Say Something

By BA Tortuga

Not everyone gets a second chance to say what they mean before it's too late...

Jenson can't remember a time when he didn't love Mike, but he's never been able to articulate what's in his heart. Though they're separated while Mike pursues his Hollywood dreams and cowboy Jenson remains in their small East Texas hometown, they always find their way back to each other when life gets hard and a friend's support is crucial. Through life's amazing victories and crushing losses, Jenson trusts he can always depend on Mike, and vice versa. But the timing never feels right to make the move from friends to lovers.

When what might be their last chance arises, Jenson knows he must overcome his fear. The man he loves is slipping through his fingers, and he can't wait any longer. It's time to say something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Turtlehat Creatives
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781951532581

Book preview

1

The last weekend before school started was always a bitch of a letdown. This year was no damned exception, even if Jenson Thackerson didn’t have to go back. He’d graduated in May, maybe not with honors or nothin’, but with enough to get him a decent job, if his mom and dad decided to kick his ass off the little ranch they owned.

No, the letdown came from all of them taking Sandy Kinder’s big van down to Corpus and tearing it up for a long weekend. There, he could pretend that nothing was gonna change, that Mike Simon wasn’t going to leave in three days and go off to North Carolina to go to acting school.

UNC has an acting school? he’d asked when Mike had gotten the letter.

Mike had snorted, his blond hair all wild as he set to pulling out this big-assed book from the school library, and there it was. UNC. North Fucking Carolina. That was a twenty-four hour drive away from Podunk, Texas. Twenty-four hours and forever, might as well be.

Jenson wasn’t doing no more school if he could help it. Oh, if he got his ass kicked out and couldn’t get a job cowboying, he had the grades for trade school. He was okay with cars, decent with putting in a new light switch. He’d go for mechanic or electrician.

Mike had called about an hour ago, asked him to meet out at the cemetery after dark and bring some smokes, and he did it. Of course he did it. Daddy was already swimming in the bottle, and Momma was in her room with the dog-eared book she’d stolen from the library and her Marlboros, dreaming of a life that didn’t involve cow shit and washing stains out of boys’ underpants.

He parked his old Chevy out on the maintenance road and watched the last rays of the sun go down. He pulled out the pack of smokes and tapped the end against his palm a few times before pulling off the plastic. He’d have one while he waited.

The humidity made everything lazy, even the mosquitos, and he couldn’t help but think that tomorrow he was going to be out here, just another redneck driving down gravel roads acting like that was something special, and Mike would be in his perfectly clean little Toyota with his boxes and his books, heading to the East Coast.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Oh, not that Jenson wanted to go back East anywhere. What he wanted was Mike. The trip to the beach had given them some stolen kisses and a few quick gropes, but Jenson wanted more.

He wanted full-on naked. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to hear Mike beg for it. He knew Mike would.

The very thought made his dick hard in his jeans and made him curse when his cigarette burned his fingers.

He heard a husky chuckle. You ever going to learn how to smoke, man?

Jenson turned to see Mike wandering over, coming to sit next to him on the tailgate. On the wrong damned side.

Scoot, man, Mike said, and he did, because he was always willing to do for Mike.

What’s up, Mike?

Been a long couple days. You?

Been trying to decide if I have to apply for jobs. He sighed. You all packed?

I am. Yeah. I wish you were coming. It looks like a kick-ass campus. Mike took a smoke, lit it, and the flame shuddered in the wind.

I ain’t smart like you. What else could he say?

I’m not all that. I just…. Mike shrugged. What was Mike going to say? That Mike had tried? Because that was the God’s honest truth. Mike fought for it, worked hard.

Jenson did too. It just didn’t matter. He wasn’t school material. He lit another cigarette, trying not to cough. Lord.

You think you’ll stay at home?

Like it mattered. Neither one of them could afford long-distance phone calls, and Jenson, well, shit, he wasn’t much of a letter writer. Maybe postcards, if he remembered to buy stamps.

Jenson nodded. If they’ll let me. If not, I’ll try cowboying out with the C Bar. Mr. Carlson ran a huge Beefmaster operation.

Such a cowboy. Not like Mike. He was gonna be something bigger than a shiftless drover.

I don’t know what else to do. Be a drunk like my dad, I guess. He laughed, trying not to sound so damned bitter.

