Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Again, I'm experimenting with getting all the slow romantic
characterization, boring inner conflict, and development I get off on out
of the way, so you can skip ahead to the next chapter.  If'n yer
int'rested, review the first one, renamed RoMan's (Metro) for
alphabetization.  This is straight Male-on-Male with some gay, and female
bisexual experimentation for contrast (And hopefully to keep you-all
interested.)

   So, trigger warning: Country.  Also Homophobia, though teh bros got most
of that out of the way, doesn't mean the rest of the (McClennan) county got
the memo.  If you have any left, you might want to give it a pass, and go
back to mothers diddling their daughters.  After all, what're sites like
this for?

   ;

   Jr

   I couldn't sleep.  So, I could cry.  Wouldn't you know, he's not gay
either.  They never are, it seems, every time I fall in love, I just.

   Try to be quiet.  They're passed out, but still.  "Snh!" Get some toilet
paper, to blow my nose.

   Uncle Jim too.  "Damn it." Now why'd I have to go and think of that
again?

   I wasn't traumatized by it, and no it didn't make me gay.  It's the
alcohol, the sweet stink, he went and got a couple cases of Shiner, to
celebrate a good week of work.  Sealed the deal, and a cooler with a couple
bags of ice.  My uncle, he stopped by.  Daddy calls him "Moocher." Free
beer, and all that, but they talked about him working again.

   Maybe he could help out, that ain't happening now, and I can't believe I
wished him dead, he just made me so mad!

   The only guy I ever had sex with, I thought he loved me, but he was
drunk.  As usual, and.

   "Huh!"

   Damn it.

   I thought he'd get horny when he's drunk.  Like he always used to when I
was a kid, he let me play with it.  He didn't mind, and I loved it, being
gay and all, but then he hit me?  I didn't even want to fuck him, now that
he's older, and fatter, and just as drunk as I remember.  I'm in love, and
I knew even before he told me he wasn't gay.

   Everet.  "Huh!"

   That's what I wanted to ask him, if he knew anyone else.

   I'm just so lonely!  "Snh!" More toilet paper.  Blow the snot out. 
"Huh!"

   He pissed himself.  Everet, passed out on the couch.  I just pulled his
boots off, thought about it, but no.  He's straight, and I didn't want to.
Well, all right, I wanted to take them off, and take a look at what he had
in there, but.

   "Huh!" I was tempted, but I didn't give into it.

   Drunk dick, wouldn't've gotten hard any way.  Probably, he's not like.
Uncle Jim, gets drunk enough, he didn't ever even care who was jerking him
off, or sucking his dick but.

   "Nope," that ain't happening.  So, I tucked it back in.  "Huh!"

   I just feel so lonely, and betrayed.  He took advantage of me, and then
when I called him on it, he hit me.  I guess I kinda lost it there, for a
minute.  I beat him up, and that felt good, but now I feel guilty for doing
it, and feeling good about it.

   That ain't the way, revenge.  Now, what did Everet say about that? 
Violence, right.  It doesn't fix violence, it causes revenge, and
escalates. Take central America, for instance.  "You killed my brother!"

   So, the DEA bombing Venesuela, to burn the Poppy fields.  Which made the
Guerillas bomb our air bases, so we order air strikes, and kill the
guerillas.  Right?

   Well, no, then their brother, and sons, and cousins, and nephews come
back.  "You killed my Uncle!" With AKs, now, because Russia always know a
good opportunity when they saw one, and yeah maybe Columbia ain't as close
as Cuba, but we cleared a nice little spot in the Amazon for the Russkis to
land.  And sell a bunch of AKs.  RPGs, and.  What'd dad call them, SAs, but
I forget the number.  Doesn't really matter, because Americans got hooked
on Smack, they turn around and bomb out a section of jungle, then Crazy
Ivan comes in to get Venesuela hooked on a new drug.

   Revenge, it's addictive.  Here, here's some weapons, I can give you a
big discount if you buy in bulk, and now their Army is.  Well, a real army,
not just Guerillas in the jungle guarding the fields with rifles, and
shotguns.  Columbian, and Venesuellan Army, camped on the border with
Missiles now, so we can't fly air strikes in to the Pass.  Too many
missiles, the Russians aren't running out any time soon, so now they're
talking about Embargo, and the Navy stopping shipments down there, because
they don't have to go through Panama.  Either way, they can drop them off
in Venisuela, or Columbia, and run them back and forth through the pass.

   "Huh!"

   There, I feel better now.  Just had to take my mind off of, that.

   "Huh!" Better get up, early.  So I can start work, before it gets too
hot.

   A lot of wood to tear off, but at least we can get started.

   How come the good ones are never gay, though?

   ;

   {Yeah, I crammed the Passo war in there.  Basically, if America had
imported poppies to Central America in the 80s, instead of moving the Opium
Road to Afghanistan after the CIA lost their fundraiser in Thailand,
Cambodia, and Laos.  Politics, I know you won't believe me, but the real
conspiracy isn't Chemtrails, it's selling a story, like black junkies in
Harlem running an intercontinental drug smuggling, and manufacturing
system, in secret.  Instead of the government poisoning us with skywriting,
over populated areas, in broad daylight.

   "Secretly." Well, the Government is better at covering up stuff than
that.  "Black Tar" is racist.  Eugenics, in our Ghettos.  Black on Black
crime is a euphemism for lock them up, throw in some drugs, and guns, then
let them kill each other, and profit off it both ways.  Bat Branding, so
they know he's a Child Molester, and fuck him to death, in line, with a
shank.  From the drugs, the gun company kickbacks, then release a statement
to the press about how the War on Drugs is going.

