Rocking the Cowboy

by Skylar M. Cates

  A small comfortable silence fell between them. When they kissed, Remy’s mouth was sweet with the taste of berries.

  “I want you.”

  “Your mom and aunt are down the hall.”

  “So?” Remy grinned. “I can be quiet.”

  “Hardly.”

  “As soon as they leave, I’m chaining you to our bed,” Remy whispered.

  POP Rocks whinnied softly, shaking Jed out of his memories of the past months.

  Remy patted Hagrid and then stood. “So, can you take a break?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Come on, Jed. There’s always going to be time to work. And I respect that you have commitments. But there is also time to play. Take some time now, and work later.”

  Jed smiled. Before Remy, he wouldn’t have seen the point in it. The ranch had been his only focus; he’d shut out everything else.

  “Let me put Pop Rocks away. Meet you in the shower?” When Remy let out a whoop and then dashed off to start the shower, Jed stood a moment, smiling, his heart pounding already, and he rubbed his palm at his chest. With Remy, he always felt a bit turned inside-out. But in a good way.

  Jed settled the horses. Then he went to the house. He no longer wanted to be away from the world and live his life alone. He and Remy had vaguely discussed plans, the future. Jed secretly was organizing more.

  He heard the hiss of the water and Remy humming, and he swallowed hard before opening the bathroom door. Remy’s butt was the first thing Jed glimpsed. He was leaning into the shower to adjust the water temperature. Jed eyed the taut muscles and rounded cheeks.

  It was a thrill to know Remy belonged to him. Just as Jed belonged to Remy.

  “Oh!” Remy jumped at seeing Jed, then offered a bright smile. “The temperature is steamy enough now. Come on in with me.”

  The water as he stepped in was warm with a strong pressure that hit Jed’s back. It was exactly how he loved a shower. His skin would get reddened, but the steam would loosen his muscles in a good way.

  Remy opened his arms, welcoming Jed inside.

  “YOUR boyfriend is nominated for Song of the Year, and you’re going to wear that?” Elliot shook his head, pointing at Jed’s outfit. “Pitiful.”

  Jed looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with this?”

  A few weeks after Remy’s mom’s visit, the awards for the Grammys were officially announced. Remy had immediately been overwhelmed with interviews, and Jed put off some of his plans. Remy deserved to focus fully on his career.

  Jed had been a little anxious ever since. And now Elliot was giving him grief about his wardrobe? Great.

  “It’s a good suit,” Jed argued.

  “Dumbass. You already wore that suit to Melanie’s wedding. Don’t you have more than one outfit?”

  “No, and it’s not as if the attention will be on me. Or what I wear.”

  Elliot laughed. “You are so clueless for a gay man. It’s a red-carpet event. And I repeat. Remy is nominated for the biggest award of the night.” Elliot eyed Jed’s suit again. “And you’re more funeral parlor than hot-date material, my friend.”

  “Aw, shut up.”

  Jed scowled. He had a flight booked to Vegas, where the Grammy awards were being held. It wasn’t likely he had time to find something else to wear. Remy was incredibly excited and distracted, of course, so he hadn’t commented about Jed’s potential outfit.

  “Remy is also performing the song with Pink. I think he’s more concerned about her wardrobe than mine.”

  Elliot chuckled. “True, nobody wants a wardrobe malfunction the night of the Grammys.”

  “Thanks again for watching the ranch this weekend.”

  “No problem. Just make certain your man is available to sing at my upcoming wedding. Amy is not going to let that go.”

  Jed stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to this. You don’t know shit about pop music. And here you get to be front and center in it.” Elliot sighed deeply. “It’s so wasted on you.”

  “Hey, I listen to Remy’s songs now. And it’s not pop.”

  “True. He’s really branched out, hasn’t he? But I’m loving the new sound.”

  “You and millions,” Jed replied.

  Remy’s entire CD was filled with love songs—some raw and wanting, others joyous, a few sad ones.