I vote for cowboy over drunk, I think. Drunks are a little creepy. My mom knows lots. Mike’s momma was a bartender over at the Rail. She scared him a little, being so hard and fierce, always broke and always fighting. She loved Mike, though, more than life.

So does mine. He gave up on the smoke, grinding it out on the old toolbox at the foot of the truck bed. I wish you didn’t have to go, man.

I know, but I can’t stay here. It’s over for me here.

Why? He was about to get his begging on. Stay, Mike. Please. Just stay.

I can’t, Jen. They’re going to kill me.

What? Who? What the hell are you talking about, man? He turned to look at Mike, finally, and reached out for his best friend.

Mike was staring away from him, out over the gravestones.

Mike? What are you talking about? Who would hurt any of them? They were just kids.

Mike turned to face him, and Jenson gasped, jerking back in pure surprise. A huge set of stitches stretched from eyebrow to chin, the skin raw and sliced to hell. Mike’s eye had this metal thing over it, and for a second it looked like his best friend was a robot. One of them kind that went berserk in the movies and shot sparks.

Jesus. What happened? He didn’t know what to do. His hands fluttered with the need to touch.

Got jumped out at the fairgrounds. Said they wanted to make sure they never saw my fag face on the big screen.

His mouth fell open. Oh fuck. Oh God, Mikey. He hadn’t called Mike that since grade school.

I can’t stay here. Everyone knows about me. Everyone. I’m not like you, you know?

What did that even mean? Mike. I’m like you, and you know it.

I do, but no one else does. You got Allie at the dances. You can pass. Me? No one ever looks at me and thinks ladies’ man. Mike touched his face, winced. Now for sure I can’t be the romantic lead.

I’m sorry. Had he done something? Had someone told about them kissing at the beach? Christ. Mike….

Yeah. Mike reached out, touched his hand.

He grabbed on, not daring to move any closer or do nothin’ else. He might hurt Mike if he tried anything else. Promise me you’ll keep in touch somehow. I know it’s corny and all, but please.

I swear to God. I’d take you with me, if I knew how. I would, but….

But he was still safe here, and Mike… Mike would always be queer, always be running. And what was a guy like him, like Jenson, going to do at a fancy college back East?

That ain’t gonna happen. You need to be safe.

It isn’t. Once I figure it out, though, I’ll bring you. Show you everything.

I’d like that. Hell, he’d even get an extra part-time gig and save his pennies, if he could go see Mike at school.

It’s a promise. Mike squeezed his fingers. Can we sit here until morning, together? I’m heading out at 8:00 a.m., and I’ve never… you know. It’s a long way by myself.

We can. He wanted more than just sitting, but he knew Mike needed strength and quiet, not grappling and groping and possibly getting caught doing crazy shit. He held Mike’s hand and waited for the sun to come, knowing he was losing something incredibly important, but not knowing how to keep it. Or even say it.

It’s supposed to be amazing, man, growing up, right?

It’s a gyp. He was convinced of that. Totally overrated.

Yeah? Then when’s the good part?

I don’t know. Jenson took a deep breath and squeezed Mike’s hand. He needed to cowboy up and be positive. Mike needed his good thoughts. Maybe after you get out of college?

"Maybe. I’m so fucking scared, man. These guys in the program are trained, good. They’ve done more than playing Li’l Abner in Mrs. Fincher’s yearly musical. And now there’s this. He waved at his face. I’m going to be a freak."

Is…? Jenson swallowed hard. Your eye, I mean. Is it…?

It’s got a scratch, that’s all. The cup deal is to keep the blood out of it.

Keep you from itching it too, huh? Jenson chuckled, the sound dry as a bone. You’ll be dashing.

I’ll be the scary serial killer, maybe. Mom says if I’m lucky, it’ll only be a thin scar.

Just take care of it. He rubbed his thumb over Mike’s knuckles.

Yeah…. I’ve never not lived in the same town as you before.

I’ll miss you. Now they were just getting sappy. Jenson looped his fingers around Mike’s wrist, turning back to the sky.

At some point Jenson fell asleep, leaning on the wheel well of his truck, and when he woke up, Mike was gone, the sun was up, and it was over.

They’d said they’d call and shit; Mike had said they’d visit somehow. Jenson wasn’t sure how it was possible, let alone probable. He felt more alone than he had in more than ten years, since him and Mikey had become inseparable.

He couldn’t imagine how Mike felt. Jenson couldn’t even try to know.

All Jenson could try was to go to the ranch and get to work.

