"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Twenty-Two
By Griz
Umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, Guys;
How's it going in your world? I hope everyone is well, loved and happy. I was out walking around in the sunny weather and met a dog. I'll walk all the way out of my route to meet a dog. Almost any animal will work magic on me. Turn my mood around, focus me on this story, help me remember we are stewards of the planet. Humans don't own it.
And I don't own my daggonned schedule sometimes, which does not make me smile. I'm sorry for leaving the story and you hanging. Please don't hesitate to re-read the last few paragraphs of Chapter Twenty-One to refresh your memory before continuing with Chapter Twenty-Two.
Thank you for your emails. You inspire me and sustain me. If I'd known it was this much fun to write, I'd have worked harder to become literate when I was in school in Lewistown, Montana!
Griz
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
We all parted-----yet again-----for other destinations. Mom and Marc coordinated him stopping at the store to buy some mushrooms and sour cream, as well as five loaves of sourdough bread to go with the gulasz. I was no longer too concerned with my high school transcript; that could wait for another day that week. Really, I just wanted to get home and spend time with Sebastian.
The guilt was pouring in. Ross Sweeney was talking about Sebastian as a disposable piece of meat, and I wasn't doing a much better job, myself. Sebby had a price on his head, but he meant a lot more to me than $7,500.00. Money wasn't going to buy back the times I spent with him over the past five years when he wasn't always doing so well. The sub-zero temperatures in Winter, when he was outside because Dad told me he had to be.
I could hear him bellowing in the middle of the night, and my heart broke. I destroyed two pillows in only one Winter, his second, wrapping those goose down-filled cushions around my ears so I couldn't hear my big guy suffering and wanting me to explain why. And now I'd spent almost half an hour with someone who didn't want Sebastian, for whatever reason, and I was insistent that my purple ribbon-winning steer was just a farm commodity to be traded as per a goddamned handshake contract. Price on the hoof. Grass fed, corn finished. Black Angus Prime. Mom might've called Ross Sweeney `Asshole' once or twice, but I was feeling like the word described me quite adequately.
Sebastian was my big guy who greeted me every day that we saw each other. Who loved being brushed out and given a shower with a garden hose. Who PLAYED TAG with me, for fuck's sake. The way Ross Sweeney talked about Sebastian was with veiled contempt, and all I could do was talk TO that asshole the same way. Only mine was not quite so veiled.
For Ross Sweeney, Sebastian was a bad business decision, one he regretted. I never had a day of regret with my big guy; from the moment Daddy and I met him at the auction and he stood there looking at me, daring me not to adopt him, until this very moment that I was driving back from town, all I could think: the better part of my past 1,825 days was caring for and about someone who, let's be honest, I never once wanted to sell in the first place.
I agreed to it only because the offer to buy by Ross Sweeney made my dad smile, and that last May I had with Dad, I just wanted to make him smile. I wasn't smiling now. I had been matching rudeness with rudeness only minutes ago, and I wasn't proud of it. I used Sebastian to swing my dick around and tell the World (or some runaway clown from wherever, anyway) that a handshake and a check were all my steer were worth. Whether Ross Sweeney got that message or not, well, time would tell; but I was at that very moment the voice at the fairgrounds, the voice in the courtroom:
"Oh, yeah----I got it."
I was out of town, past the airport and almost to the turn-off to the Montoya's Skidoo and ATV dealership. My mind was not on my trip, and I almost missed the turn to the county road that would take me home. I saw that Eva's was not overly busy. I pulled in to the far side of the shack and parked. I needed to clear my mind, and I wanted Eva to do it. She was the only family not at the Yogo Inn, and I knew she would not ask a ton of questions about my meeting there with Ross Sweeney.
Up the steps and inside, I leaned against the counter while Eva took a carful of orders and began preparing who-knows-what. Kim's new drink actually sounded good, but I didn't need to pour any caffeine on an empty stomach. Nothing good would result from that, despite how tasty a tall Amber Waves Latte sounded.
"Hey, Jozef! Hi! Fancy meeting you here! This is what, the third time today, and it's not even Noon!"
"Hi, Eva; yeah, and we'll see each other at least twice more, I'm sure!"
"What can I make you, Hon?"
"Make me.....travel back in time so I'm still asleep, and the battery on my watch is dead, so I don't have to get out of bed."
"Uh-oh.....one of `those Mondays'?"
"Yeah, we all get `em. Today's my turn. Nothing that a nice, long Costco Run to Billings won't take care of. Marc and I are headed that way. He's picking up a suit there, since the one he has won't really work for the job interview Wednesday."
"Well, it's a good day to get outta Dodge; I'd go with you, if I could. Heck, as it is, everyone coming through here has been yakkin' about Junior's arraignment today. Hold on, Love....."
Eva returned to the window to talk with the driver who was ordering drinks for everyone in her car.
'You gonna need a drink carrier? Sure? Let me get you one anyway. Looks like a nice, clean interior for your new buggy. I'd hate to be the reason it doesn't stay that way! That comes to twelve dollars even, Becky. Yeah, I'm sure; three drinks, and none of em too whacked-out! I'll make em fancier and more expensive next time! Okay! Thanks! I will! Come through again! Oh---and say hi to Pete! We sat next to each other in Junior High Concert Band! Drive safely!'
"Sorry, Jozef.....sometimes I have to argue with customers to give them things that'll keep their lives just a little less hectic----like a silly drink carrier. So anyway, you're off to Billings! Nice! Just going down and coming right back?"
"Actually, I don't think so. I'll check with your Other Half, as well as Mom. If they can handle the last day of Harvest, I might treat Marc to a nice overnight in Billings. Dinner at Jake's, maybe."
"Oh, I LOVE Jake's! Snuffy's is great for prime rib right here, but holy heck, she has the lights turned up bright in there, all the time! No cozy, intimate ambience! I asked her about that once: `Turns the tables faster. Get in, eat, pay, get out!' Well, she's doing all right, but damn, you Polish folk could get a sunburn just waiting for someone to arrive with menus and water!"
We laughed, and I agreed, actually. I loved that we had some good businesswomen in town. They knew what they were doing. I didn't have to love the overly-bright lights, but I sure wasn't going to hate that five or six people worked there full-time serving Fergusians who were clearly on the verge of blindness and needed all the help they could get.
"Eva, you need anything from Costco or Billings?"
"A million things, and nothing. I just want to get out of here for a weekend, like you're talking about. Aleksy and me, a night or two in the Sheraton downtown, and only our own whims and interests to keep us occupied and relaxing."
"Darlin', you need only show me how to run that La Marzocco and the cash register, and you can take THREE days off with that dufus. Kim and I can get along, and I'll drag El-Marco in to wash dishes or whatever, too."
"HA! You three would be a complete blast to work with! Not a dull moment between you! Don't tempt me! This thing runs itself, really!"
