Page 14 of The Barn: Frost and Q

Eleven

Q had a headache.

Like a pounding headache that hurt his jaw and his teeth and made every heartbeat throb.

And the next person who bothered him was going to die.

He gave no shits about any parties. He didn’t care about the barometric pressure’s effect on cock rings. He didn’t want to be sympathetic that someone had sat in poison ivy. Or hear about anyone keeping any kind of creature penned up in order to have some stupid fucking game.

No counting turkeys or juggling marmots or booping the snoots of porcupines or whatever stupid fucking idea their stupid fucking new head of entertainment had come up with.

Why the hell did they even have a head of entertainment?

Weren’t they supposed to have meetings about that sort of thing?

That seemed like a fairly major deal for him not to have approved.

He punched Boone’s number, the man answering immediately. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Not so loud. Why the fuck did we hire a person to be in charge of entertainment? How come no one asked me about this?”

“Uh… You did the background check, honey.”

“Don’t you honey me,” he snarled. “I didn’t approve hiring someone to be a master of entertainment. Master of Ceremony. Whatever the fuck it is?”

“It’s more like a cruise director. Like Julie on Love Boat.”

“Oh fuck that. We’re all gay, all on the dirt, and well directed. And you’re not that old to know that show. Why isn’t Carson doing it? It’s his goddamn job.”

“Carson’s an owner like you and like me, and we voted on it, and majority rules.”

“I didn’t vote.” Surely, he would have remembered that.

“Maybe if you would come to a meeting?—”

“What, you need me there to tell you this is a stupid goddamn idea? I would have thought you could have figured this out all on your own. I am not going to approve of having some kind of marmot juggling competition on my watch! That’s animal abuse.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Have you been sleeping? Are you having a stroke? Maybe there’s gunpowder leeching into your brain.”

No one was allowed to joke about stroke things with him. It was too fucking soon. Eighty years from now would be too soon. “Fuck you, asshole. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

“You are in a mood. What the hell is wrong?” Boone wasn’t allowed to sound concerned about him. No way.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m mad at you. I’m mad at all of you for hiring somebody without my say-so too. I deserve a vote.” He slammed down the phone, then texted almost immediately.

And don’t you tell Frost that I need him because you all can just FUCK OFF

Too late

God, Boone could text at lightning speed. Now he was going to have to deal with Frost being all sympathetic or buck up buttercup, one of the two, and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want anything but some respect from his fellow fucking owners.

Sure enough, his door buzzed, and he blinked, trying to get past the stars in front of his eyes. He poked his phone, buzzing the door open, and Frost strode in, searching the room for him.

“Hey, baby. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is I want some damn respect around this place.” He slapped his hands on the chair arms, but that jolted his neck, which made his head throb, and he gagged.

“What happened? Whose ass do I need to kick?”

Okay, that was new. Different. More like the Frost before the kidnapping.

“Everyone’s. Yours too. Entertainment director? What the fuck?”

Frost paused for just a moment, then strolled to the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge.

On close inspection, it looked as though Frost had been chopping wood.

Apparently in college, Frost had been on a collegiate timber sports team.

Timber sports, for fuck’s sake. So he used chopping to exercise.

It was a damn fine look for him. If his head wasn’t banging and clanging…

But it was.

He stared at the beer.

“You mind? I’m parched. I know you don’t want one. Sprite? Juice?”

He almost whimpered. “Can you mix the two together?”

“You bet, baby.” Frost went to mix his drink, just putting in a tiny bit of ice like he liked it when his head hurt. “So what about the guy?”

“He’s making jokes about porcupine tossing or something. Tell me he’s not serious.”

“Baby, like we would let that happen. The guy just learned that porcupines fall out of trees up here. He’s terrified. I bet he lasts less than a month.”

“But you voted for him!”

“Nope.” Frost came to sit on the couch, then patted the spot next to him after putting the drinks on the table. “It was a majority vote. Three to two.”

“Wait, you voted for me?”

“Yep. I knew you wouldn’t want to bring in someone for a job that was so important to the club unless we knew them. I mean, you said he passed the background check, but I also knew the guys were kind of in the first blush of a good idea but bad timing.”

He rolled over to the couch, and then carefully lifted himself out of the chair to sit by Frost so he could get his drink. He sipped it, and his parched throat just cried out with bliss.

“So that’s why no one insisted I come to the meeting?”

“Baby, your email back was scathing. I figured I had your proxy by marriage.”

“Oh.” He sighed. “My fucking head hurts.”

“Okay, what can I do?”

He glanced over to search Frost’s gaze, but he saw no guilt or pity. Just readiness to jump in like a smoke jumper.

