Justin prepares for his next big race. Will Brian be there as well? Jared finds an ally with a friend, who he may not know as well as he thinks. Will and Sarah come to an understanding regarding Dale's death.

Justin groaned as he limped into the shower. Brian had been not been exaggerating yesterday when he had warned him how sore his ass would be the next day after they had fucked. Even though Brian had been inordinately gentle with him, every swish of his hips, every forward movement of his legs, caused him discomfort. Brian certainly had been correct about it, also; it DID feel like a large broomstick had been shoved up his ass. He winced as he stepped into the combination bathtub/shower. That was a pretty close analogy, he decided, as he turned the water on and stood back just outside of range until it had warmed up sufficiently. The feel of Brian's cock inside him was still with him, even now. He remembered at the time that he felt like he couldn't possibly be able to accommodate such thickness, such fullness when Brian had thrust inside him. But somehow he had.

He blushed as he stepped under the hot water while memories of what he and Brian had done yesterday sprung to his mind. Yes, it still hurt like hell at the moment. But in a way, he was proud of that fact. It was solid proof that what happened yesterday hadn't been a figment of his imagination; it had really, finally happened. And while he felt pretty miserable right now - and wondered how in the world he was going to tolerate being jostled around on top of the sulky seat - he wouldn't have traded last night for anything.

His parents had eyed him curiously as he had come back home; he could almost see the unbidden question on their lips, but to their credit, they hadn't said anything. Somehow he suspected that they knew full well he hadn't gone swimming alone, but they had left their suspicions unsaid, merely nodding at him as he had come through the back door into the living room and suggesting that he retire early so he would be refreshed and ready for today's race. Fortunately, the soreness hadn't quite set in until this morning, so he was able to act fairly normal last night as he had nodded back at them and stiffly ascended the stairs to the second floor.

Now as he trudged back into his bedroom, waist wrapped with a white towel, he wondered if yesterday had been such a good idea - or at least the timing of it. No, there was no way he regretted it, he decided with a smile, as he sat down on the bed and reached for his racing outfit that he had laid out on the bed earlier. His smile widened and his heart fluttered at the thought. Yes, it had been damn painful at first. But once he had broken through the pain and had felt the first inkling of just how mind-blowing the experience would be, it had been...magical. That was the only way he could describe it. Now he felt an even deeper bond with Brian, and he knew, somehow he just knew, that Brian had never treated another boy the way he had been treated. He had made him feel special; everything Brian had done yesterday had made him feel special. He leaned over just enough to pull the red leather sketchbook from the nightstand where he had placed it last night, running his fingers over the smooth, luxurious surface. He couldn't believe Brian had presented him with such a spectacular gift. He couldn't have presented him with a more perfect expression of how much he cared about him than if he had read his mind. Just knowing how much thought he had put into finding the right gift for him filled him with so much warmth and pleasure.

No, there was no way that Brian had ever done something like this for another boy; he could feel it. Carefully, lovingly, he placed it beside him on the mattress as he began to get dressed. He would be wearing his standard racing attire today - a white, black, and periwinkle-green, lightweight, nylon racing jumpsuit and his yellow and green racing helmet, the colors indicative of his family's crest. He was quite superstitious when it came to racing day - he had worn this same outfit for every race since he had first started, finding it a little embarrassing that he could still fit into it even now after three years. He rolled his eyes wryly. Apparently any 'growth spurt' he might be hoping for was over now. But it had brought him great luck before, so he wasn't about to break with tradition now.

He had not had a chance yet to speak with either Emmett or Vic, so he had no way of knowing if Brian had succeeded in his plan to be there for his race or not. Just the thought of it, though, made him extremely excited. He couldn't think of anything so nerve-wracking - but also exhilarating - as seeing Brian up there in the stands, cheering him on. And he had to admit - he would love to show off his racing skills to impress him. Because next to his art, he was only in his true element when he was out on that race track, feeling like he was free of constraints and one with his horse.

Finally managing to tug himself into his jumpsuit, he picked up his fiberglass helmet and proceeded painfully down the hallway toward the stairs. He could hear his parents talking, probably down at the kitchen table, as he bit his lip to try and control the soreness in his ass while he descended the steps. Standing at the bottom, he took a couple of calming breaths and straightened up his posture before walking down the short hallway to the kitchen.

Jen smiled at her son from the stove as she scooped up some gravy to place it into a Corelle bowl to accompany her homemade biscuits. "There you are," she said. "Go take a seat; I just finished fixing your breakfast."

He nodded with a smile of his own as he gingerly took his place at his normal spot, right across from his father who was sipping some coffee while he gazed at part of the paper lying in front of him. "Sleep well, Son?" he asked politely, secretly wondering exactly what had transpired yesterday evening, but choosing to remain silent about it, at least for now.

Justin didn't want to lie, but then again, he didn't think his father would think too kindly to the reason why he had hardly slept at all. Being physically uncomfortable - and dreaming about a certain, gorgeous boy - hadn't served too well for a restful night's sleep. So he nodded instead as he told him, "Yeah. I slept fine, and I'm all set. After breakfast I'm going out to double check on Headstrong and make sure he's ready to go, too." He also hoped that he would run into either Vic or Emmett. He wanted to make sure that Brian had had a chance to speak with them about going with them today. Please let his uncle say yes, he couldn't help thinking as his mother walked over with the bowl of gravy and placed it down next to the basket of biscuits warming underneath a red-and-white checkered towel.