"Eva, don't rule it out; I'm always happy to come running. If Aleksy can jockey that machine, I know I can at least try. For now, though.....I think I'll continue home. Just wanted to see a friendly face for a moment."
"That bad, huh?"
"The day started with.....well, we were all there, and then Mom and I had to deal with Johnny Mark Ware----which was not fun, and I'll tell you about later----and now I'm coming from a meeting with Ross Sweeney. Three strikes, and I feel like I'M the one who's out."
"Oh! Did you bring me an ice maker?"
"No, Eva; and I'm sorry I spoke so soon about that. I don't know what he really has going on. I took a comment from him literally, and I think it's coming back to bite me. And not only the comment that he was replacing the ice machines. Eva, I'll find you an ice machine."
"Hon, I've been hearing things about that guy.....don't even worry about it. I have a thing worked out with Zayn! He's going to lease me one of those commercial ice chests, like you see outside the Circle-K and 7-11 stores. He'll come by and fill it with 20-pound bags of ice five times a week. As long as I buy my ice from him, the ice chest thing is free. It's old and beat all to crap, but it's free, and for what little he's charging me for ice? I'm way ahead compared to what I would be if I bought even a used ice maker. But thank you, Jozef. You W Boys are the best!"
"If we W Boys are good at anything, it's loving the right people, Eva."
"Oh, go on.....get out of here before I blush so much, I melt all the ice Zayn just brought me this morning!"
"Eva, before I go.....how do you do it?"
"Do what, Hun?"
"You were attacked, brutally. And not the first time. But overnight, you somehow managed to find a smile to wear Sunday. Then comes Monday, and Junior attacked everyone in the courtroom, essentially. I saw you trembling there. Two hours later, you're smiling at me like I would if someone told me Mel Brooks was making a new movie."
"HA! I'd go with you to see that! HUGE fan! But anyway.....I endured three years with Junior, because no matter how bad he made me feel, I made Me feel worse. One day, I just woke up, literally and figuratively, and realized I had the time for only one of us to make me feel that way. So, I got out of Junior's house and him, mostly, out of my life. Ever since, he has made threats against me, and sometimes I slip and buy back into the notion that I deserve what he gives. Not healthy, huh? I'm working on it.
But anyway, today in court, I was surrounded by family. There was nothing that Junior could say that any of you WOULD say---ever. I was watching a woman, a little, old woman, who was much more brave than I have ever been, handle a bully feared county-wide. She gave me a gift that I haven't known for years: absolute peace and certainty that Junior can't hurt me, you, or anyone else for MONTHS. No one is going to post that bail for him. I have no reason not to smile. Well, for awhile.
And, in fact, I think I have lots of reasons TO smile: Aleksy, you, Marie, Marc; all these caffeine addicts who do not understand the beyond-reasonable mark-up on silly coffee drinks; Dan Gremaux. Fergus County. A dog that did what I only dream of now: kids. Smiling, Jozef, is my responsibility, because all of you have paid me in love and safety. A smile is the least I can do as a return on your investment in me."
I expected Eva to just say something like, `The meds are working!' I stepped behind her line to share a hug. I wasn't kidding: Aleksy, Dad and I had a natural talent for being our best, for the best. Only one missing name and piece to that Norman Rockwell jigsaw puzzle.
Who would you have brought home, Gus? Where would she have come from, and who would her people have been? And what would your children be named? And how many would be your contribution to the seventh generation?
I waved and walked out back to my rig, back on the road, back to the farm. There were Mom and Aleksy, setting up the big table outside with bowls, utensils and napkins. I heard a honk behind me, and sure enough, Marc was flashing his headlights and waving. I hoped we got back in time to contribute to lunch. We still had an hour before The Team would descend for gulasz, but Time runs faster on Farm W when food is involved.
All four of us laughed and carried on, steaming peas, slicing bread, sautéing shrooms, harvesting a little dill for the sour cream, making lemonade and iced tea, and then----with all that behind us----I snuck off to tell my big guy all I could in a hug, two apples and three carrots, and a pan of oats---just for him. I took his purple halter off his head. He'd probably forgotten it was even there, but I wanted him to be like he was when we first met: unbound, free to frolic and flirt with his human, and as happy as I could make myself believe a castrated bull could be.
God, I hoped he'd forgotten that.....and I was glad I wasn't the one who'd had the dubious dishonor of emasculating an otherwise perfect critter. You know, though: Sebastian won a purple ribbon for being perfect. Someone other than myself saw that in him, and the news made its way all across three counties to Great Falls and the State Fair there.
"Sebby, you smell like the bovine beast that you are. I love you, but I think you and I are going to get all cleaned up Wednesday. If your step-daddy is gonna get dressed up to go to town, you and I can kinda do the same thing to stay out here. I have a new bright green halter for you, too. You'll glow in the dark, or at least a little bit of you will. Ol' Barn Owl is gonna be plum confused when she swoops down on what she thinks is a neon bunny, only to find you sporting the disco thing on your head."
Sebby moo'd at me a good, long time. Perhaps he was giving me absolution for my transgressions earlier in the morning, talking with someone I regretted ever having met. I did not doubt Ross Sweeney had found himself in dire straits with the Yogo Inn. Was it really that imperative that I hold him to his word? If he wants to back out, I don't run the risk of being handed a rubber check, and I keep my big guy a little longer. And maybe we actually go to the State Fair in Great Falls. I needed to think about that. What is the big picture in either scenario?
Ross Sweeney has effectively ruined his management reputation with his very own staff, since they heard him speak cruelly and ungraciously about the very people who bring money in. Would they all call out sick for the Shriner's convention? I would not be surprised, but I also would hope not; why punish the conventioneers because the innkeeper is an idiot? All that would do is bring shame and a bad rep on Lewistown, too; and all the other businesses in town don't deserve the fallout.
There were two.....Well, two and a half.....ugly situations that morning. None of them were comparable. Junior went out of his way to hurt someone, and he was made to answer for it. Johnny Mark Ware didn't hurt anyone; he's just a lazy, self-absorbed, half-a-businessman. Ross Sweeney didn't physically hurt anyone, at least in terms of me or Sebastian; but he's a bad businessman and not a good leader.
Three men who have not-bright futures in Fergus County, and all because of how they treat-----or fail to treat-----people and commitments to them. The Unholy Triumvirate of Professional Victims. Where's Famke Ossenhavig to build a shrine or basilica to those three? Lots of space available, out by the garbage landfill.
That roadtrip to Billings was looking in my mind to be the rural equivalent of a cruise on the Normandie from New York to Le Havre. I wanted away from wife beaters in wifebeaters, furniture stores staffed with some kind of Alvin and the Chipmunks, and an unscrupulous, dishonorable out-of-stater who slithered into Montana and wanted to do things their way, here. It'd be nice to focus on a suit, a bedroom suite, and whatever was on Mom's list for the warehouse club visit.
