8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

PHILLIP PIGCRACKER Beau, filled with determination, while I was filled with absolute disgust. The scents wafting around us were both terrifying and triggering. Rot and excrement with traces of… lavender? It made no sense, because there wasn't a single flower to be seen. Still, it was there. Floral-masked pig shit.

Brenda/Carole and the rest of the crew tagged along, occasionally hanging back to get a wider shot. The pen itself was cute in a rustic sort of way. The metal fencing was made of waist-high chicken wire, with beams of wood atop, squaring the perimeter. Inside the fence, there were several small enclosures. They looked similar to dog houses, only much less adorable. Inside of the enclosures, porkers lounged lazily in the shade. Another set of pigs stood in front of an empty plastic tote, waiting for food, I assumed.

"When we get in there," Beau explained, his grip tight around my hand, "I want you to stay on guard, okay? They get a little ornery when they're hungry." He pointed at two waist- high boards with holes at the top. "We got those little boards to protect our knees if we need them, but be careful, okay? If they charge, just hold the board in front of you and you should be fine."

I arched an eyebrow at him. " Should be?"

"Well, I'm not God, Phillip. I can't see the future. For all I know, one of them might nibble your toe and the cut could get infected."

"Is that common?" Darting my eyes here, there, and everywhere, I sought out Rivers. He was approaching from behind, cocking his head to the side when he caught sight of me. "Rivers? Dear God, Rivers, I can't! I didn't sign up for death and dismemberment."

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking his place at my side.

"Your son just informed me that these pigs are conspiring to infect me with an incurable fungus. When you pitched this idea to me, you didn't mention the prospect of me being maimed or gravely wounded."

Rivers blinked slowly at me before turning toward Beau. "My Philip Firecracker translator has the day off. You have any idea what the heck he's talking about?"

Beau sighed. "I just told him to be careful around the pigs 'cause sometimes they bite."

Rivers chuckled as he reached over and wrapped his arm around my back, holding onto my hip. Had I not been in the midst of a vicious panic attack, I might have scolded him for it. Instead, my voice came through fast, and it came through frantic. "I'm too young to die, Riv. I don't want to die."

"You're not that young," Beau said. "And you're not going to die." He smiled at me and offered me a quick pat on the arm. "I'll protect you, Phillip. Don't worry."

There was a lonely little lass lounging in a mud pit, a swarm of flies buzzing around her face. "That's the momma, but you can just call her Brunhilda."

"Why the hell would I call her Brunhilda?"

"Because it's her name," he said flatly, staring at me like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. He turned around and pointed at a selection of tools hanging on a rack beside a larger steel building, just off the side of their pen. "I gotta go in there and clean out their cages. I usually do that first, 'cause it's the part I like the least. After that, I’ll give them their feed and make sure they've got enough water. At the end, I’ll hose them down. They love that part, Phillip, you'll see. That guy over there"—he pointed at a roguish little fellow with wiry black hair—"his name's Brian O'PigHair"

I almost choked on my tongue. "Brian O'What now?"

"O'PigHair," he said again, beaming with pride. "Mr. Monte let me name him. He let me name all of them. He said he don't normally give them names, because the big farm they get sent to after they're done here likes to do it themselves, but I talked him into it."

"The big farm?" I arched an eyebrow at Rivers, but he looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He shook his head emphatically, mouthing 'don't' over and over.

"Anyway," Beau continued, "there's Brian, and then that guy over there with a freckle on his snout, that's James PigKing. He thinks he's God's gift to the world. Walks around with his head in the air, all high and mighty."

I had to laugh, because of all my former band members, James was the least pretentious of the lot. He was a bit of an introvert and had been happy enough to sit in the background while Brian and I took the lead during interviews and appearances.

He named off the rest of Friendzone's swine alter egos before rattling out another twenty-six names. When he was done, he pointed at a water hose dangling over the fence. There was a big blue barrel beside it with small silver nipples poking out of the side. In front of the barrel, Brian O'PigHair was latched onto one of the nipples, his throat working as he swallowed down the warm water.

"Wait," I said, staring down at the kid. "Why is there no Phillip Pigcracker?" The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and it took everything I had to hide the resentment from my voice. I didn't necessarily want to be a pig, but I didn't like being excluded, either.

Beau shot a fearful look at his father, and a teardrop dripped down his cheek. Rivers squeezed his son's shoulder and smiled at him. "It's okay, buddy. We talked about this, remember? He won't be mad." Rivers' eyes locked on mine, and the pleading look he shot me sent a chill down my spine.

"I'm real sorry, Phillip," Beau said, his voice cracking. "I tried."

"Tried what?"