"Good idea," Craig replied in approval. "How's he been acting lately?"

Justin smiled. "He's been doing great. The practice runs have been around his top average speed. I have a good feeling about today's race," he told him confidently.

"Glad to hear it," Craig told him with a nod, trying hard to concentrate on his son and not on the fact that they could definitely use the money. He had to confess; he didn't know what they were going to do once Justin headed off to college. He had finally resigned himself to it happening, however; he realized he and Jen couldn't keep their only responsible son here at the farm, mainly because he happened to be their chief breadwinner at the moment.

Justin nodded back at him as his mom passed him the basket of biscuits, his thoughts focused on getting finished with breakfast as soon as possible without appearing overeager. Fifteen minutes later and his discomfort temporarily forgotten, he excused himself from the table and headed outside toward the stables, a smile breaking out on his face as he noticed Vic tending to True Blue out in the paddock.

"Hey, it's Mr. Fly Like the Wind," Vic kidded him as Justin approached. "Ready for the race today? Should be a good day for it."

Justin nodded from his place on the other side of the fence, making sure to stay far enough away from True Blue so as not to get him riled up. While Vic seemed to be able to work with him - like he was doing now as he brushed his coat until it gleamed - he and Dale's former horse just didn't seem to mesh for some reason. It was a little disconcerting, since he had always prided himself on his ability to communicate so well with the horses they boarded on their farm. With this one, however, it was as if the horse thought he was his enemy. He would never understand it. He had tried diligently to make friends with True Blue soon after Dale's accident, but after coming close to getting trampled a couple of times, he finally came to the conclusion that it wasn't meant to be. The horse got along well enough with Headstrong and the other horses they bred and boarded, but except for Vic, no one could handle him. He thought Headstrong would have been a better name for this horse, rather than the one he raced.

"Yeah...Ready as I'll ever be," he replied as Vic nodded, continuing to brush the coarse hair.

"Uh...Vic?"

"Yeah?"

"Have...Have you talked to Brian lately?"

His back to his young friend, Vic was able to successfully hide the amused smile from his face as he casually replied, "Why do you ask?"

Justin's face flushed. Why was he making such a big deal out of it? It was just a casual question. Maybe it was because it WAS a big deal - to him, at least. "Well, because, I just thought that..."

"...That he might want to hitch a ride with Emmett and me so he could watch you race today?" Vic answered as he turned to Justin with a smile. Justin nodded shyly, relieved. "He might have spoken to me about it..."

"Vic..." he pleaded.

The older man grinned. "Yeah, okay, he did," he confirmed to Justin's delight. "And I told him I would be happy to have him ride along with us. Had to tell him that he'd be riding in the back of the truck, though. But strangely enough, he didn't seem to have a problem with that." He squinted through the bright sunshine at Justin as he added teasingly, "Must really be love, then."

Justin turned red as he clutched his helmet in his hand. "Vic..."

Vic laughed. "Don't worry, Justin. I won't tell anyone." He looked over fondly at his friend before he added softly, "But I don't think it's any secret by now that he cares about you...and you him."

"You...you really think so?" He couldn't keep the hopefulness out of his voice. It was one thing to believe it himself; it was quite another for an objective party to feel the same way.

Vic nodded as the two of them heard the door to his trailer open with a bang as Emmett came bounding out, dressed in a pair of shiny, black pants, his salmon pink pair of alligator boots, and a white, short-sleeved tee-shirt with the words, I'm From Alabama - Let's Get Drunk, written in big, bold, magenta-colored letters.

"Hey, Uncle!" he chirped as he walked up to them and stood next to Justin by the fence. He smiled warmly at his friend. "Hi, Baby!" He eyed the custom-fitted, periwinkle-and-white jump suit Justin was wearing and clucked appreciatively. "My, my, my...that outfit certainly gets part of ME racing..."

"Em," Justin mumbled in embarrassment, his cheeks turning pink as Vic chuckled softly. "It's what I always wear to my races."

"Well, then, no wonder you're always winning; all the other jockeys are probably ogling you instead of paying attention to the race," he decided.

Justin grinned. "I think most of them are straight," he pointed out. "Besides, trust me; they can be pretty bloodthirsty when it comes to winning and losing. And they prefer to be called drivers, not jockeys, by the way."

Emmett nodded. "Hmm...Drivers. I like that. Sounds much more forceful. But at any rate, the outfit suits you, Sweetie." He looked over at his uncle and the object of his attention. It was the first time he had gotten an up-close look at True Blue. "My goodness, he's a brute, isn't he?" he exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. Just the horse's head looked as big as his torso. The horse was sleek but very strong looking as he shifted his head a little restlessly from side to side while Vic continued to groom him. "They make them big here in Kentucky, don't they?"