   Until we got a new drug.  Not Oxycontin: Terror.  It's addictive.  Now,
look at what's going on in the Middle East, after decades of airstrikes to
"Stabilize the Region." That's the cover story, for clearing out the Kurds,
so Islamistan has a place to set up, and make videos of beheadings to give
America a hard-on for Revenge.  Elizabeth Smart is a porn star.  We got so
worried about her pretty Arayan head rolling, on film, we were willing to
do anything to stop it.  Just like the Iranian Hostages.  Just like the
Heroin Epidemic.  Just like the Twin Towers.  You know what?  They took the
Pentagon out with Knives!  Box cutters, cheap shitty knives, and all we can
talk about is the lives lost on the Daytime Drama playing out while we
watched.  Live, on TV, then reruns for years, while Junior went back to
Iraq to fight Daddy's war.  W.  couldn't mastermind a coffee order, but
that's the "Theory."

   One of the things about Conspiracy is that the co-conspirators don't
have to know eachother, nor even of eachother's existence, to work toward
the same goal.  2 Arsonists can set fire to opposite corners of the same
building, never have any idea of eachother, and still conspire to commit
arson, separately.  If they heard about it on TV, or read it in a book, got
the same idea from the same source, that's a Cell network.  It's how terror
networs, and drug cartels can stay secure, in the knowlege that 1 cell
can't be tortured for information about the other.  Likewise, Christian
Crusaders, and Islamic Jihadiin can conspire to commit Holy War, and be
conplicit in the Genocide of the Kurds, even though they believe in their
hearts they are enemies.  It's still conspiracy, even if the DEA is unaware
that the heroin they're trying to bust ultimately comes from the CIA,
because 1 hand doesn't talk to the other.  Secrecy does not absolve
Conspiracy to commit economic Genocide.

   911 was an inside job?  Yeah, it was, with contractors from overseas to
keep it on the up and up, payed for in Revenge.  All we have to do is beat
the middle east with a Stick.  Subsidize Israel's Concentration Camps, so
Hezbollah lobs mortars over the Wall, on the anniversary of the Iron
Curtain coming down in Berlin.  Same show, different commercials.  Buy a
commemorative piece of History, the Berlin Wall for 1995, and blame the
Mexicans for stealing your jobs.

   Now, they want to build a wall here, and America bought it from fucking
Goldfinger.  Lock stock, and barrel, the conspiracy here isn't an evil
government, it's voters guileble enough to buy anything, if the sales pitch
is good enough.  Kinda makes me wonder what they'll blame Donny for so
President Pence can step forward.  Just like W.  Just like LBJ.  Speaker
Ryan, instead of the distinguished mister Wright from the 12 district. 
Same deal, different companies, oh but you're "Woke." Huh?  You're not
fooled by the tan, and haircut, so you tell your friends what's really
going on.  Like you know, you've got friends on the inside, family in
Congress, business partners down in Brighton Beach?  It's not Putin, it's
the Mob in Atlantic City, only they haven't been Sicilian since the late
80s, and yet we're still singing the praises of the Sopranos.

   #OrangeIsTheNewBlack.  Right, I guess you know all about lesbian prison
now, too.  However, this is a different timeline, and I suppose you came
here to read about sex, huh?}

   ;

   Antony

   In the morning, I smell cafe.  Me father is out, in the window.  Looking
at the land.  Flat, and grassy, it is beautiful here, but lonely.  Me
mother was taken by police, to Mexico, and me father miss her.  Me aunt,
and uncle are standing, looking at the land we have.  Here, there will be
work to do, but this morning, he just hold her.  My aunt, and takes a
drink. She takes a drink, cafe, and give him back the cup.

   The sun is up, it will be hot, but they have this.  Land, now it belongs
to them, and me father bring me.  I hold his hand, watching aunt Mishel
bring back the cup.  Fill it with Cafe.  "Aunt Mishel?"

   "Si Niņo?"

   "I can have a cup?" She poor more, and put it down.  Point to a box in
the corner.  I get one from the metal tube, and hold it for her to pour. 
"Where is sucre?"

   She tells me that it is in the box, I find it.  Next to the metal tube.
I hear a truck, and metal clashing.  Out front, and the cafe bubble.  Seņor
Cafe, making more.  They have a trailer, men.  All men, get out of the
truck, and a car with more.  They get out, and Aunt Mishel bring them Cafe.


   "Gracias," they have cups.  White cups in a tube, and pass it.

   "Niņo, go to seņor Cafe, and make more."

   It is no lonely, me cousins are up, and they have the TV.  Cartoons,
Bugs Bunny, laughing.  He run, and the man chases, with he gun.

   Seņor Cafe, he is finish.  It is hot, so I go find me cup.  Give it the
men, they have beer, it is fiesta.  Celibrate the land, but the tractor is
off of the trailor, and Seņon Nunes is driving.  Pulling it in the ground,
the men put down their cups, and bend to pull the weeds out of the dirt.

   Good dirt, dry and black, like cafe in the bowl.  Aunt Mishel is
walking, she shake the bowl to feed it to the dirt.

   "Plank!"

   The man, in the big house.  Casa Grande, he throw another board.  Plank!

   The young man, there is 2.  Old man and his son, the land man come to
the cocina, buy things, and buy these.  Land.  It is he son, they are.  I
have only seen men, such as these.  White, he has his shirt on, over the
white skin on his body, but he is.  Grande, muscular.  I have no school. 
My friends, they go to school, in Dallez.

   My home, I was born, in this country, but me padre, he is no have
papers. He can no send me to school, so Aunt Misha is my teacher.  Numbers,
and Espanis, she teach me, I already know letters, and me cousin.  In the
cocina, and now here, but I take a cup.  From the plastic, Seņor cafe.  He
knows these, coffee.

   "Seņor Ozborn?"

   "Oh hey." he drop the board, and hold the hammer.

   "I have cafe."

   "Thanks, uh.  Whatcher nameagain?"

   "Antony."

   He takes a sip, nods.  "You know how to swing a hammer, Antony?"

   "Yes," I take it.  It is no heavy.

   "Here, let me show you." The board, "Rattle snakes." The metal, sticks
out like teeth.  As he say, the rattle snake, have fangs to bite you.  Me
father tell me, I get sick, and need many shots at the clinic, so I am
"careful where you step, they can bite you."

   "Si'," I know this.

   "You are Guatamalan?"

   "No, Seņor Ozborn." Tejano, Dallez.

