by K-lee Klein
Brett held up his hand, not threatening but with authority. “Now just—just hold on a sec. This dead fella and I are having a chat.” JT whispered his name again. Brett grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers together as gently as he could muster just then. He squeezed when JT nudged him.
“Let me ask you something, young fella. Why do you think saying that—word to someone you don’t know is all right? And someone way older than you, at that.”
“I didn’t say nothin’.” The zombie turned away, but Brett reached for his shoulder.
“Brett,” JT said his name with firmer intention this time. “Come back inside.” He tugged Brett’s hand. “You kids have a good night.”
Brett bit down on his bottom lip but let himself be led away from the door. “I wasn’t going to hurt the little bastard,” he hissed once he’d leaned against the wall in the living room.
JT caught his gaze. “Wanna tell me what happened? I obviously missed something.”
There was no time for discussion as a new crop of youngsters appeared on the lawn screaming their greetings. And Brett was glad for the reprieve. He picked up the bowl again, avoiding JT’s pleading and confused gaze. “Howdy, kids.” He feigned a good old boy grin and politely shoved handfuls of candy into white pillowcases and little buckets, too distracted to comment or even notice what the kids were wearing since his mind was still reeling with anger. Or maybe not so much rage as disappointment.
He supposed it wasn’t entirely the kid’s fault. He’d probably been mirroring the word and attitude from somewhere else, from someone else. Or in the least, hadn’t been taught any sort of respect for people older than him or people period.
“Cowboy?”
He was dragged from his internal musings with a gentle nudge. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Looks like things are quieting down,” JT said, pressing a kiss to Brett’s cheek. “You want some coffee to go with all that chocolate or maybe a beer?”
“Sounds good. Whatever you’re having, Darlin’.”
They sat side-by-side on the big sofa while some sitcom droned in the background. The doorbell rang twice more, but JT simply patted Brett’s arm, so he stayed put. He wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with any more Halloweeners anyhow.
After nine o’clock, Brett heard the door click shut, the lock being turned, and the outside light flicker off. “All done?” he asked when JT snuggled up to his side again.
The kid clicked off the television, molding himself to Brett’s chest like some overgrown limpet. “You ready to tell me what happened?”
Brett moaned in the back of his throat. “Naw. It’s all right. I overreacted, is all. Been known to do that a time or two.” He sat taller on the couch when JT slung an arm around his shoulders.
“That’s not how it works. What did that he say?”
Gnawing the inside of his cheek before replying, Brett quietly rubbed JT’s fingers on his knee. He sighed when he finally found his voice. “Homo.”
“Homo?” JT repeated. And Brett wished he hadn’t. It sounded less emphatic than when the teenager had whispered it to his buddy, but that still didn’t make it right.
“Yeah, I know. Could’ve been worse, right?”
JT kissed the side of his head. “I’m sorry it upset you.”
“I heard it some growing up, you know? But it never gets easier to hear, right? Especially when it’s another generation you expect to know better.”
“Faggot was more the rage where I grew up.” JT rested his forehead against the top of Brett’s head, and Brett was thankful for the comfort.
“Got some of that too. Pansy. Light in the loafers when I got a bit older. I still hate hearing it, and especially from the kids. Back in my younger days, before I quit all my posturing, I might’ve said it a few times too. Sure ain’t proud of that.”
“It makes sense in a way. If you say it to someone else, it puts the word on them so no one suspects you’re thinking about yourself.”
Brett nodded and keened a little inside at JT’s brave intelligence. “Yep. I guess so. That some kind of psychology thing?”
“I’m sure it is. But it’s a way to handle fear too. The wrong way, but sometimes it happens. It’s about hiding who you are in front of people you want to like you but that you don’t want to know who you really are.”
“That’s fucked-up.” Brett tipped his head back so he could see JT’s face. An automatic smile twitched at his lips: happiness, comfort, pride in the man at his side. “How’d I end up with someone so smart?”
JT wrinkled his nose, and his gaze flicked to the side like he was actually coming up with some big important answer. “Must be all those horseshoes on the ranch.”