Vic smiled as he turned to peer over at him. "Well, this one is a little larger than most - and about twice as obstinate, too." He finished up with his task as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "There you go, Boy," he murmured soothingly as he gave the horse a small pat on his rump. True Blue whinnied slightly as he began to slowly lope away.

"You think he'll ever be tamed?" Justin asked as he watched the magnificent animal amble away from them. He was a beautiful horse, so majestic and proud. He marveled at how well Dale could handle him when he was alive. Ironically, the horse had something in common with Dale's uncle: once Dale had died, it was as if they had both undergone a significant change in personality. Both of them, in their own way, still mourned for him, just like he did.

Vic walked over and shut the gate behind him as he turned to watch True Blue grazing several feet away. "Hard to tell," he decided. "Sometimes a horse doesn't want to be tamed. Sometimes they shouldn't be tamed."

"But Dale could always handle him - and you can, too," Justin pointed out, just a little disappointed that he couldn't do the same. "I wonder why he won't let ME near him."

Vic shook his head. "I wish I knew," he told him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "It may have to remain one of life's great mysteries." He smiled. "We'd best be getting your own horse into the trailer, Justin. I'll be heading out with him to the track shortly."

Justin nodded, feeling his heartbeat quickening. He knew if Vic was going to leave shortly, that meant that Brian should be here soon, too. "Is Brian meeting you and Em here at the stables?" he couldn't help asking, even though he cringed a little at the tone of anticipation in his voice.

Em's eyes widened. "Brian's coming with us?"

Vic nodded. "Don't ask me how, but his uncle gave him the okay to come with us to the race." He would have loved to have been involved with THAT conversation. He was still astounded that Will had been persuaded to let Brian go out to the track. But looking at the pleased look on Justin's face, he was glad that he agreed to it. "I'll be over at Headstrong's stall," he told the two boys who nodded.

Emmett grinned over at Justin like a fool as he saw Brian approaching from behind him.

"What?" Justin asked. "I had nothing to do with it."

His friend's smile became even wider as he told him with a tilt of his head, "Well, then, I guess you won't care about who's coming over here right now."

Justin could feel his heart thumping in his chest; it was close to the way he always feels during the exhilaration of a race, but not quite. It was more than that.

"Well, I think I'll go see if Uncle Vic needs any help," Em decided suddenly. He smiled at Justin and winked at him before he turned and walked toward the stables just as Justin heard a familiar, melodic voice sound behind him.

"Hey."

He turned around to look at Brian, resplendent in a pair of snug-fitting, black, stone-washed jeans, a black, short-sleeved shirt with white trim and faint, gray pinstripes, silver belt buckle and black leather boots. For a brief moment, he wondered if it had been such a good idea having this big a distraction sitting up in the stands watching him, but he wouldn't have missed sharing this experience with him for the world as he smiled back at him. "Hey, yourself. Vic told me your uncle gave you the okay to come. I have to admit I'm a little shocked."

Brian quirked one side of his mouth up wryly. "That makes two of us," he told him. "But I got up as soon as their fucking rooster started that damn crowing at 5 a.m. to start doing my chores to try and get into his good graces. And have you ever milked a cow before it's even light out? It's damn cold in there...And I found out Checkers doesn't like being awakened from her beauty sleep."

Justin giggled; Brian was beginning to sound more and more like he had always lived here. He wasn't about to mention that, though. "You're becoming a true cowboy now, Brian," he told him with a grin. "And a pretty good-looking one at that." He couldn't help ogling the way that Brian's jeans molded to his body like a glove.

Brian waggled his eyebrows as he walked closer. "Think so, huh? Just 'pretty good'?"

Justin smiled over at him shyly until he could find his voice to simply say, "Yeah, well, maybe more than that."

Brian's eyes swept over the form-fitting, satiny outfit Justin was wearing. It had to be custom made by looking at how well it fit him, and the colors were quite flattering to his skin and his eyes. "I could say the same thing about you," he murmured appreciatively as his eyes lifted to meet Justin's. "Ironic how you're the artist, because it almost looks like someone painted that on you. I didn't realize until now what I've been missing not being able to see you race," he told him huskily. "You look hot in that." He curled his lips under and leered at him.

Justin blushed deeply. "I'm...I'm glad you like it. It was made especially for me to race in," he confirmed. "All the drivers have them done; it helps give them a little bit of an edge speed wise when they race."

Brian nodded only half-listening; he was too busy staring at his beautiful lover. Lover. After yesterday, that had taken on a whole new meaning. After getting his first taste yesterday, he knew he was going to have an insatiable appetite when it came to this particular boy.

Justin cleared his throat, noticing his father emerging from the back of the house. "I...I'd better get going," he told Brian reluctantly. "My dad's going to be here any minute, and he always gets antsy to get going on race day as soon as my mom comes out."

"Brian!" Vic called out just then, finishing hitching up the horse trailer to the pickup now that he had Headstrong inside; Justin and his parents would be towing the sulky behind their own vehicle. "We're ready to go!" he told him as Brian nodded.

"Well, I would say break a leg," he said with a smile. "But in this case, that's probably not wise."

