Calvin’s Cowboy (25 page)

“Sounds cool. Let’s do that.” He turned to Brock. “If that’s okay?”

Brock smiled. He was sure the attraction would cost extra, but this was Calvin’s treat. Despite his earlier comments about the crowds, Brock knew Calvin was having fun. And, Brock had to admit, so was he.

* * * *

“Bagels?”

“With lox and cream cheese,” Calvin added.

Brock couldn’t have put more disdain into the stare he was giving to the object on his plate if he’d tried, and he was trying! Was the fishy stuff actually cooked?

“Were you expecting grits, biscuits and red-eyed gravy? This is New York.”

Junior snickered.

“And that’s enough from the peanut gallery,” Brock grumped. “It’s just, come on. A man can’t live on bagels, cream cheese and raw fish. It’s just not…not—”

“The cowboy way?” Calvin offered.

“Exactly.”

Junior snickered again. Brock shot him a look, which resulted in the snickering turning into outright laughter.

For the past few days Calvin had either made them breakfast here in the apartment or they’d gone out to eat. And then, before that—back in Texas—Calvin had usually cooked breakfast, too. But this was the first time Brock had been given…this. He gave the bagel another hard stare.

“Okay. Maybe I was trying too hard too fast to acclimatize you to New York cuisine. Sometime soon I promise I’ll take you to a special hole-in-the-wall place that serves the best Texas food this side of…the Mississippi.”

Brock felt his mood rising. “Really?”

Calvin gave him the look. Brock so wanted to kiss him, but Junior was there and…

Brock broke the intense gaze and looked down at the fuckin’ bagel.

Junior sighed. “Oh, just kiss each other.”

Brock turned to face his son.

“Go on, I know you both want to. And I’m cool with it.”

Brock transferred his gaze to Calvin, who looked shocked, hopeful, and…Brock didn’t bother to analyze further. He leaned in and pecked Calvin on the lips.

“That was pathetic!” Junior scoffed. “You’re not kissing Aunt Betsy.”

“Smart ass.” Brock made to cuff Junior’s ear, but the boy ducked. Brock was uncomfortable at being given kissing advice from his thirteen-year-old son.

“Heck, look at the time. I’m gonna be late,” Calvin said, getting to his feet. “Meet you both at lunchtime?” It had become their usual practice for Calvin to work at the office during the morning, Brock and Junior meeting him for lunch. Often Calvin was able to take the afternoon off, ‘one of the perks of co-owning your own company,’ and then they’d do more of the tourist thing.

“Yeah, darlin’, we’ll be there.”

Feeling a little more comfortable about showing affection to his man in front of his son, Brock also stood and pulled Calvin into a hug. Laying a wet, soppy, and loud kiss on Calvin’s lips, Brock said, “Love you.”

If Calvin was surprised at the change in his boyfriend, he did well to hide it. Kissing Brock back, he said, “Meet you both about one?”

“Counting the seconds, darlin’.”

Junior made gagging noises. “Okay, okay, you made your point.”

Both adults laughed, gave each other a final squeeze, then separated, Brock having to sit quickly to hide his erection.

Moments later Brock heard the door to the apartment close.

“Calvin’s a great guy. He makes you happy.” Junior picked up the last of his bagel. But before taking a bite he asked, “Have you thought any more about us moving here, like, permanently?”

Brock had thought of little else. But it was a big step. “What about all your friends back in Parish Creek?”

Swallowing, Junior said, “I can make new ones here. Maggie said she was gonna take me to a party next week and introduce me. I think she likes me and wants to show me off.”

Brock smiled and shook his head at his son’s confidence. But hadn’t he been like that at his age? The moment Junior had met Tim and Felicity’s daughter, Maggie, Junior had turned on the charm. The girl—maybe a year older than Junior—had admitted she liked cowboys. Immediately Brock had detected a deepening in Junior’s Texan drawl.

Taking a sip of coffee, which he discovered had gone cold, Brock said, “Would mean a new school.”

“I’m moving up to high school this year anyway, so it’d be a new school whatever we did. So this would be a good time to transfer.”

“I guess.” Taking a bite of the bagel, he chewed—it wasn’t as bad as he feared—Brock swallowed, then asked, “What do you think about moving?”

“I want whatever will make you happy.”