Surprise overtook Brett, and he guffawed without thought. He nudged JT with his shoulder. “Funny guy, huh?”
“I’m hilarious. Just ask your mama.”
Brett shifted so one bent knee lay alongside JT’s thigh. He stretched until he was nose-to-nose with the kid, their chocolate and coffee-flavored breaths mingling for a time. “That’s not something I want to be thinking about right now.” He brushed a kiss over the corner of JT’s mouth, then proceeded to pay attention to the entire length of his jaw. The friction of five-o’clock shadow pulled at his lips, but he loved the tickle and indulged in the sweet sounds JT made as he sucked and licked along the underside of his jaw. Brett latched on to the throbbing pulse point of JT’s throat but loosed his latch when JT protested softly.
“No hickeys in Millie’s house.”
“You never let me have any fun,” Brett cooed once he’d eased back, or more precisely when JT pushed him away. He snuck one more open mouth kiss: sloppy and wet just to get the kid going. JT giggled, a noise that always had Brett sporadically giggling back. They made out for a while, hands dragging slowly under T-shirts and button-ups but neither of them pushing to the next level. Brett talked a tough game, but having his mama and Ray catch them in a compromising position wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to expose himself to.
In no time at all, headlights lit up the big picture window. “Speaking of Mama,” Brett said, jerking his hand from under JT’s shirt. “Looks like they’re back and we’re free as birds to fly away.”
JT tried to grab him one last time, but Brett jerked up from the couch when he heard footsteps at the door. The kid wasn’t done now, aiming a slap at Brett’s ass at the exact inappropriate time. Millie and Ray walked into the living room just as Brett yelped—only a little, but enough for Ray to muster a shit-eating grin.
“Sounds like you got your nuts in a twist, Brett.”
Brett glared at Ray, not that it did any damn good in wiping the smirk off his face. “I guess dressing like a prince don’t make you any more polite than usual, huh?”
Millie chuckled as she slid off her heels. “Did we interrupt something, boys? We can go out and come back in if you like.”
Brett ducked his head when his mama gave him the look. “What? No… we’re just….” The grin on Millie’s face made him regroup. “How about you? Did you have a good time?”
“Your mama was the belle of the ball.” Brett couldn’t help but notice the look of pride on Ray’s face. He’d never say it out loud, but it was kind of sweet.
“There’s nothing unusual about that.” Brett raised an eyebrow at JT. “You ready to go?”
“What’s your rush?” Millie said at the same time as JT mentioned using the bathroom first.
Brett was confused by the odd shared look between his partner and his mama, but he simply leaned against the wall by the front door and waited. “You dance up a storm, old man?” He grinned deviously at Ray, taunting him with a twist of his lips and arch of his brow.
Ray didn’t even flinch. “As a matter of fact, I did. You could say I was the beau of the ball.”
“You what? I’ve never seen you dance a step, old man.”
Ray snorted and snuck a peek at Millie. “Guess that’s because you don’t live in m
y pocket. Thank the good lord for that.”
Millie honed in on Brett, angling her head so he could kiss her cheek. “He dances like a charm. All the ladies were looking his way.”
“None of them had even a hint of a chance, Millie. You know that.” Ray’s expression was soft, softer than Brett had ever seen it. He wasn’t as thrown by Millie and Ray’s relationship status as he wanted everyone to believe. But that didn’t mean he wanted to watch them get all googly-eyed over each other.
“JT!” he called out. “Let’s go, Darlin’. I’d appreciate a hasty exit since things are getting weird out here.”
“Hold your horses, cowboy!”
It was another handful of minutes before Brett finally heard movement down the hallway again. Brett turned and his jaw dropped. “What the—what’s—wow.”
“Thanks. I think.” JT peered nervously down at him from beneath a spanking new black ten-gallon hat. But that wasn’t the main point that stopped Brett so damn dead in his tracks. That distinction went to the mile-long leather chaps covering JT from hip to ankle. Black, shiny, sleek, beautifully fringed, and fresh enough they had that new car smell attached to them. The chaps were complemented by hella-tight Wranglers, a white Western shirt stretched taut across JT’s broad chest, and a red bandanna knotted perfectly at the hollow of his throat.
