Page 50 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

Wesley

The best timeof year is here, and with Halloween rapidly approaching I’m eager celebrate the holiday in the city with Dahlia. I’ve never felt such bone deep peace in my life. Dahlia is my soulmate—she’s gotta be, otherwise that shit doesn’t exist.

Over the past few weeks, we’ve made every effort to spend time with each other—her coming to the farm or me staying with her and Daphne. When we can’t be together physically, we’re texting or video calling all day long. I simply can’t get enough of her.

Things with Jasper have calmed down and he seems more open lately, less miserable. He’s still a dick to Daphne and she constantly eggs him on, but Dahlia and I have decided to wash our hands of their madness. Jasper is sure we can fix the orchard and recoup our losses, even without the grant money. Really, I think he’s scared.

I must be daydreaming because the other farm hands start mimicking me, looking off all dreamy-like I’m swooning. I am not swooning—they’re mad I’ve got someone to daydream about. Plus, I know they love giving me shit for being soft. “Backto work, fuckers. One day when some lovely human sweeps y’all off your feet, I can’t wait to return the favor.”

I head to the barn to tack up Lucy and she’s happy to see me too. “Hi my girl,” I coo at her. I reach my palm out for her to sniff before she starts nuzzling into me, demanding treats and affection. Can’t say I blame her. I also love snacks and being loved on. She snorts. “Here, impatient,” I say with mock annoyance, retrieving a peppermint candy from my pocket for her.

After tacking her up, I lead us out and decide the weather is nice enough right now for a trail ride. Jasper’s with the few farm hands we have here. He still looks like such a grump, even from a distance, but that’s not my problem right now.

With everything going on, I’ve admittedly been a little distracted, so my mind has been a bit kinder to me. Between falling in love and feeling like I have some sort of renewed purpose, I’ve felt better than I have in a while. Yet today, the familiar numbness started feathering in. Almost like when you’re out in the cold and your fingers and toes start getting tingly—you know you need to get warm or the feeling will get worse.

Lucy and I ride, unhurried, toward the well-worn trail on the backside of the property. My mind starts to wander. I haven’t felt as out of place here as I normally do and I don’t know what to make of it.

For so long, it felt like all I wanted to do was escape—escape my dad, escape the pain, the trauma, escape this farm. It’s no wonder I feel so goddamn lost—nowhere ever felt like home to me. Nowhere until now. People say home isn’t always a place and I think it’s finally starting to make sense to me. Dahlia feels like home. She feels like the home I wanted at five when my mom didn’t come back and she feels like the home I criedfor when my dad decided my discipline needed to come from a closed fist and cutting words.

Maybe I’m in too deep, but after searching for love in every person and place, finding a safe place to land was all I ever wanted.

It feels like I’m on the cusp of change—like the leaves turning, a seed starting to sprout. If there’s a chance to change, to live a life I’m proud of, I can’t waste it. Not that I was a waste before, but I didn’t particularly feel like I had a direction. If I think about the future, what do I want? If given the choice, would I cut the strings tying me to this place or would I try to start over here? Where does Dahlia factor into this? Obviously if we get the grant funding, there would be some level of commitment on her part, or at least I hope so. Would she stay here with me? I don’t know if Jasper would take too kindly to me up and leaving, but he also doesn’t feel the way I do. I’m lost in thoughts as my worries tumble around in my head like a dryer on the high setting.

Lucy lets out a contented whinny and I lean forward to pat her on the neck. I decide to take a picture of this moment on my phone, for what reason, I’m not entirely sure. Change is coming and I want to remember how it felt to be on the edge of it. I aim my phone to capture her perky ears, the burnt colored trees, the peace of this moment. Sending the picture to Dahlia, I type a short message.

Wesley

Thinking of you

Somehow,I’ve convinced Jasper to come to Cunting Season this weekend for Halloween. The masked strip tease show is tonight before Dahlia’s set, one she’s described as spooky and kinky. Three of my favorite things—Dahlia, Halloween, and freaky, sexy stuff. Costumes are encouraged, so Jasper and I are dressed as skeleton cowboys—Stetsons on and face makeup to look like handsome skulls.

I’m not sure what kind of spell Jasper was put under, but he willingly dressed up with me. Dahlia was pleased as pie to straddle me and disguise my face, whereas Daphne looked like she was ready to throttle Jasper for even setting foot in their apartment. After Dahlia teased me by constantly “adjusting” on my lap, she got to work making me up. There’s a high pitched yelp from Jasper and I look over to see him swatting Daphne’s hand away.

“Woman, you can’t say poking me in the eye twice in a row was an accident anymore,” Jasper complains before crossing his arms and closing his eyes again, subsequently surrendering to Daphne.

“Stop being so damn wiggly and I won’t need to gouge your eyes out, Jaspy-poo,” Daphne shoots back in a sweet, mocking voice. I don’t need to see Jasper to know he’s probably vibrating with annoyance, but he’s still here and hasn’t threatened anyone which feels like a win to me.

Dahlia told us her costume is different tonight than her usual southern girl couture, so I’m eager to find new forms of her to obsess over. Daphne explains she’s on the main bar tonight, but she will keep two seats open at the end for us, if we need a break from the crowd.

“Tonight’s drink specials are the Skeleton Soul Sucker and the Screamer Shot, so I expect you both to enjoy my offerings.” Daphne points between Jasper and I. In typical, Jasper fashion, he says nothing, simply glares.

“I will certainly indulge. God knows I love a good soul sucking.” I wink at Dahlia when she snorts and rolls her eyes at me before she heads to her room to change for the shift.

Daphne and Dahlia rock their pre-club outfits, which Dahlia once explained to me as “slouchy chic” and serving two purposes. One, to avoid creeps leering at them on the subway, and two, to avoid having any extra skin touching the subway. Sometimes Dahlia is wearing denim underwear and she’d prefer not to contract a flesh-eating disease from the seats. The thought of some perverts getting off on watching Dahlia and Daphne when they’re commuting home makes my chest tight.

Daphne assured me their close, personal friend Stacey, also known as Medium Rare—whatever the fuck that means—keeps them safe. As we pile into my truck, Dahlia races to call shotgun while Jasper is huffing over having to sit backseat bitch.

“I’m just saying, I’m significantly taller than you, Dahlia.” Jasper’s tone is surprisingly lighter than it’s been with her overall, so at the very least, we’re moving in the right direction.

We drop the girls at the door and park down the street. Jasper’s gone quiet again.

“You excited? A night out on the town?” I joke with him.

“Excited. Sure.”

“Slow down there partner. I think you might burst into confetti with all the glee you’re experiencing.”

He pins me with a glare, morphing into the hint of a smile, and that’s good enough for me.