Page 10 of Brett and Rowdy (Gomillion High Reunion #5)

Chapter Six

S o it was really weird going to somebody’s house for the first time.

Not scary, not really.

But weird.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ashley had asked when he told her he was leaving with Brett. He had kind of chuckled and nodded, because really, he was fine.

What was the worst that was going to happen?

He was going to have to call Ashley and have her come to pick him up in the middle of fucking nowhere?

It wasn’t like everybody didn’t know where Brett lived.

The man was not actually out in the middle of nowhere, just right outside of town and his family had been there for eons.

“I have to tell you, I don’t know what to do here in this situation,” Brett admitted.

“Oh, this part is easy.” He’d had to train a hundred cowboys on how to have a blind boss.

“I’ll hold your arm. We’ll walk to the door; it’ll be easy.

Oh, and I’ll need to know if there are stairs or obstacles.

I don’t really remember. It’s funny because now, once I go into your house, I’ll remember.

But as a kid, I have to tell you, thinking about this sort of thing, well, it just wasn’t a thing… ”

Christ, he was babbling. He’d been trying so hard to go for like calm, cool, collected, and totally, terribly grown up.

So much for that.

“There’s no real stairs to go up to the porch.

I mean, there are two, and then we just go on in.

Or there’s a ramp if you’d rather, but it’s way longer.

We put it in when my grandpa was not doing so well.

” Sounded like Brett was a little nervous too.

“When we get to the door, we’ll walk right into the front room. ”

That he vaguely remembered. “The kitchen’s on the left. Your bedroom is on the right.”

“It was. Now I’ve got the master because… well, you know.”

Rowdy snorted. “Right? Because you’re not like seven years old anymore.”

“You never knew me at seven,” Brett shot back. “Seventeen? Yes. And no. I’m not seventeen anymore either. I don’t have to sneak my beer.”

“No, me neither. Hell, my daughter’s old enough to be legal to drink.” That blew his fucking mind. “You know how weird that is?”

Brett chuckled, and they started walking. It wasn’t quiet out here like it was at the ranch. There was more traffic.

“Do you have any dogs? And do you have a place for Barney to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, and yes I have?—”

A baying set up. It was just about the loudest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh my God, do you have a hound dog?”

“I do; it’s a basset. His name is Mr. Mann.”

“Mmhmm. That’s a great name. Seriously. It’s absolutely wonderful.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not Jabber Jaws or Captain Caveman, but it’ll work.”

He stuck his tongue out at Brett. “You know, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, the first one was a Fred. I mean, what else was I gonna do? And really, by the time I get them, they’ve been around a bit.

The pups, you know, they trained for a year at least, and that’s once they’re grown some.

And the thing is, I use the same breeder and so, we kind of love it, and they love me, because I keep them after they retire.

We have space. We have tons of things for them to do. ”

Keys jingled. “I can’t imagine. Uh, so is Barney dog friendly?”

“Sure is. Mr. Mann?”

“He’s a basset hound. He loves everybody.” The ground was gravelly and unsteady under his feet, but thank God he was used to that. They made it up the stairs, the door opened, and Barney immediately moved in front of him as Brett went “oof.”

“No jumping. Sorry, he’s just a baby.”

“He sounds like he’s gorgeous. What color is he?” Colors didn’t mean so much to him anymore, but he liked to try to pretend that he remembered.

“He’s a red and white. He’s just a big goofball. Mr. Mann, this is Barney. Barney, this is Mr. Mann. What do we do?”

He fought his smile. “Well, why don’t we go in. Do you have a fenced-in place for them to go outside?”

“I do. I have a doggy door.”

Excellent. Barney would be out like a shot, exploring new ground. “My Barney knows doggy doors. So let’s go in. I’ll have a seat and then I have my stick. I’ll unharness him, and then he’s just a dog.”

“I don’t think he’s ever going to be just a dog.”

This time Rowdy did just crack up. “Trust me, if he’s not working, he’s a giant goofy-assed dog. He likes to play ball and get tummy rubs and chew on my earlobes.”

“Your earlobes?”

“Yes. And yes, it is the grossest thing you’ll ever experience.”

“Okay… so. I’m going to set you down on the sofa. Would you like a beer?”

“I would love one. I don’t suppose there’s a bowl of water that Barney can get to.” He leaned down and he took off Barney’s harness, the dog shaking good and hard, like “oh, off work. I’m taking off my bra.”