Justin grinned. "No - break a leg and horses don't go very well together in the same sentence." His face turned regretful then; he had just seen Brian again after what happened between them yesterday, and now they had to say goodbye already. He knew it was going to be wonderful knowing Brian was up in the stands rooting for him today, but he also knew it would be hours before he would have the chance to see him again alone. "Uh - I'd better get going; and Vic and Em are waiting for you, too."

"Yeah," Brian whispered in disappointment, glancing over to make sure that Justin's father wasn't noticing them yet. Not wanting to press his luck or take a chance, however, he abruptly gripped Justin's wrist and tugged him over beside a large tree trunk, out of view of everyone else.

"Brian..."

"Shh...I just wanted to wish you luck today; although I'm sure you won't need it." He pulled Justin into his arms and plastered his lips against his, hearing a slight gasp of surprise escape the full, luscious lips of the other boy as his tongue slid out to take full advantage of his opportunity. He smiled against their kiss as Justin's free hand slid around his neck to pull him even closer. Only the sound of Justin's impatient father calling for him managed to rouse them from their embrace a few seconds later as Justin hesitantly pulled away.

"I...I have to go," he told Brian, slightly out of breath and panting softly. "I'll see you later?"

Brian nodded in assurance, a wistful smile on his face as he stared back, mesmerized as usual, at his companion. "You bet. We'll have our own, private celebration later - after you win." He winked at him as he let go, Justin flushing at the thought.

He nodded with a smile before slipping out from under the tree, grateful that Brian remained hidden where he was. His father seemed more congenial lately, but he suspected he was still wary of his and Brian's relationship. Calling over to his father, he hurried over to his place by the stables.

"There you are," his father replied in relief as he glanced around the area where Justin had come from; sure enough, just as Justin feared, he appeared to be looking for something - or someone. Apparently not seeing anything, however, his father turned his attention back to him. "All set?" he asked as Justin nodded.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he told him as his father turned to go.

"Your mom's on her way out," he reported as he placed his hand on Justin's shoulder. "We'd better get going."

Justin nodded, stealing a glance backward as they walked together, thinking he saw just a glimpse of Brian's profile before they turned the corner of the stable and he was out of sight.

Same Time - Across Town

Doug Kesterson took another drag from the marijuana joint, feeling the smoothness slide down his throat as he sat with his back against the bottom of the couch, his feet crossed at the ankles. A box of half-eaten, cold delivery pizza was lying beside him as the shaggy, blond-haired teen asked, "So how much are you putting on your brother today?"

From his place next to him, Jared snorted. "What the fuck makes you think I'd be betting on HIM to win?"

Doug rolled his eyes as he passed the joint over to his friend. "Well, maybe because he's the odds-on favorite today like every other race?" He eyed his friend carefully. "Just what happened to get you kicked out of your house yesterday, anyway? Just because the two of you got into it again? Hell, that happens all the time." His friend was always griping about how he and Justin were constantly squabbling over something. All he knew this time was that Jared had called him up early yesterday morning before he was even out of bed to ask if he could crash with him, at least for a few days. He had been decidedly glum and curt on the way back to his apartment, only issuing an occasional grunt or shrug of his shoulders when he had tried to ask him some questions. He figured that now that it had been over 24 hours - and they were both feeling nice and mellow after smoking some of the joint - that perhaps his friend would finally open up to him. "Well?" he prodded.

Jared sighed, not sure how much he wanted to tell Doug, even if he WAS his best friend. The whole episode was still pretty embarrassing, and a vast blow to his normally healthy ego. "I don't want to talk about it," he finally grumbled as he took another toke of the weed and exhaled before handing it back to Doug.

"Aw, come on, Jared! I know you! There's no way your old man would have kicked you out of the house unless it was something really bad. Did it have to do with that hot guy that lives next door? You two didn't go out and steal a car or something, did you?" He knew he had hit on at least the partial truth as he noticed Jared bristling and his face turning red. "Oh, shit! Did you?" Jared had told him quite a bit about Brian Kinney - how 'smokin' hot he was, how he had been sent to live next door at his aunt and uncle's house due to some legal infractions back home involving car theft and drag racing, and how he had been a great lay. Of course, he had no way of knowing that was a blatant lie; Jared wouldn't have dared tell him that Kinney had turned him down. The worst part of all, though, was getting rejected for his younger brother.

"No!" he growled. "We didn't steal a fucking car! I don't NEED to steal one, remember? I already have one I'm working on in the barn." Well, he did, anyway, before his father made him leave.

Doug took another toke before he asked, "Then what, Taylor? Come on, tell me! I'm letting you live here, remember?"

Jared sighed as he debated just how much to divulge - and how to make himself appear as the wounded one. "It did have to do with Kinney," he began, his mind working furiously as Doug nodded with fascinated interest. "But it wasn't anything illegal - unless you call cradle robbing a crime."

Doug furrowed his brow in confusion. "Cradle robbing?"

Jared nodded as he reached over to retrieve his half-finished beer bottle and take a large swig before putting it back down. "Yeah...seems my little brother has become infatuated with Kinney. And when I refused to bottom for the asshole, he went after someone more convenient who would."

Doug's eyes grew large. "No shit." Jared nodded. "Man, surely Kinney knew you would never bottom for anyone."

