Deon Jerome has it all -- fame and fortune, thanks to his pro football career. The only problem is that his agent has booked him to do an advertisement for a big sponsor riding a horse and Deon is terrified of the beasts. When he can't get out of it, he turns to his secret lover Truck, a big animal vet, for help.
It's not easy having a relationship with a deep in the closet football player and Truck is more than willing to have Deon around for the weekend so they can have some time together. Can he help Deon get over his fear of horses? And could that lead to overcoming other fears as well?
This story is also available in the Horsing Around anthology.
"You want me to do what?"
"They want to you do the commercial on a horse." Arnie sat in Deon’s easy chair like he was the king of the fucking world and said that like it fucking made sense. Asshole.
Deon shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He needed a massage -- that last hit during the scrimmage had jostled something and he didn't need that. "Tell them no, Arnie. You're my manager; it's your job."
On a horse. Shit. He hated fucking horses and they fucking hated him. A mutual hate affair. That would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so pissed about the whole situation.
"You need this, Deon. The money is amazing and they're your top sponsor. This one is your job." Arnie's face really did look like a weasel’s. Deon had had the thought before, but it always seemed especially true on the days he was making Deon do shit he didn't want to do for money.
"I'll do a commercial, but I can't fucking cope with horses. Can't they get a double?"
Arnie snorted at him and leaned forward. "You want me to call the sponsor up and tell them that Deon Jerome, linebacker extraordinaire, is afraid of horses?"
"Fuck you, man." What was he going to do?
Arnie sat back and his left eyebrow went up. "Just suck it up and do it, Deon."
Drawing a deep breath, Deon tried to figure out what he was going to do. "How long do I have 'til I have to do it?"
"It's scheduled for two weeks from today. In the Bahamas. You like the Bahamas, right?"
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Go away. He needed to think of a plan, one that involved not running from the giant horses.
"You going to see me out?" Arnie stood and looked at him expectantly.
"Why did I hire you again?"
"Because I get you the big bucks. Like this commercial. I convinced them to pay you an inordinate amount of money to do it."
Deon opened the front door and made a shooing motion. "Excellent. Maybe I'll have enough in the bank to replace you."
Arnie flung Deon the bird as he went out the front door and headed to his brand new Lamborghini. Now Deon knew why Arnie wanted him to do the commercial -- his manager needed to be kept in the style to which he'd become accustomed.
Fucker. Son of a bitch.
Maybe Deon could have some terrible accident... If he didn't get his shit together before they shot the commercial, the terrible accident would come then. Or at least a ton of paparazzi pictures of him running away from the horses and screaming like a scared kid. He would never live something like that down.
Fuck a doodle doo.
He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. What he needed was someone who could get him to the point where he wasn't fucking terrified of the big fucking beasts. Someone… well, he knew the perfect someone, now didn't he?
Truck Wilson was a large animal vet. The man dealt with horses all the time, even had a couple that lived in the man's stables full time. Truck would be tickled pink to help out with this particular problem. Tickled fucking bright pink.
Deon and Truck, hell, they'd always been friends. Which had become friends with benefits. Deon was one of the few people who knew where Truck -- born Jason -- had gotten his nickname. He still remembered the ancient, rusted out beater that Truck had bought for two hundred dollars after his thirteenth birthday. Truck had loved that thing more than was natural. He'd also never been known as Jason since, the nickname sticking hard. Truck's new Ford 350 was a far cry from that original truck. Apparently big animal vets needed big trucks.
He grabbed his cell and dialed the number. He knew it by heart, but hadn't put Truck into his contacts. It was better if that number didn’t appear anywhere it could be seen.