  He had ditched his studio in Los Angeles and built one on Jed’s land. Jed had helped with the construction, and Remy worked with a designer to get the studio exactly how he wanted it. He had imagined working solo on his project, but that quickly changed. Once other musicians learned Remy and Buddy split ways and Remy was moving away from pop music, some reached out to him.

  “I want to keep it simple,” Remy told them. “Just us jamming, then relaxing and enjoying the ranch. Maybe we’d go for a ride or a hike.” He had ended that first set of phone calls and shrugged at Jed. “Most of them won’t come way out here to hang around and play near some barn.”

  But he had been wrong. One day it was Pink, the next the Foo Fighters or Fall Out Boy, and so on…. Bruce Springsteen showed to record with Remy, but Jed doubted it was a coincidence he brought along his daughter, who chatted Jed up about polo all day. Strangely, Jed found himself receptive to the idea. So the ranch would change? So what was wrong with that? Remy was willing to change to be with Jed, to find ways to record that didn’t require being in LA or endless travel…. Jed could change too. He ended the visit with a promise to check out some of the polo ponies.

  Remy had brought home Pop Rocks a day later, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Nobody refuses the Boss.”

  “Don’t think it wasn’t already clear that you manipulated the situation.”

  “Only because I knew if you talked to Bruce and his daughter, you’d see it makes sense….” Remy bit his lip. “Are you mad?”

  “It’s a good move for me and the ranch. So no, I’m not mad. And you’re right. I can be… er… stubborn.”

  Remy beamed. Jed wanted to say more, but other musicians arrived at the ranch, and there hadn’t been time to continue the conversation about the changes in their future. Jed had tapped the back pocket of his jeans, where a simple pair of gold bands was wrapped in a handkerchief.

  “Lost your nerve. Again,” he chided himself.

  The days were busy and good. Jed worked with the horses and studied his new path into the world of polo ponies, and Remy made music with an equal passion.

  The one thing all the stars had in common was loving the idea of creating away from the studio, of doing music in a more personal way, in a beautiful setting. They also wanted to work with Remy, which had shocked him. He had no idea how many people loved his voice for alternative music, away from the pop beat, where he was allowed to sound grittier. Jed, for his part, had cooked for some of them and taken a few riding. He enjoyed brief craziness, but he enjoyed it more when the company left and it was the two of them again.

  The Grammys would be Remy’s first time back on a big stage. He had stuck to his word about touring, only playing the occasion small venue, otherwise sticking to recording at Jed’s. Jed knew this night meant the world to him for so many reasons, but that chance to perform topped Remy’s list. He had flown to Vegas a week early to rehearse the song.

  “I might not want to do it nightly anymore, but I still love all eyes on me.” Remy had laughed as they chatted about it over the phone.

  “As long as I’m the only hands on you.”

  “Count on it.”

  They talked every night. It wasn’t the same as being together in person. Still, he looked forward to the phone calls. Sometimes, when Jed had a particularly frustrating day, it was enough to hear Remy’s voice.

  Jed glanced at the mirror, then looked at Elliot. “Got anything I can borrow in a hurry?”

  “I might. I can go home and rummage through my stuff. Or you could call Remy, get the name of his stylist, and have them plan it.”

  “Yeah,
I didn’t think of that.”

  “Still such a cowboy.”

  “And proud of it.” Jed emphasized it by putting his Stetson on his head. “I have time for one more training session with Neville before I go. I might even take Sage and him for a trail ride.”

  TWO days before the Grammys, Jed had a new outfit. He also had a wicked case of the flu. He was glad Remy had left early. Jed bundled up on the couch, Oscar and Hagrid at his feet, and blew his nose for the hundredth time into a tissue. His nostrils were red, his lips chapped. If he didn’t look better soon, this would be his introduction to the world as Remy’s boyfriend. Remy hadn’t gone to social media and announced that they were a couple; they had kept things private and low-key, but Jed knew Remy did this out of respect for him, that Remy’s style was more to shout their relationship from the rooftops. Jed, feeling more comfortable each day, had finally been ready to let the cameras focus on him as he held Remy’s hand.

