Another Kind of Cowboy (15 page)

FEBRUARY 11

THE NOTE LAY
on the counter when Alex walked into the kitchen the next afternoon.

Ever since the kiss Alex had been veering between feelings of guilt and excitement. He'd almost convinced himself that the previous night was a dream. He never in a million years thought Cameron would call.

He walked quickly from the kitchen to the living
room and back. Unbidden, his friend Chris's face popped into his thoughts. He gave his head a shake and kept walking. He stopped in his tracks—he was filthy. He had to get cleaned up! He raced into the bathroom and began peeling off his clothes. Without waiting for the water to heat up, he jumped into the icy spray of the shower.

From under the hiss of the water he heard something. Was that the phone?

Alex grabbed a towel and raced out of the bathroom, leaving the shower running behind him.

“Where's the phone? Can someone get the phone?” he yelled.

“All right already,” came the reply.

May came out of the TV room holding the receiver.

“It's for Grace. A hair appointment.”

Alex's heart rate dropped back into normal range.

“Yeesh,” said May. “Since when do you care about the phone? You're really starting to worry me.”

Alex padded back into the bathroom, suddenly feeling chilled.

Now the water was too hot and it scalded his arm as he reached under the spray to turn it down. He stepped back into the shower and grabbed the shampoo bottle.

Cameron had called. Now what?

He thought of the conversation he'd had with Cleo when she finally dragged herself to the barn at one o'clock that afternoon.

“Well, what did you think of Rob?” she'd asked. “Isn't he gorgeous?”

She didn't even know Cameron's name. How serious could she be about him?

“He seems nice.”

“You could tell that we have a connection, right?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“I don't know. I'm not good with these things.”

“He's got to be into me. We've hooked up three times now.”

Actually,
Alex felt like correcting her,
you didn't hook up with him last night.
I
did.
Alex wondered whether Cleo and Cameron had really been together those times she said they had, or had Cleo gotten so trashed she just assumed they had?

“Nothing really happened last night and I'm not blaming you or anything, but if there hadn't been a third party between us…well, who knows. And we still sat, thigh-to-burning-thigh, on the love seat. My memory after that is kind of sketchy. All I remember
is that you guys took me home and then I threw up. Did he and I, you know, kiss? When you dropped me off?”

“I don't think so.”

“Damn,” she said. “Next time I'll wear tighter jeans.”

Where exactly was he supposed to slip his your-crush-kissed-me confession into that conversation?

Alex wondered if the situation would be any easier if everyone involved was straight; if he and Cameron were friends and they were both after Cleo. Then they could have a fistfight and the winner would ride off into the sunset with the girl. Alex's mind refused to cooperate with that scenario, however. When he tried to imagine it, he and Cameron started out fighting, then fell to the ground in a clinch.
God
, thought Alex,
I can't even
imagine
being straight.
He thought he might be the gayest guy alive.

“Ugh,” he said out loud, as he thrust his head back under the stream of hot water.

Alex dried off and went up to his room to change. When he came back downstairs to begin making dinner, he found Colette Reed sitting in the living room. Alone. That meant his sisters and aunt were hiding in their rooms.

“Hi,” he said. He worked hard to get a smile onto his face.

Ms. Reed was in a sapphire-blue suit. Her liberally applied perfume made Alex's nose run.

“Alex,” she said.

So she was sober. She only remembered his name when she was sober. Alex wondered how Ms. Reed, who was loaded almost every night and all day on weekends, maintained her career. Grace said it was because the people she did business with were just as bad. Alex grudgingly respected that at least she kept herself together enough to run her business during the week. His father didn't even seem able to do that. He hardly even went to the dealership anymore. As far as Alex could tell, one of the senior sales guys was basically running the place.

“How's my horse?” she asked. The question sent a thrill of fear through him. Her horse. There was no getting around the fact that Detroit was her horse. She was always reminding Alex.

“He's good. Are you sure you won't let me pay you to ride him?” he asked, even though he knew she'd say no and that even if she said yes, he had no money to pay her.

“No, that's not necessary. After all, we're practically
family,” she said, her red lips in a thin line.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Your father's not home,” she said, and her lips stretched back. Alex thought she looked like one of those brightly colored tropical frogs about to catch a fly.

“Ah, no.”

“And he's not at work.”

“Really?”

“Really. So I thought I'd wait for him here.”

“Oh. Okay. Great. You want to come and see Detroit? I'm just heading out to feed him and Mr. T.”

“Not really,” she said. But she stood and put on her long fur coat and followed Alex out of the house. She picked her way carefully across the driveway after first casting a long, suspicious look in the direction of the RV.

Alex exhaled a visible breath into the cold evening air and tried to think of something to say. “So,” he said. It was the best he could do on short notice.

Ms. Reed ignored him.

Inside the fence, they were immediately joined by both horses. Turnip was first. He trotted over and dropped his head to Alex's chest.

“Hey, old man,” said Alex, giving the horse's ears
a scratch. Detroit stood at Turnip's flank and whickered his own greeting. “And hello to you, big man.”

Alex turned to Ms. Reed. “You'd think they hadn't seen anyone in days. I just saw them an hour ago.”

“Mmmm,” she said, turning her head toward the RV.

“You go ahead,” said Alex. “I don't want them to get you dirty.”

Ms. Reed stepped into the barn and he followed her, drawing the heavy rope across the entrance so the horses wouldn't follow them in while he prepared their dinners.

The small barn was as clean as the house was untidy. Alex switched on the light in the tack and feed room.

“I'll be glad when the days start getting longer,” he said as he weighed their hay, measured out their pellets and supplements, and cut a carrot and an apple into each rubber bucket. He was grateful that at least his dad always paid the horses' feed bills—eventually.