2

S o, this guy, he’s the one? Ricky leaned over the edge of the bed, head dangling down.

That kills brain cells, man. Mike looked at himself in the mirror, working the thick pancake makeup to make the scar less noticeable.

Uh-huh. So does green, and we smoke that. The scar is hot, honey. Leave it alone.

Mike grunted. He’s only ever seen it with stitches.

He’s, like, a real cowboy?

Uh-huh. We’ve been together forever. I just… I can’t believe he’s coming. Really coming, here. Jenson. Finally. Mike touched up his eyeliner, and looked at himself again. Maybe glasses….

You’re such a big queen. Ricky laughed, waving at him upside down.

You’re just jealous that I’m not your big queen.

Nah. You’re too toppy. Ricky cackled, and Mike had to laugh. Everyone knew Rick would bottom up for anyone.

Oh yeah. I’m a big bad leather daddy. He turned and flexed, playing happily. Ricky was going to be a model. Hell, the guy was already working. Him, though, he still wanted to act.

He thought he could. His profs said he had talent. He just had his damned face to overcome.

The phone rang, and he spun around. Oh God. Do you think it’s him?

Well, he’s supposed to be here. Answer it, dork. Rick rolled off the bed and smoothed the blankets, then waved on his way out the door.

Love you, bitch. He waved and grabbed the phone. ’Lo?

Hey, Mike. You got a visitor. Says his name is Jenson?

Cool. Cool. I’ll be right down. Thanks. Oh God. Oh God. He hung up the phone and did a little dance, wiggling and bouncing hysterically to try and get things under control. Jenson. Here. Not back home, which was somewhere he’d not been since he left.

He ran down the stairs, leaping to the landings, three whole flights of them.

He saw the cowboy hat first and set to hooting and clapping. Jen! Jen, man, you made it!

Three years. Three years of postcards and letters and phone calls once a month. That was it. Now he had Jenson right there, and no one at the dorm would worry about a little man hug.

He threw himself into Jenson’s arms, squeezing hard. How was the drive?

Good. Jenson sounded out of breath and not a little surprised. I ate a lot of hamburgers.

I bet. Come on up. We can order pizza in a bit. Thanks, Lew. I’ll see you later.

No problem. Lew waved them in, and Jenson followed close on his heels.

I’m on the third floor. I can’t believe you’re here. Like, really here in person.

I know. Wow, look at this place. Jenson stared at everything like a goat looking at a new fence.

I know. Totally industrial. I try to make it my own. His walls were covered in movie posters; the bulletin board had every call he wanted to audition for, plus pictures of him and his buds.

It’s awesome, man. Serious.

Thanks. He locked the door behind them, bouncing a little on his toes. You want a Coke or something? I got some.

Jenson looked like a wet dream—tall and muscled, tanned, and pure cowboy. Like something out of a movie or a Marlboro ad. Jenson was smiling for him, reaching out to touch his cheek. Nah. Not right now.

Fuck.

Fuck, that was electricity, and he wanted to ask if the scar was ugly, if it turned Jenson off. More than that, he wanted a kiss, hard and deep and long, so he pushed up, their chests slapping together with a sound that surprised the living fuck out of him. Jenson grunted, mouth open on a word he never got to say. Mike didn’t want to wait for a protest, so he took that kiss, knowing he was better at it now than he had been on that trip three years ago.

He felt Jenson’s low cry, and then one of those amazing hands was on the back of his head, tilting his head for more. Yes. This was exactly how he’d imagined it. Desperate. Hot. He rubbed hard, his cock battering against his button fly and needing Jenson to touch.

They broke for air, and like magic, Jenson reached for Mike’s crotch.

Oh, please. Please, Jen. He rolled his hips right into the touch, like he was dancing.

Mmm-hmm. Jenson wasn’t really forming words, and those fingers were a little clumsy, but Jenson got Mike’s cock out, tugging at it.

Mike felt every fucking callus dragging on his prick, pulling at him, petting him. He’d dreamed of this so many times. This was better. Please. Make me come, and I’ll suck you dry, I swear. Just let him go all the way.

Anything. Jenson watched him, watched that strong hand moving on Mike’s prick.

The kisses got wetter, wilder, sloppy, and he didn’t care because Jenson was touching him. That hard thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, making him cry out, his ass clenching up to push his dick forward.

His cock rasped against Jenson’s jeans, the denim dragging on his tip, and that was all she wrote. Bang.

