Page 25 of For the Love of the Lawyer

Mickey sent Jon to the house for penicillin. When Jon couldn't find it in the kitchen fridge, he returned to the barn to find the stall empty. Mickey was on his hands and knees with a scrub brush and disinfectant, having removed the mats and dirty towels from the tiled floor to sanitize it. When the gunshot wentoff right outside the barn, both of them flinched. No more words were necessary.

Jon observed Mickey as he scrubbed, seeing he didn't seem to be bothered by the blood and god-knew-what-else was all over his clothes. He was more concerned about an animal that lost its life bringing its offspring into the world and it touched Jon deeply.

The snap of the cap on the antibacterial gel brought Jon out of the odd memory. "Aaron had a last-minute pre-trial conference at the opposing counsel's offices. He said we should have a drink or two, and he'll get here as quickly as possible. So, tell me what's new with you? Are you seeing anyone?" The two men settled in with their cocktails.

Rick's drink was something called a Pink Lady. Jon could only imagine what Mickey Warren would think of that. The cowboy was more of a beer drinker, and while Jon could tolerate beer on occasion, it wasn't his drink of choice. It was too pedestrian for him, really. Yes, you're a horrific snob, he reminded himself, not happy with the self-assessment at all.

"So, how was the honeymoon?" Jon bit the bullet because he didn't want to talk about himself. The turmoil in his gut at walking away from Mickey Warren had made him a surly bastard. The people at the office had started to steer clear of him and his shitty mood, and he couldn't blame them.

"I'll only bore you a little.” Rick pulled out his cell and cued up what appeared to be eight hours’ worth of pictures. Jon sat there, trapped, scrolling through pictures as he listened to the doggedly detailed explanation of every shot. He kept drinking and Rick kept droning on while they kept looking at the photos.

Finally, Jon hit a picture showing Aaron atop a large black horse, reminding Jon of Charlie, Matt's huge stud horse he'd enjoyed riding so much during his last trip to the ranch… Well,his only trip, because he'd ran out of there like a fucking fool, due to the feelings he was beginning to develop for Mickey Warren.

As he listened to Rick drone on, Jon realized what a huge mistake he'd made, but it was definitely too fucking late to go back and undo the damage he'd caused, or so he assumed. The young cowboy was so incredibly handsome and someone people would describe as salt of the earth, but Jon had slinked out on the man like a snake with the arrogant idea Mickey was toosimplefor him.

"Oh, that was the best day. We rode horses through the surf and had a candlelit picnic on the beach at sunset. I know you ride for real, but we were playing cowboys, and it was fun. This was the horse guide, Noah, who helped us. God, he was so hot! I teased Aaron that we should take him back to our room and take turns riding him!” Rick continued to flash pictures at Jon.

When Aaron finally arrived, there were cheek kisses among them. As Jon reflected on it, while the two of them discussed someone they knew and a very public argument between another couple regarding an overly flirtatious shop boy, Jon wondered when his life became full of superfluous cheek kissing and dinners full of gossip. Not one truly important conversation had taken place all evening. The discussion of a living room rug for their new home had taken up twenty-eight minutes—Jon had timed it.

It wasn't as if he didn't like Aaron and Rick. Jon had enjoyed most of the things the three did together prior to the wedding. They'd always found things to discuss, and Jon rarely remembered being bored while in their company. It seemed to him, however, since the two of them had tied the knot, they'd lost their individuality and had evolved into that monster referred to as a couple.

Aaron and Rick seemed to have pulled a bubble around themselves and no longer had big issues to discuss involvinganything more than their shiny, happy life. They had merged into one personality, and it meant only one thing: the three of them had been reduced to a single gay man and a two-headed hydra with tunnel vision regarding anything outside their perfect life.

Finally, determining he was full-up on "coupledom," Jon made his escape. "This has been great, guys, but I need to get home. I've got a deposition tomorrow morning.” He hated to lie to his friends, but he was so fucking bored he wanted to gut himself with a butter knife, and he was so distracted with forbidden thoughts, he needed time to clear his head.

"Oh, I forget that you family court-types have to deal with the down and dirty of the great unwashed. Good luck, my friend.” Aaron and Rick once again gave Jon air kisses and hugs, opting to sit at the bar to have a nightcap.

The night air was pleasant, and the sky was full of stars when Jon walked out of the restaurant, so instead of going home, he decided to walk from East Carey to East Main and stop in a few bars he'd frequented in the past to do a little people watching.

He ordered a hard cider in Rosie Connelly's and listened to the music as he eyed the people, not seeing anyone of interest until a guy sat next to him. "I'll have what he's having and give him another on my tab," the guy stated as Jon turned to take him in.

He was handsome and polished. He was about fifty-five, and he'd had work done. It wasn't drastic, but the man looked a bit waxen, a sure sign of Botox. He had hair plugs at some point because the rows of hair were too uniform, which wasn't exactly a turn on, but the man had warm eyes. They were shamrock green, just like Michael Warren's lovely eyes. The man's hair was a flat brown, unlike Michael's red-burnished, brunet. The eyes, though, were nearly spot on.

"I'm Jon.”

"Collin Murphy. It's nice to meet you, Jon. Are you a local or in town for business?"

"Meetings. I'm from… Well, that doesn't matter, now does it?"

The eyes were enough to seal the deal. If Jon looked into them, he could almost pretend the man was an older version of Mickey Warren.

Collin chuckled. "Yes, I suppose there's no use for pretense. I'm just down the street at The Berkeley. I'll leave a key for you at the front desk. We can have a nightcap.” The man tossed a fifty on the bar and stood, smiling at Jon.

It was then he noticed a wedding ring on the man's finger. "Oh, and what would your better half think of you propositioning strange men in bars?" he asked, hoping it was flirty. He wasn't trying to be judgmental, but really?

"As I always say, what she doesn't know, doesn't hurt her," Collin told him as he winked and walked out of the bar.

Jon waited until he was sure the man was gone before he went out and hailed a cab. His car was parked in the garage under the firm, so he could take a cab to work the next morning. He had a lot of things to consider because there was a nagging in his gut he didn't like.

It was too late in the evening to rehash it in his foggy mind, but he'd think about it over the weekend. Yes, when he was in Dillwyn. That would be the perfect time to think things through.

Driving up the long, paved driveway of his parents’farmbrought memories—pleasant memories. Jon had loved being in the country when he was younger, and he really wondered when he'd stopped enjoying it. Was it during high school when hewas just discovering his sexuality and knew there was nobody in Dillwyn who would be his type?

Attending private school with Audrey Langley was on his mind. They'd determined early in their teens that the nice, simple people in Dillwyn were beneath them, as they'd continued to remind each other on random weekends when they'd been at the farm during their youth. They’d both become elitist, and it was sad.

Jon hated thinking how much he'd changed over the years, but things got worse in college, and then even worse when he started practicing law. His family name meant something in Richmond because his parents were wealthy and well-respected. As he thought about it, he had ridden on their coattails. Instead of earning the respect his father had from people in the community, it was conveyed to Jon secondhand. The realization of the truth in that piece of information didn’t set well in his gut.

Jon parked his Mercedes under the carport behind the large manor and grabbed his overnight bag. He went in through the backdoor, seeing Ursula, the housekeeper and cook, at the stove, stirring.

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