"I know," Jared agreed as he wiped his lips with the back of his tee-shirt sleeve. "He was dreaming; it was never going to happen." He shrugged. "So I told him it was his loss and to leave," he added.

Doug shook his head. "But I still don't get why that would make your old man kick you out. Seems to me that Justin should have been the one in trouble, not you - or at least Kinney, for fooling around with him."

"Yeah," Jared replied, his jaw clenched as he recalled how he was summarily dismissed like yesterday's garbage. "Well, my brother's a good liar. He claimed that I had started a fight with Kinney at the town social, and our father believed him over me."

"What?! Why?"

The words began to tumble out now, one lie after the other. "Because the little squirt was interested in Kinney himself, I told you, and he was jealous that he was showing ME attention at the social that night instead. After I told Brian before that I wouldn't bottom for him, he came up to me at the midway and was trying to hook up with me again. He said he would do anything to be with me, and that he was sorry he had turned me down," he told his friend smugly. He snorted. "Guess he realized that Justin would be just a poor substitute. But I wasn't interested by then," Jared claimed as he smirked. "I don't do repeats - and once he turned me down after he gave me a blowjob, he wasn't getting another chance with me."

"Good for you," Doug praised him. "But that still doesn't explain what happened," he pressed. "Why did the two of you get into a fight then?"

Jared paused for a moment to organize his thoughts before explaining, "I caught Kinney roughhousing with my brother out back behind the building. Looked like after I rejected him, he was trying to force Justin to do something that he didn't want to do. I saw Justin push him away and then take off toward the back door to go inside, no doubt to get away from him. Kinney started following him, and I rushed after him to make sure Justin didn't get hurt." His friend arched one eyebrow at him questioningly as he explained, "Hey, he drives me nuts, but he's still my brother." Doug nodded as he went on to explain, "I caught up with him inside near the bandstand and we had words. I wound up punching him out," he bragged, thoroughly caught up in the lie now. "I found out he's not much of a fighter, too; had him down on the ground in no time."

Doug laughed. "I would have loved to have seen that! But that still..."

"I'm getting to it," Jared hastily continued. "Well, my father saw the whole thing and felt like I had embarrassed the shit out of him by getting into a fight in front of everyone. And then that idiot nephew of Vic's - you know, our handyman?" Doug nodded as Jared added, "Well, his nephew who's staying with him for a few weeks was at the social, too, and came over to our house after everything had happened and tried to act like it was all my fault somehow!" He shook his head in disgust, playing his part to the hilt now as he got his second wind.

"What the fuck, Jared? What did he say?"

Jared laughed derisively as he stole the weed back from his friend's hand to take another puff. "Get this! He told them that I was going around spreading rumors that Kinney was beating up on Justin and trying to force himself on him because I was jealous and wanted him back! What a crock of bullshit!" he growled. He let out a heavy breath. "But it was me against my brother and Vic's nephew; even Vic made up some lies and agreed with him, probably because it was family." He handed the joint back to Doug as he brushed his hand through his hair. "Who knows? All I know is my father said he was tired of dealing with all the drama and didn't need all this 'distraction' right before the race today. And since Justin does all the racing in the family, guess who had to take the fall? Good, old Dad wasn't about to let his bread ticket slip through his fingers! So here I am, living in the lap of luxury," he concluded as he laughed, but it was a hollow, derisive laugh. "Sitting here, smoking weed with you and sleeping on your rat-infested couch."

"Hey..."

Jared shook his head. "I'm just kidding with you," he assured him as he let out a heavy sigh. "I appreciate what you did; I still can't believe it, though."

"Damn, that sucks big time!" Doug growled, his eyes blazing with indignation. "I can't believe your Dad took his word - and that other guy's - over yours."

"Yeah, me, neither." He handed the joint back over to his friend as he stood up with his beer and took another swig. "And I don't even have my fucking car to work on anymore, either; not unless I go back there with my tail between my legs, and I'm not going to do that. I did nothing wrong."

"Maybe it'll all blow over in a few days."

Jared turned around to peer down at his friend. "Doesn't matter. Even if my father begged me to come home now, I wouldn't. It's too late." He bit his lower lip in thought. "I have to figure out a way to get some money coming in. I might go down and talk to Scooter and see if he needs a mechanic at the gas station." Scooter was the father of one of his former high school classmates who owned the only gas station in town.

"Maybe. But even HE uses one of those analysis computers for repairs. And he's ASE certified. Even if he DID hire you, you'd probably wind up doing mostly oil changes and being the cashier."

"Gee, thanks for that fucking testimonial, Kesterson; I really appreciate that," Jared retorted, knowing deep down that his friend was probably right. At least if he did get a job there, though, he might be able to use one of the spare berths to work on his car that he had to leave back home. That hurt worst of all. Without his car to work on, he felt like he was almost missing one of his arms. "So what do YOU suggest, genius? I'm not going to apologize for something I didn't do."

"I didn't say you should. But you still need some money coming in to live on, even if you ARE going to stay with me. So...For now, we're heading down to the race track."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? I just got through telling you..."

