Cody in Wyoming - 12. Chapter 12

Monday morning on the South Fork of the Boise River and Rence and I were finally alone together (if that makes any sense). He stood knee deep in the cold, quiet water. I was up to my thighs downstream of him. We, the both of us, were working out the kinks in our casts, barely having begun our day of fishing.

 

While I'm not bad at the motion of casting, I'm not remarkable by any stretch. Maybe it's a lack of talent; maybe it's a lack of practice. Rence appeared to either have a natural ability or plenty of experience, or both. I found myself distracted, watching the effortless motion and the smooth release of his line. Sometimes, I found myself distracted just looking at him, seeing my boyfriend completely rapt in the activity of fishing.

 

It's silly to use one word to describe such a multifarious activity: fishing. It doesn't say enough, doesn't imply the many aspects of hunting down and capturing another, alien life form: from the physical dance of casting, to the biological knowledge of fish and insect behavior, to the art of creating an enticing lure/fly, to the patience of applying oneself repeatedly to the activity of fishing with little assurance of success, to the catching of the fish: setting the hook, playing the fish, then landing it, only to remove the hook and feel the fish - cool, rough and slick in your hands as you wait for it to re-energize and finally, to watch it dart back into its strange, aquatic world.

 

The cackle of a kingfisher brought be back to the present, where I was standing, thigh deep in the Boise River with my boyfriend standing sixty yards upstream of me. Within minutes of arrival, it was clear that I was a casual hobbyist while Rence was an aficionado. It reminded me of fishing with my mother's late husband. I could only watch, enjoy and attempt to emulate Rence's (or Jack's, may he rest in peace) talent and dedication.

 

I returned to practicing my cast, working my arm, timing my actions to create the serpentine loops in the line before dropping the fly as gently as possible as close as I could to the targeted location. I snuck another glance in Rence's direction and watched him drop his fly in a riffle and let it float downstream into the still water where trout usually lay.

 

If fishing is supposed to be a solitary activity, I was failing miserably, unable, as I was, to drag my attention from Rence. I shouldn't castigate myself. Rence and I were newly and thoroughly enrapt in our newly formed relationship. It was ridiculous to expect ourselves to deny our fresh infatuation. Still, he didn't appear to be having trouble focusing on our activity, unlike me.

 

There he stood, his attention devoted to the activity and complexity of catching a fish. He was focused, relaxed, intent. He looked authoritative, assured and confident. He appeared stolid and masculine, virile, and handsome standing in the river a few hundred feet upstream of me.

 

I watched his arms working the rod and line. Those were the arms that had held me the previous night. His arms were covered with a thick layer of dark hairs. Those hands, while they were thickened from physical labor, had sensitively stroked my face, my chest, my butt, my cock. Those arms and those shoulders: broad, strong, muscled shoulders covered with their own coat of dark hairs. Those shoulders and that torso: the broad back, the full pectorals with their large, dark nipples placed low on the swelling of his pecs, the rich coat of hair on both back and front, the tight abdomen with its slight fullness which had fitted so well into my hands. I regret it taking me so long to overcome my grief and hurt at losing Joel and then to admit my fascination with Rence.

 

My wool gathering ended abruptly at the sight of Rence's line pulling taught the instant his left hand responded to a fish taking the fly. If possible, his attention sharpened further as he set the hook and then began to play the fish, letting it run a bit, slowing its progress with pressure on the line, preparing to draw it in. I gave up the pretense of fishing and made my way to the bank and then walked upstream to join Rence and vicariously enjoy his catch. By the time I arrived, he was reaching into the water to retrieve the exhausted fish. It was a good catch, a good sized rainbow trout. As I joined him, Rence was using his pliers to remove the hook. He lifted the fish to share his success with me. I had my phone out and took a couple quick shots before he put the fish back into the water and cradled it until it stabilized and then dashed back into the current. I got another few shots as he stood up and graced me with his scintillating smile.

 

"So, how's it going? Getting back in the groove?"

 

"Yeah, kinda, but not like you. I haven't gotten a good cast going yet, let alone caught anything."

 

"All in due time..." Rence, turned back towards the main current.

 

I wanted to chat more, but realized he was on a fishing mission. I turned upstream to practice more. I had seen a spot at the bottom of a riffle that appeared promising, so I made my way around a gravel bar and past some willows to a quiet spot where I could hear little more than the gurgle of the water and the occasional call of a kingfisher.

 

Sun, river, willows, gravel, fish, birds, heat, dry, pine covered hillsides... a boyfriend within earshot... could it get better? As I limbered my arm, I couldn't help thinking how real this felt, nothing like the social and professional pavanne of my theater world. Maybe I was a fool prioritizing the city with its museums, theater, restaurants and culture over this. Maybe, if I joined Rence at the ranch, I could change and become a rancher too. I could help out with the lambing, the milking, the cheese making, the... I don't know... the, the... Hell, who was I kidding? I would never be a rancher! I was right when I told Rence I couldn't live without the cultural diversity of LA. Alain was right when I told me I could never be a rancher. The previous evening, Rence and I had been right when we discussed and then decided that the most we could be was long-distance boyfriends. Damn! I wanted so much more! So did he, but really... we lived too far apart, not only geographically, but socially, culturally and professionally, too. We'd just have to make the best of our situation.

 

 

 

 

 

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I loosened my casting arm then looked across the Methow River to the tall Douglas Firs on the opposite bank. I couldn't believe the differences from the Boise River. Once again, Rence was with me, fishing, only, this time, he was my guest instead of my being his. The previous night, we had stayed in a bed & breakfast a good ways downstream and now, we were exploring the river, searching for rainbows and cut throats and getting ‘out of town'.

 

So much had occurred in the recent weeks. I had fulfilled my commitments in Seattle. My townhouse was in escrow and would be closing in three weeks (knock wood!) time. I was nearly completely packed in preparation for moving back to LA. The TV pilot from early summer had been picked up and would start taping episodes in early fall. It was going to be slotted as a replacement show for late prime time come mid-fall. And best of all, Rence had joined me for the final week of ‘Ah, Wilderness' and now, with my life in Seattle tied up neatly and before I returned to LA to return to work, we had a couple days of R&R to fish and sex and be together.

