Fine as Frog Hair

by Sean Michael

  “Yeah, I reckon.” His bag was taken from him and a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate pressed into his hand. “Come on, let's get on home and get you put back to right. You look like hell.”

  He waited until they'd climbed into the truck and belted in. “Thanks for coming, Trey. I don't think I could have handled Marty's ... exuberance.”

  One of his hands was taken, squeezed. “Anytime, Russ.” Trey pulled out and headed west, humming soft and low with the radio, the sun slowly setting in the cold December sky. “Oh, I wanted to tell you. Me and Mr. G. talked and we don't see any reason you shouldn't still be getting a paycheck for the last two weeks, especially since you're staying on over the holidays.”

  “Wow, I wasn't expecting that—thanks, Trey.” He blinked away sudden tears. Man, he was kind of on the edge emotionally still.

  “No sweat. Just figured it would help.”

  He swallowed. “Yeah, thanks—should just about cover the cost of the flight out.”

  “You don't worry on that right now. It was nothing I'd miss.”

  “Jesus, Trey, you keep being nice to me and I'm going to start crying again.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of his seat. The truck smelled good. Like the ranch. Like home. Real and good.

  The rest of the drive was quiet, easy, and he fell asleep about ten minutes outside San Antonio. It didn't seem like any time at all before Trey was shaking his shoulder. “Russ? Come on. We're home.”

  He blinked and nodded, looking around. Damn, it looked good. Like time had stood still while he was gone, so the place was just the same when he got back and he could pick his life back up again. Funny how home hadn't been home when he'd gone back to Rochester, to the old house, but this was. “Chocolate miss me?”

  “Oh, yeah. She's been pouty and snappish for days now. Don't be surprised if she gives you the cold shoulder for a few days, though. They don't understand the whys of being gone, just that you were.” Trey grabbed his bag and followed him in, the smell of chili strong and warm.

  “I should go see her then, shouldn't I? Before I sit and decide I'm never moving again.”

  “Sure. She's in her stall, right were you left her. I'll toss your bag in your room and get the cornbread in the oven.” Trey gave him a quiet, sad, little smile. “I'm glad you're home.”

  He nodded and looked Trey right in the eye. “It's good to be home.”

  “Go see your lady, Yankee, then come on in and we'll eat.” Trey clapped him gently on the arm and disappeared down the hall towards the bedrooms.

  Frowning, he watched for a moment and then shook himself and headed out to the barn. Trey was right, Chocolate acted happy to see him for about ten seconds and then turned, offering him no more than her rump. He scratched her flank for a bit, petting and stroking, letting her know that he was there, murmuring quietly. “I'll be back tomorrow, girl. With sugar cubes. We'll see if you're still sulking then.”

  He headed back in and went to the kitchen and the smell of chili and cornbread. Man, he'd missed that smell. Trey had changed into an old green sweatshirt and older jeans and was putting onions and shredded cheese on the table, some country singer playing on the beat up radio. “Did she pout at you?”

  “Gave me love for about a second and then turned so I couldn't see anything but her butt.” He shook his head. “You're not going to do the same, are you?”

  Dark eyes flashed over at him, then Trey started laughing, almost dropping the bowls in his hands. “Damn, Yankee! I'm not sure which I'm more concerned about—the fact that you don't want to see my butt or that you don't think I'd give it up for you.”

  He tilted his head, finding a smile, Trey's laughter warming him through. “Are you saying you've got a horse's ass?”

  “For a housemate? Hell, yes.” Trey gave him a wink. “My ass is practically perfect in every way.”

  “It's not bad.” Man, he'd missed this. Missed being normal.

  “Not bad? Shit. You best watch it or I'll stick spiders in your bed.” Trey grabbed two beers. “Not bad...”

  He just smiled softly and sat, reaching for the cornbread. Trey settled beside him, handed over a beer and started fixing his chili, adding onions and cheese and crumbled cornbread and a splash of salsa. Russ nibbled at his cornbread and helped himself to a bite of chili. “So how've things been here?”

  “Same shit, different day. Doc came out to give vaccinations, Pud and I signed up to compete in the Holiday Rodeo, helped Mrs. G. pull all the Christmas lights out of storage. Been lonely and quiet.”