I checked on Lola Cola, and was greeted with her usual, gregarious personality. But.....Oh. No. Please, no.
"ALEKSY!"
He came running from the kitchen where Mom and Marc were still putting the finishing touches on lunch for The Crew. My brother got up next to me just as Lola Cola nosed my little guy away from her and the other kids. OC stood by and groomed his face. He didn't examine the little pup, and in fact did not even look in his direction.
Was the growing-too-fast pup having some congenital problem? Something else? He was moving and breathing, and I could hear the sounds he was making. Aleksy picked him up and put his ear to the baby dog's chest. He said he could hear the heart beating, but didn't notice anything wrong.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called my boy.
"Don't we see each other enough in a day? Do we have to talk on the phone, too? You have a man now, remember?"
"Yes. About this, yes. Lola Cola separated one of the pups from her litter. It's the one I call my little guy. You know who I'm talking about."
"Yeah, I do. Is he breathing? Moving at all?"
"Yes to both."
"Does he move around on his own?"
"No, not much; stays close to the teat. Or did. Sleeps a lot."
"This could be something and it could be nothing. Lola Cola might be sensing some internal thing. He's a little young for it, but he could already be developing cancer. I'll come get him and take him to Sally. She can take blood and maybe get results in her own lab. Seems like LeVar is a lab whiz. They could at least rule it out, or determine if it is cancer."
"Can't ask you to do that, Bud."
"I want to do it. I want to see every step of the process, since this breed has a propensity for cancer. This is my professional trajectory; now is not too soon to get immersed. I'll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Do you have a little box with a towel, and a water bottle that can be filled with at least warmer water? Also a formula feeding bottle."
"I'll have it all ready for you. Coming through the fields again?"
"Seems the fastest way. Where's your herd today?"
"In the little pasture. You won't be near them."
"On my way, Bud. Keep yer fingers crossed."
"Okay. Thanks, Tommy."
Aleksy heard the conversation, but I saw no indication if he was at peace with it. He and I had both committed to getting those pups to adulthood safely, and it seemed 8% of our brood might not have the same goal. I hoped Tommy and Sally could do something about my little guy.
I looked at Lola Cola. She did not seem down, sad, blue, regretful or anything. Life was going on for the other eleven pups, and she was just as friendly with Aleksy and me as she had been every day up to today. I'm sure Tom would know all the reasons why a mama dog would isolate one pup.
Get here, Tom; I want my little guy to live. My big guy, my little guy. Don't want either one going away.
This entire past week had been about mortality. Dad's, first and foremost. Both Marc's and Aleksy's college academic careers. Sebastian's impending mortality. And now, the little dog who had given us concerns a few days ago, has been separated from his brothers and sisters. A lot to worry about, and I try to not worry. Worrying is just praying for something you don't want. Worrying is also just what a human does when nothing else he knows how to do will work.
Tommy arrived, and we had my little guy, a towel and a hot water bottle in a box originally containing four gallons of milk. Tommy had an iPod, too; one of the small, postage-stamp-sized units. He had a little speaker wired to it, and he had a calm heartbeat programmed to play endlessly. He said it would keep the pup calm, thinking Lola Cola was there with him. See why Tommy would make a great vet? He already thinks about what will comfort an unwell animal. Heck, there are billions of humans who just don't know how to---or just don't want to---do the same thing for their own.
When he shot up to the county road and headed from Sally's and LeVar's clinic, Aleksy and I went back to helping with lunch. Our mood was somber, but Tommy told us to hope for the best, and don't dwell on the worst. Things happen, and we were old enough to know that. Nothing that could be wrong would necessarily be our fault. Lola Cola, a smaller bitch, threw a huge, first litter. Those factors right there could play significant roles in the pups' development, just like they caused Lola Cola a medical emergency of her own recently.
We washed up and joined Mom and Marc. We relayed what had happened. Mom and Marc listened, and this was just like any other farm conversation recently: someone died', someone's ill', 'something's going wrong, but something else will go right'. Marc gave me a hug. He was slicing bread and warming it. Mom had the gulasz ready to serve. All was well. We had a moment to talk.
"Jozef, there was mention by Paulette that you pulled a business card out for Ross Sweeney with our attorney's name and two phone numbers on it. The card I have has only one phone number on it, and she hasn't dropped off any new ones. How did you happen to have a new card from our attorney?"
"I didn't. I didn't tell him I was specifically giving him our attorney's card. I just handed him a card and told him he or his attorney was welcome to call either of `her' numbers on the card I gave him."
"Well, whose card was it?"
"It was a card given to me as a joke once. A friend's big brother got it in Las Vegas when he visited. The card belonged to a sex worker, and had only her full name and two phone numbers on it. My friend's brother thought it could `cure' me in the orientation sense. I kept it because I thought it was funny. Today, it got some use. The woman on the other end of the line might not help Ross Sweeney get off from his handshake obligation to buy Sebastian, but she might still get him off."
Marc was rolling in laughter, and Mom tried not to laugh----but she failed miserably.
"HAHAHA!!! What if he comes after you for pranking him with that?!? He's----HAHAHA!!!---embarrassed badly enough already!"
"Exactly; he'd be so embarrassed about being pranked, do you think he'd ever admit what happened? That some punk-assed `Kiddo' got one over on the suave, slithery Texan wanna-be innkeeper? Nah, if he calls that number and figures out what's going on, he'll carry that embarrassment to his grave. Or at least out to the Bar-19 to drink it away."
Marc laughed more and shook his head.
"Remind me to never get on the bad side of anyone on Team W!"
"Reminders won't work, Boyfriend; you're one of us now. You can check out of Farm W any time you like, but you can never leave."
The Team came through the fields and took the back way into the barnyard. Everything was ready. Every man headed to the barn to get cleaned up. Mom offered Helen the house restroom, if she'd like to use it. She smiled and was grateful for the offer. Soon everyone was in the front yard, beneath the huge, old, shading trees.
I brought out all the pitchers of drinks, Mom brought out the crock pots, Aleksy got the bowls of peas and Marc handled the sliced bread. Before sitting, everyone bowed their heads in prayer of gratitude for the food and friendship, and also for no causalities in all three days of harvesting so far.
As they dug in and talked with Mom and Aleksy, I pulled the one-ton from its parking place and backed it up to the big horse trailer. I was taking it to Billings, just in case we found a bedroom suite we liked. There'd also be room for Costco stuff, too, in the huge bed of the truck. Marc's suit? It'll hang neatly and safely in the back seat of the F350. We then went upstairs to get some things in our backpacks for overnight, and once fully ensconced in electronics, charging bases and cords, fresh jeans and shirts, underwear, socks, toiletries et al, we were ready to go.
Mom and I discussed paying for the furniture. I had my farm American Express and my own checkbook, but if she'd prefer, I'd take the letter of credit we keep on file, too. She suggested I take both. The letter of credit would charge less interest, and right to the bank. So, we had options. Costco was going to be the farm VISA. Marc's suit? Well, he brought cash. Interesting.