 

While the fishing was turning out to be a disappointment, the time with Rence was anything but disappointing. In fact, it was turning out to be amazing. We were exploring our expectations - our definition of ‘boyfriend-hood': regular phone calls, monthly visits, integrating our leisure time (if nothing else). All in all, it was turning out well and our plans sounded promising.

 

Oh, we had our troubles. Like that very morning... Rence got a call from the ranch and decided to return a day early. I wasn't happy. In fact, I was still miffed about his choice. I had made the error of veering into the ‘if you loved me...' miasma before realizing how stupid I sounded. Rence had stared at me wordlessly before stepping through the French doors onto the deck outside our room and then disappearing into the woods surrounding the guesthouse. We were still learning how best to argue between the two of us. There were still some harsh feelings, little wrenches in our machine after that morning's ‘discussion'. I looked around to find him, but Rence was out of sight behind a copse of alders downstream of me. I figured he was still ticked.

 

I gave up the pretense of fishing, gathered my gear and headed downstream to find my ‘boy' and plead his forgiveness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"Hun, is that Robert Duvall?"

 

"Shhh! And, yes, it is. We'll talk with him later."

"He knows you?"

 

"Well, yeah! Why wouldn't he? We had some scenes together in a movie, oh, about a lifetime ago! Anyway, we were good together... No! Don't bug your eyes at me. Not like that!

 

"I'd jump at doing something with him again, even though it hasn't happened yet. Anyway, when we're in the same crowd, we make a point to say ‘hi'. I'll introduce you before the evening's over.

 

"Want another drink? Champagne?"

 

"Nah... I'm gonna switch to water. I feel it more than I used to."

 

"Well, I'm having one more. Come with me, baby-snookums! I hate to think some movie mogul will steal you away while I'm away at the bar." I pulled on his jacket cuff to get him to follow.

 

Rence had flown down to join me for the madness of the Emmy's. While the event was in a few days, the parties had begun and we were making the rounds. I had a few days off work so could show Rence some of the industry, introduce him, show him off and show LA off to him. The tapings were going well and, with a few more episodes in the ‘can', the production would begin airing in another month. So far, industry buzz was looking good and the few reviewers who'd seen the pilot predicted success when we went on air. Unfortunately, good reviews are never bankable. Still, I was busy and working consistently and the possibility of indefinite work was satisfying.

 

I steered Rence towards the bar, where I got him a water while I picked up my second champagne. Rence seemed to be handling the reception well. While he'd been out of circulation at the ranch in recent years, he had assured me he was accustomed to high keyed events from his days in academia.

 

"Hey, Karl, check these out!" He pointed out a tray of canapés. "These here? They're made with our P'tit Basque! Who'd a thought? Cool, huh?"

 

"You can recognize your cheese? That's amazing!"

 

"Not really. I mean, yes, I can recognize our cheese but, no, it's not amazing. You really gotta know your stuff to make cheese, you know: the chemistry, the cultures, ‘n the equipment... and we worked hard to develop our Ynzunza brand. So, yeah, I recognize my cheese. Pretty cool, huh!"

 

"Do you want to check with the chef and do a little networking? After all, that's why we're here."

 

"Yeah, but for you, not for me. That, and I suspect you've wanted to show me off to some of your colleagues." In that social environment, he didn't send me his typical, jovial grin. Instead, he telegraphed his humor with a simple raised eyebrow.

 

"Guilty as charged, your honor. Why would I want to hide you under a basket, babe? You're pretty impressive in my book. Getting tired of this? We don't have to stay any longer if it's getting on your nerves..."

 

"No, actually, I like cocktail parties. You wouldn't think, would you? Really, this is fine. Come on, let's circulate some more.

 

"Hey, babe, over there... no, don't look yet! Just to the right of the piano.. is that that guy from ‘Y Tu Mama Tambien'? What's his name?"

 

I took a sip of champagne and then turned slightly.

 

"You mean Gael García B... something? Him?"

 

Rence nodded.

 

"Do you want to meet him? We could join the crowd. It'll be kinda hard to get his attention with all the people hanging around him."

 

"Nah. Never mind. I'll just tag along while you circulate. I'll enjoy meeting whoever you run into."

 

"I've got a lot of people to talk with who aren't ‘front of camera' personalities. You won't know them. It might be boring..."

 

"Don't worry. It's all new to me. I'm easy to please. I'll be fine."

 

"OK, stay with me, sweetie honeybunch."

 

Rence rolled his eyes and slugged me - none too lightly - on the shoulder. We re-entered the mash of party goers.

 

 

 

 

 

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"Hi, Hun."

 

"Hey. How's things on the coast and in the studios? Still having trouble with that makeup guy?" Rence snorted, remembering my story about an unprofessional makeup artist who had passed me his personal cell number.

 

"Nah, I think he got the message. Everything's fine. Work's fine. The weather's better than fine. I'm fine except for missing you."

"Yeah, I know we decided not to get too involved, but I'm missing you too. Hey, you're not gonna believe this, but I got a call from that screenwriter, Wally Trimble. You remember we talked with him at that party the last night of the Emmys? He says he wants to talk about sheep ranching and living in Wyoming and being gay and all and about doing an HBO drama about it. I'd be a consultant. Whadya think?"

 

"Well, if he wanted to get in your pants, that's exactly what he'd do. ‘Course, if he wanted to do a treatment, that's what he'd do too. And anyway, does it really matter what I think?"

"Well, yeah, it matters! It's not like I have lots of time to waste with a jerk-off! I mean, I like flattery fine and all, but, well, if he's interested personally, then he should come out and say it, shouldn't he?"