  “The holiday rodeo? Sounds like fun. You get a tree yet?”

  “'Course not. I was waiting for you to get home.” Trey rolled his eyes. “I got the ornaments and some stuff from the attic, but I wasn't gonna decorate without you.”

  “Cool.” He ate more than he'd expected, felt better than he'd felt since he found out about Ginnie.

  “How're you doing, Russ? Is there ... Is there anything I can do to ease you?” Trey sounded unbelievably sweet, sincere—so real and just like home.

  “Just being home makes a huge difference.” He shook his head. “It doesn't seem real, you know? I kept expecting to see her and instead we were packing up all her stuff.”

  “Are your mom and dad okay? Dealing?”

  “I guess. We kind of all walked around like ghosts, doing what had to be done. I wanted to be there for them, but at the same time I couldn't wait to get out.” Couldn't wait to get away from the specter of his dead sister. “I want to remember her like she was when I last saw her.”

  Trey nodded. “I can understand that, sure enough. I can't imagine how hard it must be.”

  “It's just...” He shrugged again. “Kind of unreal.”

  Pushing his bowl away, he stretched and then stood. “I'll get the dishes. There anything mindless on TV tonight?”

  “Isn't there always?” Trey gave him a grin. “I bought that new movie on DVD ... The one about the ring and the elves. Have you seen it?”

  “Lord of the Rings? Yeah, saw the first two before I came to Texas, but I could watch again.” Truth was, he just wanted to have an excuse to sit and relax with Trey, to just be where he knew it was comfortable and easy.

  “Cool.” They worked together, Trey putting the food away, him doing the dishes in silence. Then, as the last glass was put in the dish drainer, warm arms wrapped around his waist and he was given a quiet, gentle hug. He closed his eyes and leaned back, just a little, letting Trey hold him, support him. It felt good. Felt peaceful.

  Trey held him for a long time, then slowly moved away. “Come on, let's watch our movie and relax. Seems like forever since we got to.”

  “It has been forever. We got popcorn and sodas?”

  “Of course. Just push the button, remember?”

  He smiled, almost chuckled, and nodded. “I do. Why don't you go set up the movie and I'll bring out the popcorn.”

  “You've got a deal, Yankee.”

  He did chuckle then and murmured, “cool.”

  He put the popcorn in the microwave and got out the big bowl before grabbing a couple of cokes. Just like any other night. Which was just what he needed.

  Chapter 7

  Russ and Trey drove into San Antonio for the Holiday Rodeo the week before Christmas. Trey was riding in the barrel races, so they arrived fairly early, which was just fine by Russ. He'd never been to a rodeo and this gave him a chance to look around, check things out. The smells hit him first. Critters and leather, grease and spices, smoke and straw. It was all there, all mixed together in a smell that should have made his nose wrinkle, but didn't. Even the perfume of hairspray and cheap eau de toilette mixed with Old Spice and Stetson wasn't bothering him. This was too cool and he wanted to see it all.

  The first booth he came to was selling tack and the one beside it saddles and he found himself entranced by the leatherwork, imagining the various saddles on his Chocolate. He couldn't wait to ride her, although the whole “breaking�
� process intimidated the heck out of him and, frankly, scared him a little. He didn't like the sound of the word. His Chocolate did not need to be broken, thank you very much. Still. Riding her would be a joy.

  He stopped to get himself a beer and something called a helotes, which turned out to be corn on the cob, cooked in its husk and then served with butter and something red and spicy. Man, it was good, even if it did burn the roof of his mouth off. Still, he licked his fingers clean once he was done eating, making sure to get all the flavor.

  “Hey! Kid! You enjoying the local flavors?” Marty sauntered up, beer in one hand, smoke in the other, looking all the world like someone playing dress up, in his multi-patterned shirt and starched jeans. “Try the funnel cake. It's good.”

  Russ nodded and grinned. “I'm going to try one of everything. I just had a hello-taz, pretty good.”

  “Mmm ... helotes. Yum. Trey's mamma? She can sure make them up nice. Used to have them all the damned time. Is he riding today, do you know?”

  “Yeah he is—barrel racing. He's not riding a barrel though—he'll be on Pud.” He'd told that joke to Trey just this morning and gotten some sweet laughter for his troubles.