   "Harry." He hand is grande.  He is strong, I have seen these.  Men such
as these, Ozborn, in pictures, and on the television.  I know none, like
these, before.  "Call me Harry.  Now, what you need to do is tap out the
nails, but be careful of the wood.  We need to save it, as much as we can,
so try not to split it." I nod.  "I'm gonna go get more boards."

   He take a sip, of cafe.  "Mh!  What is this?"

   "Bustelo, seņor."

   "Juņor." He shakes his head, "My daddy's Seņor."

   "Yes," of course.

   "Good stuff," He drinks it, "Strong." Drops the cup.

   Yes, he is strong.  He has a hook, and pat it.  On the top, so the
bottom pull apart the board.  Between the board, the nails squeek, and I
pick up the rattle snake.  He call it, I know this.  To hook it, pull on
the head, but careful, so it does not split.  Save the wood, like the Cafe
in the filter.

   "Good." His grande hand, on my back.  "That's good Antony."

   I like him.  His hand on me back.  Bueno is good.

   ;

   Juņor

   "Huh!" Take off my shirt, to wipe off my face.  Not much drier, but
there's a patch.  It's not as sweaty in the back, but I mop out my pits
while I'm at it.

   "You done?"

   "Hum?" His mouth snapped shut.  and he lifted his hand.  As if to reach
something.  Looking at me like I got tits.  "Oh, jes." He dropped the
hammer.  A neat pile of nails, like pickup sticks.

   "Well," I pulled out my wallet, "Thanks for helping out." I gave him a
$5.  Ah, what the hay, 2 more.  3 hours, out in the sun.  He just looked at
it.  "What's wrong?"

   "I have no.  Place to spend this." The bills, flapping in his hands. 
"Thank you, it is to much." He tries to give me one back.

   "Hahah, keep it.  You hungry?  Well, I was about to break for lunch."

   The cocinita, what's her name.  Misha, or something.  Dipping out soup,
or something with a ladle, into styrofoam cups.

   "It is siesta." Lined up in the shadow of the ex-trailer.  Taken off
it's trucks, and set down on the same slab as the garage.  Open, brown men
going back and forth, around the open doors.  Pulled the Tractor in, an old
John Deere.

   "Well," shake my head, "I was about to head into town." I rubbed my
tummy, and he watched me.  Even after I let my hand fall.  His eyes didn't
move, stayed locked on, staring right around the level of my navel. 
"Tony?"

   "Hm?"

   "You mind if I call you Tony?"

   "No, my.  Fren'.  In Dallez, he call me Toņe'." Sounds almost like
Tonyee.

   "Come on." No food here, just beer, and ice water in the cooler.  "Lets
go see what they got in town."

   "Yes." I grabbed my shirt.  "Juņor Harry?"

   "Yeah, Tony?" He got his tongue back, when I put my shirt back on, but I
have some idea what this is about.  "How old are you, anyway?"

   "A dozen."

   "Twelve?"

   "Almost thirteen."

   Little guy, looks more like a little boy and.  I'm not sure.  How to
feel about that.

   "What is it, Toņye."

   "In Dallez, where I am from.  There is a man.  Call me Toņy.  Like
this."

   "Uh huh?"

   "He give me, theengs.  Like these." The bills, still wadded in his fist,
he stuffed them in his pocket, and climbed into the cab.  Had to lean out
to pull the door, but the window was already down.

   I started her up, and reached back to open the window.

   "Yeah?"

   "He show me.  Things.  Men, in pictures, and let me." He looked, unsure.
"I love him.  Andre.  He was Negro."

   "Black."

   "Yes, and homo.  Like the men, he show me.  How men love men, but he no
like." He looked.  Reached out again, his hand steady, even bumping down
the gravel we put down, to the country road.

   At my arm.  "It's okay."

   I looked, left, then right, but not much traffic out here, ever.

   He squeezed me bicep.  "Huh!  It is, like wood!" Pushed my sleeve up,
and rubbed it.  "I like these.  Like the men, loving men, in the pictures."

   "What did he do?"

   "He show me.  Hese."

   He looked down at my lap.

   "And you liked it."

   "Yes, I said, I loved him.  His hand, and his verga."

   I know this one.  Working with dad, and anybody he could hire for help.
When he could he could afford it, but you know who works the cheapest.

   "Hes penis." He felt down to my leg.  I had to move it, out of my
pantleg.  We slowed down, coasted a little, then I pushed down the gas
pedal again.  "I can, feel it?"

   "Yeah, go ahead." Not hard yet, but working on it.  "Huh!" Don't close
my eyes.  Keep them on the road, look over at the spot.  Just happened to
be passing it, the curve, so I turned back to keep it in the lane.

   Out of the ditch, leaving it behind.  The bumper, bent up, and
discarded, the chrome flaked off from the rust bubbling under it.  Standing
by the ditch, just looking at it, while the wrecker pulled the truck out.

   He's fine, uncle Jim, just a couple cracked ribs from what I hear.  It
wasn't an accident.  Sure, he didn't make the curve, I don't think he
wanted to die, it's just.  The wreck, he didn't even get whiplash, but the
seatbelt didn't break his bones.  He didn't catch his side up on the door
handle when it tried to roll over against the other side.  I felt them,
give under my fist, my boot, stomping on the ground.  Curled up on his
side, and sobbing like a little boy in the schoolyard.

   He managed to crawl out, through the windshield, cut up his hands.  Old
truck, no safety glass, and he didn't buckle up.

   I pulled the seatbelt.  "You're so young."

   "I am.  Sorry."

   I shook my head.  "Huh!  Well, you're not the man of my dreams, but."
That's still not happening.  "Huh!  I remember, when I was your age." I
shook my head.  "There was a man, in my life too.  I was even younger, but.
I have to tell you this, before we do anything." I looked over, but he sat
back.  Nodded.  "Buckle up."

   "He did no hurt you?"

   "No." I gritted my teeth.  "I hurt him." He hit me, but.  "He broke my
heart.  He lied to me, and told me he loved me, and.  Snh!  There's some
cleenex, in the glove box." He popped it.