All loaded up, we ran through the plan with Mom and Aleksy. When I mentioned dinner at Jake's, they both approved and said they would not plan on us being back until Tuesday evening, late. Latest case: early Wednesday morning. Marc's interview was scheduled for Wednesday at 3:30PM. Damn, this was all happening so fast. I think that day had me feeling rushed with unpleasantries, and I wasn't entirely prepared for things to 180 on me yet.
But that's what the trip was for: to try to have a pleasant second half of the day. With just my man and me, and knowing how he was feeling today about the arraignment (and his future involvement in the trial) as well as the job interview, and how those two events might not be separable by some on the school board? Yes: Love up on my man. Lots, and assuringly. In his birthday suit or in his new suit, whether made of wool and silk, burlap or shining armor.
"Boyfriend, ever pull a trailer before?"
"Babe, the most I've pulled behind me was a little red Radio Flyer wagon through the Magnolia neighborhood of Seattle."
"How'd you like to try this once we're a ways down the road?"
"Heck, yeah. Pulling a horse trailer behind a one-ton truck on a highway? That'll give me a welcome dose of testosterone!"
"As if you need more testosterone.....hardly. Highway 87 between Roundup and Billings is really just a straight-away. We can actually fuel up in Roundup, and then I'll hand the reins over to you, all the way into Billings. After we go buy furniture and stuff, you might consider driving the same shot from Billings back to Roundup. You'll feel the difference between an empty load and one of about 2,000 pounds. That's very light, but you'll still notice it."
"I like it already."
We got on the county road, and at that speed, the throaty, rumbly Power Stroke motor was singing its turbo version of some old Rosemary Clooney song to us. Sounded lovely. I loved Dad's truck. It rode so comfortably, and was never without all the power necessary to drive 250 miles round-trip, or climb a tree in first gear. The sweet spot between speed, horsepower and torque was that truck's version of an orgasm. Not that a seventeen-year-old farm boy knows ANYTHING about an orgasm, of course.....I just repeat what I read.....
We got to `Common Grounds', and we parked alongside the road where the big rigs could be found around the clock these days. Between the truck's front bumper and the trailer's back bumper, ten normal-sized rigs could be in line for coffee drinks. No reason to hog all the space and deny Eva more revenue. We walked inside and got hugs from both Eva and Kim. There was the smile I left only what seemed like minutes ago. I now understood it better.
"You Boys headed to The Big City finally?"
"Sure are! Gonna see how the Twenty-First Century looks!"
"How ya gonna keep em down on the farm, after they've been to Billings?', I always say. Want some drinks to go? `Amber Waves' has caramel and vanilla! Oh, and I just pulled hybrid cookies out of the oven, too."
"Two `Amber Waves', Eva; biggest you have, of course. Oh---did you want something, Marc?"
We laughed. No way I'd drink two of those within the same week, let alone the same road trip.
"What's a `hybrid cookie', Love?"
"Half sugar cookie white and half chocolate espresso black. A new experiment."
"Two of those, too, please!"
"Correction, Eva.....four of those. I don't stand a chance of getting even a crumb, from the sound of `em. Two for Jozef, two for me. Bagged separately, please. And do you have a lock for mine? Even some duct tape?"
All four of us laughed, and Kim got started on the drinks. She was really a lovely person; bubbly personality, and razor-sharp remembering names. I hoped her Helena friend would like being in Lewistown. Eva bagged up four cookies, and then included a few raisin bars she'd also made. I liked those a lot; I remember her making those in the `Eva 1.0 Years', when she was still in high school and dating my big brother.
Her banana bars were fantastic, too. Simple, inexpensive to make, beloved by everyone. I remember a particular instance when Eva soaked the raisins in rum and brandy for a few days before baking them. Dad's eyes disappeared into the back of his head when he brought some home to share last Christmas. To this day: I love raisins no other way than drunk on rum & brandy.
Once Kim had our lifeforce-challenging coffees made, we hugged all the way around again and I handed a Twenty and a Five to Kim.
"Wait-----that's way too much!"
"Then use what's left as a `pay-it-forward', or keep it in case someone winds up short sometime. Or: a really good tip for the best bakeristas in the county!"
"You Boys are the best! Drive safely!"
"Oh, yeah; we will. We have treats! Oh-----don't forget to call if you decide after all you want something from Billings, or any point between here and there! I think we'll be back tomorrow."
"GOOD. Okay, I'll let you know. Thanks for coming by!"
We got in, strapped up, tuned the radio to something we'd both like, and off we took. The slow crawl through downtown Lewistown was uneventful, although I saw Ross Sweeney's triple-blue Eldorado driving in the opposite direction. I don't think he recognized me, but I could tell he was not looking happy. I was beyond the animus between us earlier.
My thought now was that regardless of anything and everything, his mother's health was failing. It was very probable to the hospital he was returning. We are born to parents who are already in the process of dying, incrementally and slowly, but that knowledge does nothing to bring relief or comfort in that fact.
This would be a trip that would afford Marc and me some alone and focused time to really talk. And listen, too. I needed to get his counsel on the entire matter of Sebastian and a handshake. Marc wasn't all that much older than I was that Summer, and maybe he had never been involved in a similar arrangement; but he was over 200 pounds of studly fresh perspective for me. He was also a source for cookies and raisin bars, if I could distract him long enough while he was driving......heh.....I'm not a nice person, all the time.
We got well past the last of the three stop lights on Main Street (which is also Highway 200). I pointed out the corner where the old KXLO-AM radio station building was, and brought Marc up to speed on what my big brother had told me, regarding Eva's consideration for a second location of `Common Grounds'. Marc in all his fresh perspective noticed something I had not: It was also close to the other grocery store in town. He rubbed his chin for a moment.
"So, Eva's current hut is at the top of Main Street Hill, which is close to Town & Country Super Store', and this is only a couple of blocks away from Albertson's'. Before-and-after business from the shoppers at both `Common Grounds'. Also, this location is close to Farm n' Fleet Supply, Tru-Value Hardware, the Rural Electric Association building, and the Bureau Of Land Management (BLM) offices. Lots of tradespeople, professionals, teachers, shoppers and others, all in a three-blocks radius. I don't see how Eva can go wrong with this location. Also, it's far enough away----over two miles----that neither location will cannibalize the other."
"Wait-----you've only been in town for a few days, and you're doing market analysis for Eva?"
"No.....not at all. At least.....I don't think so. I just noticed these places when The Grandies took me to The Dash-Inn one day for lunch. In fact, I'd say that's her only drive-through competition, and they don't sell coffee; and Eva doesn't sell burgers and fried chicken. You know what I REALLY think Lewistown, if not all of Fergus County needs, though?"
"An adult book store, open twenty-four hours a day, and an arcade with twenty booths in it, way in back?"
