Cleats in Clay (35 page)

T
UCK
awoke the next morning alone in bed. At least, he assumed it was morning. He stretched out with a yawn, feeling so rested, like he’d slept for twelve hours. Maybe it was afternoon, he thought with a grin.

Thinking about the solarium and all that workout equipment, he climbed out of bed and retrieved some clean jogging shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt from his suitcase. After pulling on the clothes and his grubby high-tops, he headed downstairs in search of Bobby.

Rounding the corner of the kitchen, Tuck found Bobby sitting at the counter bar, reading Nathan’s note as he ate his breakfast. It looked like he was on the last page, so Tuck hung back to give him time to finish. When Bobby set down the papers, Tuck strolled into the kitchen. “Mornin’, stud.”

“Morning,” Bobby replied with a smirk. “You didn’t tell me about the attic,” he said as he got up and went to the freezer. “Frozen waffles okay?”

“Oh,” Tuck apologized, “fergot to mention it. Waffles would be great.” Tuck sat at the counter. “You sleep well?”
Bobby’s grin was all the answer he needed. “Just got up a few minutes ago. It’s almost noon already.” Bobby popped the waffles into the toaster and got a plate and mug of coffee for Tuck as they warmed up. “Wonder what surprise Nate has now?”
Tuck shook his head before sipping at the coffee. “With Nathan? Who knows?”
“Guess we’ll have to go look in a minute,” Bobby said as the toaster popped.
Tuck just grinned, watching Bobby as he fished the finished waffles out of the toaster with a fork and brought the plate over to the counter. Bobby smiled at the silly expression on Tuck’s face. “What?” “Oh, still tryin’ to wrap my head around all this. That it’s real.”
Bobby nodded in confirming silence as he cleaned up his dishes and watched Tuck eat.
“Yer starin’ at me,” Tuck said as he took his last bite.
“Sorry,” Bobby said with a smile. “Guess you’re just worth looking at.” He took Tuck’s empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Let’s go check the attic before I lose my nerve.”
“Okay,” Tuck replied. He followed Bobby back upstairs and down the hallway. At the end of the hall, Bobby opened a door Tuck had thought might be a closet, but inside was a half flight of stairs that led over the garage area. He stepped inside as Bobby turned on some fluorescent lights.

At the top, they found a half dozen tall, neat stacks of folded moving boxes, a few cases of rolls of the clear wrapping tape, and two of those handheld tape gun dispensers next to a box of Sharpie markers.

Bobby chuckled. “No excuses, huh, Nate,” he said out into the attic space. He turned back to Tuck with a smirk. “Guess he wants us to pack.”
Tuck chuckled along. “Seems that’a way.” He looked over at Bobby. “Anything else ya want to do today?”
“Guess not,” Bobby replied as he picked up the top case of tape and the two dispensers. “Grab some boxes. Might as well start in the library.”
After grabbing as large a stack as he could carry and the box of markers, Tuck followed Bobby back downstairs to the library. While Bobby folded up a box and taped the bottom closed, Tuck looked around at the shelves. “Did you want to take
all
of these books?”
Bobby looked around. “Hm, probably not, I guess. But we should pack all of them up,” he said as he taped another box. “Should prob’ly make a few categories, gay and non-gay, for donating somewhere, and the ones to take to Texas.”
“Okay,” Tuck agreed with a nod.
After unfolding and taping up another box, Bobby went to the shelves. “I’ll go through and pull out the ones I definitely want to take, and you do the same. Then we can sort the rest as we go,” he said as he pulled out some DIY home improvement books and put them into a box.
The guys worked most of the afternoon, building stacks of sealed and labeled boxes, but after glancing around, Tuck surmised they were barely half done with the room.
Noticing the look on Tuck’s face, Bobby said, “I guess this is gonna take a few days.”
“Reckon so,” Tuck agreed.

T
HEY
spent the next three days in a kind of routine, working out in the mornings, packing in the afternoon and evening, then relaxing a bit before bed. On Friday, Bobby took some time in the afternoon when the Realtor dropped by to hash out details to set up an open-house style viewing for Sunday.

About ten on Saturday morning, Bobby got a call from the guard station as they finished a free-weight session. After a brief exchange over the phone, Bobby hung up and turned to Tuck. “Better get dressed,” Bobby told him as he headed to the stairs. “Sharon’s dropping by.”