 

"Ah... Well, you see, Rence... you've got me at a disadvantage here. I'm not really thrilled with the idea that he's interested in you. Yeah, I know we talked about keeping it casual and all, but I gotta say, I'm feeling like he's horning in on my territory. That is, if he's not on the up and up. I can ask around about the guy, see if he's a flake or..."

 

"Well, don't make a big deal about it or anything, but, yeah, check him out if you can."

 

We were quiet for a few beats.

 

"Karl, what're you gonna do for Thanksgiving? What do you do usually?"

 

"I don't have any plans, yet. Gary talked about having some folks over for dinner T-day afternoon, but nothing's firmed up yet. Why? Wanna come out? It's a beautiful time of year out here."

 

"Well, actually, Karl, I was wondering if you wanted to come out here for our family get together. We do it up big. You were going to meet everyone when Mary was out in the spring, until the day went to hell after the coyote attack. Don't answer right now, just let it simmer, OK?"

 

"OK, Rence, I'll ‘let it simmer'. But didn't we agree we weren't partner material? Why would you want me to meet you're whole family if we're just, I don't know, good buddies or something? I mean, it's not like we're picking out china patterns or anything."

 

"Yeah, but don't dismiss the idea. Think about it, alright? Why? Because I'd like it if you came out. Alain would too. He's really come out lots since the weekend at Jaialdi. Well, ‘come out' isn't the right term, but he's more outgoing and he gets along better with everyone. His little breakdown was hard on you, and I'm sorry you had to take the brunt of his internalized homophobia, but he's come out real well on the other side, now. He'd like to see you and apologize, I think. He kinda owes ya, at least that's what I think."

 

"Oh yeah! The man went apeshit! That was so not fun! It kinda twisted with my self-image. I'm glad he's feeling better and is settling down. When you see him next, tell him ‘no hard feelings' for me, would you? It's funny, you go through something like that and you come out the other side and you're better. I mean ‘you' here as Alain and me... and you, too, Rence. We're all closer now after that shit. And it was ‘shit'!

 

"Yeah, I guess I would like to see him, check in with him and see how he's doing. Let me think a little more about Thanksgiving, though. It's kind of a big thing, meeting the family, especially if we're just going to be ‘boyfriends', ya know?

 

"Not to change the subject... How's the insemination going? Finishing up?"

 

"You know, Karl, you're getting pretty good at being a rancher, at least with the lingo. I'm assuming you really want to know and aren't just changing the subject, here. It's going well. Most of the ewes seem to be taking. Knock wood, it'll be a good year next year. We're still set back some from the attacks last spring, but we're just about back up in yearlings, so next season, we should have enough lambs and enough milk for cheese and it should be a good year. Assuming, of course that we have a decent winter."

 

"Listen, hun, I've got an early call tomorrow. Can we talk later in the week? I'll let you know about whether I can visit or not. Give everyone my love. And love to you, too, Rence."

 

"Same to you Karl. I love you. G'night."

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"Hello, Mr. Ackermann? It's Alain, Rence's nephew."

 

"Alain, hello! This is a surprise! How are you?"

 

"Mr. Ackermann, I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to talk to me, but I hope you will... ummm... talk to me."

 

"Hey, sure, no problem. I'm glad you called. Rence said you might. We kinda got off on a wrong foot, but I think we're past that now. And Alain...?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"It's Karl. I think we're past the surname stage. You're Alain. I'm Karl. OK?"

 

"Yeah, OK. I guess I knew that, I just didn't want to assume.

 

"So, ummm... Karl, I've got some questions that I can't ask Uncle Rence ‘cause, well... he's my uncle, you know?"

"Yeah, I can imagine. I suppose this is about being gay or sex or something? ‘Cause I won't be much good at answering questions about sheep estrus cycles, you know. Better ask Rence on that one, eh?"

 

Alain took a moment to catch my meaning and then respond with a weak ‘heh'. Not a very convincing laugh, but then my comment wasn't that funny.

 

"Karl, ummm... Jesus! This is so embarrassing... like, how do you meet guys? I have no idea how to meet gay guys. I'm kinda stuck out here. I mean, it would be hard enough if it was girls, but guys? How do you meet a decent guy?"

 

"Man, I have no idea! Internet? I dunno... There's gotta be a scene in Cheyenne or Laramie. There's gotta be a bar or something. Maybe a community center? Or, the internet. Yeah, the internet's probably your best bet. Good for you for actually wanting to meet and talk and get to know a guy before, well, you know..."

 

We continued to talk, but I wasn't much help. Man! I didn't envy Alain. Trying to find a guy in the least populous state? The demographics didn't sound good. We talked about his moving away even, though, like Rence, he didn't want to leave his life on the ranch. I didn't get it, but maybe I did. From what little experience I had on their ranches, it was clear that it wasn't just a job, but a way of life. Not a lifestyle but a full, all encompassing life. Working in conjunction with animals; working outside; working with and against the seasons and nature in general; providing food, sustenance for people; working along with family: there were so many aspects to the ranching life. I was just starting to understand the attractions and commitments that Rence had been sketching out for me. Now, I listened as Alain was trying to describe the same things. It was almost spiritual, how they described their connection and commitment to their work. It was so much more than making a living. They made me think of that 60's catchphrase, ‘right livelihood'. That's what they were engaged in - right livilihood - not just a way to put food on the table and a roof over the head.

 

We'd left the subject of dating and were on to discussing ranching when Alain suddenly changed the subject.

 

"Karl, are you coming out for Thanksgiving? Uncle Rence said you might. He's checked with everyone. We're all hoping you can make it. Peio says, ‘Hey'. He really wants for you to come out to the ranches. I know the rest of the family wants to meet you, too. My papá has asked a couple times if you're going to make it out."

 

"Really? You want me to come out?"

 

"Well, yeah! Uh... I thought Rence invited you..."

 

"Yeah, he did, but I didn't know that you all, you know, your whole family wants me to come visit, too. Really? You all really do?"

