Calvin’s Cowboy by Drew Hunt

hired excellent and capable staff, but there were several things only he could attend to. One of them was the pending decision about whether to pursue the Jenkins account. Calvin read the email from Tim, who seemed to be edging away from the idea. Calvin wrinkled his brow and decided he better give Tim a call. Even though Calvin was an hour behind New York time, he knew Tim would still be at the office.
    “Howdy, Cal!” his business partner said. Tim was the only one who could get away with using the short version of Calvin’s name.
    “Just thought I’d check in. You, Felicity and Maggie are okay?”
    “Yes, we’re all fine. And you? Ridden any broncos yet?”
    “Uh, no.” Calvin had come to realize Tim’s views of anything south of the Mason-Dixon Line had been gained mainly from Hollywood movies. “Just trying to get the folks’ place ready for sale. I’d forgotten how much slower things run down here.”
    They chit-chatted about inconsequentials for a few minutes before Calvin got to his point. “Listen, I don’t understand your objections to us taking over the Jenkins account.”
    “Wow, the South must have started to seep into your veins. The Cal I knew here in New York would have started the conversation with that statement even before I’d had a chance to say ‘hello.’”
    “Fuck off.”
    “No, seriously. Something’s changed with you. What is it?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    Tim stayed silent. The bastard knew exactly how to get Calvin talking.
    “Well…there’s this contractor who’s really struggling to find work, so I—”.
    “Oh, shit! You’ve found another lost puppy.”
    “What? No. Like I said, Brock’s just a contractor.”
    “And he’s struggling to find work, so you thought you’d do your white knight thing.”
    Calvin found himself squirming. “It’s not that bad. This place needs work before I put it on the market.”
    “And?”
    “And the recession has hit pretty hard here.” Calvin recalled all the boarded-up storefronts in town.
    “And?”
    “Your needle stuck on that word, is it?”
    Tim sighed. “This Brock guy wouldn’t happen to be handsome would he?”
    “I don’t think he’s your type.”
    “I’m a happily married heterosexual man. Guys aren’t my type.”
    “You once said you would jump the fence for Bruce Springsteen.”
    Tim laughed. “The Boss is the only exception to my straightness. And Cal, stop trying to evade the question.”
    “I’m sorry, what was the question again?” This was Calvin’s last hope, wearing Tim down enough so he’d drop the subject.
    Tim sighed, but stayed quiet.
    “Okay!” Calvin knew he was sunk. “Yes, Brock is handsome.” Fucking beautiful, he silently added.
    “And have you had sex with him?”
    “For a straight man you’ve got quite an interest in gay sex.”
    “So you have had sex with him,” Tim concluded.
    “Well…Bill Clinton wouldn’t count it as sex.”
    “Oh, Cal!” So much disapproval, regret and love was crammed into those two syllables. “It’s Roger all over again.”
    “Brock is not Roger. And I’m not in love with Brock.”
    “You said you weren’t in love with Roger, either. But his departure—after getting thousands of dollars out of you—still resulted in you moping around the place for weeks.”
    “Like I said, Brock isn’t Roger. I knew Brock in high school and couldn’t stand the sight of him.”
    “And now he’s handsome.”
    “Shut up.” Calvin had begun pacing the house’s central hallway, a sure sign he was nervous. “All I’ve done is offer him the contract for renovating this place.”
    “And blown him.”
    “He blew me if you want to know. Took me in the bathroom at the hospital.” Calvin’s voice was rising in volume. “And within a couple minutes I was shooting gallons of come down his throat.”
    “If you’re trying to gross me out, Cal, it won’t work. I love you. I’m concerned for you. That’s why I’m saying all of