Refired (Recovery Book 1)

by BA Tortuga

  That was it. Bang. Kris shouted, his body bucking like he was at the rodeo. He came so hard his world grayed out around the edges.

  Josh was busy too, ass squeezing and jerking around his prick as Josh joined him. That was close enough to together to make Kris pretty damned happy.

  Josh wrapped one hand around his shoulder, holding on tight.

  The tremors faded away a few minutes later, and he slid free to get rid of the condom. Then he lowered back down to hold Josh close. Josh cuddled in, breathing slowed, and he thought Josh had dozed off. Then his belly rumbled, and Josh chuckled.

  “Did we wake up early enough for the breakfast part of our bed and?” Josh asked.

  “We did. Should we face them after all the noise we made?”

  Josh started chuckling, the motion shaking him hard. They rocked like a raft in the rapids, hanging on to each other.

  That wasn’t going to help the noise situation.

  Not that it mattered. This trip was for him and Josh. The rest was just details.

  He needed this to hold him over for the rest of his life.

  5

  The sun seemed so bright in Santa Fe. Josh wore his dark glasses so he could stop squinting and sipped the coffee Kris had gotten him. He was sore and loose-limbed, as happy as a pig in shit, ready to get to work.

  “So, Canyon Road?” Kris asked, hat pulled down over his eyes.

  “Sounds good to me. I want to get some intel on this guy, Cypress. Look at his stuff in person.” The pottery he’d noticed online was for sale by a private collector, but there’d been something about it, something vital and alive, something Austin needed.

  “Good deal. We’ll walk, then get the car if we need to pick up anything.” They’d parked down by the coffee shop.

  “Works for me.” The river burbled along, the sound lovely. God, it was pretty here. They started up the winding, half-mile road that housed most of Santa Fe’s galleries. Well, a lot of them. The city had more art than anywhere in the States save for New York or Los Angeles.

  They walked steadily but slowly as he let Kris get used to the altitude. The coffee did wonders for Josh, and he breathed deep, the scent of pinyon heavy in the air.

  A raven flew overhead, and Josh gasped, pointing. “Look at the size of that thing, man.”

  “Shit. The grackles back home would be running scared. That thing is the size of a dog.”

  Josh snorted. “Not any dog you would have. I’ve seen the behemoths you used to walk at the shelter on your Facebook.”

  “I told you, I miss Precious.” Kris laughed. “Not that she was big.”

  “I know.” Josh gave Kris’s arm a squeeze. “Look at the whirligigs! Dude.” He walked toward the shiny spinny things, just fascinated as all get-out. The statues stood in the front and backyards of an old adobe home turned business. They were amazing, all shiny metal.

  “I tell you what, those are cool.” Josh loved this sort of shit, the joy, the pure clever of it.

  “They so are.” Kris stood under one, staring up.

  Josh knew they wouldn’t work in the gallery. They felt specific to here, like they belonged in the desert. Still, they spun and whirled and made his eyes all spinny too.

  “Tell the truth, you were the kid that spun around until you threw up.”

  “Shut up, Kris.” Of course he was. Who wouldn’t do that?

  “Yeah, yeah. Hey, ravens.” Kris was like a kid when it came to shopping. All pointing fingers.

  “Those are stunning.” Bronze, life-sized birds. Too cool.

  “Yeah. I like the mountain lion too.” Kris petted the bronze cat’s ears.

  “It’s amazing. I’m not sure we have a huge market for bronze sculpture, though.”

  “No. Glass. Paintings. I’m just rambling.”

  “And lusting after.” That part was important.

  “You.” Kris winked when Josh stumbled. “I do like the cat too. Though that gallery looks more your style.”

  “You know me.” And that idea didn’t hurt so much to say today. Not at all. “Lead the way.”

  “You got it.” Kris looked so relaxed, a smile on his face, his shoulders down from around his ears.

  They wandered, taking their time, chatting with other gallery owners, sharing information and business cards. Josh took voice notes between each gallery—there was no way he’d remember otherwise.

