wondering—hoping—that someone might be waiting outside the stage doors. By then he wasn’t even hoping that someone would be Web. He was just longing for any little sign that he was missed, that someone cared he was gone. Had even noticed he was gone. But of course no one had been waiting.
He had grown up a lot on that tour.
The fact that Web had actually been there, but not let him know, almost hurt worse.
Everything might have been different…
And now?
And now they were back at the ranch, just as Mitch had feared, and there was still so much to say and no time to say it. Maybe no point in saying it.
Web swung the steering wheel in a neat half circle, parking right in front of the house. The porch light burned cheerfully but there was no welcome there. It was just a light fixture on a wooden structure.
The truck’s engine continued to rumble, the exhaust floating red in the glare of the taillights. Mitch couldn’t think of what to say. He knew he should get out now. Thank Web for the lift and get out. Neither moved or spoke.
At last, to his relief Web turned the engine off. They sat in silence gazing out the windshield at the stars across the night sky. Mitch racked his brains. There was probably something really obvious he should tell Web.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Web said immediately, uncompromisingly, “I wouldn’t be here if I was.”
Mitch thought that over. “But there must have been men you got close to over the years?”
“Sure. Nobody I wanted to take home to meet my mama.”
Mitch thought that over. He wished he could read Web’s face in the darkness. “It’s true? Your family knows about you?”
Web’s head moved in assent.
“How did that go?”
“It wasn’t any big drama. After you lit out, I said, ‘Daddy, girls are all right but I don’t guess I’m ever going to get married.’ He said, ‘Son, that’s kinda the way your mama and I figured it. The way we see it, your little sister is goin’ to get married and divorced enough for both of you.’”
“The hell he did.” Mitch started to laugh. Web so perfectly captured the slow, exaggerated style of speech his father used when he was spinning one of his stories.
“Hand to the Bible.”
Mitch shook his head, still laughing. He gazed out at the dark shapes of the windmill and barn and smokehouse.
“I was seeing someone in New York.”
“I figured.”
“A couple of days ago I walked into my dressing room and he was…”
“What?”
Mitch could feel Web staring at him though it was unlikely Web could read his expression in the darkness any easier than he could read Web’s.
“He was with someone else.”
“The hell.”
“He was standing there, leaning against my dressing table getting a blow job from Na—with a guest artist.” For a moment Mitch could see it all again: Innis’s face contorted with bliss—and then alarm—his own mirrored, stricken expression, and Natalie Dies’s wide-eyed reflection, her pretty pink mouth still wrapped around Innis’s cock.
Web said after a pause, “If he was in your dressing room he must have wanted you to see it.”
“No.” Mitch shook his head. “Maybe. Soloists don’t have their own dressing room. I was supposed to be in rehearsal for the next six hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m probably not the easiest guy to live with.”
“Probably not.”
Mitch spluttered, “Thanks!”
Web said, “You were always higher strung than a phone pole in the Himalayas, Mitch. That’s the truth. I don’t guess you’ve got a lot mellower although it looks like you got everything you wanted.”
Mitch tried to read the black silhouette of Web’s profile. “What is it you think I wanted?”
“You wanted to be a famous ballet dancer and you wanted to get the hell out of Llano. And you wanted them both as fast as you could get them.”
Mitch looked away out the window at the moonlight buildings. The tightness in his throat made it hard to get the
He had grown up a lot on that tour.
The fact that Web had actually been there, but not let him know, almost hurt worse.
Everything might have been different…
And now?
And now they were back at the ranch, just as Mitch had feared, and there was still so much to say and no time to say it. Maybe no point in saying it.
Web swung the steering wheel in a neat half circle, parking right in front of the house. The porch light burned cheerfully but there was no welcome there. It was just a light fixture on a wooden structure.
The truck’s engine continued to rumble, the exhaust floating red in the glare of the taillights. Mitch couldn’t think of what to say. He knew he should get out now. Thank Web for the lift and get out. Neither moved or spoke.
At last, to his relief Web turned the engine off. They sat in silence gazing out the windshield at the stars across the night sky. Mitch racked his brains. There was probably something really obvious he should tell Web.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Web said immediately, uncompromisingly, “I wouldn’t be here if I was.”
Mitch thought that over. “But there must have been men you got close to over the years?”
“Sure. Nobody I wanted to take home to meet my mama.”
Mitch thought that over. He wished he could read Web’s face in the darkness. “It’s true? Your family knows about you?”
Web’s head moved in assent.
“How did that go?”
“It wasn’t any big drama. After you lit out, I said, ‘Daddy, girls are all right but I don’t guess I’m ever going to get married.’ He said, ‘Son, that’s kinda the way your mama and I figured it. The way we see it, your little sister is goin’ to get married and divorced enough for both of you.’”
“The hell he did.” Mitch started to laugh. Web so perfectly captured the slow, exaggerated style of speech his father used when he was spinning one of his stories.
“Hand to the Bible.”
Mitch shook his head, still laughing. He gazed out at the dark shapes of the windmill and barn and smokehouse.
“I was seeing someone in New York.”
“I figured.”
“A couple of days ago I walked into my dressing room and he was…”
“What?”
Mitch could feel Web staring at him though it was unlikely Web could read his expression in the darkness any easier than he could read Web’s.
“He was with someone else.”
“The hell.”
“He was standing there, leaning against my dressing table getting a blow job from Na—with a guest artist.” For a moment Mitch could see it all again: Innis’s face contorted with bliss—and then alarm—his own mirrored, stricken expression, and Natalie Dies’s wide-eyed reflection, her pretty pink mouth still wrapped around Innis’s cock.
Web said after a pause, “If he was in your dressing room he must have wanted you to see it.”
“No.” Mitch shook his head. “Maybe. Soloists don’t have their own dressing room. I was supposed to be in rehearsal for the next six hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m probably not the easiest guy to live with.”
“Probably not.”
Mitch spluttered, “Thanks!”
Web said, “You were always higher strung than a phone pole in the Himalayas, Mitch. That’s the truth. I don’t guess you’ve got a lot mellower although it looks like you got everything you wanted.”
Mitch tried to read the black silhouette of Web’s profile. “What is it you think I wanted?”
“You wanted to be a famous ballet dancer and you wanted to get the hell out of Llano. And you wanted them both as fast as you could get them.”
Mitch looked away out the window at the moonlight buildings. The tightness in his throat made it hard to get the
Similar Books
