Calvin’s Cowboy Read Free

hat revealed a full head of mid-length blond hair that was starting to go white at the temples.
    Dolly Parton, eat your heart out, Calvin thought, raising his bottle to John, or Brock as Calvin had been asked to call him.
    “Calvin Hamilton,” Brock mused. “We were in high school together, right?”
    “At the same time. I wouldn’t exactly say together.” Calvin remembered with bitterness the times when he would be pushed aside whenever the pack of star jocks would go strutting down the halls.
    “You were that drama geek with the thick lenses.”
    Calvin’s bitterness overflowed. No way was he going to let this guy intimidate him now! Not after he’d spent years honing his body in the gym, having Lasik surgery on his eyes, and generally improving himself until he was a partner in a well-respected New York PR and marketing firm.
    “Yeah, that was me.”
    Brock treated him to a smile before raising his bottle and taking a gulp of beer.
    “And the rumors about me back then were true. I am a fag.”
    Brock jerked forward; beer streaming out his nose as he coughed.
    Calvin leapt to his feet, ran round the table and thumped Brock on the back.
    “It’s okay,” Brock wheezed. “Thanks.”
    Calvin returned to his seat. “I wanted to make that clear before you accepted the job. I’m an out gay man, and if you’re not comfortable with that, then…”
    “No, no. It’s cool. You just surprised me is all. Folks round here wouldn’t…”
    “Yeah. Guess I’ve gotten too used to New York ways.”
    “So,” Brock asked, a twinkle in his eye, “did you have a secret crush on me back in high school?”
    Immediately Calvin fired back, “No, I thought you were an arrogant asshole.”
    Brock’s face fell and Calvin felt as though he’d got one back from all those years ago. “I just am still really sensitive about those days. They weren’t exactly happy times for me.”
    “No.” Brock shook his head then looked Calvin straight in the eyes. “Guess they weren’t. Sorry.”
    “Every day at school was a battle to remain hidden, to blend in, to stay below the radar, just so one of your jock buddies wouldn’t notice me, trip me, push me into a locker or use me as a punching bag.”
    Brock looked embarrassed. “I kinda remember that.”
    “And then they’d brag about beating up the school fag?”
    Brock looked down at his half-empty bottle. His silence was answer enough.
    “We lived in different worlds back in high school. Everybody knew you and how many home runs or whatever you had hit the previous season. Whereas no one, apart from my fellow ‘drama geeks,’” he sketched quotation marks in the air, “knew about me. And that was just fine.”
    Brock shifted uncomfortably, Calvin had made his point, so he changed the subject to the reason for Brock’s visit.
    They had a walk through of the house, Brock pointing out things such as the odd patch of damp, crumbling masonry and the quarry tiles in the hallway.
    Going outside, Brock requested use of a stepladder so he could examine the roof.
    “See how many of the shingles have turned up at the edges?”
    Calvin was more interested in looking at the man’s ass than whatever was on the roof, but managed to make an affirmative noise.
    “They’re quite brittle, too,” Brock said snapping off a small piece. “When was the roof last shingled?” Brock got down from the ladder and helped Calvin put it away in the garage.
    “I was just going to college, so I’d say about seventeen years ago.”
    A new roof was added to the list of what needed to be done.
    When they were back inside, Calvin said, “I’m anxious to get the old place on the market and sold as quickly as possible, though still for a good price.”
    Brock nodded. “I’ve had a cancellation, so I could start next week, if you want?”
    Calvin did want. He doubted there had been a cancellation, but opted not to call Brock on it. He asked Brock to get some figures to him by the weekend. Though