"I know what you told me!" Doug responded curtly. "But where else can we make some quick cash? There're other drivers who might win today, you know; look at Robbie Andrews. He's almost won the last couple of times."

Jared snorted. "The key word is almost. He was at least three lengths back last time, and you know it."

Doug extinguished the cigarette in a glass ashtray on the floor next to him before he stood up to join his friend. "Well, even if he places, we'll get some money back."

Jared huffed in disbelief. "Did you see the odds in the paper yesterday? He's barely at 4-1."

"Well, that's a better payout than if your brother wins."

"I know; that's what I'm saying! There's no reason why he won't win. We'll be throwing our money away, and I have fucking little of that to begin with."

"Come on, Jared! Take a chance! It's time somebody knocked your brother down a peg. He can't keep winning forever. Besides, what else do we have to do today? We always go...And not just to bet on the asses out on the track, either."

Jared couldn't help smirking over that; unbeknownst to most of the strait-laced patrons who attended the harness races, the Red Mill was a great way to find at least a decent fuck in either the bathrooms or around back under the grandstands. The bleachers where everyone sat weren't the only things that were 'exposed' at the race track; plenty of queers presented their fetching wares to other queers out back under the grandstand while the horses were racing. He was feeling particularly tense in light of everything that had happened, and apart from the booze and the weed, there was only one other way to alleviate that problem.

He shrugged. "What the fuck? Let's go."

Wiping her hands on her apron, Sarah walked over to the barn's doors, hearing the sound of metal rapping on metal. Carrying the plastic, oval platter with a pitcher and two glasses of lemonade, she approached her husband and sat down quietly on a nearby bale of straw, carefully placing the platter down on another bale beside her.

Sensing her presence, Will stopped banging on the tractor with his wrench and set it down on the dirt floor beside him, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Piece of junk," he muttered.

"No luck?" she asked him softly as she poured some of the cold lemonade into a plastic glass and handed it to him. Nodding at her gratefully, he took a large gulp of it first.

"No," he admitted. "I can't even get the spark plug pulled out to look at it, much less clean it off." He shook his head. "How come whenever Brian gets on it, it starts right up?"

She smiled. "Maybe he just has a magic touch," she decided. Her smile faded a little as she added, "By the way, I think you did the right thing by letting him go to the races today. He's been cooped up in this house for so long that I think it might do him some good." She paused. "And I think he really wanted to see Justin race. I remember he's pretty amazing on a horse..."

Will held up his hand. "I don't want to discuss racing, Sarah. You know my feelings on that. It's in the past; let's keep it that way, okay?"

Sarah took a deep breath; she knew what the likely response to her question would be, but she had to ask it anyway. "Just like Dale, you mean?" Her suspicions were confirmed immediately as she observed her husband's face darken.

"Damn it, Sarah! What did I just say?" He growled as he glared over at her. But beneath the anger there, Sarah could see something else as well: hurt and pain.

"You told me not to talk about racing. Okay. But that wasn't all our son did, though, Will. Should I forget about him, too?" Her husband was stonily silent as he turned to stare out the open barn door, lost in thought. "Well? Will, talk to me, for God's sake. Should I? Is that what you want?" Her eyes filled with tears. She knew she would never do that no matter what he said. She simply couldn't. She wiped some wetness away from her cheeks as she sniffled softly.

Will sighed heavily, his anger dissipating as he felt his wife's sorrow. He reached inside his overall pocket to locate his handkerchief as he turned to reach over and gently wipe some of the tears away from her cheeks with it. "Of course I don't, Woman," he replied with mock gruffness. "You know that."

"Do I?" she whispered painfully. "Will, I know how much you loved him..."

"More than my own life," he replied, his voice breaking as he looked away. "That boy was my world...along with you," he assured her as he peered back at her. "If I could have taken his place..." He pursed his lips together firmly, feeling the pinch of tears behind his own eyes; but he was not going to cry. It wasn't his way. "It all happened so fast, so very fast," he murmured finally as his mind went back to that day. "When he waved to us, he looked so happy. He was going to win again, Sarah. Just like he did every time; I knew it. But you know what? I would have traded anything, I would have done anything in my power; I wouldn't have even cared if he was cleaning up after the horses rather than racing them, if I could only have even one more day with him now." He exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers not even feeling the cold, wet condensation encircling the lemonade glass that he gripped tightly in his hand.

"Don't you think I feel the same way, William?" she asked him curtly as he lifted his eyes to peer into hers. "But he's gonel. He's not coming back. And I know it still hurts even after all this time. But not talking about him and refusing to even say his name out loud won't change things. I want to remember our son when he was alive, Will. I want to be able to take his photos out and look at them; to look at his trophies that he won, to reminisce about the good times we had together as a family. He was so proud of what he had accomplished, not just in racing but in school, in Boy Scouts, in his swimming meets. Horses weren't the only thing he had a passion for. And no one else can understand all of that except you. Don't you think it's finally time to start remembering him when he was alive instead of his death?"

She smiled over at him sadly as he sighed mournfully. "Will, I know that you will never forget our son. But I think it's time that we start moving forward and think about happy memories of him, not all this sadness."