Oh God. Oh damn, Mike. So pretty.

Fuck. Fuck, yes. It’s you. And it was going to be Jenson’s turn, as soon as he caught his breath.

Jenson didn’t help with that, kissing him desperately, pushing him up against the wall to hump on him.

Want to suck you off, Jen. Want to taste you.

Yes. God. Please. Jenson grunted, backing up to struggle out of his jeans.

Mike went to his knees, knowing he looked like a big whore, but he needed to know, needed to give something back to Jen. That heavy, hard cock was right there like a flagpole, waiting for him to run it up.

Oh sweet fuck…. He leaned in, licked a long line from balls to tip, his eyes fucking crossing with the salt and bitter flavor.

Mike. More. Jenson’s hips sawed back and forth.

Everything. His tongue flicked at the tip, and he got to taste it—Jen. Oh sweet Christ. He knew that now. He’d never forget it, either. It was fucking imprinted on his brain. Jen petted his hair, his shoulders, nonsense words falling around him. It didn’t matter. He got it. Sucking was a go.

Jen seemed to swell even more between his lips, that cock hard as nails. Mike rolled the heavy ball sac, tugging a little, giving a bit more while he let Jenson’s prick nudge the back of his throat. It took two more thrusts before Jenson gave it up for him, coming hard and fast, rocking into him, and he swallowed hard, pulling fiercely, taking every drop in.

Jenson patted his shoulder, the touch clumsy as hell. That was…. Mike. God.

Uh-huh. He swiped the tip of Jen’s cock with his tongue, feeling like the sexiest son of a bitch on earth. Jenson was here. Really here. Fucking hot.

Jen shuddered. Love that.

This? He lapped that broad head again.

Sensitive, man. Jen tugged him away.

Poor cock. He stood, zipping with energy, and then he patted Jenson’s package.

Uh-huh. Jenson grabbed his shoulders. Can I kiss you? Is that weird?

It’s totally hot, man. For real. He wrapped his arms around Jenson’s waist and stepped closer.

Oh, good. Jenson kissed him like they were meant to be right there, lips clinging like they couldn’t bear to part. Mike let his thumbs roll in lazy circles, touching.

Finally, they leaned on each other, breathing together. That was almost better than the sex, being able to be close. He couldn’t stop grinning like the biggest idiot ever. Jenson was here, in North Carolina, in his room.

So. Uh. Jenson laughed, the sound happy as could be. This is your dorm room.

Uh-huh. Room sweet room. He backed off, grabbed a couple of beers, and hopped on the bed. I had a roommate, but he’s got an apartment off campus.

Jenson joined him, sliding down next to him, warm and firm.

So, tell me everything. How are you? How’s home? How’s work?

Those lean cheeks went dull red, and Jenson looked at the blanket. Same as ever, I reckon.

Oh man. That sucks. Ouch. Okay, then. Nothing but fun. No talking, then. Let’s play my Sega, drink beer, and eat tons of pizza.

Yeah? Jen gave him a happy sideways glance. Good.

Swear. I don’t have class or rehearsal until two tomorrow afternoon.

Then we can have a ball. Jen touched his hand. I don’t mind talking a bit, but home ain’t happy for you.

It’s just not home. It never would be, ever again. He’d die first.

I know. Jenson grinned. So, games.

You know it. He got his little TV going and tossed over the menu for Papa Vinnie’s.

Oh man. Look at all these toppings. Jenson looked so tickled that Mike had to kiss him.

He climbed into Jen’s lap, straddling the long thighs. God, this was fun. The freedom to touch made him a little giddy.

It’s going to be hard to order pizza like this. Jenson was all smiles, though, and all hands, touching him.

I can manage. I’m flexible, and I’m an actor.

So if I do this, you can still talk. Jenson grabbed him through his jeans, getting him revved up again.

Uh-huh. Maybe even sing. He was totally lying.

"Yeah? You gonna do a selection from Oklahoma?" Jenson had never let him live it down when he’d tried out for the school play.

O-o-o-o-o-oklahoma! He yodeled, and they both cracked up, laughing hard enough that he damn near fell off Jen’s lap. Jenson grabbed him, solid as a rock. Thanks. God, it’s good to see you.

You too, buddy. So good.

We have a bunch of guys that want to get together at Daniel’s bar tomorrow night. It should be a blast.

You—you don’t mind me coming? Jenson started chewing his lower lip,