 

"Karl, how many times do you need to be asked? Yes! Come out for the holiday. You're more than welcome. Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Just come out! You won't need to cook anything, hell, you won't even need to set the table or do the dishes. Just get your ass out here!"

 

"Man! The pressure! You drive a hard bargain. OK, if I don't need to do dishes, I'll come out."

 

"Great! How long you gonna stay?"

 

"Hey, slow down! I've got to work out my schedule. I'll call Rence and let him know. Just tell him I'll be there. How about if I bring some wines? I can get some good bottles. Waddya say?"

 

"I say, yeah!"

 

We chatted for another few minutes before signing off.

 

What the hell was going on? Rence and I had agreed to keep things relaxed, to keep expectations modest. Now, I was going to spend a holiday with his entire family. The funniest thing was... I wanted to meet them. I wanted them to know me. At least it wasn't Christmas. Christmas with the boyfriend was a big deal. We truly weren't ready to spend Christmas together. Not yet. Especially if we were only dating casually.

 

I phoned my agent (again) about opening some days for me to travel to Wyoming. She had some pointed questions about what I was doing out in the back of beyond meeting the family of a guy I was ‘only dating casually'. I didn't have any good answers for her, either.

 

 

 

 

 

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"Mona! Damn, girl, I haven't seen you in... forever! Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you doing?"

 

"Like I'd tell you! But to answer your questions (and in order, I'll add) I'm in LA for a few months. I've got a part on a soap until they kill me off. I'm still with the producer you met in KC. He's really very good for me, not that you'd care!"

 

"Oh, I do care, sugar lump! Remind me his name."

 

"I don't know if I will. I don't think I like being called a ‘lump'. I think I'll hang up now."

 

"You wouldn't dare! Anyway, it was you who called me! What do you want?"

 

"Is it too much for a girl to call an old friend? A very old friend? A friend who's getting older as we speak? Wrinkly and decrepit... stooped and liver spotted... forgetful and senescent...?"

 

"Whoa girl! Ease up! If I remember correctly, were you not born three months and twelve days before I was?"

 

"Wh.e.llll! I never! I have never been so manhandled by such an ungentlemanly, boorish and uncouth ogre!"

 

"Alright, girl... to what do I owe the pleasure of your florid comments, er... make that phone call?"

 

"Why, to me, sweetie! I'm in town for a bit and I would love to meet for a drink or six(teen) and chat and catch up. I hear that you're working steadily - always good news in our industry. I do worry that you'll end up having to sell your body down on Sunset! I'd hate to hear that, even with your very own corner, (‘le coin de Karl Ackermann' shall we call it?) you couldn't make enough to keep your chin from sagging!"

 

"Girlfriend! You need to sharpen your claws on a sofa, not on me! And next to you I'm an innocent! The driven snow, that's what I am! And my chin is not sagging!"

 

"What do you know for snow, living as you do in LA?"

 

"Well, you see, that proves it. You don't know everything there is to know about me, do you?"

 

"What? Do you have something juicy to share with me? It's not nice to keep me in the dark, dear Karl. Not nice at all! Tell your friend; tell Mona. Tell me now, before I am forced to verbally abuse you!"

 

"You've already been verbally abusing me. Maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't. It depends... Whoops! That's the dryer. Sorry, gotta go! We'll do lunch sometime! Kisses! Luv ya! Mean it! Bye!"

 

"Stop! Halt! Sit back down, you low life tease! Sit back down and talk to me! I will not have you gallivanting off to fold laundry when you could be... when you should be... telling me what I need to know. Now, you were saying... you need to share something personal with your dearest and closest friend, Mona. Yes... I'm listening."

 

"There's really not that much to tell."

 

"Then it won't take long and you can get back to your pressing matters, laundry was it? Don't make me come over there and hogtie you, dear heart. It's really a very simple request. Tell me now or I'll come over, tie you down and put Ethel Merman's disco album on repeat! You wouldn't last ten minutes! So, for my sake, because it really would pain me to torture you - tell me. It really is a simple request. I'm asking sweetly, like the truly kind person I am deep down inside. Endearing, that's what I am. You wouldn't want to change me from my natural, saintly, (dare I say) peri-angelic state into a rampaging harpy from Hades, would you? You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you? It's really very, very simple; just tell me the fuck what I want to know! Sweetly, of course!"

 

"You're impossible, Mona."

 

"Yes, I know. Don't change the subject. We're discussing how kind I am when my patience isn't being tested by an intransigent and tedious oaf. Now... Mona is listening..."

 

"Damn! I've completely forgotten what set us off! What did you want to know? You really shouldn't go off on these tangents. After all, I have clothes wrinkling in the dryer, needing to be folded!"

 

"Yes, I can imagine that, at your advanced age, it's difficult to keep track of a conversation from its beginning to its conclusion. I sympathize. Really I do. I could even pity you if your memory shows signs of deteriorating further. Let me help you, dearheart. You implied that there is something that this magna cum laude Radcliffe alumna doesn't know. You know how that bothers me. Now, what do I need to know? What do you need to tell me? And to hell with your damn laundry!"

 

"Mona, you're not going to believe this. Are you sitting down? This is kind of a long story."

 

"If I must... Karl sweetheart, I have just seated myself gracefully on a chaise longue. My legs are demurely crossed at the ankles. I am comfortable. I am listening. Just share with me the highlights, my dear. I really would like us to meet for drinks or even a meal so we can really catch up on everything, but for the moment, at this juncture, just broad-brush it for me, darling. The details can wait."

 

"Mona, to state it plainly, I'm dating a guy, a sheep rancher who lives in Wyoming on his family ranch. There's more, but that's the nickel version."

 

"A Wyoming rancher! Well, I'm all aflutter! A rancher, you say! Hmmm, he sounds vvvvery mmmanly, and vvvvirile. Well, Karl dear, this does come as a surprise. I'm happy for you. I've never figured you for a rancher's wife. Would you like to introduce him to me?"