Brett’s house smelled good, like leather and black pepper with a hint of… Lava soap and char. Like burning, which made sense.

“So you weld your artwork?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do both—I have an arc welder and a forge. I mean, obviously not in here. That would be messy, and I don’t think even the tile floors would forgive me. I tend to work on concrete. Why?”

“I’m curious, I suppose. I mean, it’s not like I can see what you do for a living, so if I have to guess.”

“Well, at some point we could—” Brett stopped suddenly. “You know what, if you lean forward and stick your hands out—I mean lean like really lean forward at the hips.”

He did as Brett asked, leaning forward, his hands out, fingers searching.

“Perfect. Now, put your hands down.”

He put his hands down and they landed on cold metal. “Oh, is this something you made? Is it sharp?”

“Yes, to the making and no to the sharp. That’s why I said I figured it was safe. It’s absolutely not sharp, but it kind of has the feel of my artwork. I do some furniture. Very little, but this has a feel of what I do.”

He explored. It was so smooth, and the flat plain of it was interesting to his hands. Actually, because it was so slick, it was like not touching anything.

Like when he touched his own lip and he couldn’t figure out if his finger was feeling his lip or if his lip was feeling his finger. It was the weirdest thing.

But then he got to the edges and they were all different types of bends. There wasn’t a straight edge or a point, not anywhere. It was like a roller coaster in his hands.

“Oh, this is amazing. This is so cool. I love this. Are there legs? Is it solid?” He scooted closer to the table, almost falling his butt off the couch, but he was just fascinated, and he had to see. He had to know.

“It is on legs, but you kind of—the base is the same size as the top almost. If you’ll scoot your toes out—go slow – when you feel it, it matches.

The legs are V-shaped underneath going from the outside down toward the middle, holding it up.

” There was excitement in Brett’s voice, this warmth and pride.

Rowdy acknowledged it somehow in his brain, but really… He was fascinated. This was amazing.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever felt. Is there more that I can see?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take you out to the studio in a minute. You want your beer first?”

Did he want a beer? He didn’t know if he wanted to. “Oh, the legs aren’t the same. The legs are… They have a texture, and they make a sound.”

He knew his mouth was open, and he was gaping like a newborn fool, but it was so fascinating to find something new. “Eee-a-la, I need one of these. This is amazing. I know, I’ve said that already, no? I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t have all of the words that I need.”

“It’s okay.” Brett sat beside him. “I can’t begin to tell you how absolutely okay it is that you don’t. Jesus, Rowdy. Thank you.”

He stopped for a second, tilted his head, utterly confused. “For what? You’re the one who made the thing.”

“Yeah, I am, but I gotta tell you. That response is why I make the things.” There was a sense of awe in the timbre of that drawl. “And I rarely get to see the really good reactions in person. You rock.”

“No? I can’t believe that. It’s so…” He shrugged again, his hands moving.

“True story.”

He snorted. “ Mira , look, I want to see the rest before the beer.”

“All right, man. Need a hand up?” Brett touched his shoulder, and he jumped, because the touch was different somehow. Not hesitant or impersonal.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He let Brett pull him to his feet, and he grabbed his cane so they could go outside. The dogs came to see what they were up to, milling around their legs, but nobody tripped him up, which was great.

Brett took him out to the backyard, the humidity slapping him in the face, and he noticed that there was neatly clipped grass under his feet.

More gravel crunched, then, as they got on a path out toward the back forty.

Soon enough, they were stepping inside Brett’s workshop, and Rowdy smelled more of that deep, metallic fire smell, along with all of the other things that he guessed went with metalworking.

Metal, oil, and wood shavings, and the floor under his feet was some kind of something hard.

He wasn’t sure. Surely not tile. If Brett dropped a big piece of metal on tile, then it would break. But it wasn’t wood.

“So tell me what I’m supposed to be seeing here,” Rowdy said.

“Well, as you come in the door, directly across the room is my big workbench. That’s where I put things together, getting them ready to weld or to mount, and where I make my plans.

I stack anything that I’m about to forge together, that kind of stuff.

And then around the room from right to left, there’s drill presses and grinders and whole bunches of other tools.

” Brett took him to the workbench so he could feel the scarred wood.

“Oh, feel that. Was that your grandpa’s?”

“Yeah. It’s older than that too. Maybe a hundred years old or so.”

“I like that kind of hand-me-down,” Rowdy murmured, tracing a scar in the surface.