"What.....you're not serious.....are you?"
"Of course not! That's what a MacBook Pro and a high-speed internet connection are for!"
"Well, then.....? You still have two guesses."
"Umm.....an Apple Store, and a decent Mexican restaurant?"
"I'll agree to both, but no. What is it with you and Apple stuff? Just how much Kool-Aid did you drink?! Anyway, back on track----there's no place to go for ice cream here."
"You're right! My gosh."
"Common Grounds' at one end of her larger, longer second location here, and Moooooons Over Montana' at the other end."
"Did you really just name an ice cream drive-through based on the sound a cow makes?"
"Where else does the cream come from to make ice cream?"
"Marc, all joking aside, that's a really good idea."
"I don't have bad ideas. Well, except for going running in the dark, but I met the light of my life while doing it."
"Awwww.....just you wait until we get to Roundup and stop for fuel. You'll get a nice reward for sayin' that."
"I'm riding in a truck with my nice reward already, Jozef....."
"SECOND `AWWWW'!"
"Oh.....wait.....you thought I meant.....? I meant your half of the cookies."
"KEEP YOUR SWEET HANDS OFF MY SWEETS!"
"Keep your sweet hands on the steering wheel! My `brainy ideas' have earned me all the calories in the cab!"
"Grrrr......and NOT the good `Grrrr.....'!"
"All `Grrrrs' are good. In fact....."
"Oh, I know what you're gonna say......please don't say it....."
".....They're `GRRRRREAT!'"
"I said `please'....."
"Well, just keep practicing saying that, Babe; I may or may not have brought a bottle of lube and a cock ring with me for this trip. Aleksy told me the walls in the Billings Sheraton are almost sound-proof."
"TEASE! Diesels aren't really known for speed! Now I'm gonna be thinkin' about silicone and silly cock rings for 130 miles, and Time is gonna barely creep by....."
"So this only LOOKS like the Montana Millennium Falcon? Then you'll have to think about something to amuse you."
Marc smiled and slid his hand over, placing it on my thigh. Ice cream stands and icy waves up and down my spine. Who is this biz wizard sitting beside me?!
"Or, take your mind off the moisture currently accumulating in your Levis, and tell me what Marie was talking about when she referred to rats."
I shuddered and replayed the `basement-beasts-at-Ware's' event for Marc. He liked it as much as I did. That made my mind screech to a halt:
"Boyfriend! You said you bought a mattress! The one we slept on, that replaced the queen-sized marshmallow! Did you buy that at Ware's?!"
"Nope. It was delivered from Great Falls by Four Seasons Furniture Company there. Still in the box, too; no holes in it from critters gnawing through it, either coming or going. At least, not that I saw."
"Whew. Damn! Well, the lesson for me: there's no vermin-free guarantee with any store, local or not. We all take our chances, and with almost everything."
"I think you're right. Hotel mattresses can have bed bugs. Store mattresses can have rats. Everything is a risk."
"Um, Boyfriend, that's not exactly going to help me sleep tonight at the Sheraton....."
"What makes you think I was planning on us sleeping?"
"Ooooo! You have a perfectly filthy mind, I'm pleased to say!"
"I think I can feel you're pleased.....either that, or you have a compound fracture under the denim covering your thigh. Are you in pain?"
"Nope, but I hope to be later. And not from a bed bug."
We laughed and continued our drive. Marc laughed because he thought I was joking. I laughed because it detracted from my sudden anxiety about being subjected all night to a nice dick wearing lube and a ring. At Highway 87's junction with Highway 200, we turned and I pulled off near Grass Range.
"Boyfriend, if you're all right with it, take over driving now. There are some winds that pick up around here, due to the change in topography. They won't blow us off the road; they're not strong enough. They will, though, challenge a light and empty trailer. This is something good to experience."
"Then I'm all for it. Funny to think something that weighs as much as this trailer is actually `light', empty or loaded."
We traded places and strapped in. Before starting the motor again, Marc opened the hatch on the console and parked the cookies and bars in there, and then locked it up. He smiled as he turned the ignition.
"Oh, don't sit over there looking all innocent, Babe; I know quite well already what you'd have been doing, the moment we got up to speed and my hands were busy jockeying a `light truck and trailer' in the wind!"
"Well, well, well; when Harvard came to Montana, it brought some street smarts, too! Whaddyaknow about that??"
"Everything, of course. Now. `Sally Forth To Destinations Roundup And Beyond!'"
"Marc, do you mean you're gonna sit there, drive a bad-assed truck and quote interpreted Napoleon Bonaparte?"
"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW THIS STUFF AT SEVENTEEN?!"
"A `question for the Ages', if ever there were one. Anyway. I need to ask you something, and I'm anticipating this'll be a longer conversation. I need your guidance on the Yogo Inn thing earlier today."
"We can discuss whatever you want, Babe; but if we hit winds or they hit us, and with this being the first time I've pulled anything but a muscle in my groin----or that cute little wagon----I might be distracted and not give you the attention you deserve. If you're all right with that, then `please proceed, Governor'."
(I loved that last part of Marc's comment. I've watched that second election debate over and over, and think #44 was ten steps ahead at all times. Damned 22nd Amendment, if only in that particular administration. Still, to have Marc quote it.....pure gold.)
"Heh! Love you for that! Okay, so I think I rose to some bait left for me by my well-meaning mom. She was pissed off that Ross Sweeney at the Yogo was trying to weasel out of an agreement he had with Dad and me, to buy Sebastian as a promotion for the hotel, and then sell steaks that he'd advertise as `home-grown Fergusian, Montanan, American wholesomeness'.
The thing is, Ross Sweeney isn't trying to get out of the deal because he found another steer, better in quality and lower in price; he's broke. He's trying to avoid public humiliation. Maybe he went about the whole thing very badly today, but he wasn't trying to be hurtful.....I don't think so, anyway. As well, he'd just returned from seeing his mother at the hospital, and I know from recent experience that seeing a parent in a hospital does not bring out the best in a son's thoughts and behavior.
I had some moments of surprising adult-like maturity and rhetoric in my meeting with Ross Sweeney, but at the end of the meeting, we accomplished nothing. I think I have backed him into a corner to honor the handshake, because that was expected of me. I know Mom SAID she'd be fine with whatever I decided to do with Ross Sweeney's attempted back-out, but I don't really think that would've been the case. Dad made that deal. I kinda think Dad' and deal' weighed defensively on her mind, more than my involvement, and my steer. Does that make sense?"
"It makes sense, Babe. It all makes sense, now that I have a full, or fuller, picture. Is now the okay time to tell you more, or do you have anything additional to say?"
"No, nothing more. Well, except that I feel badly for what unkind perception I'm giving you of Mom in this instance."
