Page 37

Watch Out for the Chicken Shit

Harrison

The familiar scent of acrylic paint and linseed oil wraps around me as I settle into my cluttered workspace at the gallery.

Sunlight streams through the expansive windows, casting a warm glow across the abstract paintings.

My fingers tap out responses to the endless string of emails—inquiries about upcoming exhibitions, requests for private viewings, and the occasional aspiring artist seeking representation.

Lost in the rhythm of my work, I barely notice when Danielle flits into the gallery, a whirlwind of color and energy.

Her hair is piled high atop her head, held in place by what appears to be a set of paintbrushes.

She’s wearing a patchwork dress that has been stitched together from the remnants of a dozen different thrift store finds.

Perched on her nose are her signature pink cat-eye glasses, completing the picture of artistic eccentricity.

“Harrison, my darling!” she exclaims the second she sees me. “How’s my favorite assistant doing today?”

I chuckle at her cheeriness. “I’m doing great, Danielle. Just trying to stay on top of all these emails.”

She nods sagely, her expression turning momentarily serious.

“The never-ending battle of the inbox. I know it well.” Then, just as quickly, her face lights back up.

“But enough about work! Tell me, how are things going with those delightful baseball player friends of yours? Charlie and Daniel, right?”

A blush creeps up my neck as I tell her about Charlie and Daniel and the incredible journey we’ve been on together. Her eyes widen with every detail, even the naughty ones. “…which leads me to a request.”

“Oh?”

“I was hoping to take some time off next weekend for Charlie’s mom’s birthday.”

Danielle gasps and claps her hands. “Of course, of course! You must go. Family is everything, and it’s important to make a good impression on your future in-laws!”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the realization that she’s made an incorrect assumption. “Uh, Danielle? I’m not dating just Charlie. I’m also seeing Daniel.”

I brace myself for her reaction. For a moment, she’s silent, which is a rarity for her. She stands there, unmoving and not blinking. “A throuple?” she finally says with awe and concern. “Harrison, honey, that’s quite a leap from your usual modus operandi.”

“I know it’s sudden, but trust me, it feels right. Charlie and Daniel aren’t flings. This is different.”

Danielle studies me intensely. The sunlight catches the glitter in her eyeshadow, making her gaze even more penetrating. “Different, how?”

I rub my chin, trying to find the right words to convey the depth of my emotions. “When I’m with them, I don’t have to put on a front or be anyone other than myself. They accept me, flaws and all.”

A smile spreads across her face, softening her features.

“That’s wonderful, Harrison. Really, it is.

I’m so happy you’ve found that kind of connection.

” Her brow furrows slightly as concern creeps its way back in.

“I want to be sure you’re taking care of yourself, though.

A throuple dynamic can be quite complex, especially for someone who is used to keeping things casual. ”

I reach across the desk and squeeze her hand reassuringly. “I appreciate your concern, I do. But I promise you, I’m okay. More than okay. For the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy. And I have to say, I’m impressed. It takes a great deal of maturity to enter into a relationship like this.”

“Thank you, Danielle.”

She waves off my thanks with a fluttering hand. “Nonsense, darling. That’s what friends are for.”

The rental car hums steadily as we cruise down the highway. I lean back in the passenger seat, letting the cool breeze from the AC wash over my face. It’s a welcome respite from the sweltering heat outside. It might only be May, but it feels like August.

I glance over at Daniel behind the wheel. His face is serene, and his strong hands grip the steering wheel at ten and two. But it’s his bare foot pressing on the gas pedal that gives me pause.

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when do you drive like a hippie?”

Charlie snorts from the backseat, and Daniel shoots me a quick grin. He shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to drive barefoot.

“A man’s gotta air out his feet sometimes.” He looks at me sideways, eyes twinkling as he wiggles his thick toes. “Plus, we’ve got a long drive ahead. Might as well get comfy, right?”

I can’t argue with that logic, even if the method is questionable. At least he’s wearing shorts, so the whole barefoot thing sort of fits into a summertime convenience theme. I shake my head, laughing at how unsurprised I am by all of this.

Daniel reaches for the dial and turns the volume up on the Niall Horan song playing on the radio. Staring out the window, the towering skyscrapers gradually give way to neatly trimmed lawns of sprawling suburbia before stretching out into wide-open fields under an expansive blue sky.

My shoulders unknot more and more with every mile we put in the rearview mirror. As much as I love the concrete jungle, sometimes a guy needs a break—a chance to slow down, breathe in some fresh air, and remember what quiet is.

I twist in my seat to face Charlie. “Is there anything I should know about your family that you haven’t already told me before we get there?”

Charlie rubs his hands together like a madman.

“My parents are going to love you, H. I mean, if they can love this lug.” He reaches over Daniel’s headrest to ruffle his hair.

“Dad’s a real salt-of-the-earth type. Tough as nails but a real softie deep down.

