“Exactly. It’s an earth song. Perry was telling me one day about how many of the tribes believe that the world has a heartbeat. The rocks, the trees, the animals, the plants, they all sing. And it’s up to us to open ourselves to their chorus. The sea talks to me just like the Tetons do you.”
I couldn’t help but kiss him. What else could a man so hopelessly in love do?
* * *
After a rather wildnight on the town with Bishop and his mother, we slept in the following day. I’d had a little too much to drink at Hankie’s by the feel of my head, but after some eggs and copious amounts of coffee, I felt like my old self again. We piled into Diane’s car, a soft blue Subaru, and left for Reseda around noon. The ride down I5-S was stunning with its views of the ocean. California seemed wider and more open than I’d imagined.
Then we got closer to Los Angeles.
All that wide and open was replaced by traffic, stores, and houses. And billboards. So many billboards. Bishop kept glancing into the backseat.
“You look like your horse right before he shits,” he commented. Diane glanced into the rearview as we turned the corner at a KFC and crept ahead to yet another traffic light.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a city bigger than Jackson Hole,” I replied.
“Did you grow up in a big city?” Diane asked as we waited to make a left at the light.
“Yes, ma’am. I find I much prefer Wyoming.”
She giggled. “I thought you might say that. Oh, come on! Will you people pay attention?! More than one car should be able to make that light!”
“Madame Road Rage,” Bishop sniggered.
We managed to get to Armie’s apartment building, a nice tan stucco building behind a security gate. Diane tapped in a code, and the gates opened slowly. We parked behind several apartment units then got out, stretching our arms over our heads to work out the kinks. The air was alive with the sounds of the city. Tipping my head up to work out the tightness in my neck, I watched a plane soar over the small stand of palms that made up a little gathering area for the condominium residents. Red brick walkways led to the buildings as well as the community area. There were benches and stoneware planters with bright red flowers.
“This is really nice,” I commented as we carried our bags to one of the ground floor breezeways. Bishop gave me a nod. Diane rapped on door 115-Z and a small dog began barking.
“That’s Alphonse,” Bishop explained right before the door opened and a slightly more flamboyant version of my Bishop threw himself at his brother. Where Bishop was board shorts, a mussy bun, and sloppy sandals, Armand was leggings, sparkle, and hair gel. And eyeliner. And lip gloss.
“I knew you were coming!” Armie exclaimed as he hugged his twin tightly.
“Of course you did, you watched them from the patio door,” a tall, beautiful Latino man with an arm full of wiggly Pug dog commented. Juan was dressed casually in jeans and a white polo shirt.
“No! It was our twin connection,” Armie replied, releasing his brother to hug his mother. His blue eyes found me trying not to look out of place. Which was impossible. A cowboy in Los Angeles kind of stood out like a sore dick to quote Kyle. “Oh, well now, look at this tall drink of water! Bishop, you never told me your boyfriend was such a silver fox!”
Armie wiggled between his brother and mother then tossed his arms around my neck. He smelled of fresh gardenias. I gave him a pat on the back.
“Armie, let them come in,” Juan said, and the clinch ended. “You know the routine. Everyone sit then Alphonse can greet you.”
The inside was cool, shady, and brightly decorated. Rounded archways, hardwood floors with bright pattern rugs. Ceiling fans whirred. We all took a seat on a long burgundy couch, and Armie took his mother’s bag. Since there was only one guest room Armie had made reservations for us in a nearby hotel.
“Are you ready?” Juan asked. The others nodded, and the Pug was placed on the floor. He didn’t stay there long. He shot up onto the sofa like he’d been fired from a cannon and went for my face, his little ass wiggling, his tongue lolling. He managed to get a few good licks in before I could grab him and pass him along to Diane, who fussed over him as if he were a grandbaby.
“Friendly little cuss,” I said to ease the worry lines on Juan’s face.
“Oh yes, he loves kisses,” Armie said while sailing back into the room. He wiggled in between Bishop and me, crossed his legs, turned his lined eyes to me, and tipped his head. “You’re not my brother’s usual kind but I do see the appeal. So, tell me all about you!”
I’d not even gotten my mouth working when Bishop jumped in, pulling his twin’s attention from me by filling him in on the dig, the ranch, the horses, the Tetons, and the moose he had seen.
“Moose! I want to see a moose. Juan, we should go to this ranch and rough it!” he called out to his partner who had been tasked to make a pitcher of white peach sangria.
“I’m not sure you’re exactly the roughing it type, bebé.” Juan entered the room with our cocktails then moved in front of us, lowering the tray so we could get our drinks.
“I could be. Here you go.” Armie passed a wine glass packed with peach slices to me. “This is one of my favorite afternoon drinks. Those are fresh white peaches, peach brandy, Moscato wine, and some seltzer. You’ll love it. It’s sinfully sweet and the seltzer tickles the nose.”
I took a sip and was surprised at how delicious it was. I generally didn’t care for such sweet drinks. “It’s quite good.”
“It’s one of the best sellers at my restaurant,” Juan stated with pride. The next few hours were spent chatting about everything but my past. Every time Armie tried to broach the subject Bishop neatly sidetracked his twin.