Will swallowed hard, the lancing pain still ever present in his heart. But he knew deep down that his wife was correct. Nothing would bring him back to them. But perhaps, just perhaps, it would be cathartic to do as Sarah says - to remember some of the good times with him. And there had been a LOT of good times. For that, at least, he would always be eternally grateful. He looked into his wife's eyes as he smiled slightly. "You know...He had the goofiest smile of anyone I have ever seen. I think it was because he had that one, crooked tooth..."

She smiled warmly at the memory. "Yeah...that one in the upper right side of his mouth that he never would let the dentist pull. He called it his..."

"...Lucky tooth," Will replied as she nodded. "Said he only started winning after we threatened to take him to Doc Kesterson to have it taken out. I remember." His smile became a little wider as he recalled with a grimace, "For a while, I thought he was going to name True Blue after it. But I told him that "Lucky Tooth" didn't sound too impressive to me for a race horse." He grunted. "Would have probably given the announcer fits, too, when he announced the winners."

She grinned. "Probably. Although I've certainly heard worse." Her husband used to take perverse pleasure in pointing out the exotic, if not downright ridiculous names that some owners named their horses as he looked over the morning newspaper's betting page prior to one of Dale's races. At least their son had had the common sense to name his horse after the town's favorite basketball team instead of an upper molar.

Will nodded. "Yeah." He sighed. "Those were good times with him, Sarah. Weren't they?"

She reached over to twine her fingers with his as she replied softly, "Yes, they were."

Will studied the hand in his, listening to the comforting, familiar sounds around them that he knew so well: the occasional, low moo from Checkers nearby with her calf, seemingly getting bigger by the day, the chickens in the coop just outside the barn, softly clucking as they scrounged for food in the dirt, the calls of several varieties of wild birds that enjoyed visiting their bird feeder and bird bath daily, and the faraway, excited bark of Solomon, who was no doubt up in the woods on his daily jaunt like he always was - before he scampered back home just before dark for his evening supper. In a lot of ways, everything was much the same that it had been when Dale had been alive - all except for one, very important piece. But he knew there was no going back; his wife was right.

"Sarah?" he called to his wife as he turned his attention back to her.

"Yes, Will?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with just a bit of hope.

He smiled at her. "Do you know where our film projector is? The one that shows the old 8 mm movies?"

Her eyes glistened as she nodded, realizing instantly what that meant; it was much more than her husband wanting to relive old times. "Yes, it's down in the basement."

He nodded. "Well, when Brian gets home from the race later today, I'd like to set it up. I think it's time that he meets his cousin and some of his other kinfolk...don't you?" He clucked softly as he noticed his wife's face. "Now don't be starting up with the waterworks again, Missy," he gently scolded her. "I just thought it might be a good way to pass the time, that's all. Don't go making too much out of it." She wisely nodded in agreement. "And maybe we can break from our normal healthier eating tonight and have some of your leftover blackberry cobbler with some homemade, vanilla ice cream. Think we have all the ingredients on hand for that?"

She squeezed her husband's hand. "Yeah, I'm sure we do...And I can't think of a better reason."

He nodded once more. "Well, then, let me be for a while. I'm going to try and coax this rattletrap machine into starting if it's the last thing I do."

"Yes, sir," she whispered as she stood up to leave, studying her husband's proud profile as he turned around and picked up his wrench to try again. She leaned down to kiss her husband on his cheek before, with one last squeeze of his hand, she let go. "I'll get everything ready." She stood there watching him, her heart just a little lighter, before she quietly turned and exited the barn.

Same Time at Red Mill...

"What are you doing back here?" Jared hissed at his friend in alarm; he had been looking for Doug for the past 45 minutes in the quickly burgeoning crowd now filling up the stands. He had looked everywhere else - ever since they had arrived and Doug had excused himself to go to the restroom - but after he didn't come back to join him near the grandstand he had finally started out on his own to find him. He would have never expected him to be back here near the stables, however. "You want my Dad to see us here?"

Doug shrugged. "What's the big deal? He's not my keeper - or yours. He made that clear when he kicked your ass out - thanks to your brother."

"Don't remind me," Jared retorted, the sting of being thrown out of his own home still fresh in his mind. "But no one's supposed to be back here unless they have a pass. And I don't want to wind up with my ass in jail tonight, so let's get going before my father sees me, okay?"

"Yeah," Dale groused. "I bet your bratty little brother would just love that." He turned around to begin following Jared, only to pull up short as they passed one of the horse stalls and a shiny plaque attached to the wall caught his eye. He couldn't help walking over to take a peek at it as his eyes widened in disbelief. "What the fuck...Would you look at this?" he sneered as Jared walked up to stand beside him, recognizing the closest stall as the one that Dale's horse used to occupy when he was on the racing circuit. "When did they put THIS up? They have a fucking memorial to him now? Shit! If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame or the Grand Old Opry, instead of a horse jockey who just happened to get lucky! Can you fucking believe this?!"

He shook his head, his mouth agape in astonishment as he read the inscription on the bronze-colored plaque. It was approximately two feet by two feet square, with a raised likeness of Dale riding True Blue at the top and a lengthy description of his feats at the track beneath it, along with a short description detailing his untimely death three years ago. At the bottom of the plaque was a synopsis of his impressive winning stats while he had been on the harness racing circuit. Except for two races at the very beginning of his career, he had won every other race he and his horse had ever entered.