 

"Mona, I seriously doubt you will ever get to know him. I think you take my meaning... And don't start thinking of me as a wife. Not yet, at least. And as for you and me getting together, I'd be happy to meet and fill you in. And you can tell me about your Kansas City producer and your soap and I can tell you about my current gig (and it does look promising). But right now, I really do need to finish the laundry, no lie. I need to pack for Thanksgiving in Wyoming. You can guess with whom. Let's check our calendars for early December... would a weeknight be good?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Even inside Rence's house, in the forested valley, I could hear the wind buffeting the storm windows. My attention wasn't on the weather, though, but on Rence, more specifically, on his body, most specifically, on his rump.

 

"What's this?"

 

"My butt. Oh, the tattoo? It's a lauburu... traditional Basque icon." Rence craned around to watch me trace the tattoo's four curving commas as they coiled around his glutes.

 

"What's it mean?" I liked the way the sparse, dark hairs followed the motion of my fingers as I continued to stroke his butt.

 

"Well.... I don't know." He started to take on a didactic air. "It's an ancient symbol. There's a bunch of different theories, hypotheses really, but they don't really make sense to me. It's traditional. It's Basque. I like having it on my butt. ‘Nuff said."

 

My fingers continued their circular paths along Rence's butt, thighs and lower back.

 

"I like your body. I like its shapes... all full and rounded. I like its firmness. You've got a nice body... nice muscles." I continued to study his backside with my fingers and then with light kisses.

 

"Like right here." I kissed where his glutes separated at the top of his ass. "You've got a really meaty butt. I like it." I kissed it again. "And here, where the groove of your spine ends before your ass begins..."

 

"Um, Karl... ‘nuff said?"

 

"Huh? Wha? Oh, yeah, ‘nuff said!" I let my index finger swirl into the crack of his ass, then followed it with my tongue. I didn't say anything more, but I realized I'm a word junkie. Rence's thighs were generous; his butt, opulent; his pecs, rich; the hair on his belly, plush. Descriptors kept running through my thoughts: luxurious, lavish, magnificent, sumptuous. His physique was all those things and was spread below my fingers, available to my touch and study. I studied him thoroughly. Eventually, after much moaning and sweating, my condomed cock followed my fingers and it homed onto its target. The surfeit of sensations expanded further, blanking my verbal ability and leaving me dumb but awash in sensual stimulation. Much later still, I reached for the bedside towel to clean Rence's cum out of his chest hair and then wipe the excess lube from between his legs.

 

"Mmmm, that was wonderful, dear. Thanks."

 

"Yup. You're awesome, Rence. Care for a rematch in the morning?"

 

"Hun, there's too much to do before we leave for the CS ranch. Maybe tomorrow night?"

 

"OK. I've got you in my date book. G'night."

 

"I know what I'll be thankful for tomorrow. G'night, dear."

 

"Sweet dreams."

 

From the floor on Rence's side of the bed, I heard muffled barks as Aiala chased some creature in her dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

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"Yes, mama, of course I'm coming east for Christmas! It'll just be a little shorter than usual."

 

"Karl, why can't you spend a full week with us? I want you to see my apartment and I want you to meet my new friends in my retirement community. I want you to see where I live."

 

"Oh, I will, only I don't have a lot of time this year and I need to stop in Wyoming on the way home."

 

"Oh. That gas station owner? Will you be spending time with him instead of with your family?"

 

I watched the rain splattering my townhouse windows while I counted to ten. She really was a good mother and she cared for the cohesiveness of our family, but she could be remarkably aggravating, too.

 

"Yes, mama, I'll be stopping to see Rence and his family at his ranch. Remember, I mentioned he and his family run two ranches? I know we talked about it last summer."

 

"Yes, I'm sure we did, Karl. So, you'll spend time with his family, too?"

 

Why did any conversation with her make me feel like a fourteen year old again?

 

"Yes, I'll spend time with them as well. Now, we'll have four days with all of us in Kansas City. Is there anything you'd like for us to do as a family when we're all together?"

 

"Well, I've reserved a table for all of us here for the Christmas buffet. You'll be here for that, won't you? Would your friend like to come out for those four days? Or, maybe if he... you said his name is Rence? Maybe if Rence came out we could all have Christmas together and you could stay the entire week? If I remember correctly, you spent Thanksgiving with his family. This would give us a chance to meet him."

 

I hadn't been expecting that offer. I glanced at her photo on my dresser while I considered her offer. She really was a handsome woman.

 

"That's an interesting idea, mama. I'll talk it over with Rence. I suppose we could find a hotel nearby."

 

"No, dear, you'd stay with me, like you always do. I'll put the two of you up in the guest room here at the apartment. It's more contained than the house was, but it will be comfortable for the three of us.

 

"As for things to do... I know your nieces and nephews would like some time with you. You could take them to Crown Center while you're here, maybe, or to the Nelson Art Gallery. You know they admire you tremendously, don't you?"

 

"I'll talk with Keith and Kevin and we'll work something out. And I'll talk with Rence. Dinner on Christmas Day sounds great. It'll be really nice to all be together and I'm glad you won't have to organize and prepare the thing yourself.

 

"Now, mama, did I tell you about going fishing with Rence back in August? He's almost as good as Jack was. I got to use Jack's pole and tackle. It was great to remember the times we went fishing up together in Colorado. He was a remarkable fisherman, mama. How are you doing, by the way?"

 

I was working overtime to change the subject from Rence and me. Well, from Rence, me and my family. All my good intentions to keep things casual between Rence and myself were evaporating. First his consulting gig with the script writer (yes, it was a go), then Thanksgiving together, now Christmas. Feh! I really liked the guy, maybe even loved him, but... feh! At the speed we were going, we'd move to Massachusetts and be married by June!

 

 

 

 

 

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

My agent had pulled some strings, both to get me tickets to the Sundance Film Festival and to get me a few days away from the TV studios. Rence and I were attending he screenings and parties for the week. Unlike in September (the Emmys) he was hobnobbing too, talking about the gay rancher project with a film producer. It was satisfying to see his growing assurance in my world. What had begun as a documentary looked to be developing into a contemporary drama, a post-millennial ‘Brokeback Mountain'. An whisper of buzz had developed about the project. He found that studios were promoting their market penetration, while producers were jockeying for position. It turns out, Wyoming had become fashionable in an understated way.