   "Uh?" I blinked.  "Huh.  Fuck." It was a dream.  Just a dream, thank god
it was only a dream.

   "Nhmhuh!" God, I been crying a lot lately.  "Snh!" Left the roll of
paper, right there.  "HukhChChcH!" Wiped it.  "Uh!"

   Wishful thinking.  A little boy, looking at me like that, and not. 
Looking at him.  At all, any more than any little boy, what's the point?  I
know as well as anyone they're not.  Capable.  Of that.  I mean yeah, I was
gay, and he took advantage of it, but.  We should get some matresses, or
something.

   "Huh!"

   Everet.  Sawing logs, still passed out, but at least the stain dried on
his pants.

   I looked away.  "Huh!" Shook it out of my head, but I saw it.

   Bulging, in the dry blue faded denim of his pants.

   God, "Damn it." Why the hell do the good ones have to be straight? 
"Huh!"

   At least there's coffee.  Power to drip through the plastic screen he
got for the Mr.  Coffee.

   "Huha!"

   Seņor Cafe'.  "Huhuhahaha!" What the hell was I thinking?  Well, I can
go take a leak, while it finishes brewing.

   I don't even want to jerk off any more.  Don't know what's worse,
imagining myself a little latino boy, and worshiping my muscles, or wanting
to get his pants open, while he's passed out.  Drunk, like a high school
girl at her first college party.

   "Huh!" Just shake it.  Twice, and put it away.  Crack my neck, and rub
it, hardwood floors.  Nice, but not a great place to spend the night on.

   "Huh!" He sat up, on the couch.  "Ohhh, god." Held his head.  I got out
the thermos, poured him some in the black plastic cap first.  "Fuck."

   "Here," I handed it to him.  "It's hot." He blew on it, and I heard him
sip.  Headded back to fill up the thermos, and start another pot.

   My daddy, should be.  Well, actually where the hell did he end up?

   "Kunk!" Ok.  Walking back from the truck.  Arms up, to hang off his
neck. Twisting it.  I tried to crack mine, again, but of course nothing.  I
went over to the door.

   "Here." The thermos.

   "Thanks." He took it.  "Any beers left?"

   "Let me check." The cooler, ice water now.

   "No, in the fridge."

   "Looks like, a 6 pack.  No.  5 left."

   "My moocher brother didn't take them with him?" He took a deep breath.
"Huh!" Sighed, and reached out.  I shrugged, and handed him one.  "Where's
his truck?"

   "He took off." I turned, away.  Put them back in the fridge.  "Huh! 
Dad?" I shut it.

   "What's up, son."

   "We need to talk."

   ;

   {Well, the plan was to wake up, and write a bunch of romance/sexual
action, but that's not what happened last night.  In my dreams, so I had to
get it out of my head.  I will, work on adding more sex, I promise, but I
had to do that.  Sorry.}

   ;

   Everet

   I couldn't help overhearing, but that was definitely not my
conversation, so I took it out on the porch.

   Coffee.  Good strong coffee, black.  And a nice dark beer to dull the
thudding in my head.

   I don't even want to think about it, but.  That's no reason to just
shove it aside, and forget about it.  That's how we tanked the economy, or
my family and their friends let their greed make the dollar useless.

   "SLAP!"

   "Uhn!" Not so loud!

   "I'll kill him."

   "No dad, wait.  Daddy, now don't go flying of the wheels, stop!"

   He slammed the door, and roared off, kicking up gravel before the engine
barely even warmed up, then it was quiet.

   Too quiet, I could hear his heavy footsteps in the dried grass.  "Huh!"
Here it comes.

   "Mr.  Wright?"

   "Everet."

   "I'm sorry.  I." He sat down on the steps.  "Huh!  I don't mean to. 
Make fun of your name."

   "Oh, haha!" I got it, "No, it's not that.  I'm just not proud of what my
name stands for, in these parts." On the steps, I just stayed in the chair.
Didn't rock it, but took another sip of coffee, before it cooled off. 
"Siph!  Whf!" Licked my mustache.

   "Here, Mr.  Everet.  Sorry, Everet."

   "We all had a rough night.  Thanks." He took the thermos, back to the
steps, and sat down.

   "Uh, about that."

   "What exactly?"

   "Last night."

   "I wasn't eaves dropping, that's why I came out.  Here," I mean, "To the
porch."

   "No, I mean." He started to turn back, shook his head, and then let it
down.  "Huh!" Set down the thermos, "I mean, what happened, last night."

   "You got upset," understandable, "He hit you first, I saw the whole
thing."

   "Yeah, but.  I'm not talking about that, neither."

   "You mind filling me in, then?"

   "Iyuh.  I love you."

   "Oh." Now I remember.  Touched my lips, self consciously.  "Well, uh.  I
don't know, anything about it, but.  You think, maybe your uncle.  I mean,
what he did."

   "No, I'm gay." He turned back.  Made sure I was paying attention, and
nodded.  "He didn't make me gay, and sure he might've taken advantage of it
when he was drunk, but I knew.  Way before that."

   "Well, I'm not."

   "I know," he hung his head, shrugged, "Huh!" Let his shoulders fall, "I
know that, and it breaks my heart, but.  You know I was jealous?"

   "Well, no need to be jealous, I mean i don't mind sharing the wealth,
you know that."

   "No, not of you.  Huhaha, uh!" He shook his head, but turned away like
that, I couldn't tell if he was laughing, or sobbing.  "Huh!  God, how
could I be so stupid?  You're in love!"

   "Beg pardon?"

   "I swear, I even thought I wanted you to look at me, the way you look at
him, but I was so caught up in feeling lonely, and."

   "Now see here.  I don't know what you think you."

   "No." He stood up.  "Huh, Everet.  Listen.  I know, you see a lot of
stuff most people can't from growing up in that high rize appartment
looking over the city, but I'm not going to lie to you."

   "I'm not gay." Firmly.

