The Farmer's Son

Chapter 54 A Proper Goodbye

The three men sat under a light around a makeshift table of an overturned crate, while more crates overflowing with colorful clown wigs and clothes were shoved against the perimeter. Behind them a curtain separated the cab, and with the door closed, the smell of beer and nachos permeated the space that was just a little too warm for comfort.

Clasping Beard Face's—whose name was actually Jake—hand, Ray stepped up into the back of the van and pulled the door in behind him. "Couldn't have gone better if I'd planned it myself," Ray said, taking the fourth place at the table like he belonged.

"You did plan it yourself," said The Other Guy—Mike—sitting across from him. "But you know, you usually set up a fake attack so you could swoop in and be the savior, not for some other guy to do it, right?"

"Not this time," Ray laughed. "God was it great to see you guys again!" he said, clapping Jake's shoulder. "When I turned around and saw you, it was almost like I was back in the arena, and you were coming to save my bacon after a fall—which you did. I owe you guys. Not everyone would have come after I called them out of the blue and asked a favor before I even bought you a beer."

"We may not be clowning for you anymore, but we've still got your back," said The Little One, actually named Rodney, his voice no longer high and breathy, but deep and low. "But you sure about lying to your friend?"

"It won't be for long," Ray said. "I'll tell Alan when the time is right. You guys leaving tonight?"

"Got to be in Hudgen's by morning," Mike said, sneaking a look at Jake's cards.

"You take care of yourself, Ray," Jake said, holding out his hand.

"You, too," Ray said, clasping his hand and encompassing the others with a fond gaze. "Next time you're passing through, come by the house for a home cooked meal and some home brewed whiskey."

"That's a promise," Jake said, saluting.

Ray hopped out, smiling as he heard Jake scold and whack Mike for cheating, remembering all the times he'd heard it before, and thinking about all the times he wouldn't. He stepped back as they closed up the door. He waved at the hand that waved at him out the front window, and watched as the dark blue van carrying the last friends from his former life pulled out of the lot, and onto the road across the tracks.

Then, with a smile still on his face, he turned and headed back inside, where the man who had become his future waited for him.

*

In the very last room of a one-story motel with only a handful of cars in the lot, Alan fell back onto one of the beds, arms around Ray, eyes closed, lips locked, alcohol scented breaths mixing in a heated exchange.

"Why did you get singles?" Alan panted, shrugging out of his jacket.

"I couldn't very well ask for a double bed, could I?" Ray panted back, taking off his own.

"I would have," Alan said, flashing a grin as Ray kneeled over him and pulled off his shirt.

"And then you'd be the reason I get run out of Dodge," Ray said, making him laugh. "More importantly, are you sure you're okay to do this? If you throw up on me, I swear—"

Alan laughed. "I promise not to throw up," he said, pulling Ray down for a kiss. "If you promise to tell me what that whole thing with Buzz and the bikers was about."

Ray paused, hand under Alan's shirt. "You knew about that?"

"The moment you upped the bet," Alan said, undoing Ray's belt. "You're way too responsible with money to make a bet like that, no matter how confident you are. And then I heard you talking to Buzz about Stilton. I figured something was up."