 

At least, that's the way it looked in Telluride that year.

 

I was chatting with a retired cameraman, scanning the room while sipping a pinot noir. My glance stilled when it crossed Rence, deep in conversation with a charming smile on a familiar face, attached to a well formed but slim, young body. Who the hell was he talking to? I couldn't quite place the young man. Whoever it was, he was giving Rence his undivided attention. An identity coalesced: Andrew... no... Anthony. Anthony from... Kansas City. It was Tony, that callow young actor who Monica had pushed on me after ‘Midsummer Night's Dream' the previous summer!

 

I found myself becoming flustered. I didn't like the way Tony was laughing at something Rence had said. Tony in Telluride and talking to Rence? I suddenly remembered that Monica had mentioned that Tony would be moving to LA to look for work better than he'd been able to find in Kansas City. I excused myself from my conversation and crossed the room, snagging a water on the way.

 

"Here, Rence." I handed him the bottle.

 

"Hello, Tony! I see you've met Rence. It's a pleasure to run into you again! How are you and what keeps you busy nowadays?"

 

Rence gave me a side hug after accepting his water.

 

"Karl?"

 

"None other. Are you here with a production?"

 

"Well, no. I'm just trying to get my face seen. I'm fed up with Kansas City. I'm tired of being hidden in a backwater. Trust me, anywhere on the Missouri River's a backwater. Mona's promised to help me get settled in LA, so I'm on my way out. I won't miss the rest of winter, I promise you! LA, here I come!"

 

"I understand. Monica told me that I might be running into you out in LA... that you were planning to make the move. I hadn't thought we'd see you here at Sundance, though. So, the bright lights are drawing you? . I can understand. KC has never really done it for me. Still, there's something to be said for peace and quiet and you won't find much of that in the LA basin."

 

"Maybe there's something to be said for it, but you can say it to someone else. I'm fed up with peace and I've had it up to here with quiet. And I understand you're not doing so badly, yourself. After that night we met in KC, I've kept an eye on your name. It looks like you've got a great gig and you're getting really good reviews. Congrats! Got any good contacts I could, well, contact?"

 

Rence looked at me quizzically. I grabbed his upper arm and squeezed, hoping he'd understand that we'd take it up later.

 

"Yeah, after you get settled, feel free to look me up." I passed him my card.

 

"I finally seem to have fallen into a successful and satisfying and, most importantly, ongoing production. Thanks for the good wishes, Tony. I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but, Rence, I'll be ready to leave in a few minutes."

 

"Sure, Karl." He turned to Tony. "We're heading out for a late dinner, care to join us?"

 

Damn! Rence was misreading me. I wanted nothing more than to ditch Tony and get Rence away from him. I felt my antipathy deepen when I glanced back at Tony and saw him look between Rence and me as a satisfied smile spread across his features. Did Rence know what was going on? Was Rence so naïve?

 

"I'd love to," came from Tony at the same moment I said, "I'm feeling a bit under the weather, hun."

 

Rence shared a quick glance with me (he got my drift, I was relieved to see) before turning back to Tony. "Well, I guess not tonight, then. Sorry, Tony. Maybe when you're settled in LA? Looks like my man needs to rest after all the rich food at these soirées. Feel free to look us up. Maybe we can arrange lunch. G'night!"

 

Tony mumbled his acceptance and then Rence took my elbow and steered me away.

 

"Well done, dear! Sorry to cut the evening short, but I didn't like where Tony was going with his imagination!"

 

"Oh, I don't know, Karl. An early evening sounds fine to me. I think we can entertain ourselves till we drift off." He squeezed my elbow.

"Now, tell me about the night you met Tony!"

 

"Oh, that! Not much to tell really..." We reached the bank of elevators and I described dinner at the spaghetti restaurant while we headed up to our room so that I could ‘recuperate' while Rence ‘looked after' me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

I patted my tux trouser pocket and was relieved to feel the crackle of paper stashed inside. At least I had my acceptance speech with me, thank god!

 

I heard a knock on the door, so took a final look in the mirror to check my hair and adjust my tie before meeting the chauffeur.

 

"Alain, hop to! We're leaving!"

 

"Uncle Karl, can you check my tie? I can't get it right. Fuckin' tie!" Alain threw up his hands.

 

"Hey, relax, young dude. You're just along for the ride! Listen, there'll be some liquor in the limo; you could use a drink!"

 

I rounded the corner to see him in the front hall: hair - good, suit - fine, tie... damn, he was right... tie askew.

 

"Hold up! Lemme fix the tie. You were right. It needs to be retied. Hold still."

 

I opened the front door and got the chauffeur's attention. "We'll be right there. Just another minute."

 

She nodded and returned to the limo to wait at the curb.

 

"Damn! Karl, I'm sorry. Uncle Rence should be here, not me. I'm gonna fuck this up for you. I know it! Let me just stay here. I can watch the thing on TV. You don't need me there!"

 

"Hey, relax!" I held him by the biceps and looked directly into his dark eyes. "I know this is new for you. You'll be fine. Listen, this isn't something you can just skip out on. It'll be something to remember for the rest of your life. So, stiff upper lip. Deal with it! You'll be glad you did when it's all done.

 

"Remember what we discussed: one drink before, one drink after. Don't worry about making conversation. If you get stuck with someone, just ask about their current project; they'll love talking about themselves. Smile and nod. You'll be real popular! If I get the award, just sit pretty and I'll be back with you real soon, then just stick close. Now... breath. Good... again... OK, keep breathing. Let's go!"

 

I opened the front door, escorted Alain to the limo and we were off to the Emmys!