   "So?  You don't want to fuck him, I get that.  I don't want to fuck you
either.  I nevereven really did, and it's not about that.  It doesn't have
to be sexual, god you knowitall straight guys, and your assumptions about
your dicks.  We don't care about your dick, man!  Gay guys, straight girls
neither.  I know the caveman imperative is to find someone who'll hold
still long enough to fuckit, and plant your seed, but we're adults now. 
Social animals, we have things like love, and 2 men loving eachother, the
way you love my father, and he loves you too!  Surely you can't be so blind
as to not see that, right?"

   "Huh!" I shook my head.  Opened my eyes, maybe hoping to get the
disturbing thoughts of, guys, doing.  Disgusting things outta there, but.

   "I think I'm still too drunk to talk about this, right now."

   "Well, go right on ahead, and deny your feelings all you want.  Can I
borrow your car?"

   "What for?"

   "There's nothing in there but coffee, and beer.  You want to keep
drinking to forget, or you mind if I go get some breakfast."

   "No, go right on ahead." I fished my keys out of my pocket.

   "Think about it, all right?  At least stop turning into an asshole,
whenever your masculinity gets threatened."

   "My, what?"

   "Huh." He turned back, from the steps.  "That's another thing.  I just
realized.  Whenever you start feeling something, for him, you stop being
the caring man you really are inside."

   "Uh!"

   "Yup," he shook his head, and walked off to the car.  Pointed, CHIRP!

   "Huh!" I shook my head.

   Yeah, I don't want to think about it, but he left his coffee.

   "Uh!" Drove off without it.

   "Fuck."

   I have to.

   "Goddamn it!" Kicked the post, but they're just rotted out on the
bottom. Barefoot, I stubbed my toe, and "Fuck!"

   Punched the siding, uselessly.

   He's right.  I'm doing it again.  "I need more coffee." Pick up the
chair, and find where the cup rolled off.  The end, where the siding was
tore off around the rail.  Out in the sun, and the grit, sticking to it.  I
took a sip, and burned my lip before I even realized.

   Trying not to think about it.

   "Well," that's not making it go away.  "Huh!"

   How the hell the drink out of this without buring themselves is beyond
me, but I headed up to find another cup, and barring that, rinsed the lid
out in the sink.

   The coffee maker finished brewing, so I shut it off, and poured some of
that.

   "Whew."

   Aint even any sugar, much less creamer to cool it down.

   Well, I mean I admire him.  Harry, senior, and I guess by extension
junior too.  It's not his body, I mean it's an admirable body, don't think
I never noticed, kinda hard to miss, but he's really so gentle, and.

   "Whehwwww!  Siph?" Set it down.  "Huh!  This is crazy."

   Does that mean it isn't true?  Okay, how do I feel about him?  Honestly,
and damn it, he's married!

   I don't really know Brook that well.  I know she spells it Brook, and
not Brooke, stay at home mom, and worked part time, until he could stop
bouncing, and.

   "Huh!"

   "When do you get off?"

   Shake my head.

   "Well, hopefully when I get home to my wife."

   "Dixie!"

   Blink.

   He asked me, if she was a prostitute.  I don't know, made some joke
about her getting that drunk, "I'd think a pro wouldn't." Something
something.

   "No." Damn it.

   I never knew her well enough to have any feelings, and Brook.  Well? 
Now I suppose I feel a little guilty, because she obviously loves him, and
he loves her so much, it's not even like he knows just what to say.

   She said that, "He always knows, just what to say, to make me happy."

   No, that's not it!  He means it, and what was Junior saying about the
way I look at him?  Of course I never saw it myself, but I never was really
jealous of her.  I was jealous of him, and the life he had.  The wife,
kids, all the stuff I told myself I never wanted.  That, commitment?

   Was I really.  "Huh?" My lord, it's like.  My heart is fucking
fluttering!?

   "Get it together man," I never did finish that beer, just washed the
taste out of my mouth, and puked over the side.  The other side from where
the cup rolled off, and then I burnt my lip.  It still hurts a little, from
the coffee.

   ?  Rubbing my lip, right where it touched the rim of the thermos.

   Right where his lips were on it.  Both of their lips.

   "Huhn!" Shake my head.  Sit down, and pick up the beer, not knowing if
I'm still too drunk, or not drunk enough, but I'm thinking about it now.

   "Is this what it feels like?"

   Love.

   Take another swig.  "Hah!"

   I just never expect it.  Expected.  To feel it for another man.

   Shake my head, "No." Not just any man, honestly, it's just so damned
humbling, being with him.

   "I mean, around him.  Whenever he's around."

   Here.  Right here, this house I bought for him, just to be with him.

   "Dear god!" I bought him a house?

   What the hell was I thinking?  Rubbing my knuckles, right here, in the
old rocking chair.

   Where Junior kissed me.

   Gonna be a hot day.  "Yup."

   No.  "I'm blushing!?"

   Huh!  I need another beer.  How many are left, anyway?

   ;

   {Oh yeah, and denial.  That's why all the nerdy asides, it's a defense
mechanism.  How he covered up his feelings, asserting his intellectuality,
to cover his physical insecurity, and bury his feelings the whole time
they're developing.  In case you missed that.}

   ;

   Junior

   He walked out to the car.  Pulled his boots on on the porch when I was
pulling up, and just got in.

   "Where we headed?"

   "Just leave the air condition on." He set back, and the seat wined.  On
motors, electric seats, heated if you need them, not likely, but everything
'cept a massage built right in.  He rubbed his face, and shook his head.

   "You thought about,"

   "You're right.  You happy?  Now what you get to eat?"

   "Some burritos.  There's a truck parked out at the Tres Amigos, and it's
all I can find." I pulled them out, "I got bacon, or sausage.  And egg,
with potatoes."

   "I'll take the sausage.  My own damned fault for getting beer, and
nothing to soak it up with." Not really anywhere around here, you can get
beer, and cigarettes, soda, and candy if you're.  16, for instance.

   "Huh!  You're not used to drinking so much."

   "No, actually I used to go clubbing every weekend, with a driver so I
didn't have to worry about getting home in 1 piece."

   "Oh yeah, and I found his truck.  He didn't make it far, and rolled it
over somebody's fence, but they picked him up before dad got to him.  Took
him to the hospital."