"Don't think for a moment I judge you for an honest assessment----and one which I think you're right about, to be candid. Marie is only hours past the moment her husband died, and you and Aleksy are his legacy. Not the farm; anyone can grow grains, although perhaps not as well as your Dad did, considering the purple ribbon he got for that. A farm is just a farm; you and your brother are living, breathing, biological and genetic issue from your father-----and Marie's husband.
It's entirely reasonable that she might place more importance, more expectation of respect, for your dad and the memory of his business acumen. And not just from the people who knew him well; but from anyone who'd ever met him. It keeps him just that much more alive for your mom. So yes, I think it's probable that she was strong in her opinion of Ross Sweeney and his perceivably ill intentions, and that she was swaying you----but not intentionally."
"Ahhhh.....wow. Lots to unfold and examine in all that, Marc."
"As there has been for me in every moment of my life in reaction to my parents' behavior. And that'll never change for me. I know. But as regards you and today.....I think you are onto something, and if I may ask, what do you think will bring you peace? You're obviously not at peace, because we're discussing this situation."
"No, I'm not at peace. I don't want to be known as a parrot for Ned and Marie Wojtowicz. Not in all things. Yes, for the integrity I was raised with; but no, not for cleaving unto their feelings, just because they had them for themselves."
"Babe, That's a great step toward being at peace, at least internally; but it's not going to be all you have to accomplish as far as Sebastian is concerned."
"No. Fuck. FUCK! I need a cookie!"
"Not until we get to Roundup! I have the key, and it's in the ignition, remember."
I smiled wryly at him and pulled down the visor on my side of the truck. Down dropped another key. I held it up.
"I made the mistake of losing a key to my truck, and I swore I would not make that mistake again. Ha-HA, Professor!"
"So much for my Harvard education AND my street smarts. FOILED AGAIN!"
"You will always have your looks to fall back on, Marc. And they'll get you pretty far.....for a few more years, anyway."
"Oh! Always the smart-ass! And what do YOU have to fall back on??"
"Your hard dick. Something else I hope you'll have for at least a few more years, anyway."
We laughed and I unlocked the console, pulling out one of the two bags of hybrid cookies. I handed him one of the big treats, and took the other for myself. One bite later, and I was hard again. Food and Marc.....my Kryptonites, and not necessarily in that order.
Marc and I nibbled away on them, remarking on the flavor and textures, and swallowed bite after bite down with the Raspberry Zombies.
"Jozef, I can think of two options for your dilemma. You might have others, but as I see it, you can stand on ceremony----the handshake and verbal agreement---or you can accept the fact that there are not $7,500.00 waiting for you in two weeks. Can you think of other scenaria in addition to those?"
"No....."
"And knowing you'll have to sleep that night, two weeks from now, regardless of what happens-----what will help you sleep better, if at all?"
"Not expecting Ross Sweeney to suddenly have that money. And you know what's worse? People backed into desperate corners do desperate things. What would he do to or with Sebastian? We know from Junior that someone who is filled with anger and depression can be mighty cruel. I can't tolerate any kind of such notion toward an innocent animal, any more than I could tolerate Junior's action toward someone in my own family."
"A valid point, and one which I had not considered. Jozef, I wasn't allowed to have so much as a cat or a dog when I was growing up. I don't know, and likely never will, what you feel toward animals. I just know it's something special, and not at all unique. Everyone I see in Fergus County has a dog, a cat, a horse, a something else, and in many cases, several combinations of them."
"Fuck. Reason enough to let Ross Sweeney out of this deal is to keep him from hurting my big guy. Geez....."
"I don't think it'd be an enjoyable conversation, but if could have a follow-up with this Mr Sweeney, what might you discuss?"
"The safe thing would be how much I like his old blue Eldorado, but I guess going after safe things all the time results in a heck of a boring life. It'd be like being stuck in a WalMart, and all the TVs in the Electronics Department are tuned to `Hee-Haw'."
"Well, the cookie WAS tasting good, but now....."
"I guess if I had a second conversation, it would have to be with Sebastian's best interests; not Ross Sweeney's, not mine. I don't need $7,500.00. He does. How many people would he fire just to justify spending that money for a promotion that isn't really necessary, anyway? It's not like there's another Yogo Inn anywhere near. If he fired Paulette or Karyn or Josie just to cover the Sebastian's check, I'd be in a really, really bad mood-----and at myself for letting it happen."
"Jozef, I love you because you exist. You don't ever need justification for that love. But I'll be danged if at this very moment, I don't feel just a little more love for you, Babe."
I got a tear in my eye, and he got my hand on his thigh. I had nothing more to say for a couple more miles. That was not how I thought my day would go, from the moment I awoke until that very moment.
We watched the countryside race past us at 70 MPH. I pointed out a few spots of interest, all of them historical. One of those was where Lewis & Clark ventured through on their way to the West Coast. How different it probably all looked to them, and yet, how much the same, too. Two hundred years are not two thousand, nor twenty thousand, in the Pleistocene Epoch's ice age, during which all of Montana was covered in.....you guessed it: ice. Well, and AOL discs, received in the mail weekly.
While I was telling Marc about the trip the previous Sunday on this road with Mom, being escorted by Dan at nearly the speed of sound, my phone rang. I saw on the radio's display that Tom was calling. A new sense of foreboding and regret washed over me, but I can deny my boy nothing, particularly my attention when he's helping me with my little guy.
"Tommy."
"Hey, ya big Polish Pansy; how's the trip?"
"As if you need to ask! You've been on Highway 87 yourself. We're the only exciting thing on this stretch of asphalt."
"Hi, Marc; is Jeffrey driving you crazy while driving like a lunatic?"
"Hey, Tom. Nah, actually, I'm driving. Getting used to pulling an empty trailer in cross-winds."
"Oh, yeah. You'll get your education in that subject on that road. So what's the rhinestone cowboy doing? Discoloring the leather upholstery with his gassy ass?"
"HAHAHA! No, we're solving the Problems Of The World."
"Well, I have one less problem for you. That future giant dog is just fine. No problems. Sally let me draw the blood myself and walk with LeVar through the lab work, and that pup is a-ok. I'm actually at your place now, returning him to his mom and siblings. And that old cat. Everyone is happy."
I sat upright and finally----finally---smiled with some hope for humanity (And caninity. And bovinity.).
"YEAH??! You're not just fuckin' with me, Tommy?"
"Never about animals, always about everything else. So, the mystery about why Lola Cola was nosing him over toward you, but wasn't at all upset while doing it? Sally says she was acknowledging you as that pup's adoptive dad. You're obviously giving him a little more love and attention than the others, and she knows it.
That's Lola Cola's way of relieving her own stress by already deciding her brood's immediate future. He's not weaned yet, of course; but she wanted you to know when the time comes, she expects and trusts you to take him and love him like you already do. Does that make sense?"
"FUCK YEAH, it makes sense! WOO-HOO! He's all right! Goddamn, am I smiling right now!"
"Yeah, and probably shattering that huge moon roof with that loud, shrill, `Big-Nelly-On-The-Prairie' voice of yours!"