A few minutes later, Bobby answered the doorbell. “Shar,” he called out warmly.
“Don’t give me that.” She pouted as she entered the living room and saw the stacks of boxes. “Asshole. Didn’t even tell me you were packing already,” Sharon scolded as she hugged him warmly. She glanced up and saw Tuck on the stairs. “And who’s this handsome fellow?” She gazed up with her charming smile.
“This is Tuck from Texas,” Bobby said. “He’s helping me move.”
“Pleased to meet ya,” Tuck said as he walked down and offered his left hand for a shake.
Sharon tried not to stare at the cast. “So you’re the
other
one.” She scoured Tuck with her eyes before turning to Bobby. “I still think this whole three-way thing is weird, but at least he’s a keeper.”
“Well, thanks,” Bobby said sarcastically. “At least I got your approval.”
Tuck chuckled. “And yer just like he described,” Tuck said as Sharon shook his hand.
“Meaning?”
“He might have mentioned ya were feisty, with a quick tongue.”
Sharon glared at Bobby but soon smiled. “Don’t believe a thing he says. Now, where’s those journals of Nathan’s you told me about?”
“Oh.” Bobby mocked being wounded. “I see how it is,” he said as he led Sharon down to the den. “Don’t care about me at all.”
“Hush. We can get caught up over lunch. I wanna read those first ones you were talking about.”
Tuck tagged along behind them as they went down the stairs to the den. Bobby took Sharon to the untaped box with Nathan’s first set of journals. “The red ones,” Bobby told her as he turned to Tuck.
Smiling, Tuck said, “Looks like ya got yer hands full. Why don’t I go get the car checked out, like we talked about, and leave ya two to gab.”
“Okay,” Bobby agreed. “Maserati keys are on the hooks right by the fridge. Did you want to bring back some lunch?”
Tuck shook his head. He also had some other plans but didn’t want to fill Bobby in on that yet. “Better just scratch yerselves something up. Don’t know how long it’ll take and all.”
“Sure,” Bobby said. He gave Tuck a quick kiss. “There’s another cell phone in the far-right kitchen drawer. Take it in case you get lost or something.”
“Will do. See you later,” Tuck called out before heading back up the stairs.
Bobby sat on the couch next to Sharon as she read through the first journal.
“Shit,” Sharon nearly spit out. “The poor kid. God, to be thinking this way at such a young age.”
“I know,” Bobby agreed as Sharon continued reading.