   "Your uncle?"

   "Yeah.  Sorry, didn't mean daddy.  The rancher was out trying to round
up his horses."

   "Your dad all right?"

   "I missed him.  He was already gone, hope he's sober enough to make it
instead of getting a ride, too." A lot of money in the back of that truck.
Probly tens of thousands in tools, I'd think.

   "Well, I tried not to think about it, but that ain't making them go
away."

   "Your feelings?"

   "For dad."

   "Yeah, and you."

   "Really!?"

   "Not so loud, Jesus!"

   "Sorry, oh, I'm sorry.  I forgot about your head."

   "Wish I had some asprin, or something in here." He sat up to look in the
center console.

   Empty, just a pack of smokes.  Flat pack, I got one, out of the open
side.  2 sides, "Uh, you got a lighter?"

   "Yeah, in the dash." He pointed.  Found the ash tray, next to that.

   "You want one?"

   "Yeah." he sat back.

   "So, uh.  How d'you, feel about me?"

   ...

   "Everet?"

   "I'm thinking?"

   The lighter popped anyway, so I lit both of them, one by one, and rolled
the windows down.

   "Thanks.  I don't know I, it's weird.  Like this, sitting back and
smoking like lovers in bed?"

   "Mhm?" I picked up the foil balls, and dropped them back in the bag. 
While he's thinking, I figured out how to put the seat back, or found the
square little joystick on the side.

   "Well?  I suppose I love you too.  Not like your dad're.  ImeanI love
him, too.  God, I had no idea, I really, couldn't see it coming, the whole
time we're falling in love?"

   "Don't ask me." I turned over.  On my side.  "Everet?"

   "Yeah?" He looked over.

   "Would it be all right.  If I kissed you?"

   He nodded, and closed his eyes.

   Again, sober this time.  "Hm." Felt his lips, and smiled.

   "Huh!" I sat back, and felt his face.  "I'm sorry, I.  Did that when
you're drunk.  I don't know what.  Hm?"

   "Smooch!" I bit my lip, and he felt my chest.

   "Huhn!" I closed my eyes, and let my head roll back.  Just felt his
hand, on my chest.  Reached up to slip my fingertips, between his fingers,
and hold it.  Over my heart.

   "He's married."

   "Oh, god.  Mom!" I forgot completely about her!

   "I don't, want to get in the way of, what they have together.  That's
special, why I never even believed in, a love like that, ever existed until
I saw it with my own eyes."

   "Yeah, they're so happy.  I feel lucky, to have that too." I looked
over. "What's wrong?"

   "Huh!" He let go of his hand.  "I went, and did something, stupid."

   "Stef?" He looked up, guilty.

   "She told you about it?" He frowned.

   "We talked about you.  A lot, you know this past week, I been getting.
Well, I'm just glad I finally got to tell you, how I feel." I started
choking up, so i leaned over to kiss him.  Felt his side.  Over by his hip,
turned over like that to face me.

   "Hn," through his nose, so he stopped.  "I still don't know, how to feel
about all this, but you remember talking about my masculinity?"

   "You mean when you get all lecturey."

   "Well, not.  Just that.  But." He held up his hand, his other hand, and
showed me.  "Mad, or.  Well, I thought she was hitting on me, when really.
Why I guess she wanted to sleep with me to seal the deal, because."

   I turned away.  He touched my shoulder, so I brushed it off.

   "I'm sorry."

   "You.  Fucked, my sister?"

   I got out.

   "No, Harry." He climbed out after me.  I guess, because he only closed
one door.  That damned annoying dinging went away, but I made it to the
porch, and found my wrecker bar.

   "We didn't have sex."

   "Yeah?  NH!" I jabbed it in, under some boards we didn't care about.  In
the corner, where it rained in, and even started rotting out a little. 
Despite the dry air.  It crumbled, so the tip slipped, and I had to dig it
in again.  "So, what did you do?"

   "She sent me a video.  Well, first she called me, and asked about
electives, she said.  Not really, but she was looking at classes, outside
of the Business major, and wanted to know if she could take those too."

   "At TSTC?" I nodded.  She has to go there, over the summer.  To get
caught up after being out of school for almost a year, and apply to Baylor
in the fall.

   "Yeah."

   "What kinds of classes?"

   "Liberal Arts."

   "It's a technical college."

   "Yeah, but visual arts.  Computer programming, video processing."

   "That why you got her a computer?"

   "Yeah, it's a display, actually."

   "Huh!" I dropped the bar, and hooked my fingers under the end.  "NHM!"
Pulled it up enough to grip it from the side, and work back to the nails
through it.  The next set of nails, giving, and pulled it up.

   "She wants to make porn."

   "Huh!" I slapped down.  "And you let her!"

   "I couldn't stop her!  Look, I didn't know that's what I wanted it for.
She just started computer classes, or got the computer so she could, and
fired it up, but the first thing she did was make a video, and sent it to
me."

   I looked at him.  Back and forth, from eye to eye.  I thought he was
just honest, sometimes brutally honest, but now I was beginning to wonder
if he's just a good liar.

   "Look, I don't know what to do with it.  She thought with my connections
I could maybe send it to the right people, so she could be discovered, and
turn into a porn star, but I told her I don't know the first thing about
pornography.  Or the film industry, in general."

   "But you watched it?"

   "As much as I could, up to the part where I saw what she was doing, but.
No, I couldn't."

   "Why not?"

   "Because I'm in love with her father!  Obviously.  I just felt so
guilty, I called a, friend."

   "A prostitute." Dad told me, he uses prostitutes.

   "No a.  You know what a dominatrix is?"

   "A kind of prostitute?"

   "No, well.  She's like that, but she doesn't have sex.  With me."

   "What does she do?"

   "Well, lots of things, but I just needed her to tie me up, and punish me
for that."

   "Really."

   He nodded.

   "You're into that?"

   "Lots of people are.  You'd be amazed."

   "Never mind." I shook my head, "I don't want to know." Straight sex. 
"Let me pull this board real quick, and think."