Jared skimmed over the shiny surface with his fingers, reading the extensive report about Dale's racing record. He had to admit - the likeness of his friend and True Blue on the plaque was uncanny, and it brought a lot of old memories to the surface. He and Dale had been close friends back then; he had always enjoyed being in Dale's company. He was very intelligent, witty, and athletic, and had a good head on his shoulders and was very responsible; but he also had a fun-loving, free-wheeling spirit to him, also. They used to take ATVs up into the mountains at breakneck speed, or climb up on one of the ramrod straight trees that ringed his family's swimming hole to see which one of them could dive from the highest perch. Typically, Dale won that challenge; he was always a little more of a daredevil than he was when it came to heights.

The two of them had spent many nights lounging under the inky, star-filled sky, drunk and high as kites as they tried out Dale's latest batch of hooch that he had concocted from a makeshift still that was kept in a secluded corner of the Walker's storage shed. Both of them suspected that Dale's father knew all along about the still, but chose to overlook it, probably viewing it as some harmless, teenage rite of passage. And Dale's father would have never even realized that the sickly-sweet aroma he was smelling from time to time was the distinctive aroma of a good batch of weed that he had managed to snag from one of the boys at school and was sharing with Dale behind the barn. Yeah, those had been good memories...

"He always thought he was so much better than the rest of us," Doug brusquely stated beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

Jared frowned as he turned to face his friend. "I never thought that," he told him quietly. "He was a pretty decent guy."

"He was full of himself," Doug countered. "He thought he was above us."

"Where did you get that from?"

"Well, he turned YOU down, didn't he? I guess after he won all that money, he figured he could buy any guy he wanted then."

Jared shook his head. "Yeah, he DID turn me down," he admitted, remembering he had mentioned it to Doug not too long before Dale's last race here. And he had been plenty hurt about it at the time, too, at least temporarily. The two of them had already been solid friends before, but one night after they had tried out Dale's latest concoction and smoked some high-quality weed and he was feeling mellow and emboldened, he had propositioned his friend, only to find out that he was straight as an arrow. Dale had never really mentioned girlfriends before - and he had never seen any girls out at the Walker farm - so he had just naturally assumed he swung the other way - his way. He had been sorely mistaken, however, discovering that Dale was just inexplicably, painfully shy when it came to members of the opposite sex, despite his popularity and fame, and he had wound up with a slightly bruised ego that night as well as a painfully hard boner. But it was only fleeting; he couldn't blame Dale for that.

He blinked as he came back to the present and looked over at his friend. "Yeah, he turned me down," he repeated. "But it was because he was straight, man. It wasn't anything personal."

Doug harrumphed. "Well, I still say he was conceited. He kept talking about buying some fancy horse farm in town with all his winnings - like he was throwing it all in our face."

"No, no, that's not it at all," Jared explained. "He wanted to use his money to buy that beat-up, old dilapidated farm the Simpsons used to own on the other side of town - the one that had all the land with it?" Doug grudgingly nodded. "He wanted to buy it so he could fix it up and use it as a training facility for harness drivers. That was his goal eventually - to show others how to succeed on the circuit like he had."

"So what happened to all his money after he died?" Doug pointed out. "I didn't see his parents getting rich off all his winnings."

"They didn't," Jared reported as he glanced around uneasily, knowing every second they stayed there was risky. "After he died, they only kept enough to help with the funeral expenses and then gave the rest to charity. His old man couldn't bear to touch any of his money after he died."

"How grandiose of them," Doug quipped sarcastically.

Jared stared at his friend in confusion. He had never heard such bitterness toward Dale and his family from his former schoolmate; he had never realized how envious he had been of him. Where had this come from? He didn't have a lot of time to consider it, however, as he spotted his father at the far end of the stables. "We've got to get out of here!" he told him urgently as he grabbed Doug's arm. "There's my dad! Let's go!"

"Okay, okay," Doug grumbled as the two of rushed toward the other end of the stables, just in time to avoid being detected.

"Whew, that was close," Jared exclaimed as they stood just inside the main entrance a short time later. "Let's go place our bets; the race should be starting soon." He dug into his pockets to find the last twenty he had. "I hope this is a lucky one," he murmured. "You still planning on betting on Robbie Andrews to win? I still say Justin's going to beat him today."

"Naw...not a chance," Doug told him, sounding distinctly self-assured. "I'm telling you! Your brother is finally going to see some competition today. Bet it all on Andrews to win; it's a sure thing."

Jared eyed him doubtfully, but the idea of his brother finally going down to defeat provided him with a certain sense of self-satisfaction, so he finally nodded. "Okay," he told him as the two of them headed toward the betting windows. "You'd better be right about this; this is my last twenty, man."

"It's a done deal," Doug told him confidently with a smile. "We're going to eat good tonight."

Jared laughed as he followed his friend to the nearest booth and placed his bet.

A/N: As always, I am grateful to my beta, boriqua522, for her help.:) Thank you, my friend.