The Country Duet(58)

“Whacker?” His voice is muffled from the pillow.

“Dick,” I correct.

“Your couch would be worth more with no layers.”

“Get your ass up!” I toss another pillow at his back. “I need to head out to Dave’s to mow his lawn. You’re going to shit when you drive this mower.”

He slowly sits up with sleep still covering his face. “You are getting a boner over a lawn mower? You need your damn head checked, Hunter. Or a good lay.”

“Just get your ass up. Trust me, you’ll never be the same.”

Connor is up and dressed, but demands to stop at a drive-thru for coffee and breakfast. He’s never been out to Dave’s place. As we pull up to it and the wagon wheel fence comes into view, then the acres and acres of machinery and junk, his jaw drops open. It’s quite amusing watching people’s reactions when they first see this place. It’s unlike anything else, but today it’s missing the star of the ranch, Dave,

which will allow us to race the shit out of his lawn mower. Connor stumbles as we walk to get the riding lawn mower out of the shop because he can’t quit staring at everything in front of him.

“Jesus, this place.” Connor brushes his forehead.

“It’s a gold mine, eh?” I pull open the shop door. “Thing is, he doesn’t sell shit and hates people.”

I point to the riding lawn mower in the corner. The look on Connor’s face is puzzled.

“Looks like a regular mower to me.” He shrugs.

“Just you wait.” I smile. “Shit’s about to get real intense.”

I’m on the mower for two passes at full speed before Connor is waving me down dying for a turn. And that’s how we spend the afternoon, racing the mower across Dave’s lawn and every single pasture. Call it a man thing, but going thirty miles per hour on a lawn mower is fun as hell.

“What now?” Connor asks when there’s no grass in sight tall enough to mow.

“Want to help me weld something?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

I walk him over to the tractor that’s Dave’s favorite one to use to move equipment. The problem is he’ll only go a hundred yards driving it before he stops. I have to walk next to him, making getting any work done slower than shit.

“What the hell is this?” Connor asks.

The man is from a large family farm, and tractor work is his specialty. It’s comical watching him stare at the tractor with confusion.

“Dave’s fabricated work of art,” I say with a chuckle.

“Never have seen anything like it.” He adjusts his ball cap sideways on his head.

“That’s Dave for you.” I lean on the wheel. “He likes to haul shit with it, but he’s slower than piss. I want to weld a seat on the side so he can sit up here while I work.”

“Like a platform type deal that could be a seat or something to stand on?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

It’s friends like Connor who have wild country hearts like mine that I appreciate. He doesn’t bitch about the work or even ask for pay. He rolls his sleeves up and gets to work with me. It only takes a few hours before we have a seat on the side of the tractor for Dave.

Connor begs me to go out with him, but I refuse. I went and visited Dave. All in all, it had been a good day. His spirits were better, even though he has to stay an extra week in the hospital. For once in a very long time, my mind and body are exhausted enough to fall asleep. The package of gummy bears on my nightstand doesn't have the power to taunt me. My eyelids fall shut, and I’m out.

My phone rings on the nightstand next to me. I reach for it, still in a deep sleep, and knock the pack of gummy bears off. I rise into a sitting position, fighting to gain my bearings. Then fear sets in. No call in the middle of the night is ever a good one. Visions of my family race through my head, or is it the hospital telling me Dave passed?

My sight is blurry from still trying to wake up and I can only focus in on the time. Three-thirty in the morning.

“Hello.” My voice cracks and I wipe away the sleep from my eyes.

“Hunter.” A deep, cheery voice comes from the other end.

I hold the phone out and stare at it. Is this a damn dream? What in the hell is going on?”

“Hey,” I croak out, waiting for the inevitable bomb to drop.

“What’s going on, boy? How was Friday night pussy?”

“Dave?” I ask, pretty sure it’s him but still fucking confused as hell.

“It’s me.” he yells into the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling you.”

“Dave, it’s almost four in the morning.”

“No, it’s not.” He coughs. “When are you coming to visit me? I’m waiting on you.”

“Dave, it’s way too damn early.”

“You kids have no work ethic. It’s well into morning. Just checking to see when you were coming to visit me.”

“Are the blinds in your room open?” I ask him.

“Nope, closed, but all the lights are on in the room.”

“If you were to look out, you’d see it’s pitch black.”

“I’m not fucking dumb, Hunter.” His voice escalates.