In a word, JT looked fuckable, but in polite company he’d just call him beautiful—gorgeous from head to toe.
“Geez, kid. You got something you want to share with me?” Brett asked. He couldn’t keep his gaze from roving JT top-to-bottom and back up again. “Hitting the rodeo trail or trying out for Mr. Texas? You’ve got my vote.”
“Funny,” JT hissed as he sauntered near—and he did saunter like Brett had never witnessed before. “So….” The kid paused, eyes flicking to Millie almost like he was seeking her approval or guidance. “Um, I thought we might stop by Bubba’s, if you’re into that.”
Suspicion sizzled through Brett, but he played along. “You asking me on a date, Darlin’?”
JT shrugged with feigned indifference. “Maybe.”
“Seem kinda nervous about it too, yeah?” Brett teased him further with a wink, happy when JT’s cheeks brightened. “I’ll follow you anywhere. You know that, but what’s with the….” Brett motioned to the long length of JT’s body. “What’s with the getup?”
Millie cleared her throat before JT could answer. “Brett, honey,” she cooed in that voice reserved for sweet-talking the devil. “I need to talk to you.”
“Mama, I’m right in the middle of—”
“It’s important, son.” She lowered her voice. “Won’t take but a minute. Ray, JT looks like he could use a little liquid courage.”
Brett cocked his head. “Liquid courage? Why would he—” Brett tried to get JT’s attention again, but his mama grabbed his arm.
“Get him a shot of whiskey, Ray. We’ll be right back.”
Chapter 10
JT BLEW out a big breath once Millie had dragged Brett to the back of the house. “Do you think he’s mad?” Anxiety popped under his skin as he looked to Ray, of all people, for guidance. “He didn’t look impressed.”
“He’s fine,” Ray said, pressing a tumbler of amber liquid into JT’s hand. “Millie will handle him. Never seen you so spooked. Not since you hooked him anyhow.”
JT slugged the drink back like he was in some old-time spaghetti Western. He worried he’d gone too far, tried a little too hard. Maybe his stupid idea had made him a tad too big for his britches. Millie had assured him it was a sweet thing to do, but JT just wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want to make Brett uncomfortable,” he said aloud.
Ray gestured him to the sofa. “Millie’s usually right about this stuff. And if she ain’t, don’t say it out loud.” He chuckled and gently smacked JT on the arm. “She told me you looked like a kid in a candy store when you asked her about it, though. And you gotta know, Brett would do most anything to make you happy.”
With a sigh, JT nodded. “I guess.”
“So this getup,” Ray said, poking JT’s thigh. “It mean you got cowboy aspirations, son?”
The question was mildly amusing, but not so far from the truth. “Not really.” JT cocked his head to the side and peered down the hallway past Ray. “Or maybe a little since I’ve been in Texas.”
“Well, it kinda suits you. Brett nearly popped an eyeball when he saw you too.”
Heat sparked under JT’s skin, and a misplaced wave of pride settled around his heart. He’d never worn anything quite so tight, excluding his forgettable—he tried very hard to forget—experimentation with bizarre club clothes in his early twenties. The images still made him shudder. And the chaps… the chaps were definitely a different experience altogether, and not necessarily a bad one. He may not have achieved John Wayne realness in his getup, but it felt really good to strut his stuff in front of Brett. He was replaying Brett’s reaction in his head when Millie appeared in the hallway. She headed straight for Ray.
Brett’s moaning complaints preceded his dissent down the hallway. “I better not look as ridiculous as I feel.”
When Brett rounded the corner, JT was stunned into silence. He smothered the grin threatening to crack his face only because Brett’s own face told him to peel back his delight, just a little. “Wow. You look—”
“Watch yourself, kid.” Brett’s downtrodden expression slowly curled into a twisted half smile. “Does this hat make my hips look big?”
The stony silence was shattered by Millie and Ray’s laughter. Then when Brett joined in, JT couldn’t control himself anymore. Between Brett’s sarcastic wit and how utterly adorable he looked, he burst into uncontrollable snickers. The costume had been more Millie’s idea than his, but JT would gladly take whatever credit he could get.