  Kris whistled happily, poking this and that, exclaiming over a bright bird painting. His serious money man was having a blast.

  Josh had a moment of total confusion. What had happened? What had changed? Had it been when he was in the bathroom at the restaurant? When had he stopped being a loser and started being a lover again?

  God, Josh could drive himself nuts asking himself this shit. For all he knew Kris was on Prozac or something. Prozac. Xanax. Something no-stressy and easy.

  “What are you pondering so hard?”

  “Me?” Josh went for easy. “The happy state of my ass. You?”

  “Nothing but how cool this rainbow doolie here is.” Kris winked.

  He looked and, oh man. When he had cash, that was so his. So. His.

  The hanging sculpture was metal, each section a different color—because hello! Rainbow! They looked as light as feathers, almost floating in the air. Wow.

  Kris motioned to a salesperson. “I think I need this. Do y’all ship?”

  “Of course.”

  Josh grinned at Kris as they headed inside the little sunlit gallery. “Where are you going to hang it? In your backyard? You’ve got that cottonwood tree.”

  “I think so, yeah. I like how it moves.”

  “Yes. It’s amazing.” And maybe…. Maybe he could visit it. Josh would love that. A root beer on Kris’s deck.

  A lazy afternoon with the heavy weight of the summer sun and the promise of shade. Kris wearing tiny cutoffs like he used to before he got all classy….

  He let himself bask in the fantasy while Kris paid for his goodie. A piece of pottery in the window caught his eye, the colors bright and brash and modern in the totally traditional shape. This was Cypress. He knew it.

  It had to be.

  Josh moved closer, the piece pulling him as if they were connected by an invisible string.

  One of the women who was working the shop came over, her eyes bright and sharp as a bird’s. “You like, hmm? He’s a local.”

  “Cypress?” he asked, knowing he was right.

  “You know him, huh? He’s a hoot. Love working with him. Mother was Pojoaque, father Anglo. Makes for something different.” Her voice sounded like a song, the rhythm oddly hypnotic.

  “I know of him, yes. I’d love to meet him.” Hell, he was willing to buy this piece for information.

  “He lives in Madrid. It’s just a little way down the road. Not hard to find his studio, right?”

  “We’re heading out that way tomorrow. Does he hang a sign? I looked for a website, but….” Nothing. Not a damn thing. Kris would fuss and say, “You can’t run a business without a web presence.”

  “He’ll be the mostly naked one out in the yard, flinging paint. You can’t miss him.” The lady chortled, her face splitting with her grin, exposing a single gold tooth.

  “So he paints too? I love it. So often artists get caught in a single medium. Do you have any of his paintings?” He wasn’t bouncing. He wasn’t.

  “Hmm.” She squinted around at the walls. “Over here.” She led him to the back of the gallery, where a five-by-five canvas hung. Again, the theme was traditional—Zia sun, four rays in four directions—but the colors, the background was totally unexpected. This painting was dark, the sun barely obvious, as if a fog covered it.

  He needed it.

  “How much are you asking for it?”

  “Well, the artist sets the price. He wants five seventy-five for this one.”

  “I’ll take it.” He could get a couple grand for it at home, and, hell, it might look good in his apartment.

  “Oh
good.” The lady smiled, chattering at him while she took down the painting. “He’s got this amazing hair, Cypress.”

  “Does he?” He grinned. He could identify with that. His mane was pretty noticeable without the ponytail and the pomade and the hat. He could do native with the best of them.

  “Mmm. So, when you go to Madrid, stop at Java Junction. My cousin Eugenia works there. She can tell you where to find Cypress if you don’t see him out.”

  “Java Junction? Sounds like my kind of place.” He handed over his credit card as Kris wandered over and whistled low.

  “Nice find.”

  “Cypress,” Josh said.

  “Hey, this is good stuff. I can see why you want to, uh, collect.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, there’s something here.” Something Austin didn’t know it needed yet.

  “Definitely. I like the pottery too.”

  “Do you have a tax exempt number?” Clearly their saleslady wasn’t fooled by the “just collectors” thing Kris was trying.

