thrown back, breathing hard, and his eyes bright with absolute bliss. His mouth formed a perfect O. Luke’s balls ached with the mad need to blow his load. He tried to hold back a little, slowing his pace.

  “Don’t slow down, please.” Tucker begged, his hands covering Luke’s, urging him on.

  Luke’s blood thrummed in his ears, the rest of his body needing release. He thrust one final time, his balls tightened and his cock spasmed, jets of fire rocketed from his thighs all the way to the tip of his dick, an orgasm powerful enough to make his toes curl. Tucker reached his climax, come spurting in an arc from his thick cock and running hot down across Luke’s fingers that were still clasped around Tucker’s shaft.

  Tucker’s thigh muscles twitched and he gulped in air, trying to slow his breathing and relax. Luke’s thigh muscles did the same, making his legs feel like Jell-O as he extricated his softening prick from Tucker’s tight ass. He leaned down and kissed Tucker full on the mouth.

  “Scooch,” said Luke after removing the used rubber, tying it off, and tossing it into the waste basket under the end table. He pulled his jeans up and zipped them, not bothering with the button, crawled in behind Tucker and spooned against him. Luke wrapped his broad arms around the slender man. There was just enough room for the both of them to cuddle comfortably on the couch as long as they didn’t turn over.

  Luke breathed in the heady scent of Tucker’s shampoo, sweat, and great sex.

  Tucker snored softly, already asleep.

  * * * *

  Tucker opened his eyes. He and Luke were covered in the quilt from last night. Birdie sat in the nearby armchair with her knees hugged to her chest, eyes glued to the TV. She still wore the T-shirt and Sofe shorts that she counted as pajamas. The wisps of hair that had come loose from her thick dark braid framed her face. Tucker propped himself up on his elbow and stretched his other arm over his head, the tightening and relaxing of muscles spreading from the top of his head down to his toes. He rubbed his cheek with the palm of his hand, cringing at the rasp of stubble.

  “Good morning,” said Birdie, her gaze flitting across the scrolling stream of text at the bottom of the screen. She was tuned into E! News.

  Behind Tucker, Luke groaned and wrapped his arm around Tucker’s waist. He mumbled something unintelligible.

  “I shouldn’t be allowed to google myself,” murmured Birdie.

  “That sounds like a euphemism,” said Tucker.

  “What’s a euphemism?” Luke yawned and sat up, ensnaring Tucker and pulling him back to cuddle beneath the quilt.

  “Birdie googled herself,” said Tucker.

  “Ooo, naughty.” Luke chuckled.

  Birdie shot the both of them a look that would sober up a boat full of rum soaked pirates.

  “Honey? What’s the matter?” Tucker asked.

  On cue the blond on television launched
into the story, “Birdie Black, best known for portraying Queen Arihlia in the hit series Gilded Swords, was involved in an altercation at a bar last night in a small Montana town. Several witnesses took to social media with photos and videos of the event.” On the screen the fight in Rigley’s parking lot was shown in short clips from slightly different angles.

  “Fuck me sideways,” said Luke rubbing a hand through his blond locks. “Well you didn’t actually do anything except yell at her.” He waved a hand at the offending broadcast.

  “That’s not the point.” Birdie gritted her teeth.

  “Just recently, Ms. Black took pictures and signed autographs for fans she met on board a flight from Salt Lake City to Helena.” The network flashed a picture of Birdie with the two girls on their flight. Stephanie and Madison. Tucker remembered. Again, the video from Rigley’s played. With the split of the screen, the commentators’ faces reappeared. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to get on Queen Arihlia’s bad side,” said one. “I know, right?” quipped the other and both reporters looked incredulously at the camera.

  Birdie turned the television off and rested her forehead on her knees.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Tucker asked.

  “Not unless you know how to make Selena go away.” Birdie sighed. “I’ve got to talk to Helen. Come with me.” She walked around the couch and plodded up the stairs, shoulders hunched in misery.

  While Tucker waited for his turn to shower, he emailed his lawyer, Rod Harkinson. There had to be a way to fix this mess for Birdie. After the three of them had showered, put clothes on, and finished making themselves appear decently presentable for a Saturday morning, they headed across the yard to the big house.

  The aroma of cinnamon rolls and coffee wafted through the ranch house kitchen. They were greeted, albeit less boisterously than last night, by the dogs. Helen stood at the sink, washing potatoes and cutting them into small pieces. “Morning,” she said brightly. “Pot just finished if you want a cup of joe.”

  Birdie was the first to take her up on the offer, filling a white mug with the steaming liquid. She blew gently on the hot surface and took a tentative sip before fixing two additional mugs, one for Tucker and one for Luke.