Brock had to swallow again. What did he do to get such a fuckin’ amazin’ son?

As the days had passed, Brock had felt an increased pull toward moving, but…could he do it, was he ready to live in a big city? As Calvin had told him when they were still in Texas, New York was a whole different world. But was it a world Brock could live in?

“Thanks, son. I’m still thinkin’ about it.”

Junior gave Brock a hug, then stepped back. “Come on, I want to try a burrito from that food cart we saw yesterday,” he said, lightening the mood.

“You don’t like bagels, either?” Brock sounded aghast, but he knew his son could tell he was kidding.

“They’re growing on me,” Junior admitted with a chuckle.

Both Brockwells having visited their respective bathrooms—Brock realizing how useful it was to have two—they met in the hallway and reached for their matching Stetsons. Brock had been so proud of his son when, in the western clothing store, Junior had insisted to Calvin he wanted a hat exactly like the one his daddy was getting.

“Ready, Dad?” Junior asked after checking his reflection in the mirror.

“Lead the way, pardner.”

* * * *

With the exception of an emotionally-moving visit to Ground Zero, Calvin, Brock and Junior had confined themselves to fun tourist type places. So one morning—Calvin at work—Brock thought it wouldn’t do Junior any harm—or himself for that matter—to take in some culture and education. Brock remembered Calvin saying the posted rates for entry to the Metropolitan Museum were actually suggested donations, and you could just pay whatever you liked. Despite this, Brock felt obligated to hand over the recommended amount.

As expected, Junior lapped it all up, reading as many information panels as he could, and looking critically at the exhibits. They both particularly enjoyed the Egyptian section. A temple there had been shipped brick-by-brick to the States.

They got so caught up in what was on display, they were almost late for their usual lunch appointment with Calvin.

* * * *

“Howdy, guys,” Tim said when Brock and Junior entered the reception area of Calvin’s firm. “Cal’s in a meeting, although he shouldn’t be much longer. Y’all want to set a spell and wait?”

Brock nodded. Tim was okay, but his attempts to talk Texan just sounded…strange. Brock looked at Junior, who was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“That’s mighty kind o ya.” Brock tipped his hat.
Two can play this game, buddy.

Junior coughed, no doubt to disguise his laugh, and from the corner of his eye, Brock saw the woman who sat behind the reception desk stifle a grin.

“Monica, would you get something to drink for Mr. and Mr. Brockwell?” Tim asked the woman.

“Uh, not for me, thanks, ma’am.” Brock took off his Stetson.

“Or me, thank you,” Junior added, also removing his hat.

“Okay. Like I said, Cal should be free soon. His meeting is running a little long, but I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

“It’s okay, we’re not in any hurry,” Brock told him.

“If you’re sure.”

Brock nodded.

Tim seemed to dither a moment before retreating into his office. Brock got the distinct impression—despite Tim’s outward friendliness—that he didn’t trust Brock. And, to give the man his due, he had a point. Less than a month ago Tim wouldn’t have ever heard of Brock, and now here Brock and Junior were, staying with Calvin and maybe…

One of the doors leading to the reception area opened and Calvin emerged, followed by another man in a suit and a woman Brock thought he recognized…but it couldn’t be.

“Julissa Hudson,” Junior said a bit too loudly.

Brock shushed him.

The woman—dressed in a simple dark skirt and white blouse, but still managing to look stunning—smiled and came over to the two Brockwells who were both on their feet, Stetsons in hand. “You must be Brock and Junior.” She smiled a perfect smile. “Calvin said what a fine couple of men he had in his family, and oh, my, he wasn’t exaggerating.”

Just for a second Brock panicked that Calvin had outed him to a movie star, but then realized she didn’t know anyone he knew. His next reaction was embarrassment at her words, mixed with pleasure that Calvin had talked about him and Junior to this famous person.

Julissa held out a perfectly manicured hand to Brock, who took it. Was he meant to shake it or kiss it? He opted for the former.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

“You, too.” Her smile increased when she turned her attention to Junior, who looked as though he was completely star struck.

“I…I’ve seen all of your movies,” Junior gushed and took her offered hand. “Sorry,” he recovered. “You must get people saying that to you all the time.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “It’s nice to have one’s talents recognized. Which is your favorite picture?”