"You know, I'm gonna beat your punk ass when we get back from Billings....."
"Heh.....don't talk to me about ass' and Billings'. You're just going all the way down there so you don't give the chickens heart attacks with all your screamin' and carryin' on in your own place. I know you."
Marc was laughing, which was good to see and hear.
"Oh, would you look at the time! Gotta go! Bye, Tom!"
Before I could disconnect the call, he kept going.
"Wait-wait-wait-----um, why is that big, blue Cadillac parking in front of your house?"
"What? That's Ross Sweeney's Eldorado."
"I know who it belongs to. Looks like a goddamned pimp car, particularly with the longhorns on the radiator. That guy is the missing character from "Dallas". What a poser.....posing like he's from Texas, which he actually is.....but why is he here?"
"Tom, I gotta go. Calling Mom. Thanks, Bud. Really."
I didn't wait for his response. I disconnected the call and rang up Mom on the house phone, not her cell phone. The door into the house is at the same room where the house phone is. I wanted her by a phone and her eye on the door. Safety, after all. I don't trust people, I think. At least some people.
"Jozef?"
"Yeah. Mom, why is Ross Sweeney in my house? Is he there to talk to me, or to talk to you about me?"
"Well, both."
"Mom, put him on speaker phone. This is not your conflict."
"Jozef....."
"MOM, PLEASE."
I heard the click and the audible difference in ambience.
"Mr Sweeney, what can I do for you?"
"Listen, Jeff....."
"Jozef. And I'm listening. Before you say anything more, I want to know if the reason you're there is imperative to anything but Sebastian, or if it can wait until I'm back in town."
"I want to get this matter resolved, sooner than later. `Now' would be just about right, and I drove all the way out here."
"And I'm not there, which you'd have known if you'd called first. Your concerns can wait until I'm back in town. Please leave, and I'll call you. We will discuss anything important then."
"I think we should discuss it now."
"And I think you should get off our property now, or I'll have the sheriff, the highway patrol, all of Malmstrom Air Force Base, my brother AND my steer help you drive back up to the county road. I will have a conversation with you, Ross; but not now, and not while you're there. You have nothing to discuss with anyone else."
"Goddamned fucking kids....."
I could hear Ross Sweeney's voice and comment get smaller and quieter. Then I heard the kitchen door open and slam shut. Mom took the phone back off the speaker function.
"Jozef. What has gotten into you?"
"Lock the door until that slick bastard is gone. What has got into me? Too much caffeine and too much sugar, and a little common sense along the way. Look, Mom; he should never have come out there, unwelcome and uninvited. I will make that clear. But I want to ask: did you know he'd be there?"
"Nope. But how did you know?"
"Tommy called me. He brought back my little guy. All is well with him, but with me, well, this has been a downright interestin' day, to say the least. I'll be really happy to die a very, very old man, with this day having never repeated itself."
"HAHAHA! Well, Ross Sweeney is gone. I'm glad Tommy is here, though. And I'm glad the pup is okay. Why do you think Ross came back?"
"To get me to change my mind. It sure wasn't to offer his help with the harvest."
"Well, you're not GOING to change your mind. He's hoping your memory for verbal contracts is as short as his was."
"Ummm.....We're about to roll into Roundup, and I want to get fuel here, and see if ol' Nadine Three Eagles is still runnin' the store. I'll call you when we get to Billings. Oh----I don't have a list for Costco from you yet. Not going there today, so not imperative at this moment; just a reminder."
"Thanks, Hon. If you see Nadine, say hi for me. For all of us. Tell her I'd like her to come stay a weekend with us when she's up in this area. She knew my grandparents, and I don't have near the historical information about them that she has."
"I'll tell her, Mom. Look, I don't think Ross Sweeney will come back there, but you heard me assure him of the assistance I can get out there at a moment's notice. I might've exaggerated just a little about Malmstrom, but not all the others. Dan would be there before Ross could get from his ridiculous car to the kitchen door."
"Heh.....that guy is not going to sleep tonight!"
"His mom is in the hospital. His mind right now is on a lot of different things. Coming to the farm was not his best decision, but I'm glad Tommy called when he did, and told me about Ross Sweeney being there."
"Oh, I could've handled his contractual confusion."
"No. Respectfully, Mom; that's my fight. He didn't shake hands with you, and Sebastian is not your steer in question. This is mine to resolve, one way or another, whether I handle it right or not. But thank you."
"Oh, dear.....I have no more boys living in my house; just men. I miss my little boys. I need to talk with Eva about that crib....."
"YES! Now THAT is a conversation I whole-heartedly endorse! And if you're going to `Common Grounds', get one of her hybrid cookies. I hope she'll put those on the menu."
"Okay, Jozef. I'm glad you called. Marc, how's Jozef's driving?"
"Hi, Marie. I think you meant to ask, `how is Jozef's being chauffeured around like a lazy ass?'"
"Well, at least get him to tip you once you get to Billings. And make HIM pay for dinner!"
"Of that, you may be assured! It's good to talk with you; we'll check in later this evening. Bye, Marie."
"Bye, Boys. Uh, I mean MEN."
We laughed and disconnected the call. That truck had two 35 gallon tanks, and maybe only a few gallons were gone from one of `em, but I really did want to stop in and see Nadine Three Eagles, and put a few dollars in her cash register. She was one of the first adults I remembered from my time as a very little boy.
She had the adult and baby geese on the farm connected to ours on the south, the ones I always wanted Dad to take me to see. I'd chase them, they'd chase me, and Mom and Nadine would sit back and watch, tears running down their faces. I hope I'll always remember those geese, Nadine, and the rides with Daddy to go see them both.
I put in exactly four whoppin' gallons of diesel, and deciding that wasn't enough of a transaction, I also bought a gallon of windshield wiper fluid, a bare necessity in Summer months in Montana. The windshield would be covered again by the time we reached Billings. And because I loved my aromas, I bought an iconic little pine tree air freshener. The truck's leather interior always smelled good, but those little trees brought much happiness to my nose, regardless of the vehicle they hung around in.
I saw a woman behind the counter who could've been a younger version of Nadine. I smiled and introduced myself, mentioned the farm and her geese, and asked if Nadine was there.
"No, YaYa has gone blind.....she used to like sitting behind the counter and talk with folks, but it depressed her that they could see her, but not the other way around. She's living in Kalispell with her sister, Neva. I'm her great-granddaughter, Stel. I'll tell her you were here, though; I'm sure she'll remember you and your folks. And all those geese! She never mentioned that farm without talking about her neighbors and the geese!"
"Thanks, Stel; it's good to meet you. Are you the owner now?"
"My dad and I are. Stop in if you come through again!"
"I will. Oh; this is my friend, Marc. Marc, this is Stel; she's Nadine Three Eagles' granddaughter."