  Marty chuckled, rolling his eyes a little. “Yeah? Hopefully he'll come out of this time without hurting anything. Hell, maybe this time he'll win.”

  “Hurting anything?” Russ chewed on his bottom lip. “He didn't say it was dangerous. People don't die doing this, do they?” He didn't mean to be a worry-wart, but it hit awful close to home, what with Ginnie's funeral and all.

  “Hell, no. Worse that can happen is he'll take a fall and break a wrist or an ankle. Nothing serious.” Marty winked, dark eyes teasing. “Those barrels don't bite back.”

  He chuckled, relieved. “Well he'd better not fall, or we might have to rope you into helping out around the ranch.”

  That got him a laugh. “Oh, right. I so don't think so, Yankee. Hard work's not what I was raised for.”

  Grinning he had to ask, “Does that mean you aren't going to help me muck out the stalls?”

  “Yes indeed it does.” Marty tilted his head. “Hey, you got good seats?”

  “You tell me.” He held his ticket out to Marty because he didn't have a clue.

  “Eh, not bad, but not as good as mine. Come on, you can watch with me and Kerr, cheer our boy on. I got good money on him.”

  “Thanks. You bet on Trey? Which one's Kerr—the redhead or the blonde with the huge...” he paused for effect, “Hair?”

  “She's the little brunette with the Porsche and the chichis the size of New Jersey.” Marty led him on through the gates, handing over two tickets. “And of course I bet on him. Hell, he's the best barrel racer not gone pro ‘round here.”

  “Cool!” Russ bounced on the heels of his feet. “What's the prize for winning—I mean for Trey, not you.”

  “Couple three hundred bucks, maybe five. He'll donate it to the Horse Rescue people. He always does. Silly bastard.”

  Russ smiled softly. That sounded like Trey. “What would you do with the money?” he asked.

  “Spend it. That's what money's for.” Marty winked and pointed to their seats. God, he never knew whether Marty was teasing or not.

  He shook his head and looked around. There were a lot of people here and the arena was pretty big. He wondered if Trey ever got stage fright, so to speak. The first horse settled up between the barrels, a pretty brown horse that held a tiny blond girl, pink hat firmly seated on her head. He grinned at the pink hat. “She's all of what? Eight?”

  “Maybe twelve. This is the tail-end of the kids’ competition. Our boy's about three-quarters through the show, right after Gina McIntire.”

  “Gina McIntire?” He raised his hand to catch the eye of the guy selling what turned out to be sausage rolls. He got two and passed one to Marty.

  “Thanks.” Marty unwrapped the top and started nibbling. Damn, that was suggestive, even from a straight guy. He'd have to buy Trey one. “Gina is the one who'll beat him, if anyone does. She's damned good and she hates Trey with a passion.”

  “Hates Trey?” That seemed hard to believe, Trey was about as easy going as anyone he'd ever met.

  “Yup. She has since he turned her invitation to the homecoming dance down when we were sophomores. Girl can hold a grudge.”

  He laughed. Oh, that was classic. “That's it? Just that?”

  “That's enough. These girls have memories like elephants.”

  “I'd think that would make batting for the other team sound more attractive,” he teased. Marty really was the straightest man ever.

  “Shit, Yankee. I've seen naked men—knobby fucking knees, no titties, dangly bits, ugly feet—Give me a pretty, dressed-up and powdered lady any day.” Marty chuckled, waggled his eyebrows.

  “Well there's no accounting for taste.” He managed to keep his face serious for about ten seconds before he started to laugh.

  They chatted and watched, Marty explaining what was going on, what the point system was. Every now and again Marty would introduce some girl—the man had slept with every female in South Texas. He supposed he should be grateful Marty was straight or all the guys would be taken.

  The runs through the barrel course were pretty quick, the crowd booing any time someone lost their hat. It didn't seem like any time before Trey was up, him and Pud looking fine in black leather and royal blue trimming. Russ sat up at the edge of his seat, heart just thumping, as if he were the one about to race. He'd never seen Trey and Pud race—God, they were beautiful, quick and sleek and dark.

  Trey beat Gina's time by two full seconds, both horse and rider showing off for the crowd. He clapped and hollered—he couldn't have been prouder if he'd run the race himself. Trey did donate his winnings, just like Marty said he would, looking happy and sure as he waved.