  “I do, yes.” He had enough grace to blush.

  “We all do what we do.” She made a noise after she said it, sort of an eeeeye. He loved listening to people talk here.

  “Yes, ma’am, we surely do.” He tipped his hat to her, and she cackled, the sound merry.

  “Do you want this shipped? Or I can hold it for you while you hit the rest of the galleries.”

  “Let’s ship it. Please.” That way if the gigantic piece got damaged, it wasn’t their fault, and they weren’t taking all the room in the SUV on the first day.

  “You got it. Just fill this out for me.” She handled his card and got all his information. “Oh, and if you need someplace for lunch, you should try the Tea House. Try the Italian chicken pot pie.”

  He groaned. God, they’d eaten enough to fill a bear, and he was ravenous. All the walking and altitude, he guessed.

  “In a bit,” Kris murmured. “Come on. More to look at.”

  “You know it.” They waved as they headed out. “Did you see that? See what I mean, Kris?” Josh felt a buzz, better than anything from a bottle and way harder to find.

  “That painting is amazing, babe. You’ll make a fortune off him.” Kris actually sounded so pleased.

  “Hopefully we’ll all make some money.” He didn’t need to be rich. He needed to prove that he could do this.

  “With this guy, you just might do it. I liked the pottery too.” Did Kris just pat his ass?

  “Isn’t it something? I love the juxtaposition of contemporary and traditional, the way there’s this fight between what he wants to do and what he needs to do.”

  Kris gave him a deadpan look, making a beak with one hand and flapping it open and closed. “Art speak alert.”

  “Don’t make me beat you.”

  “Try it.” He got another wink, Kris moving on, hands in the pockets of his Wranglers, wandering from place to place.

  Silly cowboy. So business oriented. Art was the important part. Art was life. Hell, Josh had his private stash of illustrations, just like every other gallery owner on earth.

  Those who couldn’t draw, curated.

  “I can hear you mocking me, babe. Don’t think I can’t.” Kris always laughed about not being able to color with crayons, let alone draw.

  “Moi? I am, like, totally innocent.”

  “Pure as fresh snow,” Kris said. “My ass.”

  “Oh now. Your ass is like driven snow, man.” He grinned. “Did you know they make asshole bleach?”

  Kris whirled around, stopping so suddenly they bumped chests. “Ack.”

  Josh started chuckling, hands grabbing Kris to keep them both upright. “True story.”

  “That’s disgusting, Josh.” Kris’s green eyes went wide. “I mean, whose job is it to do that for someone?”

  “You wouldn’t bleach my hole for me?” He clapped his hand over his mouth, teasing outrageously. “Kris!”

  “None required.” Kris waggled his dark brows. “All is well.”

  He cracked up, just about as tickled as he could get. “Good to know.”

  “Yep.” Kris grabbed Josh’s arm, which allowed him to drag Josh up the hill. “Next!”

  “Onward and upward!”

  “Right? It’s really uphill in places.” Kris was still getting a bit out of breath when the climb got steep.

  “No shit on that. You up to this?”

  “I am.” Kris nodded toward a brightly painted building up the way. “Treats.”

  “Oooh. I could use a bottle of water and a coffee as big as my head.”

  “Yeah, you finished that first one like a champ.”

  “Hey, coffee is the elixir of life.”

  “No, that’s bread. Sugar. Simple starches.” Kris was a carb fiend. Not that Josh didn’t eat more carbs than not.

  “I like bread too. And hamburgers.”

  “And cheese and hummus and….” Kris broke off, nodded at a gallery they’d almost passed. “Look at that color.”

  He stopped, the turquoise slapping him in the face. The painting was all swirls that suggested birds. So vibrant. He headed over, totally engrossed.

  The painting had bold brushstrokes and amazing forms. The whole thing spoke of nature, and yet it was modern.

  “I want it,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s amazing,” Kris said. “I’ll get it. Hell, if you just exhibit it as not for sale and keep it, the gallery will be all the better for it.”

  “It’s…. Oh, Kris, look.” He grabbed his lover’s hand, squeezed.