   "Okay, well.  Thanks for breakfast.  let me get my wallet real quick,
and I can reimb;"

   "I Don't Want your Damned MONEY!  I don't give a damn about your fucking
money.  I never did."

   "Oh!" Then he was hugging me.  "Oh my god, Harry!"

   "What?" I just, hesitated to hug him back.  "What the hell?"

   "You just made me so happy!" He sniffed.  He was crying, but I looked
around.

   "Uh, Everet?" I let go.

   "Snh?"

   "You think we better go inside?" Before someone comes out, and sees us.
Or looks out the window, "I feel like I'm having a heart attack here."

   "Yeah," he wiped his eyes, "SNH!  You're right, again.  Huh!  That's
probably a good idea."

   ;

   Everet

   "So what did you do?" He shut the door."

   "I just got her a website." Wiped my eyes, it was such an emotional
morning all ready.  "It's a free one, Angelfire, so there's no money to
trace back."

   Why in the car, it almost felt like we had.  Just had sex, I felt that
before, but only with a dominatrix, it's easy to forget he's just 16, but
then he said it.

   What I wanted to hear my whole life, he didn't say it again, just
searched my eyes until his frown went away.  "Huh!" He nodded.

   "Ask her yourself," I don't think he believed me, just forgave me
anyway. He looked at his watch, "Probably not even up, anyway."

   "Oh, and don't worry about the neighbors, either.  They're at church,
had this big sendoff planned, told me all about it."

   "If you don't mind me asking, what's with, the whole.  Tied up, and
punish me all about?"

   "I don't know, it makes me feel better?"

   He poured more coffee.  "I think I'll have another beer, actually."

   "Don't you think you've had enough?"

   "Not really." I shook my head, "Look, I need to cope.  I know, alcohol
isn't an answer, but with all the emotional ups, and downs.  Yoy feel like
you're having a heart attack?" I held up my hands, "That ain't the coffee."

   "Hand me one too."

   "You drink?"

   "I had a beer now and then, but.  I never really got it, the whole,
actually.  What is with getting all drunk, and stupid, until you puke an
pass out all about, anyway?"

   I shook my head.  "Glk, kah!"

   He took a sip, and frowned.

   "I don't know, it's a coping mechanism.  At least my therapists call it
that, but I don't understand it either."

   "It's addiction." I nodded.  He looked at the Dunhill he bummed, and put
it out.  Shook his head, "So, it steadies your nerves?"

   "Look, I feel guilty.  All right?  Yeah, right now I need to steady my
nerves, but usually.  Yeah, we say 'have a good time,' and you're right,
sometimes we don't stop when we should, and have to much, but really I'm
starting to think it was all a distraction."

   "From what?"

   "Whatever, depends on what you're trying to hide.  Like you being gay, I
can't imagine what that's like, in Texas, especially on a high school
football team."

   "It's not a high school team.  I'm a sophomore, at least for a couple
more months, but I don't play for the high school.  It's more like an
amateur team, and I'm probably going to quit, anyway."

   "Right, but when you played, you ever feel so focused that everything
else, all the other stuff doesn't matter any more?"

   He had to think.  "Maybe," shrugged, "I never thought about it, because
i had to worry about the play."

   Right.

   "Yeahbut, I didn't join football to forget about being gay.  Yeah, maybe
I did it to fit in, but really I just wanted to use the gym."

   "To be around other jocks?"

   "No, I.  I never, wanted.  It's not like I hung around locker rooms to
look at guys and play slap ass.  For one thing, I'm a hunk, so I'm not
really attracted to hunks, I really prefer.  Well, faggier guys, for lack
of a better word."

   "Like me?"

   "Well, normally.  I mean, before I met you, yeah.  I thought.  Huh! 
Well?" Had to think, "I suppose I might've thought I could.  You know, tell
if he was gay.  I just felt so lonely, I started looking for signs, so I
guess I always imagined, the guy I ended up with would be one of them?"

   "Faggy guys?"

   "Or, I don't know.  Yeah, girly?  Not really girly, if I wanted a girl,
I wouldn't be gay but.  Pretty, and skinny, and shorter at least?" He
looked up, "I didn't know what I wanted, until I met you."

   So, I kissed him, real quick, and stepped back.

   "Well, I'm not gay.  I know that, you.  Are." Look down.  I mean, even
more down, he's not as tall, but.  "Hang on, let me get these boots off."
Set down on the chair.  It's not a table, so much as a board up on saw
horses, but we brought some chairs in to sit on.  the rocker was already
out there, came with the place.  "Look, you're big.  So's your dad, and." I
shook my head, "I ain't gonna lie to you, but I'm really a little scared of
doing this with you, because I can't be with him."

   "What are we doing here?"

   "That's just it, I just don't know.  Huh!  I love you, I don't want to
hurt your feelings, but I love him even more, and I don't know if any of
this can work out, at all without it all blowing up, and hurting everyone
involved, but i don't want to have sex.  With you."

   "All right, then that's off the table.  Here." He held out his hand.  I
looked at it.  "Get up.  I need to sit down but.  Huh?"

   I grabbed him.  I think I wanted to see if I was really still a little
taller than him with my boots off, but then I didn't even check, and kissed
him so passionately, I even surprised myself a little but.

   "Wow!" He wiped his mouth.  "Huhaha!  I don't know, how much you love
dad, but.  Jesus that was a hell of a kiss." He walked off.

   "Where you going?"

   "To jerk off in the bathroom, and take a cold shower."

   "Oh," okay.

   I'm pretty sure he's still a litter shorter, and he doesn't have his
goatee.  Instead, he's got long hair, and it goes all the way over the top,
so he doesn't have to shave it, and wear a hat, but I think the differences
are important.

   At this point.

   I don't know what I'm doing, I know what he's doing up there, jerking
off thinking about me, and I don't know how to feel about that, either, but
he's 16.

   He's only 16, but he's not his father, and I really need to keep that in
mind.

   But it's not sexual, I know that, and i better not call him son any
more.

   I'm going to have to think of something else, other than Junior.  His
daddy calls him that, and I don't want to be his daddy.