 

Hours later, after the ceremony, I dug into my tux trouser pocket to get my cell for my promised call to Rence. The first thing I found was the crumpled acceptance speech. Oh well. It was an honor to have been nominated. Just the nomination had raised my value in the industry. My agent would be renegotiating my contract during the coming week, not for the amount I would have warranted if I had won the Emmy, but, still, for a moderate increase. I supposed I could look forward to a private RV on our next location shoot, too. I was getting distracted daydreaming about improved perks. I found the cell and punched Rence's speed dial.

 

"Hey, babe!"

 

"Karl. You alright? Disappointed?"

 

"No, well, yeah, but it's alright. Maybe next year?" I hoped he didn't hear my derisive snort.

 

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you. I hate being away from you now, hun. What are you doing?"

I looked over at Alain. "Oh, we're heading out to a few of the requisite parties and then we'll call it a night. I'm kind of wiped and Alain's been running on nerves all day." I gave him an understanding smile. The fact is, the ceremony and all its attending brouhaha had been a bit much for the ranch boy. He'd done fine. I didn't think anyone would have known just how freaked he'd been that morning, but it had been all he could do to keep it together as the afternoon had drawn towards evening.

 

"You remember Tony? You met him at Sundance? Well, Alain and I ran into him when we were leaving the auditorium. So, we're expecting to see him at the first party. I think he's interested in Alain. I caught them... Hey... leggo!"

 

"Uncle Rence, don't pay any attention to Karl!" Alain hadn't succeeded in wrestling the phone from me, so he was yelling across the limo. "He lies!"

 

I snickered, but ignored Alain's outburst. "I think the interest's mutual. Rence, you can believe me when I say that we'll be spending at least some of the party in Tony's company." I winked at Alain and then shrugged the boy's hand off my arm.

 

"I had the worst time getting Alain to leave the house this afternoon. Man, he can be a shit when he's nervous. Still, we got his hair right and his tie straight and got him into the limo. He did fine at the ceremony, even though the TV cameras made him nervous. The guy's a trooper!"

 

"Yeah, I can't imagine dealing with all the madness.

 

"Talking about remembering things... We've just passed our first anniversary. It was the first week of August last year that we finally had sex at Jaialdi. So, happy anniversary, honey, such as it is, with me here and you there.

 

"Karl, I'm sorry I couldn't sit with you at the ceremony. I would have been so proud to be at your side. That said, I'm glad I'm not in the middle of that media circus. I watched it on TV with Peio here at the station. They're still talking on the tube. I don't know how Alain's going to settle back into ranch life after spending his vacation out in LA with you. You've probably ruined him for ranch work. Hey, he was thrilled to get that studio tour you arranged. That was really nice of you, Karl. All week, Peio's been shitting green bricks with jealousy. You know, the irony is: Alain really could care less about his fifteen minutes of fame while Peio would die for the opportunity and the poor boy's stuck here at the station."

 

"Maybe I can arrange for Peio to work as an extra when he comes out next month. We'll be taping the show again by then. You're right, Alain puts up with the attention, but he'd probably rather be at home watching it all on the tube or ignoring it altogether and working on improving the nutrition of the silage. And, Peio... well, he'd get off on being on a set for a day. Yeah, that's what we'll plan! And, baby, don't forget... we've got a week together coming up!"

 

Alain rolled his eyes and plugged his ears to my closing endearments with Rence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Baby..." I was playing with Rence's curly chest hair. Even at the early hour, he was beginning to sweat in the tropical humidity. "Baby, have you ever thought about trimming your body hair? It would look hot and you wouldn't be so sweaty. Hmmm, hot but not sweaty!"

 

"Karl, no way! I don't get how those models deal with trimmed hair! I tried... once. I will never trim my chest hair again! I suffered the worst itching for can imagine for a week, night and day for a full week! No way! I'll sweat, thank you very much. Honey, sorry, but I wouldn't do it, even for you."

 

"Yeah, well, I can't say I will ever have to worry about chest hair!" I grabbed his hand and pressed it against my smooth and tanned pec over my heart. Rence tweaked my nipple with his index finger. "Mmmm..."

 

"Not now, hun. Remember, we agreed to have breakfast with that couple from Oaxaca? We supposed to meet them in twenty minutes. Uppey, uppey, honey! I'll meet you in the shower."

 

Rence rolled away from me and then out of bed. In a minute, he passed me a cold bottle of water. "Drink up. It's gonna be hot again today."

 

I broke the seal while I watched his lauburu tattooed butt disappear into the bathroom. I thought back on the previous afternoon, watching his swim trunk covered butt as he sauntered down to the breaking waves of the Playa Marinero. He had been heading back in for another hour of body surfing, him and the teen beach bunnies. He fitted in with the mestizos and could have been a Mexican national by his dark looks. I had sipped from my fresh coconut before putting on my reading glasses and returning to reading my biography of Diego Rivera. My reverie was broken by the sound of the water in the shower. I had best get up if I was going to enjoy any time with my man while he was still naked.

 

I slipped into my shower shoes and scuffed my way into the bathroom, where I slid aside the shower curtain. I couldn't remember, in the year we'd been together, having had the chance to look at him, really study him, all of him, with water cascading down his hairy, muscular body. Yeah! There, standing under the hot water was my hunk. I hate to think I'm in love with him just because of his appearance. In fact, I know that's not the reason. Still, it's thrilling to take in his physique, to enjoy the visuals in addition to the tactuals that I had been enjoying on our shared bed a few minutes before.

 

Eventually, my eyes turned to his. I had expected him to appear self-conscious after my perusing his body. But, no, he shared a sultry glance before he gestured for a towel.

 

"Sorry, hun, no time now. Hold that thought, though. You know I want you! Trade places."

 

It was hours later, with the acrid flavor of Rence's cum in my mouth that we began the conversation that eventually changed our relationship and our lives and put them on a new trajectory. We were lying on the tangled sheets enjoying the coolness of the thick cement walls as the day's temperatures climbed. We'd just ‘finished the thought' that had begun that morning before breakfast. The conversation didn't start well.