And Mom’s the heart of the family. I hope you’re a hugger, because she hugs everyone who walks through the door. ”

“They sound wonderful,” I say, genuinely warmed by the affection in Charlie’s voice. “What about your brother, Roy?”

Charlie’s smile turns wistful. “Roy is about eight years older than I. He’s the best brother a guy could ask for. You know he’s the reason why I got into baseball, right?”

I nod. “And does he love Daniel as much as your parents do?”

“Well…” Charlie’s eyes flick to Daniel, who stiffens at my question. “They’re not besties, but they’re not enemies, either.”

“Frenemies, then?”

“Eh…what would you call your relationship with my brother, Danny Boy?”

“Nonexistent.” His eyes remain on the road, and his knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary.

“Did you piss him off or something?” I ask, genuinely curious to know why Charlie talks about his brother as if he’s God, but Daniel acts as if he’s Satan.

“You’d have to ask Roy that one, Price. For as long as I’ve known the guy, he’s been cold toward me. ”

I glance back at Charlie, whose smile has turned into a frown. “Have you ever asked him about it, McManus?”

Charlie shakes his head. “I think I’ve always been too afraid to know the answer. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

I reach back and squeeze Charlie’s knee, offering what I hope is a kind gesture for such an awkward moment. “I can’t wait to meet him. Maybe he just doesn’t like guys with hairy asses.”

Charlie erupts into a fit of laughter, while Daniel splutters, his eyes wide and his face red—in embarrassment or anger, I can’t say.

“Harrison!” Daniel exclaims indignantly. “Did you seriously just suggest that?”

I shrug, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “I mean, it’s a possibility, isn’t it? Maybe he’s not into that.”

Daniel’s face flushes a deeper crimson, the color spreading from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. “You’re gonna pay for that, Price,” he seethes playfully.

“Oh, yeah? And how exactly are you going to make me pay , Hollingsworth? Are you gonna spank me? Call me a bad boy?”

If it’s possible, Daniel’s face turns even redder at my suggestive words. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response. Charlie, meanwhile, continues howling.

“You two are ridiculous,” Daniel squeaks.

“You love it.” I reach over the console to poke his cheek, and he swats my finger away.

The laughter eventually dies down, and my mind drifts to a weekend of meeting Charlie’s family and seeing where he grew up. It’s a big step, one that fills me with a shit ton of excitement but also nervousness.

As if reading my mind, Charlie says, “Don’t expect too much excitement, H. Bomont’s nothing like the Big Apple. We’ve got one stoplight, a diner that still has a jukebox, and more cows than we know what to do with. The most action we get is at the annual tractor pull in the summer.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Tractor pull? ”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Charlie says with a wink. “It’s a Bomont tradition.”

Charlie’s description of Bomont proves accurate as we roll into town. A single stoplight hangs above the intersection of Main Street and Main Road, blinking lazily in the afternoon sun.

“There it is,” Charlie announces, pointing to a weathered building on the corner. “Tools & Things, where Roy spends most of his waking hours. If he’s not there, he’s out in the fields.” He points to a set of windows above the sign. “That’s his apartment. Pretty neat, huh?”

I peer at the hardware store, trying to picture Charlie’s older brother inside, helping customers find the right drill bit or recommending the best fertilizer for their crops.

It doesn’t sound all that interesting, but if he’s chosen to stay here all these years, then it must be something he enjoys.

Charlie gestures to a sprawling brick building set back a way. “And that’s good ol’ Bomont High. Home of the Mighty Muskrats.”

Daniel snickers. “Muskrats? Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t hate on the Muskrats,” Charlie defends. “We may not have had the most intimidating mascot, but we had heart.”

I grin, picturing a teenage Charlie in his baseball uniform, proud to represent his school no matter how silly the name.

The houses grow fewer and farther between as we leave the main part of town behind. Fields of green stretch out on either side of the road, broken up by the occasional red barn or grazing cow.

Charlie sits up straighter as we turn onto a long, winding gravel driveway. “Almost there,” he says, excitement creeping into his voice. “Just watch your step when we get out. The chickens like to leave little presents everywhere. ”

Daniel wrinkles his nose. “Noted.”

I chuckle at the image of a teenage Charlie tiptoeing through chicken droppings in his bare feet.

The driveway opens up to reveal a charming two-story yellow farmhouse, complete with a wraparound porch and a swing. Flower beds burst with color along the front of the house, and a massive oak tree spreads its branches over the yard.

Charlie is out of the car before Daniel even puts it in park, bounding up the porch steps two at a time. Daniel and I exchange a smile as we climb out of the car, heeding Charlie’s warning to watch out for the chicken shit.

A flutter of nerves rises in my stomach as we approach the front door, but it’s overpowered by the warmth radiating from this place.

Charlie spreads his arms wide, shouts, “Home Sweet Home!” and then bounds inside, a bull in a china shop, shouting for his mama.