   I don't know what I want, but I'm drunk enough to get some more sleep,
even in that old couch they dragged in.

   "Yeah, huh!" I yawned, and stretched.

   I need to sleep on it.

   And sober up.

   ;

   Junior

   "You done any Demo?"

   "I love demo."

   "Yeah, but this's a restoration, so." I pulled a flat stick out of the
slot, riveted to the side of my nailbag."

   "This is the first tool you pull out for Demo." I reached up, tucked it
in the corner, and ran it down the dry-wall sine.

   "Leave the line." I tucked it back, and pulled the razor-knife from the
slot next to it.  Clicked out the blade, and locked it.  "We want to save
this paneling." Knock on wood, "And just get rid of the drywall." Poked it
with the tip.  "So, you have to be careful to break the drywall, and leave
the paneling intact.  Drywall's cheap, and you can't save it anyway, but
this." I ran my fingers back over the stained hardwood.  "This has been
here since the 40s.  It's precious."

   He nodded, "I'm gonna go take a dump."

   And jack off.  My dad's pulling up, so I have to tone down the
homoerotic flirting, but he's not.  Completely oblivious.  I've seen him
with the ladies, so if he can't tell when I'm hitting on him with a 10#
sledge, it's because he chooses to live in denial.

   "Huh!" But I'm not the one he's in love with.  He said it, "I love you,"
but.  He stopped calling me Son, so.  That's a start.

   "Haey!" I think I got the accent down, but.  "Heard yeuw'r fixin up the
old place."

   Out bye the fence.  Overalls hanging loose, skiny, but wirey.  Muscles
playing in his forearms like a coil of compressor hoses under a sheet.  Or
leather.  Deeply tanned, with maybe a little line of white under the hem of
his sleeve.  His bicep, and the denim strap, his long neck hot from the
sun.

   "Well," look back, "Mostly on the exterior." Weathered, but we got
enough siding off the porch to patch around the house.  "What's inside is
in pretty good shape."

   Miroflex.  He looked.

   "Well, you lookin for help?"

   "You speak Spanish?  Come on over." Had to take off his cowboy hat to
duck under the top strand, like a pro wrestler, swing his boots over, one
by one without catching them on the barbs.

   "A little.  We get Mexicans to help out on the ranch all the time, in
season."

   "That all you heard?"

   "About the house?"

   "Well, they say.  You know, out here in the country, anything new's
Retarded."

   "Ironically?"

   "Howsat?"

   "Well.  You know it means delayed.  Held back?" I nodded, walking across
the lawn.  Dad'd be back with the trailer, some time.  "Well, Conservatives
calling anything retarded is kinda ironic, then.  Since they put everything
off, and hold people back."

   "Oh, I'ma liberal.  Don't tell my folks I said that, they'd disown me,
but I ain't prejudiced, likem."

   "Huh!" I shut the door.  "Well, we ain't black.  And we ain't women, so
there's really only one other prejudice they'd probably be talkin about."

   He nodded.  "They call everthin gay, though.  They don't mean nothing by
it."

   "They said the guys working on this house." I put my arm up, let my
armpit hairs dry a little in the relatively cool house.  It's air
conditioned, but blowing it out to keep the heat out, under construction is
an excercize in waste.

   "Snh." He nodded.  "Called 'em fags."

   "Well, they ain't."

   "Oh, good."

   "They're mostly just in love, but that doesn't mean gay.  You know what
gay means?"

   "Homosexual?"

   "It's like retarded." I shook my head.  "It means happy.  So, yeah.  In
that way, they're happy together."

   "And that ain't gay?"

   "Not if they don't have sex."

   "Oh," he looks disappointed.

   "You ever do any demo?"

   "Oh, I love demo."

   "Yeah, but guys that say that really mean I like bustin stuff.  This old
house." Running my fingers along the paneling, on my way down the hall, I
put my arm around his shoulders.  "It's too nice to just bust up.  Bulldose
and put in condos for hipsters to experience the cuntry." Pat his back, and
rub down, to the small of it.

   "So, you have to take your time.  Slow, and easy.  No need to rush." I
bet he's expecting a quick fuck, to get his rocks off.  "You need to get to
know the place, like the family that's lived here, for the people who'll
come here to live." Don't jut jam it in, and out until something breaks.

   "Nh, huh!" Pat his ass, and feel it through the denim patches of his
pockets, in those overalls.  Those loose overalls so I can reach in the
side, and feel what's sprouting.  "Huh, huh!"

   There's dad, so.  "Smquit, smuck!" Better straighten up.  Flush the
rest, and drop the lid on the toilet.  "Huh!" Wipe my hands on the way out,
and stick the rag back in my pocket.  Pick up my tool belt.

   "Good." He started in the middle of the panel, working back, carefully
to the wall we want to safe.  Already had the crown molding off, and
carefully stacked in the garage.

   "How long's it take to take a shit?"

   Straight talk, dad dropped a box of nails on the porch, and went back.

   "I guess it was packed a little tight."

   "Thought it's be easier for you."

   You know, what with all that shit packin you do.  Faggot.

   Shook my head, "Not if you're a virgin."

   "Huh!  Hardly."

   Just fuckin around, dad.  Dropping off another box of nails.

   "Hahahah!" Shakes his head, headding back for more.

   Good, Junior's getting along with his partner.

   "Well, there's virgins, then there's virgins." I looked back, tapped his
pants before dad made it to the truck, turned around.

   "Oh yeah?"

   I went back to the door, squatted to lift the relatively small box.

   "Yeah." Dropped it by the table.  "Keep working."

   Went back for the second, while dad dropped off a third.  Relatively
small box of galvanized steel nails.  10 penny, ring shanks.

   "Well, maybe you can demo it later."

   He winked.

   I winked back.

   "What's he doing tear-off for?"

   "I was just showing him.  Some basic labor stuff."

   "Yeah, well we want to save this 8" strip, so that's all we have to
patch." He took the prybar.  "Gimme that, let me show you."

   He just stood back, and watched him work.

   He sure does love to watch him work.
   ;