 

"Hun, this is great, but..."

 

"What, Rence? But what?"

 

"Karl, I love you. The past year has been wonderful. It's been great getting away with you: Jaialdi, Sundance, LA, now Puerto Escondido. The film consulting work has been great for me... not just the money but the broader perspective it provides. You know, more than just the sheep and the ranches. And you've been great to my family. Hell, Alain's a whole new man! Everyone likes and respects you. And your family's been welcoming. Your mom's invitation to Christmas was completely unexpected and I think it turned out pretty well. And you! You're sexy as hell and thoughtful and interesting and charming and caring..."

 

"But...?"

 

"There is no ‘but'... It's just that I don't want a part time partner, Karl. We've had lots of special, memorable times together, times I wouldn't trade for anything. But special times aren't what make up a relationship. It's the mundane stuff that counts, honey. We've got ‘special times' sewed up, but we don't have the mundane stuff."

 

I felt a hollow develop in my chest. Here we were, on vacation at the beach in Mexico and we were having ‘the conversation'. I'd had it before. I knew the script. We'd hem and haw, maybe argue a bit, and end up agreeing to be ‘friends'. I suppose this is why I had wrestled so long before agreeing to enjoy sex with Rence. I hadn't wanted to suffer through this conversation again. I hadn't wanted to introduce my ‘partner' to my family, only to prove to them, once again, that homosexuals can't commit.

 

I couldn't proceed with the script. I couldn't mouth my lines of hurt and sorrow. Suddenly, I couldn't stand the taste of Rence's cum in my mouth. I lurched from the bed and strode to the kitchenette where I found our souvenir bottle of mezcal, tore it open and took a stiff swig. Fuck! That stuff sure held a cold burn. I coughed and felt my eyes tear up.

 

"So... ‘It's been fun'? ‘Let's be friends'?" I switched gears. "We've been over this territory before, Rence. It took us months to get past this before the Jaialdi. I thought we'd decided to be best friends or best friends with benefits or whatever. But that's not what happened, is it? Not since we've spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together and enjoyed vacations with our families and all. We're a couple aren't we? But you're not satisfied. What we have isn't enough. We're not joined at the hip. We're not living in a bungalow behind a picket fence. We don't have our 2.3 children. We're not good enough like we are. Is that it? We're good, but..."

 

"Fuck no! That's not what I meant by ‘but'! Honey, we're so good together. I want more, not less! I know we've beaten this horse dead, but the problem's still here. I love you. I love being with you. I know you love me. But honey, I want more!"

 

"Yeah, but how're we gonna find ‘more'? You've got your life in Wyoming; I've got mine in LA. We get together whenever and where ever we can. You know that. I know that. That's our turnip. And there's no blood you can get from that turnip!" I turned and looked outside. It seemed incongruous to argue about our relationship and turnips and dead horses while looking out the window at the dry tropical trees screening the view of the blue Pacific.

 

"Honey, slow down. This is always gonna be an issue for us. We're always gonna wrestle over our careers and lives. That's not gonna change. I just want to make a suggestion... a suggestion for an adjustment in how we live... hopefully for the better. We need to rethink our living situation. Like for instance, I've been thinking about how much you work, well, how often you work. Right now, you've got a consistent gig. What is it, eight months of the year? The show's doing well, so you can expect regular work for several years. You know how successful actors buy country homes, like in Jackson or up in Montana? I'm not suggesting you buy into our ranches, but what about thinking of the CS Ranch as you're country place? You're making enough right now. Your townhouse isn't that much of an burden. Can you integrate the ranch further into your life, spend more time there, settle in more? You're making enough; you don't have to work those other four months.

 

"And before you answer, I have another idea. You know that my nephews and niece will be getting the CS ranch eventually. Now, I'm not retiring yet. I'm not ready, but if they can start to take more responsibilities, maybe I can ease away from the daily operations. Maybe I can spend more time living with you in the townhouse, instead of just visiting in LA.

 

"So, that's my suggestion. Hun, you're right. I want more. I don't need a bungalow or a picket fence or 2.3 perfect kids. We're perfectly good enough, just the two of us. It's just I think we can be even better. Come back over here and snuggle in with me. Bring the mezcal. I could use a belt, too. Honey, I want more of you. I love you."

 

"Oh, Rence, I'm sorry I went off half cocked. Forgive me, will you? You know I love you, too. Here, take a swig right from the bottle. Hell, I did.

 

"You're right. We've gotten into the habit of spending our playtime together. That's great and all, but you're right, we gotta think more of spending our lives together: playtime, worktime, sleeptime, all of it. Give me a sip. Whew! Kinda clears the sinuses, doesn't it!"

 

"So, Karl, lets renew our bond. Shall we call it a commitment? Are we, like, fiancés? Oh, man! I hadn't considered that. Seriously, do you want to have, like, a ceremony? ‘Cause if we do, we'll need to get a publicist and all. You've got, well, we've got your public to think of. Yech! Forget it! You and me can elope!"

 

"Rence, you know we could get married in Mexico City before going home, if we wanted." I didn't know what I thought of that concept. Too weird!

 

"Umm, hun, let's let that idea rest for a little, huh?" He looked stunned at the speed we were moving.

 

"Babe, put that bottle down and let me just hold you."

 

We kept talking until dinner time, deciding to leave things as they were and to go out for a sit-down dinner at the local, high end restaurant to celebrate. We were hitched! Never mind that we still needed to work out the details. Then again, we'd probably be working out the details for the rest of our lives.

 

Later that night, after dinner, we sat silently on the rooftop terrace, while listening to the sounds of the traffic from the street below and the surf and the calls of the tropical birds and the little squeaks of the geckos before we headed down to bed to sleep as a committed couple.

 

 

 

fin

This work is copywritten by the author and may not be copied or posted elsewhere without his explicit permission. All characters and events are fictional and do not represent any living person or actual event. The artists mentioned have no relationship with the author or the fictional events in the story. <br /><br />