  He coughed violently, his body wracked with aches. “Great,” he grumbled. Hagrid’s ears went back in concern, and Oscar leaned his body into Jed’s leg for comfort. “I’ll be fine,” Jed told his pets. “But how can I walk down the red carpet with the flu?”

  Reluctantly, he called Remy. He wasn’t answering his phone, so Jed left a voicemail explaining. “I’m still flying to you. I’ll be there to support you,” he said hoarsely, “but I might not be a good fit to stay and party all night long. I’ll try. Just wanted to give you a warning. I’m taking some cold medicine and am going to try and sleep now. It’s late here. But I’ll speak with you tomorrow. And Remy? I’m so proud of you, darlin’. I know you’ll win tomorrow night. But even if you don’t? You made the record you wanted to make. You did it your way. So you already won.” Jed took a breath and coughed. “Sorry. Damn flu. Call you in the morning. Love you.”

  He stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He looked awful. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were bloodshot. And he had to fly to Vegas tomorrow. But Jed would get on the plane. For Remy.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I LIKE the Kurt Cobain style hair.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Remy grinned at Dave. His old drummer had left the band and joined Remy for some of his new songs. They had talked honestly about the old days, even about Athens, and they’d slowly renewed their friendship.

  Remy’s hair was about shoulder-length these days, but he wasn’t in flannel and jeans. Perish the thought. He was still Remy. He still loved some sparkle and appreciated a good hair product. His sound, however, did have the harder edge he loved. It allowed for more guitar riffs and drum solos. He didn’t have to be the star; Remy considered the new work an equal showing of talent. He might be the lead vocals on the songs, but he was surrounded by friends, all of them generous and talented. They had loved making these songs, and it showed.

  “Let’s practice. Pink is coming over in an hour for our duet.”

  After a bone-tiring rehearsal, Remy headed to his hotel. He took out his phone with a yawn. He really sucked at checking it when he was caught up in the music. He often forgot to turn it on until he was done. He saw a voicemail from Jed and smiled.

  God, I miss him.

  They had talked of their future, and Remy was hopeful of all the things to come. They had taken the first steps already. Remy got a thrill each time he stepped into the studio on the ranch. That Jed made room for him—it meant the world.

  He had been away a week, and it was enough to be homesick. Being in Vegas for the Grammys confirmed to Remy how little he missed the road or the touring. Others urged him to do a tour after the Grammys if he won, and rake in the money while the songs were hot, but Remy didn’t care about that part. He only wanted to be with Jed and make his music. If he toured at all, it would be in a few cities where maybe Jed wanted to vacation. Because Remy couldn’t imagine being away from Jed for too long. Or the ranch. To his shock, the noise of the city bothered him now. He hated the congestion and the throngs of people. He went to a club the other night and found himself longing to go back to his hotel room and just sleep. Partying was fun and all, but Remy had a “been there, done that” feeling for it. What was more exciting were all the musicians who kept reaching out to him about being on his next CD. Remy had always been a popular artist, but now he felt like a respected one.

  After listening to Jed’s voicemail, Remy quickly called him back. “I’m coming home. Right now.”

  “Don’t be stupid. The Grammys—”

  “Screw them. I’ll fly back tonight. Make you chicken soup.”

  Jed gave a hoarse laugh. “What? You want to kill me?”

  “Shut up,” Remy protested. “I’ve become a better cook since living with you.”

  “Slightly.” Jed still sounded amused. But Remy was more concerned about Jed’s voice, which sounded like sandpaper, than his teasing.

  “I’ll be home by morning,” Remy vowed.

  “No, don’t do that. I’ll keep my arrangements and fly out to you. You go to the Grammys, and I’ll wait in the hotel. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  Remy frowned. “I don’t care about an award. I care about you.”

  “And I appreciate it. But the award show is counting on you. You’re supposed to perform. It wouldn’t be right to abandon that commitment.”

  “Crap, I hate adulting.”

  “Me too, sometimes.”

  “Fine… I’ll play at the awards, but I’m not walking the whole red-carpet thing without you. And I’ll leave as soon as my song is done, which is scheduled pretty early.”

