85. Exactly like a cowboy (Dee)
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Anise’s fingers interlace with Dee’s. “Yes, packmistress.”

“Hey.” Nick throws his leg across Doink’s saddle. “Gimme a turn with the elf. You always get to ride with her.”

“How about it?” Dee rubs Anise’s back. “You wanna audit the junior packmate? Doink’s got a real smooth gait.”

“Well, if you’re so eager for a performance review with the boss.” Anise squeezes Dee’s hand, then breaks away to stand by Doink. “Just don’t drop me, kiddo.”

Every time she calls him that, Nick grins big. “I will do my level best.” He extends a rangy arm. “Hop up.”

Anise takes his palm and starts to boost herself behind him.

“Nope.” Nick pulls her diagonally. With a surprised squeak, she ends up in his lap. He slides her backpack off her shoulders and hangs it on Doink’s harness. “You’re in front.”

Anise’s cheeks color a deep coral orange.

“You got me wishing Doink could carry two orcs,” Dee says.

“I keep telling you he could,” Nick says. “Couldn’t you, boy?” He scratches Doink’s ear. “Dee-Dee’s underestimating the Doinkster, isn’t she?”

Doink grumbles. Dee flicks the reins and Hammer trots out of the pen.

They coast through the evergreen fields of late-winter Tarouna, shaded by copses of towering Goldenwoods, keeping the highwater Hasinalzk to their right.

“I’m just saying, Nicky.” Anise’s blush remains on. “Dee doesn’t grind on me like this.”

“That was me sacrificing my tailbone for propriety,” Dee calls. “Next time you’re on Hammer, I’mma do the same thing.”

“I promise I’m not just trying to dryhump you.” Nick is definitely trying to dryhump her a little, too, thinks Dee, but she can’t blame him. “This is genuinely how you’re supposed to ride these guys. It’s called posting in.”

“When I was a kid we called it hotdogging,” Anise says.

“Here. Move with me.” Nick rests his hand on Anise’s hip. “The trick is you let the rhino boost you up and then you sit back down. It’s all yoga muscles and rhythm. You’ll get the hang of it quick.” He wiggles back in the saddle a little. “Lemme give you some room.”

Anise does her best to post in. Doink lets out a plaintive grunt. “Damn it,” she says.

“Ignore Doinker,” Dee says. “He’s a grumbler.”

“Maybe you don’t have to give me so much room,” Anise says, and Dee chuckles as Nick obediently seats his hips back up against Anise’s.

“One-two, one-two. Good. Really good.” Nick counts it out as Doink picks up speed and Anise posts in. “You ready to speed up?”

“I don’t know.” An exhilarated edge to Anise’s voice. “How fast are we gonna go?”

Nick’s arms wrap around Anise and he lays his hands across hers, guiding them to the reins. “How fast you want it, boss?”

Anise glances at Dee, who nods encouragingly. “Fast,” she says, then yelps as Nick gives a sharp whistle and Doink surges forth.

Dee laughs and frees Hammer, who bursts across the plain. Her rhino does not like it when others of his herd get to outrun him. In short order, she overtakes Nick and Anise. “How’s my ass look, nerds?”

“Fabulous,” Nick calls. “As always.”

“Nick, she’s lapping us!” Anise’s hands tighten on the reins. “Can’t this guy go quicker?”

“Sure he can, if you want him to.”

“I’m the manager! I have a reputation to maintain!”

“Then go hyah, boss.”

“Like a cowboy?”

“Exactly like a cowboy.”

“Hyah,” Anise cries, in a passable cowboy impression, and Doink rockets forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with his herdmate. Dee hears the little elf’s delighted whoop and sees her huge smile as the wind blows out her green hair like a banner. The packmistress’s heart stretches out in a warm, sunny spot like a contented cat.

As the path winds around copses and stones, they slow down to preserve their mounts and agree to call it a tie.

Anise settles back against their man. “You learned how to ride these things so fast, Nicky.”

His hand cinches across her stomach, big enough to cover it. “You can thank Dee. She’s the one who taught me.”

Dee leads them up a shallow switchback. “Bet we could teach you how to steer, get you a rhino of your own.”