They exchanged pleasantries, and I could see the look in Stel's eyes as she gave Marc the old `Lu Barney Man Assessment'. Heh.....nice try, Stel. Ain't happenin', but I compliment you on your STEL-lar taste in men. In MY man.
We got outside, and I reached in the cab to pop the hood latch. The windshield fluid reservoir was maybe half-full, and I know it was full when we left the farm. That would not be the last gallon of blue fluid I'd buy on that trip.
"Boyfriend, I'll take back over driving. We're a little more than half-way there, and I suspect you don't want me telling you all sorts of directions when we get into Billings."
"Sure; and thanks for this driving lesson. Was it just me not feeling any wind, or did I drive through it better than I thought I would?"
"You're a natural, Boyfriend. Yeah, we hit wind---or it hit us, and you corrected the steering and throttle like you'd done it all your life."
"Wow-----well, that's good to know. Now I can get back and forth from home if there are ever any more truck-and-trailer trips to take, and you're busy studying for your classes."
Marc just said `home' like it was the most natural word to ever roll off his lips, and in a context that honestly was as musical to my ears as my boy Tommy saying my little guy was healthy and well. I was sorry to have missed Nadine, and I'd be sure to tell Mom where she now was living. We didn't get up to the Lake District much, although we had a small house right on Flathead Lake that we rented out to a lovely, lonely woman named Katie. Maybe someday it would be ours to enjoy again, but Katie was like family, and she had made it her home.
I digress.
You are aware by now, are you not, that I can do that? Oh, yeah. Quite proficiently. Ummm.....I'm still doing it, aren't I? Go ahead.....you can tell me.....Marc said home' and truck' in the same sentence, and.....I might pass out here.....
Back on the road, the rest of the trip passed quickly and uneventfully. We saw lots of grain in fields not yet harvested, and other fields with combines out in force. The smell of money was in the air. That might read like we'll all take trips to the Riviera or even Seattle after harvest, but the smell of money in most cases means a pay-down of debt. A dad getting a new felt-lined Carhartt coat before Autumn. A kid getting braces on her teeth or his feet (because yeah, polio might've been vaccinated out of Montana existence, but riding accidents happen, and braces get attached). Sure, Montana can go to the Riviera; in the form of a shipment of Raisin Bran (French folks love them some Raisin Bran, and we love us some French wine).
Traffic condensed just as we drove past Lake Elmo State Park, North of Billings. This town never stops growing, but the economy never stops changing, either. Once a major grain, cattle yard and pork-producing center of commerce, it was then big in oil. Now it's medical care and service sector. Adapt, evolve and change. Three words not exactly embraced publicly by some of the more conservative folks there, but traded on as commodities, just like grains, cattle and pigs. Change is fine', they'll say over their third Black Velvets-and-Cokes, As long as it's not me, but someone else doin' the changin', and I make the money from it.'
You're probably wondering where we're gonna park forty-two feet of truck and trailer. Well, the Billings Sheraton is no stranger to vehicles longer than a Ford Focus. There's an entire lot, street to street, just for big rigs. This one qualifies, and costs only $10.00 a night to park it there. I suppose you're not surprised the lot is always full, and reservations are required for your rig, just like a reservation is for a room. I called ahead to make sure they had space for us and hour earlier than check-in. Sure enough, Jamal who runs the front desk assured me the space was available, and he'd have his lot runner move the big orange parking pylon when we pulled up.
It was good to get out and stretch our legs, and after getting our stuff out of the truck, we walked inside to register. The Sheraton had been remodeled since the last time I'd stayed there, which was my sophomore year in high school. Our girls' basketball team had gone to --- and won --- the state class A championship. Kristi was on the team, and Tommy and I went down to watch the finals. We stayed at the Sheraton, since it was walking distance from the Metra Event Center.
I liked this hotel. It has the unique feature of being the the tallest (at 250 feet high) load-bearing brick structure in the world, built of 2,400,000 red clay bricks that were formed and fired right in Montana in an 1800s brick kiln.
Marc's and my room were on the 20th floor. While the view out the windows----particularly at night----would be impressive, I wanted to be looking alternately at the mattress and the ceiling. Please don't tell me I need to explain THAT to you, but if I have to, well, I'll `rise' to the challenge and do it.....
We emptied our backpacks and took showers. Marc was going after a suit, and two can clean as cheaply as one, I always say. Heh.....I just want an excuse to be with my furry man under more cascading water. I brushed my coffee-flavored teeth and got undressed with Marc, kissing my man until we both had to come up for air.
"Jozef, you're just right, you know that? You're the right height. You have hair in all the right places, and it's thick, but soft. There are men who'd spend a lot of money and even more of their time to get trimmed, waxed, cut, everything; to look just like you. Do you do any of that?"
"Heck, no! I don't want any less than I have! Heck, if I could have more, I would!"
I liked that he liked my blond hair. It wasn't Nordic blond, and was somewhere between that and light-brown hair. I have no idea what to call it, except `mine'. And Marc's. All of me, all of this, was Marc's. We shared the little bar of soap back and forth, and I cleaned the back side of him from nape to heel. The texture of him changed during the journey south. Throughout, Marc's skin was tight; but silky smooth here, always soft there.
As I moved down, I kissed him wherever I could. I reached the base of his spine, and Marc spread his hands out in front of him and leaned against the wall of the shower. He spread his feet apart just enough so I could kneel between them.
"Babe....."
Kiss
I licked from right behind his balls, slowly following the silken trail of the fur on his ass back up to his spine. Marc moaned, but gave a sharp intake of air when I reached to the front and grasped his rock-hard cock. I had his attention then.
I didn't stroke Marc. I just held him in my hand, feeling his cock pulse with each beat of his heart. It felt incredible. I'd had other cocks in my hand; other males, larger, smaller, harder, not so hard. But they were never `mine'. They were.....just something to do to pass the time. Yeah, something good to do (in most cases, anyway), and I did my best to make sure no one regretted being with me. There was no way my man was going to regret anything we did together; not that day, not ever. Marc just.....mattered to me. If I wasn't thinking about him at that moment, I was thinking about when we'd have more moments like it.
Focus, Jozef. The Future will take care of itself if you just take care of Marc and his perfect ass, right there, right then. So, I did.
I released my grip on Marc's cock. Damn, he was so hard, it wasn't easy to let go. It's like he'd been smuggling Grandpa's 7/16" Snap-On wrench in his jeans, all the way from the farm. Once I had both hands free, I moved them to the muscled orbs on either side of my mouth, and gently pulled them apart. God. Right there. Another of the many Objects Of Desire on my man. Though barely visible in all the dark underbrush covering his hole, it was there, and my tongue darted out to claim it.
Marc tensed his entire body for a palpable five or so seconds, and then reached behind us to hold my head in place. I could tell what he wanted, and I didn't disappoint. He sure wasn't disappointing me, and yet somehow, I could breathe while gettin' busy.
Just call me `Frogman'.