H
OURS
later, Tuck returned to find Bobby alone, sorting through the kitchen cabinets.
“Hey, stud.”
Bobby glanced over. “Hope the car’s okay. It took a damn long time,” he said a little harshly.
“Sorry,” Tuck said as he went to the refrigerator. “You want a beer?”
Bobby shook his head. “Well?”
“Car’s fine, I just got caught up drivin’ around, I guess.” Tuck leaned against the counter but had to shift positions when he noticed how sore his hip felt. “It wasn’t
that
long, was it?”
“No, but you didn’t get a chance to meet Sharon.”
“I met her,” Tuck argued. “And thought ya guys might want some alone time. I kinda wanted a few minutes of my own too.”
“Sure, I guess,” Bobby replied in a flat tone.
“Not that I’m tryin’ to say I regret it or anything, but we have been pretty much in each other’s faces since Tuesday.”
“Oh,” Bobby replied. “Where’d you go? Besides the mechanic?”
“Just around,” Tuck said with a shrug before sipping at his beer.
“
Around
?” Bobby repeated as he stiffened. “Around where?”
“Why are ya bein’ like this?”
“Like
what
? I’m not the one being evasive,” Bobby spit out.
Tuck pushed away from the cabinet. “Can’t a man have a few minutes of his own?”
“Not when he’s keeping secrets,” Bobby said. “I had a lifetime’s worth of fucking secrets with Nathan. Don’t need any more from you.”
“Fine,” Tuck said as he set his beer on the counter. With his left hand, he undid the top button of his jeans and started undoing the fly buttons.
“What the fuck?” Bobby yelled. “Put your pants back on.”
“Shut up and look,” Tuck said as he pulled down the elastic of his underwear over his right hip, showing the fresh bandage. “I was gonna show ya later but didn’t know ya was gonna get all squirrelly on me.”
Bobby stepped forward and looked at the bandage as Tuck peeled away the tape enough to show the new reddened marks inside his sheriff’s star tattoo. He could plainly see the new algiz rune tattoo centered within the star. “Oh,” Bobby said meekly. “I didn’t know.”
Tuck smirked as he retaped the bandage and fastened his pants again. “Yer birthdays are gonna be a real bitch if ya keep bein’ so damn suspicious.”
“Sorry,” Bobby said as he helped Tuck with the buttons.
Tuck put his hand under Bobby’s chin and pulled his face up to look at him. “And what was this all about? Ya don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do, I just—like I said, Nathan’s burned me out on secrets.”
“Okay,” Tuck said with a nod. “Maybe ya should work on that.” Tuck leaned down and kissed Bobby’s forehead. “And what did ya think I did?”
Bobby shrugged. “I don’t know. But you have to admit, with the way you’re… built, and that accent of yours, you’re a gay man’s wet dream.”
Tuck laughed. “I don’t walk around with my dick hangin’ out of my pants, so most guys don’t have a clue as to how I’m ‘built’. And I’m
very
satisfied with what I already have. I’m not lookin’.”
“Okay,” Bobby agreed with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out on you.”
“I know. We can work on that.”
Bobby hugged Tuck close. “I guess I am just a little—protective.”
Tuck chuckled. “Possessive, I think is more like it.”
Bobby looked down to Tuck’s hip. “Isn’t that on the wrong side? I mean, where you wear your holster? Shouldn’t it be on the left?”
“Yeah, suppose so, but it’s such a habit now,” Tuck agreed with a head nod. “My Dad never did like the idea of me bein’ a south-paw. When I’s growing up, I had a toy gun set and he made me wear the holster on my right, hoping I’d use my right hand to draw the gun, I reckon. Never did though. I flipped the holster around so the butt of the gun was in the front and kept using my left hand.” Tuck chuckled. “Drove them nuts at the academy too. Always got bad marks for drawing across my body.”
“You don’t ever talk about your dad much,” Bobby commented.
“Not much to say. He wasn’t a bad guy, just one of those stoic men that didn’t really show emotion. He was never the same after mom got sick, and after she passed, he kinda pulled in and drank himself to death.”
Bobby gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away.
Tuck glanced around at the open cabinets and the items on the counters. “I’ve had enough of this damn packing. What say we knock off for the night, and maybe ya show me off around town, since it’s Saturday.”
“Sure. But we at least need to make everything presentable first,” Bobby said as he went and started putting items back in the cabinets. “We have that open-house thing tomorrow.”
“Ya got it, stud,” Tuck agreed as he pitched in to help.
T
UCK
was beginning to think they’d never finish, as the packing process dragged on another week and a half, but Bobby finally declared the job done when the Realtor called with the sale offer. It was much less than the original asking price. After only a token effort at dickering, Bobby took the offer.
By the time they got a truck packed and ready to leave Boston, Odis was already in Atlanta, preparing for his art show. The news altered their plans. Tuck and Bobby decided to drive down to Atlanta first and surprise Odis at his opening.

T
HE
clock in the Maserati showed 6:45 p.m. as Tuck followed the rental truck into the parking lot just down the street of the downtown Atlanta gallery. Tuck got out and ran over to the truck. “This thing starts at seven, right?”

“Right,” Bobby said as he leaned down from the open-doored cab of the rental truck. “Won’t be any time to find a hotel or anything first.”
Tuck raised his arm and sniffed at his pit. “Shit, and I think the both of us could use a shower first.”
Bobby looked down at the rumpled jeans and the wrinkly T-shirt clinging to Tuck’s frame. “We can at least find someplace to change,” Bobby said as he reached back into the cab and grabbed his duffel bag. “Guess that’ll hafta do.” He locked up the cab and followed Tuck to his car. “Did you tell Odie we were coming?”
“Nah, told him we wouldn’t be leaving ’til May,” Tuck replied as he got his own bag from the trunk of the Maserati.
“He should be surprised, then.” Bobby had looked up this area of Atlanta on Internet maps the night before, so he led the way around the corner and down the sidewalk to the gallery. Just inside the door, they found a restroom to use.
Tuck walked up to the mirrors to check his hair after changing. “How’s this?” he asked Bobby, ruffling through his hair with his fingers.
Bobby smiled. The new black jeans Tuck had put on still had that crisp, creased look to them, so they almost looked like slacks. And he wore his green Navajo-print shirt to show off his eyes. “Yummy enough to eat,” Bobby teased. “Just wish we’d had enough time to get tuxedos or something.”
Tuck nodded in agreement. “Never been to one of these opening things. Have you?”
“Opening for an art gallery once. The whole thing was so hoity-toity, I didn’t hang around,” Bobby said as he watched himself in the mirror and played with the collar of his polo-style shirt, trying to get it centered.