“I don’t know, Dee-dee. You get old enough and you have to be careful what you learn,” Anise says. “Your head fills up and you start having to clear space every time. You teach me how to ride a rhino and I’ll forget how to make ceviche.” She reaches up and rubs Nick’s stubble. “And I’d lose an excuse to hitch rides with you.”

Nick gawps. “You know how to make ceviche?”

“Doing extremely chemistry-ish recipes is my love language, I guess.” Anise tries to hide how smug he’s made her, with mixed success. “Next time we find a supermarket I’ll show you, if this dimension has all the ingredients.”

“You ever hear of ceviche, babe?” Nick asks. “It’s this seafood thing—”

“Up bup bup.” Dee holds up a hand. “No spoilers. I want Ani to surprise me again. After that coffee, you have my automatic trust.”

“Just for a cup of joe? Listen to that. It took me doing larceny.” Nick scritches Anise right behind her ear. To the orcs’ delight, they’ve discovered that when you do it just right, you can make her do a full-body shiver like a little dog. 

They break onto a straightaway leading to the top of a forested hill. To the distant North, pale spurs of stone rise into the sky. The floating foothills of Arvanistan, visible from the Tarounese crests. 

“Think this is a good spot, Nicky,” Dee calls. “Good view of the crossing from the other side, according to the almanac. How about we hitch up and go on foot a ways?” She points to a tipped-over tree.

“What’s it a good spot for?” Anise asks, as Dee brings Hammer round into a canter and hops from his back.

“We’re gonna scan the valley from the crest here and radio back if there’s anything to alert the caravan about.” Nick ties Doink to the log and climbs to the ground.

“And then we bang in the woods until they catch up,” Dee adds. “You wanna tag in?”

Nick takes Anise around the waist and bears her off the rhino like a princess. “Okay,” she says, as he lowers her to the ground and retrieves her stuff. “Maybe scouting is the best job.”

***

“And here’s Rosalia’s first recital.” Anise does this pinchy gesture and the picture zooms in on an adorable little green-haired girl seated at a massive grand piano. Dee’s trying to pay more attention to the photos but she keeps being gobsmacked by the little device Anise is using to show them. She calls it a phone, like a telephone. How odd.

It’s a blustery evening; the sleek Earth practice tent is clattering and flexing in the Tarounese wind. Still puts Dee on edge, the thin and rickety-looking supports on this thing. But that’s the funny thing about Earthlings and their stuff. They’re all so skinny and nervy and looking like they could fall over on you, and then you gradually realize how much you can rely on them.

Or maybe she’s just getting lucky with the Earthlings she’s letting in. Who knows.

Nick leans forward on his stool, tuning up his superstrat. They linked back up with the pack a couple of hours ago and have finally snatched some time to themselves. He’s made them promise to rehearse before they get back to fooling around at the yurt. But he said nothing about baby pictures, and they’ve distracted themselves with a loosely chronological history in photos of Anise’s kid. “How old was she here?”

“Six.” An unmistakable note of pride in Anise’s voice. “She really took to it like a duck to water. Really made me wish I’d started as young as she did.”

“Does she still play piano?” Dee asks.

Anise’s ears droop a little. “I don’t know,” she says. “I asked, and she said sometimes, but I never see it on any of her accounts or anything. I have a feeling she just told me what I wanted to hear. I worry I made it homework, you know? Uncool.”

“By the time we send you home,” Dee says, “you’re gonna feel hot enough that you stop blaming yourself for everything. That’s the shot I’m calling.”

“Seconded,” Nick says.

“You guys need to stop being so nice, or I’m gonna lose my Earth city calluses.” Anise keeps scrolling. “Oh, here’s Halloween. I forgot about this costume.”

“What is that?” Dee asks, delighted.

“She’s little red riding hood and I’m the big bad wolf,” Anise says.

“That costume’s sick.” Nick pans the photo. “You’re not a furry, are you?”

“Don’t be gross, Nicky.” Anise giggles. “It was her idea, okay?”

“Okay. I’m just saying. Those are some quality-looking ears. Not just something you’d have lying around.”