“My therapist does this thing…”

“Well, he lives on site.” Frost pulled out his phone, hitting something on speed dial.

“Yeah, hey, man. It’s Frost. Look, Q has a wicked headache.

What do you usually… Uh-huh. Yeah, I can do that.

I mean, I took all the paramedic training, so I think I can.

Sure. I’ll call if I need you.” Frost tossed his phone down on the couch. “Okay, give me your back.”

“Let me put the drink down. I might drop it if you get the right muscles.”

“Gotcha.”

Quentin marveled at how Frost was acting. Oh, he had no doubt Frost would slip up and go back and forth, and it would piss him off, but the fact that Frost was trying to treat him just like him, sound of body or not, was a huge step forward.

“Okay, I’m going to start gentle because I’ve never done this before, and Lane said to err on the side of caution.” Frost’s long, callused fingers searched out the spot that Lane always hit and then pressed just right. Only too softly.

“A little harder, Frost.”

“Like this?” Frost dug in just so, catching the tension held in his muscles, and goosebumps broke out on Quentin’s arms, and he broke into a cold sweat.

“That’s it.” The release was so sudden and so intense that it almost hurt. In the end, it left him gasping, fighting to breathe as his body let go of the rush of pain.

“There you are. All right, all right. Don’t forget to breathe. Breathing is important.”

He would have nodded if he wasn’t sure that was going to make him hurt again, so he just sucked in air.

“Okay, so hopefully next time you can get hold of this before it gets this bad. Headaches are the worst.” Frost’s voice was like a balm.

Just soothing, amazing. Q didn’t have to actually listen to the words; he just had to hear the tone.

“When I was a kid, I used to get earaches all the time. It was absolutely madding. I can’t imagine how bad this one is. ”

“Pretty sucky.” He sniffled, melting down onto the back of the sofa.

“Yeah. I reckon. Can you believe that they brought in some guy from like Chicago?”

He chuckled weakly, and he did shake his head this time, but ow. Yeah, he wasn’t ready for that. “I told Boone it was like having a cruise director. Maybe Boone told me, I don’t remember, but seriously. A cruise director?”

“Yeah, I can see a concierge, you know, but it needs to be someone that we hire from inside, someone who understands the land and the lifestyle, the people. We need someone who can navigate all of the different levels of formality. Plus all of the different sports activities and outdoor activities and events. I mean, it’s a big job, and I think we need someone in the position for sure, but I think it needs to be somebody local, somebody who’s been doing this.

Or something very close to it. You know, that’s what we need. ”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

This was heaven.

Not the lack of headache, which was kind of amazing, or the fact that Frost agreed with him, which was only logical.

No, what was perfect was the fact that they were just talking like normal people. Just talking shit out and being together and…

It was heaven, and he was going to fight for it.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody you said that.” Frost gently patted his butt.

“Good, we wouldn’t want anyone to think that we were on the same page about anything. It might disturb the balance of the universe.”

“Hell, it might rip the fabric of the universe, so we can’t have that either.” Frost chuckled, the sound tickled as shit. “Porcupine tossing, huh?”

He refused to apologize for his exaggeration. “Actually juggling. It was porcupine juggling. The meme pissed me off.”

“That sounds challenging and a little unhappy making for the porcupines.”

“Yeah, they’re cute little buggers and I adore them so. I know it was a joke. I was just so aggravated that my head was killing me. I just don’t know what else to do at the time. I think you’re right. I think we need somebody local.” They hired him, so he had to give him a chance.

“I don’t think he’s gonna last, babe. He’s a neat kid, but he is a city person. This is not a person who is equipped to handle ‘there’s a bear outside the kitchen’.”

Okay, that made him chuckle. He did love that part. The there’s-a-bear-outside-the-kitchen part of his life here. “Could be better. It could be a bear holding a fully loaded mountain lion.”

“Is this where I yell yeet the tactical porcupine?”

“Maybe not, yeah, but it totally is the appropriate response.” Q leaned hard, his eyelids getting heavy. “Can you stay for a while? I know we both have work to do, but I really need you.”

“I’m really right here, and I intend to stay, so we’re good. You holler when you’re ready to try some food, but first, let’s get that juice into you.”

His hands were shaking just the littlest bit as he picked up his juice and Sprite combo and drank deep.

“There you go. That’s going to make it better. How do you feel about grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“You know that I’m a fan.”

“Oh, good, I think that’s what I’m going to order. And then I think maybe if you want, we can just spend an afternoon being lazy. We can lay in bed and watch TV like we’re on vacation.”

“Amen.” Q just wanted to be with Frost for a little while. Then he could get back to terrorizing the other owners.