Finally Ms. Reed seemed to notice what he was doing. “You really do fuss around, don't you?”

Alex looked up and adjusted his knitted hat.

“Horses—” he began and then stopped, worried that she might take anything he said as a criticism.

“Horses are for barn girls and boys to take care of,” said Ms. Reed. Her head went up like a dog catching a scent on the wind.

A second later, Alex heard the sound of an engine.

“I guess my dad's home,” he said, but she was already on her way out the door.

After he'd put the horses in their stalls for the night he headed back into the house. As he passed the RV he saw movement behind the slat blinds and heard raised voices.

Inside the house, he crouched over to take off his boots and was nearly impaled when May stuck the phone under his nose.

“Phone!” she said and took off.

Alex grabbed the receiver.

“Whatcha doing, buddy?” It was Cameron's voice.

“Nothing,” he said, and felt a flash of heat burn down his spine.

“You want to do something?”

“Do something?”

“Come down to Bowen Park.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Now?” Alex tried to keep the confusion and alarm out of his voice. “It's kind of dark.”

“Are you scared of the dark?”

“No, I'm just saying.”

“Half an hour. I'll meet you in the far lot.”

The phone went dead and Alex was left staring down at his untied boots.

 

The night was dark, but not as dark as he feared, because the moon was nearly full. Alex drove through downtown Nanaimo and up Bowen Road. He turned onto the wet, winding road that led into the park and drove until he reached what he hoped was the farthest lot. He hadn't been to the park since he was little and his class had come to visit the 4-H petting farm. He'd heard a few months back that someone had broken into the little fenced area and beaten several of the baby animals to death. The thought of it made him feel nauseous, as did his knowledge that the park had a reputation as a gay hangout, a place where married guys and hustlers met for illicit encounters.

Alex tried to shake off the sense of foreboding that was growing in him. So what if they weren't going for coffee. Maybe Cameron wasn't comfortable being…inside. Alex sat in the car with the engine off. He could feel the heat fading but he refused to
turn on the engine again. He didn't want to do anything to make himself more conspicuous.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust after he turned off the headlights. He tried to focus on what he could see of the forest outside. It was filled with ferns and old cedars and rhododendrons just barely illuminated in the pale moonlight. The wet leaves sparkled. The park was in the middle of town, but was dead quiet under the white noise of the brimming river that lay beyond the parking lot.

He sat for almost fifteen minutes, waiting, unable to shake the sense that there was something wrong with the whole situation: the parking lot, the older men walking by who stared in at him for a few seconds too long. Thoughts of Cleo and how she'd feel about this nagged him, as did thoughts of Chris. Not that Chris was anything more than a friend. An acquaintance, really.

Finally he heard the slice and rattle of skateboard wheels on wet pavement. Cameron loomed up out of the darkness and appeared at the driver's side window. In one smooth movement, he kicked his skateboard into his hand and pushed his black hair out of his eyes while Alex rolled down the window.

“Hey,” Cameron said.

On the drive over, Alex had imagined the conversation they'd have. He'd tell Cameron about his riding, about his dad and Ms. Reed. About Detroit and Ms. Reed's thinly veiled threats to take the horse, his dreams of becoming a professional dressage rider. Cameron would nod and ask insightful questions. Then Cameron would talk about his problems and dreams while Alex listened. They'd stop somewhere for a good dinner. The dream filled Alex with a longing he hadn't felt since he'd first developed his obsession with horses.

But the reality was a chilly disappointment—liter-ally. Alex's hands and feet were numb and the two of them were as awkward as strangers.

“You want to get in?” asked Alex.

“Nah. Come on out.”

Cameron backed up a couple of steps to let Alex out of the car. Alex turned and locked the driver's side, then followed Cameron out of the parking lot and onto a path. They pushed through wet branches and stepped over slender trees toppled by a wet, heavy snow that had fallen over Christmas, remnants of which lay in small patches. The boys walked until they reached a small sandy beach that faced only dense undergrowth on the other side of the river. The
moon shone brightly off the water and the night suddenly felt warmer than it had.

Cameron put his skateboard down and gestured for Alex to sit on it.

“Want a beer? I got some in my bag.”

Without waiting for an answer Cameron began to dig around in his backpack. He handed a can to Alex, then opened his own and drank it in a few long gulps. He was already opening a second one as Alex took his first reluctant sip. Beer reminded him of his father—the worst part of his father.

Alex looked at Cameron and was struck again by how such a handsome face could be so filled with shadows and secrets.

“So you and Cleo,” said Alex. He hesitated. “You guys are…”

“Nothing,” said Cameron. “We're nothing.”

Without seeming to move, he moved his hand onto Alex's. Alex could feel the warmth through his glove. There was a rustling noise behind them. Cameron retracted his hand as though he'd been burned.

An overweight man stepped out of the shrubs and stood in front of them. A gold wedding band glinted on his left hand. Alex couldn't see him very well but
the man managed to ask the question without saying a word.

Alex shook his head and the man melted away, wandering off along the dark path.

For a moment Alex couldn't speak. When he finally found his voice he said, “We should probably go.”

“He's harmless. Who knows, maybe he'd be good for a few bucks,” said Cameron, before finishing off his second beer.

“What?”

“Just kidding,” said Cameron, leaning back and smiling in a way that made Alex very uncomfortable.

Alex looked up and saw a cloud passing beneath the moon.

He struggled to find the words for what was bothering him. It wasn't just his feelings of guilt about Cleo. It was that he was in the lurker park with fat, married guys cruising him. He was with someone who called him “buddy.” This wasn't at all how he'd envisioned his first date.

“What are we doing out here?” he asked.

“Hanging out,” said Cameron, who gave him a look that made his brain freeze and his stomach burn. Alex resisted the temptation to let the feeling take him away.