  Russ found himself having to look away and think cold thoughts. Trey sure looked sexy on that horse, all decked up. When he looked back, Trey was watching him, grinning and tipping his hat. He grinned back, nodded. Man, this was fun. It was good.

  Marty nudged him with one shoulder. “Y'all have supper at Ruth Chris’ tonight, on me. A thank you for winning me a certain bet.”

  “Cool. Thanks, man.” He figured Marty could afford to drop a couple hundred on a big dinner at the most expensive steak house in town. It sounded like a good time. “They serve champagne there?”

  “They do. Watch out, though. It makes Trey giggly.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.” What maybe Marty didn't know was that lots of stuff made Trey laugh and Trey laughing? That was one of Russ’ favorite things.

  “Y'all have a good time. He'll be bouncing, old man loves racing. I'm going to hunt up Kerr.”

  “Do you know which way to the stables?”

  “Down the main stairs and keep heading left. You see that long, square red-tiled building? That's the main stable. You'll be able to find Trey there.” Marty pointed, face covered in what Trey would call a shit-eating grin.

  He shook his head—Marty was incorrigible. Russ figured he was basically a decent guy though. “Thanks.”

  He headed off in the direction Marty had indicated, making his way slowly through the crowd. He found Trey in the middle of a bunch of people, clapping him on the back. There must have been ten dozen Stetsons bobbing and bouncing, the shine of bolo ties twinkling. He hung back a little, watching Trey in his element. The man looked good, happy.

  The dark eyes were shining as they landed on him. “Russ! Yankee! Come on and meet everyone.”

  He smiled and ducked his head, headed into the group of cowboys.

  * * * *

  “Keep your eyes peeled for a parking spot, yeah Yankee?” They'd left bright and early, headed for the outlet malls in San Marcos, singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. Now, granted, Trey thought Russ was just trying to drown out George Strait, but he'd give the boy the benefit of the doubt.

  They'd caught a quick breakfast at IHOP—migas, mmmm—and then
hurried in. They could shop as long as they wanted and then eat at the Lone Star Cafe and then head home, Christmas shopping complete with four whole days left to Christmas. Go them.

  Russ craned his neck. “There's some in section 4P over there to the left. How can there already be so many people here?”

  “Christmas shopping. Bah humbug.” He grinned and winked, heading left for the empty spots. “Folks come up from Mexico. This place can get real busy.”

  Grinning, Russ shook his head. “Don't these people know that you're supposed to do Christmas shopping at the last possible minute? Don't you know that? This'll be the first year I wasn't in the stores at 4:45 on Christmas Eve, searching up just the perfect things. They're amazingly easy to find at the last minute. Something about there being nothing else left.” Russ winked.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, but just think how grownup and organized and shit you are.” He pulled into the spot and grabbed his hat. “Come on, Yankee. Let's spend some of our hard-earned money.”

  “Right behind you.” Russ followed him into the mall, which wasn't so busy you couldn't move yet and they started to amble rather aimlessly.

  The outlet mall was huge, acres of streets lined with storefronts, little vendors and singers and stuff set up outside.

  “I'm getting the Gonzales’ the new Christmas plate from Mikasa—cheap, simple, easy. Got some odds and ends to get for my nephews, too. Don't know what to get for my sister and them.” He was getting Russ some new clothes—jeans, a couple of shirts, maybe a decent jacket, if he could swing it. Something nice, comfortable, good for working and riding.

  “I'm not sure if I should get my parents anything. They might feel like it's too soon or something.” Russ was chewing on his lower lip.

  “Well, maybe something small, something simple and personal. Nothing flashy or goofy, you know?” The temptation to brush that bottom lip with his finger was huge, but he resisted, pointing towards a candy shop. “Maybe chocolate covered pecans or something.”

  Russ nodded, teeth still worrying that lip. “I was thinking maybe ... well I've got a picture of me and Chocolate and I was thinking I could get that enlarged and framed. So they'd ... have something of me? Is that too corny or self-centered? I mean ... it's just that with Ginnie gone and I'm not there and I want them to feel like a part of me is, like I remember them.” Russ shrugged.