Page 71 of Bulls and Their Boy

Head rearing back, back legs kicking into the air, his body contorting, but Joel rode it out and when that buzzer rang, and the bullfighters ran to the bull, as Joel let go of him and slid off, falling to all fours for a split second before bounding to the fence and effectively letting Damon and I breathe again.

“He did it,” Damon said in a hushed voice that was filled with heavy emotion.

“He’s fine,” I said with the same emotion-laden voice.

We got up to cheer as the rest of the crowd did the same, and when his scores came back, he easily beat out the first four riders.

We wanted to meet him, hold him, tell him how proud we were, but we restrained ourselves, knowing the crowd might not take too fondly to that. We waited for him to get back to the stands and he surprised us both by hugging us the second he got there.

“Did ya see? Did ya see?”

“We saw,” I said, and made him sit where he had before. “We saw, baby,” I whispered to him, and Damon leaned in, patting his face.

“You were fucking amazing!”

“I whomped on that bull! Yessir!”

People were coming up to him to congratulate him, commenting about how no one for two years lasted the eight seconds on Keefer.

I never before realized just how good he was, and how proud it made him. We talked about it later, in the room, and even Damon seemed contrite about asking him to stop.

“Joel, we’re so fucking proud of you,” he said, holding him near the door when we first walked into the room.

The room had double queen beds, but we’d only use one, and I set my program on the one that we wouldn’t be sleeping on as I watched them.

“Y’all were my good luck charms.”

“No,” I argued. “That was all you and your skill.”

“Hell! Wish I didn’t have ‘nother ride. I feel like fuckin’!”

“As soon as you’re done, we’ll be fuckin’, baby,” I assured and was kissed for it. Damon sat on the bed near my program, taking it into his hand.

“Joel, I feel about two inches tall, wanting you to quit.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you obviously love it.”

I thought the same, felt the same, but I did see hope on the horizon. I lay on the bed Damon wasn’t on and propped myself back on the pillows so I could watch them both. One was elated, the other bereft, and I called them both to sit close to me.

When they did, I told them my plans. “When we open the club, like we talked about, Joel will be the first one to have a scene on stage.”

“What the fuck does this have to do with his dream and how we’re crashing it?”

I looked at Damon, locked eyes with him, and saw how he was torturing himself. “Joel has shrunk away from the world because they didn’t understand him. Bull riding isn’t the only thing he excels at, Damon. Maybe, if he sees that, he’d miss it less.”

“What ya mean?”

He crawled up next to me and I held him there, rubbing my thumb in circles over his throat. “You are great in bed, Joel. You can likely take a lot of pain in a scene. We haven’t even begun to test and train you. I think, each time we’re in the club, we make you center stage, show the people that come what kind of man you are.”

“I’m tough?”

“You’re tough, beautiful, sweet and smart. Maybe we’ll find ways to make people cheer for you when you’re not risking life and limb.”

I knew that in most situations, Joel would shrink into the furniture, being around people he thought were smarter or better than him. Not that anyone was, but it’s the way he felt. Being a cowboy was his only strength for a long time. He had to see he had other strengths too.

Damon finally smiled at seeing Joel settling. “I think, when this is over, that last night we’re here, you bring us some fun guys to play with. Just don’t hit on people that might not be gay and would want to hurt you.”

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