fair?”
“Ever been to one?” He thought about it, thinking back on what he’d heard about Miki’s experiences on the road and all of the things Damie dragged him to so Miki could have a bit more of normal in his life. “You guys didn’t play them, did you? I mean, I know some bands do that.”
“Not really been, been.” Miki shrugged, rubbing at one of the scars visible through a tear in his black jeans directly over his knee. “Stuff like that costs money. We did roadie stuff for a couple of guys before. Don’t remember much, but there was a lot of noise and it smelled like pigs. I think we were in Minnesota. Or maybe Idaho. It was a last-minute thing we pulled in between gigs we’d set up. Damie was in charge. I just went where he took us and helped out. Got paid, got some food, and then we were back pounding the road with a set of new tires and burping hot dogs.”
“We went to that carnival, remember?” Kane shot him a quick grin. “The Ferris wheel? I won you a stuffed chicken.”
“That Dude tore apart almost as soon as we got home.”
“Ma fixed it right up. Okay, so it’s FrankenChicken now, but still, I won it,” he said with a grimace. “It wasn’t exactly pretty even before the mutt got it.”
“Looks cool now,” Miki conceded. “I like she used the rainbow fur she had to patch in the missing spots. I like him better now. Who doesn’t want a rainbow-black patchy chicken with a leather eyepatch and only one leg? Win me another one of those and I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah, you already married me,” Kane reminded him with a sharp laugh.
“I did. So you better get to making good with the second FrankenChicken,” Miki warned, settling back against the seat to stare out at the ocean. “Or I’m going to call in the rest of the dowry, and where the hell are you going to find fifteen Nubian goats and a pygmy alpaca?”
“OH LOOK, a cow,” Miki said, eyeing the mahogany-and-white beast lipping pieces of feed from Kane’s outstretched hand. “And what’s next to it? Shit! Another cow! Just like the last five cows. Betcha there’s going to be a… cow in the next stall too.”
“You, Mick my love, have no sense of wonder and awe.” Kane scratched a spot near the cow’s ear. It rumbled a low note, closing its eyes. “This is a great cow. Firm. Smells earthy. Pleasant. All in all, a great cow. Says here her name is Daisy.”
“Huh.” He quirked his lips. “Kane, that’s an unprocessed hamburger. Might look cute, but I bet you it could fuck you up if it wanted to.”
“Come on. Look at her.” The love fest continued; Kane bent over slightly to administer a scratching to the bovine’s other ear. “She’s adorable.”
“I’m adorable. That’s dinner. I’ve got to keep hard lines on that.” He glanced about the long stretch of the hall, taking in the people and animals around them. “Don’t fall in love with your food. Don’t name it. Don’t pet it. I know me. I like bacon and ribs too much for this. I start putting a face on my food and that’s it, no more carne asada fries for me. I guess if they were like ice cream cows, that would be okay. And it’s not like I don’t know cows are hamburger. Shit. This is a weird headspace I’m going into. I fall in love with cows and all of that goes up in smoke. And I love carne asada.”
Kane looked up from his cow scratching. “Really? You’d give up carne asada? Beef chow fun dry style?”
“Okay, maybe not.” Shrugging, Miki contemplated his hungers. “Yeah, probably not. I mean, they’re cute as hell, but they’re cows, dude. What’s next? Chickens?”
“I was thinking alpaca.” Kane straightened up carefully, angling his shoulders to avoid smacking a young teenaged girl in the head when he let go of the cow’s ear and stepped back from the temporary fencing put up to separate the animals from the crowd. “And then, I’m thinking I’ve got to be feeding you, because that stomach of yours must be eating your spine by now.”
“Shit, long past that.” Miki snorted, shoving his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “They don’t eat alpacas, right?”
“I’m sure some do,” Kane replied, a smirk on his lips. “But probably these are for yarn.”
“Yarn I can handle.” He nudged his husband with his shoulder, barely budging