When Beau couldn't find his words, Rivers found them for him. "Phillip Firepig," he explained. "He was Beau's favorite. The runt of the litter."

Shit. He'd already mentioned watching a pig die. Christ, did I always have to stick my foot in my mouth?

"When I got to the farm he was already going," Beau said, sniffling. "His momma was on top of him. She didn't know, Phillip. You can't be mad at her. Mr. Monte says it just happens sometimes." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "I can take you to see where I buried him when we're done, if you want. I like to go out there sometimes and tell him how his brothers and sisters are doing. Do you want to?"

I knelt down and squeezed his wrist. "I would like that very much, Mr. President."

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Good. Yeah. He would have loved to meet you. I used to tell him all about you. I sang him some of your songs sometimes, too." He pointed at the large steel structure, trying to steady his voice. "I'm going to go get started cleaning their cage out. You two need to fill their water tank. There's a handle over there by the hose. Just stick it inside the barrel and fill it up. When you're done, you and Daddy can put out their feed." He turned and pointed at a large, white sack that was resting on the other side of the fence. "It goes in those blue totes. Just empty the bag in them, and come find me when you're done. Try not to take too long, 'cause it's hot as heck in there, and we'll get done quicker if there's three of us."

I didn't say a word until he was out of sight. "He's adorable, Riv."

Rivers laughed. "He gets passionate about his babies."

"Less talking, more walking," Beau ordered, poking his head out of the tin building and snapping his fingers rapidly. "It's hot as heck in here, and I ain't doing all this on my own."

"Okay, maybe not so much 'adorable' as he is a dictator," Rivers said.

"An adorable dictator," I agreed, hurrying toward the blue barrel.

"He loves it here. I wasn't sure about it at first, when he came to me with the idea. His class took a field trip out here last year, and he fell for the place. I wouldn't be surprised if he wound up having a farm of his own one day."

"Yeah, well, hopefully you're able to break the news about 'the big farm' before he sets up shop."

He winced. "Yeah, I know. I keep meaning to tell him, but every time I try, the words get stuck in my throat. I want to protect his heart for as long as I'm able."

When we reached the barrel, I twisted the water valve and stuck the hose into the top of the jug. The barrel was almost empty, so it would be a while before it was full. Rivers was already hard at work, grabbing the sack of pig feed and making his way into the pen. There was another bag beside it, and I figured it wouldn't kill me to help him, so I grabbed the sack and trailed behind.

When I made it into the pen, the pigs swarmed around me like shin-high gnats, each one nipping at the sack of food. Somehow, I managed to make it to the tote without being murdered, and I tipped the bag, filling the plastic container with dry food.

By the time I was done, the Texas heat had me sweating like a whore in church. I wiped my hand across my forehead, coming to a halt when I caught sight of Rivers. He was sweating just as profusely, his shirt drenched, sticking to his chest. Without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head. As if he could feel my eyes burning holes into his skin, he turned toward me with a smirk that spread ear to ear.

Mary, mother of God. He was shirtless.

He was shirtless, and what's more, the man was absolutely stacked. While some men have six packs, Rivers seemed to have a whole damn case of abdominal muscles. Each indention was as deep as a canyon. Across his chest, dark black hairs grew in inconsistent patches. There was a light dusting of hair on his stomach, but it wasn't nearly as thick as the giant T-shaped section that spread across his chest and down the center. His underwear peeked slightly above the waist of his jeans, Calvin Klein displayed proudly on the label.

Rivers cleared his throat, and when I glanced up, he was smirking like he'd just caught me performing some poorly planned crime. "You alright, Firecracker? You're looking a little heated over there."

I tripped over a pig and fell down, smacking my head on the ground. "Shut up." I stood up, dusting the dirt off my shirt. "I said shut up."

"I didn't say a word," he said, biting his bottom lip. "It's just—you seem a little overexerted." He placed his hand on his hip before cocking it to the side and raising an accusatory eyebrow. "It's hot out here. You need me to hose you down?"

My eyes dipped down to his crotch.

Jesus Christ.

He approached slowly, tilting my chin with his crooked fingers until our eyes met. "Not with that hose, baby." He winked at me.

"Fuck yeah," Brenda/Carole shouted from behind the fence. "That's what I'm talking about. Give us sexual tension. We want these viewers to cream their jeans at the sight of you."

"I think I just threw up in my mouth. Never speak those words again."

Not one to be deterred, Rivers guided me back by the chin, leaning in so closely that our noses almost touched. "Not with that hose, baby," he repeated.

"What?" Was he repeating himself now? Was he having a stroke?

"We broke the scene," he explained. "Figured we should just take it from the top."

Shit. The scene. That's all this was to him. We were only doing this for the show. None of it was real. Not that I wanted it to be real, obviously.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, sorry. Do you want to go again?"

