Chapter 57

“Pleased to meet you.”

“And I’m Jimmy Wilson, Barry’s other and better-looking amazing cowboy,” Jimmy said, pumping Andrew’s hand.

“Uh huh.” Much to Jimmy’s chagrin, Andrew continued, “You’re on table one. I extended it to seat six.”

“Thank you so much for fitting us in,” Barry told him.

Andrew waved off the thanks. “Anything for a fellow ex-pat Brit. Zach, Sammy and Eric aren’t here yet. I expect at least one of them is delayed by their work.” Andrew walked toward the table, Barry, Jimmy, and Jake following. “Did you bring anything to drink?”

“Yes, beer,” Barry told him.

“I’ll bring you some glasses then.”

The three looked around as they took their seats along one side of the rectangular table. The place hadn’t changed any since Barry’s last visit. The same dark oak paneling, the same prints of various Texas landmarks—the Enchanted Rock and the hill country. Above their table was a picture of a group of longhorn cattle. George Straight still sang softly over the sound system. The lighting was fairly low, but candles were on the table, which Barry lit.

Of the six tables, four, including theirs, were already occupied. The table opposite theirs had two men, a college-age boy and a young woman seated at it. Both the college guy and one of the men were wearing western-style shirts, and Barry could see Stetsons under their chairs. Who knew they’d see other cowboys in New York?

“Bet they’re not real cowboys,” Jimmy said quietly, seeing where Barry was looking.

Two other groups arrived and were seated, and Andrew began to bring out the food. The three men who were meant to share their table still hadn’t shown.

“Bacon-jalapeno-cream cheese devilled eggs,” Andrew said, setting a plate in front of each man. A minute later he returned with bowls of roasted borracho salsa and tortilla chips.

“This is the appetizer?” Jimmy asked Barry, staring hungrily at the large amount of food in front of him.

“Matthew believes in big portions,” Barry told him, dipping a tortilla chip into the salsa. The taste was rich and multi-layered, and better than anything he could make.

A man about Barry’s height but rail thin came through the street door. He was followed by two much taller, larger, and slightly older men. “Sorry we’re late,” the first man told Andrew. The three newcomers then walked over to the table opposite Barry’s and spoke briefly to its occupants.

Barry, Jake and Jimmy stood when the newcomers approached their table. Barry held out his hand and introduced himself, Jimmy and Jake following suit.

“Hi, I’m Sammy Thompson,” the thin man said. “And these are my partners, Zach Gilbert and Eric Poundford. Sorry we’re so late.”

“No problem,” Barry said.

Everyone sat down.

“It’s my fault we’re late,” Eric said. “My captain wanted to go over some new intel that’d just come in and…” Eric shook his head. “His wife left him last year so he works late every night and thinks everyone else should do the same.”

“Ah.” Barry nodded.

“Eric’s a homicide detective with the NYPD,” Sammy explained. “The silent one to my right who’s more interested in his food than being sociable is a fireman.”

“I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Zach defended, smiling at their table guests

“And I work in personal relations and advertising,” Sammy explained. “My boss, Calvin, is over there,” he indicated a brown-haired man at the table opposite. “Along with his husband Brock, Brock’s son, and his son’s girlfriend.”

“Husband?” Jake asked.

“We have same-sex marriage here,” Eric said.

There was more than a touch of ice in the man’s tone. Then Barry realized the man didn’t know he, Jimmy, and Jake were in a threesome relationship. “As well as cooking for these two, plus their four ranch hands, I’m also their lover.”

“My and Jimmy’s lover, not the other four ranch hands’,” Jake clarified.

Sammy laughed and the tension at the table evaporated. “I did wonder.”

Barry grinned. “Two’s quite enough to handle.”

“Tell me about it,” Sammy said.

Barry felt a kinship with Sammy. Barry imagined the man had a similar role as Barry in keeping his two lovers in line. “How long have you three been together?”

“It’ll be six years this August,” Eric explained.

Their appetizers were cleared away and Zach became more animated, explaining how they’d gotten together through a calendar that he and Eric had appeared in that featured gay emergency service workers.

“And I was given the task of trying to get twelve testosterone-fueled lunkheads to behave enough to get their pictures taken,” Sammy explained.

“I was Mr. September,” Eric told them.