  “But you’ll miss being there if you win. Isn’t Song of The Year at the end of the show?”

  “Either we agree on this, Jed, or I’m flying home to cook for you now.”

  “Threats, huh? Okay, then.”

  “I want to take care of you.”

  “Ah, Remy. You always do.”

  Remy drove Jed from the airport to the hotel the next day. It was raining out, and Remy pulled Jed close as they stepped outside, carrying his duffel bag. Jed wrapped his arms around him.

  “Good to see you. Sorry about this damn cold.”

  “Stop apologizing.” Remy held the umbrella over them as they made their way to his limo. One of things Remy loved about Jed, though, was how he owned his shit. He was man enough to say when he was wrong and never wanted to make excuses for anything. He knew how to say he was sorry, when so many men didn’t.

  “Was the flight okay? I worried about your ears and the air pressure.” Remy fussed over him.

  “I was fine.” Jed gave him a squeeze.

  Remy’s hotel was off the strip and modest compared to where other musicians were staying, and even better, it was discreet. Remy was able to usher Jed to their room.

  After drawing Jed a hot bath and calling room service, Remy pulled back the covers.

  “Hey,” Jed called as he made his way from the bathroom. His nose was chafed, but he looked warm and happy in the white hotel robe and slippers. Remy smiled, patting the space next to him.

  “C’mere.”

  Jed climbed in.

  “Want to watch an old movie on television or something?”

  “Maybe in a little while. Don’t you need to go and get ready?”

  “I have time.”

  “Remy, don’t be late because of me. I’ll watch on the television. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “I’ll be there in time. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Can’t help it.” Jed smiled.

  They lay on their sides, their faces close.

  Remy skimmed the outline of Jed’s jaw with gentle fingers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. My headache is almost gone. Ears and throat a little clogged, but much better than yesterday.”

  “Good.” He ran a hand over Jed’s side, caressing his rib cage and hip.

  After eating a little of the room service offerings, Jed drifted off to sleep. He snored loudly, a sign of his lingering flu. Remy smoothed his dark hair back and
kissed his forehead.

  He stood over Jed’s sleeping form a moment, gazing down at Jed.

  “Be back soon,” Remy whispered. Then he went to the Grammys.

  REMY adjusted his hot pink tie. Otherwise he was all in black, and he had on new Vans. It was a perfect look for him, hip and modern, fun but not slutty. His blond hair was still long enough to wave in his face when he played the guitar, but not so long it took forever to fix.

  Long enough for Jed to grab as he fucked him senseless.

  Remy sighed. Life was good. He couldn’t wait for Jed to recover from this bout of the flu.

  The cohost gave him the five-minute signal. He would be out there soon enough. He had a solo to do first, then a duet with Pink. Once that was done, though, Remy planned to be back in the hotel with Jed. He’d turned on Jed’s phone alarm before he’d gone, to be sure Jed would watch Remy’s part of the show.

  As he waited, Remy craned his neck left and right, working out the kinks. The venue was packed to the rafters. All the glamour of rock and roll in one room. He felt a twinge of nerves, but no panic. He hadn’t had a panic attack in forever.

  Don’t have one now.

  He wouldn’t. Remy shook out his jitters with some breaths. He jogged a little in place, loosening up some more. His name was announced. It was crazy that he had been nominated for Song of the Year and was playing at the Grammy’s. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, but he was going to enjoy the ride.

  The lights shone on him, hot and bright, as he came onstage.

  “Hello there! How is everybody doing tonight? We’re all lucky, aren’t we? It’s the Grammys! In Vegas!”

  The audience clapped in agreement, a few hollered. He spotted Nicky in the crowd. He and Buddy had fought publicly right after their first single was released, and Buddy had thrown him under the bus in search of the next big pop idol. Rumor had it that Buddy was working again with Disney. Nicky nodded at Remy. They would never be friends, but Remy gave a slight nod back. Nicky expelled a breath as if he expected Remy not to acknowledge him. But any old anger Remy had about Nicky had long evaporated in his found love for Jed.