  “Can I help you?” A petite blonde lady wearing an outrageous British wedding hat came to the doorway to peer at them.

  “Whose work is this? It’s….” Stunning.

  “Isn’t it amazing? It’s an emerging artist. Alice Half-Moon. She lives in Truchas.”

  “Truchas. Where’s that?” God, he wanted to move there if the light was like this.

  “Up on the old road between here and Taos. There’s a spot up there that feels like the top of the world.”

  Oh, he needed to go and see. Josh wanted to experience everything this ancient land had to offer.

  “There’s a trading post and co-op there. I bought this painting up there.”

  “Very cool. How much is this one?”

  “Six hundred.” She gave him a sunny smile. “I got a steal.”

  “Done.” Kris handed over a card, and her hat bobbed merrily when she bustled off to ring up the purchase.

  He stared at Kris, just utterly taken aback.

  “I told you I’d get it.” Kris shrugged when he continued to stare. “You haven’t been this engaged in at least a few years. It makes me happy.”

  “Thank you.” He gave Kris a quick, warm kiss. “Truchas. Trooo-chass. I like it.”

  “Maybe we can head up there after we do Madrid. We have a few days.”

  “Oh do.” Hat lady was back, handing Kris a slip and a pen. “Then you can go to Taos and head up to Arroyo Seco. There’s a potter up there who does the wine cups. So cute.”

  “Maybe we will.” He didn’t have a need for wine cups, but the gallery did.

  “There’s some great pizza up there. Shall I hold this for you so you can keep shopping out there?”

  “Please.” He handed her a business card. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. Have a good day!”

  He and Kris moved on, and Josh felt energized, his whole outlook changing. This was what the gallery needed. An infusion of raw talent.

  “Did you see how powerful those color choices were?”

  “I did. I mean, it really caught my eye.”

  Josh nodded, bouncing on his toes. “It was amazing. Those blues….”

  “They popped. Huge.”

  “Yes!” Kris was speaking his language. “The play between cools and warms was delicious.”

  “Like earth and sky here, I guess. Right?”

  “Yes. The sky is different here, or is it just me?” He wasn’t su
re if he was imagining it or not.

  “Scientifically, it’s closer.” Kris chuckled. “But I doubt science means dick to O’Keefe fans.”

  “No. No, I don’t imagine.” This didn’t look like O’Keefe to him. It was way more elaborate, colorful. Still, it owed just as much to the quality of the light. “This place is insane. Stunning.”

  “I’m glad you like it, babe.” Kris gave him a one-armed hug.

  “I do. I totally do.” He hugged Kris back, and they headed for the promised snacks. The way this day was going boded well for their trip to Madrid. Josh had a great feeling about everything.

  He was going to do it, going to make this work, dammit.

  Maybe he’d even take Kris along for the ride.

  6

  Kris didn’t want to get out of bed. He had a terrible headache and a queasy stomach, both from too much coffee, he’d bet. They had to go meet this artist, but damn, he felt like hammered shit.

  Josh was on his laptop, tip-tapping away, sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed next to him.

  Hell, he couldn’t even take advantage of the naked. They didn’t have time, and he didn’t want to move.

  “You want something, honey? Milk? Juice? Aspirin?”

  “Juice, maybe? And some Advil. That would rock.” Kris might hurl, but that might help.

  “I’m on it.” Josh padded over to the little fridge and poured a glass of juice, then counted out pills. Just the sound of them jostling in the bottle was maddening.

  “God.” Pound, pound, pound went his head. “Thanks.” He took the pills and downed the juice. “I’ll get moving here in a minute.”

  “No worries. If you need me to get out of your hair, I can head to Madrid, scope out the joint.”

  “I want to go.” He did. Altitude and caffeine overload could suck his left nut. No way was he letting it win.

  “Okay. You need some water, huh?” Josh brought him a bottle of that too.

  “Thanks. I bet this will be the worst of it, you know? Madrid is lower too, I think.” Hell, he’d been all over Colorado and not had trouble like this.

  “Maybe it’s the dry more than the up, honey?”