Junior and Julissa talked for a couple of moments. Junior’s questions seemed intelligent, and his answers to hers were brief but polite. Brock had no idea his son could be so calm and composed talking with a celebrity, when he himself was shaking in his boots.

“Well, we must go,” Julissa said, glancing at Calvin who stood quietly, a small smile teasing at his lips.

The other man spoke for the first time. “Thanks, Calvin, for the update on the ad campaign.”

“Yes,” Julissa said, “I’m really excited about this one. It helps that I actually use the product range, so I won’t have to lie through my teeth about them.”

Calvin laughed. “We needed a well-known face to front the ads, and thanks to you we’ve got it.”

“Pleasure. Let Gary know when you’ve worked something up, and we’ll take things from there.”

“Will do.”

Calvin and Julissa air kissed, then she said goodbye to Brock, and finally Junior.

“Wonderful meeting you both,” she said before she and the man left. A faint cloud of pleasant—and no doubt expensive—perfume remained in her wake.

“Sorry I was busy when you came in,” Calvin said, but Brock was still staring at the door through which Julissa Hudson had just exited. “Brock?” Calvin asked.

“Uh?” Brock turned back to his lover, who was smiling at him. “Wow, I didn’t know you knew famous people like her.”

“They’re just people. Though Julissa is one of the nicer celebs we deal with.”

“She’s awesome,” Junior piped up.

“And so were you, bud,” Calvin said. “I could tell Julissa and her agent were very impressed with you. Wouldn’t surprise me if they ask for you to be part of the ad campaign.”

“Ha!” Junior said.

Calvin shrugged. “You two ready to go be tourists?”

Before Brock could put his hat back on, Calvin touched his hair.

“Getting kinda long,” Calvin observed. “I like it, though.

Brock didn’t. He knew he should have visited the barber before leaving for New York, and told Calvin as much.

“There’s a great salon I go to on Seventy-Second Street. I’m sure they’ll be able to fit you in. Want me to give them a call?”

Brock guessed salons were expensive places, but as he didn’t know of anywhere on his own, he swallowed his unease and nodded his agreement.

“Great, I’ll give them a call now. Then we can grab some lunch.” Calvin rubbed his hands together, obviously pleased to be able to do something else for Brock. As if the guy didn’t do enough.

Brock was still uneasy, but he was rapidly coming to realize this was Calvin. And part of Brock admitted he liked being taken care of.

The barber’s appointment being made for that evening—things sure weren’t like that in Parish Creek—Calvin hustled them out of the office.

In the elevator, Calvin asked Junior, “Shall we go see the Statue of Liberty?”

* * * *

“Want an early night? Calvin glanced at Brock as he loosened his tie and tossed it aside.

Brock—imagining blowjobs, hand jobs and/or frottage—immediately sprang wood, but Calvin’s serious expression had him softening a little.

Calvin ran his hands down Brock’s arms. “Let’s get undressed and into bed, then we can talk.”

“Okay.” Brock became edgy. He went totally soft.

In the bedroom—the drapes open as usual—Calvin snuggled chest-to-chest with Brock, who felt tense.

“Hey, beautiful, it’s nothing bad, but…” Calvin kissed him.

Did Calvin want to fuck him? Brock hadn’t allowed them to have full anal penetration with Junior’s room just across the hallway.

Speaking quietly, Calvin asked, “Have you thought about what sort of work you might want to do if you moved here?”

“I figured I could try and get hired by a construction firm in one of the boroughs.” Brock wondered where Calvin was going with this.

Calvin put his left arm over Brock’s body and pulled him in close. “You won’t like what I’m about to say, but please hear me out, okay?”

“Uh, okay.” Brock felt his pulse rate increase.

“I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you I want to wrap you up in cotton batting…and protect you from everything…and keep you safe…and not let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

Calvin’s powerful words helped to reduce Brock’s tension, but he was obviously building up to something big, and…

“But I know I can’t do that. You’re a man. A strong, proud, capable, independent man who needs to make his own decisions.”

Brock sighed. Look where his pride and his capabilities had gotten him. Bankruptcy.

“I want to set up a construction company for you.”

“No.”

“Brock,” Calvin’s tone stayed calm. “You promised you’d hear me out.” Calvin kissed him. “I wouldn’t be doing this just for you. It’d be for us. For my family, the men I love.”