Bullheaded

was just on. He didn’t look in March’s direction, still wary of Vern’s watchful eyes upon him, but he knew his silver bear was there and enjoying him.
    Still, as a bullfighter, except for a few exciting saves, he wasn’t the focus of attention in the ring to anyone except March, Vern, and Reese. Only when the winner was standing on the platform getting his buckle did Johnny meet March’s eyes and smile back at him. He raised a hand and March nodded back, giving him the peace sign.
    It was a comforting feeling to know March’s card was back in his locker.

    A FTER the last high five and one more lingering glance at his silver bear, Johnny followed Vern out to the truck. Reese had already pulled out. Johnny stared out the window in silence as Vern started putting miles between them and Oklahoma.
    “So what lit you up tonight?”
    Johnny turned his head. “I met someone last night.”
    “That bimbo that was ogling you in the stands?” Vern’s tone was disapproving.
    “No, I had dinner with a man, an older guy who told me about his life. He gave me some advice.”
    “Like what?” Vern sounded as if he felt he was the one who should be handing out the advice to Johnny.
    “He said don’t let a minor thing get in the way of what you really love.”
    Vern nodded and pursed his lips. “I’d buy that. I’ll bet he meant don’t screw up the bullfighting for some girl you’ll forget in five minutes when you spot a prettier one in the next town.”
    “Maybe.” Johnny hid his smile by looking out the window.
    “Sound advice. Maybe it’s time you should get married, settle down. It was a godsend for me. Without my wife and AA, I’d probably be living in a cardboard box behind a liquor store by now. Or dead.”
    “Sounds like you made a good choice there.” Johnny felt awkward about responding. Vern had never spoken so much about his life before, and he was surprised to hear something so personal.
    “Choice between life or death,” Vern agreed.
    When his phone started to vibrate, Johnny looked down to find a text from March.
    Good job tonight. Stay well and call me sometime. M.
    Johnny smiled in secret reminiscence and texted back.
    Thanks. I’ll think about you tonight. J.
    Dirty thoughts, I hope. I’ll hope to see you again sometime.
    Filthy. Thanks for everything.
    Johnny was about to put his phone back in his pocket when it vibrated again. It felt like his heart practically skipped a beat when Cody’s name flashed on the screen.
    Great job tonight! Caught you on YouTube. Hope the fence bashing last night didn’t hurt too much.
    Johnny’s thumbs quivered while he decided whether to answer. Finally he did.
    Thanks. Last night wasn’t my night.
    Don’t diss yourself. Tonight more than made up for it. See you in a couple weeks.
    In a couple weeks the Pro Cut tour would start up again after the summer break. Somehow Johnny hadn’t considered that, in two short weeks, they would meet in the ring again. It would be his job to keep Cody from harm, and everyone would expect them to exchange their usual high five if something good happened.
    He kept staring at his phone until it went dark without realizing he’d never answered the last text. Finally he thumbed an answer.
    See you then.

    W ITH his elbow hooked over the door, Johnny leaned out to let the wind whip the ends of his hair into his face. The air at the lag end of summer was blistering hot, but the wind made it bearable. Besides, he’d grown up in the desert. Neither Vern nor Reese had ever let him take a turn at the wheel, but Johnny had gotten used to it, and also switching back and forth between them.
    Cody’s favorite song came on the radio; Gary Allan’s Get off on the Pain .
    The lines about waking up a thousand miles from home hit Johnny hard. Tomorrow and the day after was the last weekend of the touring division before a break of two weeks. He’d been running hard all summer, and suddenly after this he would have no place to go. When he walked out on Cody, he also walked away from the only home he’d known for the past two years. He didn’t really know where to go or what to do with himself during the break before the finals, other than that he needed to find work.
    Stupid things would suddenly remind him of Cody; seeing a field of grain the color of Cody’s hair, the soft moan of the wind that made him hear the sounds of their lovemaking, and a sudden sensory memory would sweep over him, making him long for Cody’s