“I may have shelled out a certain amount of money for cosplay over the years,” Anise admits. “But that was for my MMO character that just happened to have wolf ears.”

“Sometimes it’s like you guys are talking another language, I swear,” Dee says.

Anise swipes to the next photo, then lets out a quick gasp and swipes again. “That shouldn’t have been in this folder.”

“Wait, wait. Go back.” Nick reaches for the phone.

“Maybe we should get back to rehearsal,” Anise stammers. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

“No way.” Dee grabs the phone and slides the photo back into place. “Hachi machi, Anise. Is this a different Halloween?”

“New York Comic Con.” Anise is bright orange. “Me and Morrigan both have green hair, I thought. I mean, I don’t have the bust for it, but…”

“Is that—” Nick looks over Dee’s shoulder. “That’s the vampire lady from Darkstalkers, right? God damn. What a costume.”

“Well, I also had tights on. Uh, in the other photos. Let’s just…” She swipes to the next photo, an inexpertly shaky pic of her daughter in a volleyball game. “Where am I? Oh, here’s a good one.” Another swipe and Rosalia smiles out at them with a cap and gown, surrounded by other kids dressed the same.

“What’s with the getup?” Dee asks.

Anise’s smile is faraway and nostalgic. “This is Rosalia graduating high school. She was valedictorian.”

“That means the best one,” Nick translates. “You seem kinda like a kickass mom, Anise.”

“I did my best. I don’t know.” Anise sighs. “There’s all this advice, like everyone wants to give you advice and so much of it contradicts. Before you have one you think, well, surely all the answers are there by now. And then it’s just crazy, how much is you figuring it out yourself. And then right as you’re getting the hang of the baby, she’s a little person. And then you get to know the person just in time for her to fly the coop. And then you’re alone.”

Dee leans across her boss/client/drummer/lover’s kit and kisses her, relishing the little mmph! of surprise as it trails into a blissful hum. She eases up, leaving a slivery strand of spit briefly suspended between them. “Well, you’re not alone anymore, honey.”

For now, she thinks and doesn’t say. Instead, she closes her lips around Anise’s again. When she kisses Nick, it’s always this cute moment of tongue wrestling as their twin tangr’aks jockey and try to take charge. Anise surrenders immediately, opening wide and letting Dee’s broad tongue explore. And the little noises she makes. Dee’s hand creeps across Anise’s midsection, tracing the coast of her ribcage on its way upward.

Nick clears his throat and Dee pulls back. “You want a turn with the elf?” she asks, as Anise tries to catch her breath.

He taps his pickguard. “We got a set to go through.” His eyes trail down to Anise’s flushed lips. “Okay, ten seconds.” He lays his hand across the back of Anise’s neck.

“Ten seconds,” she agrees, and he claims his own kiss from her. 

Dee slings her bass on and gives him a brisk smack on the butt as he starts to bend the elf backward. “That’s ten.”

Anise and Nick separate. “Right. Right.” She finds her sticks and nearly fumbles one. “Music time.”

“Let’s run the set,” Nick says. “And if we ace it, we get to close out early and take each other to bed.”

Dee turns her bass up and coats the room in fuzzy thunder. She shuts her eyes. Before she was sleeping with Nick and Anise, she’d think to herself, this is better than sex, when this rumble pulled at her pulse. And okay, maybe not. But it’s still a strong second.

Anise’s drums pierce through Dee’s blanket of sound and Nick’s guitar caterwauls through the gaps. Dee catches both of their eyes as she catches their sound and suspends it in a sustained, trembling note. She relishes the power her bass commands over her lovers, the poised inhale they all share.

In that midair plunge, on the cliff before they crash into their first number, Dee feels a free and ferocious love for Nick Voraag and Anise Cantator—yes, she realizes. For Anise, too. She loves this elf, loves her dedication and her effort and her trust and her beauty. 

And the complications that would surely arise from speaking that love into being are held in stasis by the hum and harmony; in this moment without words or thought, this moment where there is no foreboding departure to Earth, no stressful tour in the morning, no obeisant pack waiting for tomorrow’s orders. This moment filled with the squeal of the guitar and the detonation of the kick and a joyful explosion of sound.

 

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