"Action," Brenda/Carole answered for him, sending plumes of raspberry scented water vapor in our direction.

"Not with that hose, baby," he said yet again, throwing another wink my way. "Not yet, at least."

Fine. Fuck it. Two could play that game. I took another step, leaving no room between us. Looping my arms around his back, I hooked my thumbs together, letting my hands rest against his ass.

"Keep it up, Riv, and I'll—"

"I have no trouble keeping it up." He brought his lip to my ear, his breath almost as hot as the Texas sun against my skin. "You'll find out soon enough."

"What makes you think you're the one who should be worrying about 'keeping it up'? " I leaned in, nibbling his chin playfully. I dug my thumb beneath the fabric of his underwear, dipping ever so slightly into the opening crevice of his crack. The warm, slick, sweat coating him had no right being as enticing as it was.

"That right?" He rolled his hips, and our crotches connected for the briefest of moments. "You want to play hide-the-firecracker with me, baby? Because that can be arranged." When he pulled away from me, he had one eyebrow daringly raised in my direction. My heart was beating at an unbearable speed. It must have been the sun. It was at least ninety degrees outside; I couldn't be expected to keep my wits about me.

I backed away slowly, admitting defeat. I almost expected him to gloat about winning this stupid pissing contest, but he didn't. In fact, I couldn't tell what his expression was trying to convey. Fear? Regret? It certainly couldn't be arousal, I knew that much, at least. I stared over my shoulder at the tin building Beau had entered earlier.

"We should probably get back to work," I said, trying to steady my breathing. "Dictator Rivera over there will probably have our heads on spikes if we leave him to clean up the pig shit on his own."

Rivers snorted. "Way to kill the mood."

I flagged him off with my hand before walking away, unable to form a coherent thought. When I stepped into the enclosure, Beau was sitting next to one of the pigs. This one was lighter than the rest, its hair white and wiry. The little tyke was lying on its side as Beau ran a blue-bristled brush through its hair.

The inside of the enclosure smelled even worse than their pen. The floor was concrete, and there were piles of hay sitting in the corner. Beau must have cleared it while Rivers and I were filming. I said a silent prayer to a God I didn't particularly believe in, to spare me from the kid's wrath.

I watched on, inspired by the affection Beau was showing the little creature. As the pig lounged, Beau whispered sweet nothings into its ear. Normally, I would have slapped someone for insisting I take part in manual labor, but seeing how happy this trip had made the kid, I didn't think I minded it all that much. Granted, one pig almost shattered my shin when it barreled into me earlier, but the ache in my leg didn't hold a candle to the ache in my heart at that moment. It was a good ache. A strong ache.

"If I come across as crazy, just know I'm kinda tasty," Beau sang to the pig. "What's a little bit of stalking, if it gets those lips a-talking."

Ah, hell. That song. Always with that goddamn song. Eventually, when Beau was finished crooning out "Methods to My Madness," he bent down and kissed the little creature on the forehead. He stood and grabbed a spray can from the shelf above the pile of hay, aiming it at the pig. After coating the animal's body, he placed the can back on the shelf and bent down, kissing him on the snout. "Ought to keep the sun from burning you, buddy. Now, I don't want you to worry when I go. I'm coming back tomorrow. I promise." He paused, eyeing the creature as if he was hanging onto its every nonexistent word. "I know. I know you do. You ain't gotta worry, I'll make sure Fudge knows. He misses you just as much, Miguel." He turned around, smiling when he caught sight of me.

"Hey, Phillip. Everything okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, kid. All good."

He approached with a hand held out for me to take. Once he latched on to me, he led me outside, past the piglets and toward the fence. I hopped over, hanging back to help him across. A short distance away, Brenda/Carole and the crew were filming us as we made our way to a small picnic table. It was shaded by an oak tree, and Rivers already covered it with a red and white checkered tablecloth. He was pulling plates out of his basket and setting them on the table when we got there.

I sat beside Rivers as Beau took the seat in front of us. Beau wiped sweat from his forehead before grabbing a sandwich and setting it on his plate. After pouring a healthy helping of Doritos beside it, he closed his eyes, offering his thanks to the animals that had died for the meal. Since we were eating chips and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I wasn't really sure what animals had died for our nourishment. Still, I bowed my head right along with him, muttering "Thanks" under my breath.

Rivers' hand found mine on top of the table and latched on, lacing our fingers together. "Thanks for coming today, Firecracker."

Beau nodded before taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Thanks Phillip," he agreed, sending chunks of bread and peanut butter spattering against the table.

I smiled at the kid, and then at Rivers. "The pleasure was all mine."