About Riding the Rainbow

by Kiernan Kelly
26 pages / 6700 words
Ebook zipped file contains - html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub

Flint thinks he wants nothing more than to stay on the down low and make a career out of riding bulls, but when an altercation loses him his big chance at the pros, he thinks his life is over. It takes a good friend to teach him that there are more important things in life than a career, and most of all, to hang in there because it gets better.

Sample

Dustin's place was a singlewide trailer set at the south end of the Round River Fish Camp. It was the last one in a row of six nearly identical trailers. Mac Creedy, a local who rented them out to anglers and hunters in season, owned the other five. Mac was Dustin's cousin on his mother's side, and rented the sixth trailer to Dustin for a pittance each month in return for Dustin's help keeping up the other five when they unoccupied. On weekends, Dustin tended the miniscule lawns and did whatever odd jobs needed tending.

Flint hadn't wanted to go home. His folks would've gone ballistic seeing his battered face, and would've known instantly that he'd snuck out to the rodeo. It would've been a double dose of Hell to have to explain to his Ma and Pa that he hadn't gotten busted up riding, but in a fight. That would've only led to questions about what started the fight, and led to places Flint wasn't ready to go with his parents. Not yet, anyway.

He was sitting on Dustin's recliner, feet up and head back with a icepack on his nose, staring up at the ceiling. There was a water stain almost directly over his head, an ugly brown, irregular blotch.

After a while, he removed the icepack and looked at Dustin, who sat on the sofa, fiddling with television remote. "You think I was stupid for fighting Sweet?"

Dustin aimed the remote at the set and clicked it. Nothing happened. He shook the remote, as if jostling it would reconnect whatever wires were loose inside, and tried again. "You didn't know it was gonna end up with you being disqualified."

"That ain't what I asked you."

Dustin tossed the remote on the coffee table, and looked at him. "Truth? Yeah, it was kind of stupid. I mean, if he took a swing at you, you should've defended yourself, yeah. But you said he only bumped you. You should've walked away, Flint."

"That's what Doc said, too."

"I seen him, you know. Doc. Over at the Blue Goose. He's a good dancer."

"Yeah. He told me he's gay. Gave me some advice."

Dustin grinned at him. "Wow. I didn't know you and ol' Doc had such a close and personal relationship."

Flint tossed the ice bag at Dustin who caught it handily. "Asshole. He gave me advice, not a blow job."

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"Pretty much same thing you did, that I should've walked away. Said fighting only gives jerk-offs like Sweet what they want -- power, satisfaction."

"Smart man, that Doc."

"Maybe."

"There ain't no maybe about it. You wouldn't be in the fix you're in if you walked away."

Flint knew Dustin was right, but didn't want to admit it. "Aw, fuck you, Dustin."

Dustin grinned again and rubbed a hand over his crotch. "Now you're talking my language. I was wondering when you'd want to get naked."

Flint groaned as his body hardened despite the pain he felt. "In case you didn't notice, I'm all tore up."

"Bet there's one part of you that ain't busted." Dustin's grin grew wider and he stood up, still rubbing his crotch. Flint could see a bulge lengthening beneath the denim, and thinking about Dustin's cock only served to make Flint harder.