Page 9 of The Only Seconds that Matter
“Why even do it?”Victor couldn’t help but ask, bracing himself against the truck door as the tire hit a pothole.“You must be crazy.”
“That’s one way of puttin’ it.”
“Most people who want a thrill go sky diving or something.”
“Ain’t no way.I’m terrified of flyin’.If God wanted us to fly, He woulda given us wings, that’s what my mama always said.”
“If God wanted us to get bucked off of horses, He wouldn’t have made much safer horses.”
“There’s somethin’ appealin’ about facin’ down an animal and walkin’ away from it.There are guys that like to fight other guys, but I prefer to go up against a horse or a bull.There ain’t nothin’ personal about it, ya know?They’re just doin’ what they do.So even when they break your head open, you can’t blame ‘em.”
“I guess I prefer to have less confrontational relationships with my horses.”
“Y’ain’t ever done somethin’ stupid and dangerous for a thrill?”
“Not really.I’m boring in that way.”
“Hmm.Maybe we can find somethin’ to loosen you up a bit, huh?You don’t stand a chance with any of these ladies if you aren’t willin’ to get a little wild.”
Victor sighed.He should have expected this conversation.It seemed to be one of the main things on every straight man’s mind.Wiggling out of it was always a chore.“I don’t know if you know this, but there are women out there who don’t require you to take your own life in your hands to be interested.”
“Maybe so, but I ain’t gettin’ laid with those women.”
“Pretty sure you aren’t getting laid with anyone.”
Johnny laughed again, harder this time.“Damn boy, alright!”
“I was joking,” Victor said, feeling a little bad about the comment already.
“Hey, with your looks and my sense of adventure, maybe we can corral at least one lady tonight, yeah?”
Victor decided to let thatyour lookscomment go.As much as straight men insisted they weren’t aware of the looks of other men, they sure did have a way to slip in little comments like that.“Is that why you invited me?To be your wing man?”
“My best friend’s comin’ too, so don’t you worry about that.She’s got me covered.”
Not that Johnny wasugly, and not to say that local women already had questionable taste in men, but Johnny didn’t strike Victor as someone who’d had a ton of success with women.He was a bit goofy in appearance—gap toothed and scrawny— and considering all the trash in his truck, he didn’t try all that hard to be impressive.But maybe he was more successful than he seemed.He was fun and non-threatening, and women liked those qualities in men.Victor thought he knew what women liked, but the more married women he met, the more he realized he was completely out of his depth.
The drive was much further than Victor expected.What Johnny had made seem like a quick dash to the next township turned into a fifty-minute drive past cornfields and empty pastures that hadn’t seen a brush hog in months.Johnny talked most of the time, mostly about his career and how he got into the big leagues.He had a habit of listing names Victor didn’t recognize and then never explaining who exactly it was before going into their full genealogy report.Victor was as entertained as he was baffled.Johnny could have explained the technical manual on lawnmower repair and it would have been amusing.His asides, his very strong accent, the way he’d always pepper his speech with “you know what I mean” and “now I don’t feel about that one way or another” before going into a five-minute spiel about how exactly he did feel about it.He was a fascinating person to watch.
Finally Johnny interrupted himself mid-stream to yank the truck down a dirt road, and moments later a variety of metal corrals came into view, accompanied by some rusty bleachers and an announcer’s booth that looked like it had been put together with two dollars and a prayer.However, as run down as the place was, it really was hopping—the grassy field beside it was stuffed full of pick-up trucks and horse trailers, and people of all ages and types were milling around, their only unifying feature being the cowboy hat.There were a few women doing barrel race practice runs in the warm-up ring beside the arena, and a collection of horses stood in a group by the gate as all their riders chatted.
It took some time to find parking, but once they did, Johnny climbed into the back of the truck to retrieve his beer.He handed a can to Victor before throwing back his first swig.
“I gotta find fucking Sarah,” Johnny grumbled, perusing the rows of trucks.“She’s got a shitty little Camry.”
“Hey, you redheaded bastard!”came a greeting from several strides away, and Johnny whipped around on his heel, already smiling.Approaching was a heavyset woman in dirty jeans and a T-shirt, her dyed blonde hair piled up into a messy bun on the back of her head.She was only about five-two, so next to Johnny they looked like quite a pair—skinny and fat, short and tall.
“I didn’t know they let white trash like you in here,” Johnny said, and the woman punched him in the arm with a grin.
“Says the public menace,” the woman replied.
“Lemme introduce you to my new friend here, Vic,” Johnny said, grabbing Victor’s arm and dragging him to stand next to him.“He owns that nice place on Route 217 called Riverside.”
“Creekside,” Victor mumbled.
“Nice to meet you,” the woman replied with a smile.She lacked the strength of Johnny’s accent, but she seemed like a local.“I’m Sarah.”
“Hi.I’m Victor.”Victor held out his hand, unsure if shaking hands was a thing outside of professional settings, but Sarah shook it anyway.