“You look seriously adorable.”
“Not sure a forty-two-year-old redneck should be going for adorable,” Ray chimed in with a hint of amusement dotting his words.
“Hush, Ray,” Millie chastised. She turned her attention back to Brett. “You look fabulous, son. Just like your favorite character in that Alice movie.”
Brett looked mildly uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other as he glanced at her through his lashes. “Can’t believe you told him that. Whatever happened to mama/son confidentiality?”
Millie shrugged. “I never signed any such agreement.”
“I’m having one drawn up tomorrow.” Brett smirked when he turned to JT again. His eyes were bright with mischief. “So, am I right in assuming we’re not just stopping by Bubba’s for a beer?”
Despite Brett’s positive attitude, JT turned anxious again. “Only if you, you know, want to go. I just thought it might be fun.”
“Nothing wrong with a little fun,” Millie added.
“Even old rusty cowboys need to get out sometimes,” Ray said. “It’s not like he’s asking you to go running around buck naked or nothing like that. Though you’d probably like that too dang much.”
“Why the hell are y’all trying to convince me when I’ve already got the damn costume on?” Brett shuffled across the living room, stopping in front of JT. “So,” he said, tapping his toe to JT’s shin. “We gonna get out of here or what? I’m too young to be spending Halloween with these old folks.”
Still feeling the need to explain or give Brett an out, JT leaned in to whisper, “I don’t think costumes are mandatory, but I really won’t be upset it you don’t want to go.” After Brett roughly tugged him off the couch, JT said, “I’d never force you to—”
“Darlin’, when have I ever done anything I didn’t want to do?” Millie’s hand shot up into the air like a schoolgirl trying to get to the head of the class. “Just never you mind,” Brett warned with an imitation growl. “It’s a fine question, and Mama’s right. I use to love that little guy in that story.” He shrugged. “Left to my own devices, I’d have probably chosen a cowboy, but that’s old news, right? And I gotta say, this hat is damn awesom
e.”
Said hat was deep green, twice as wide as Brett’s head, and made of something resembling crushed velvet. It clashed exquisitely with the long, baby-poop yellow coat, and double wide, mint-green bow tie that spread over a good portion of Brett’s broad chest. JT had nixed the over-the-top suit pants Millie had found to complete the outfit, but really, the floppy, also mint-green shoe covers strapped to Brett’s ankles and hanging over the tops of his feet and crisp white gloves completed the cartoon costume perfectly.
“Mad Hatter,” Ray said with a chuckle. “Kind of suits you. I mean, been times you’ve been crazier than a hatter anyhow. The kid still looks better.”
Brett jutted his chin out so hard his hat wobbled. “First off, keep your damn opinions to yourself. Secondly, I’m right on point with him looking better than me.”
“Are you really though? It’s probably not something Walt ever made you do.”
Brett’s expression turned sour. He tucked up close to JT, leaning in for a lingering kiss to his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered against JT’s skin for a moment or two before he spoke, low and serious. “It’s been a whole lot of years since I’ve done something like this. Not something Walt and I did, no, but that don’t mean you still couldn’t have just asked. Don’t matter what I’ve done before, you know?”
“I was worried you’d think it was weird.”
“And dropping it on me cold turkey doesn’t make it weird?” Brett’s crooked grin told JT he was just being a tease. “Nope. I’m set on going out Halloweening now. Let’s go. Times wasted. I can’t wait to show off the new cowboy in town that I already hitched my wagon to.”
“Now I just think you’re really weird.”
“Not weird, sweetheart. Just Texan.” Brett’s amusement made him garble the words, but his next ones were very clear. “I’m pretty sure you owe me a beer now.”
They kissed Millie good night, and JT didn’t miss the way Brett slapped Ray’s back a little harder than necessary. The ride to the bar was quiet after Brett’s curses died down from catching the top of his hat on the door of the truck. JT, of course, thought it was funnier than hell that Brett’s hat didn’t fit in the cab.
