Part 1: Called in on the Mat

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"Lieutenant, you gotta be kidding!" Levon exclaimed, dumbfounded. His partner, LaFiamma, was silent in the seat next to the Texan.

"Levon, I only wish I were. The Gaming Commission wants our help investigating this one... and they specifically asked for Joey. Seems someone from Chicago tipped them off about your partner's background."

Joe LaFiamma stirred now, one hand coming to rest lightly on his partner's strong forearm. "Take it easy, Lundy, let's hear the whole thing first. You wanna finish, Lieutenant?" He nodded to JoAnn Beaumont as his partner, Levon Lundy, subsided in the neighboring wooden chair. Joseph LaFiamma knew why this was happening to them, why he was being tapped for this one. A former marine, a state wrestling champion in high school, Joe at least knew the moves and had the weight and build to protect himself. Course, Lundy doesn't know about that, Joe thought.

Beaumont smiled slightly at how easily the former Chicago cop was able to contain and control his hot-headed Texas partner this time. For a moment she reflected on the way the two had matured and come together over the past two and a half years, since Joe LaFiamma's arrival, a resentful, sullen exile from Chicago, to become Levon Lundy's new partner.

Lundy had been working alone for some time but had been getting very withdrawn, almost surly since his wife's death. Deciding to put the two angry young detectives together had been both inspiration and desperation on JoAnn's part. She had regretted her decision more than once during the first year, but held to it.

She watched their current interplay in amused affection. They were her two best detectives and her best team. Over the years, they had become friends, though they still growled and snapped at each other upon occasion. These days, they each actually seemed to know what the other was thinking, doing, at any given moment. Now, for instance, Lundy was jumping in angrily, ready to protect his partner, while Joe was sitting back, calming his agitated friend with a few words and a simple touch.

Refocusing her thoughts, Beaumont leaned back against the front of her desk where she was standing to brief her men. "This could mean breaking up a dozen or more related betting rings and some dirty tournament fixing activities. No one is certain exactly who is involved, who is clean. They wanted an insider but the Commission's people have been unable to find anyone willing to deal. They need to put someone inside. None of their own people fits the bill. Joe, you are really the only one we have who has a chance of pulling this off..."

Before she could continue, Levon interrupted, "He doesn't go in alone. We're partners, JoAnn, and if he goes in, so do I." There was no brooking with that tone. When Levon got adamant, mules were easier to move.

Fortunately, in this case, JoAnn didn't need to fight Lundy on it. "That's okay, Levon, we want you with him. You'll go in as his personal manager. Real flashy, though, after all, that's what the fans want to see - you'll be half the show."

Joe tried to stifle a grin in his collar, but Levon caught the look and threw a scowl at his friend, then seemed to see the humor in the situation because he finally sat back and relaxed. "Fine, as long as I'm there to protect his back."

"And I'll be there to watch yours, man." Joe had straightened now and squeezed the Texan's forearm still under his hand. Joe was smiling, but no longer looked to be teasing.

"Fine, then it's settled. Get over to the Commission, see Randy Hoffsteader and he'll give you a complete briefing, contacts, and a way in. Good luck. You'll be reporting to Hoffsteader but call me if you need help."

"Okay, Lieutenant," Joe said rising easily and swinging to the door with natural athletic grace. JoAnn admired the man's charismatic aura of power even as she felt Levon's strong, quiet presence hover behind him. Levon was standing now, too, hat still in hand, eyes on his retreating partner's back. He paused for another moment at the door to her office.

"JoAnn, I still don't like this. LaFiamma really doesn't understand yet what this is gonna mean. If'n we give you a call, I expect you to find a way to get us outta there pronto." The Texan had turned to face Beaumont.

"I'll be here for you both, you know that, Levon," she assured him. Lundy nodded and followed his partner back out into the bullpen.

Joe was waiting just outside of the glass door to Beaumont's office. "Lundy, there a problem?"

"Naw, just wanted to make sure of our way outta this thing if somethin' goes bad," the blonde shrugged and led them both away from the office and back towards their desks.

*********************

Randy Hoffsteader stared at the pair of men who lounged so insolently in his office guest chairs. They were young, athletic, and almost sullen looking. If he hadn't already seen their badges and, earlier, their files, he would have been buzzing his secretary to send for security now.

"Well," he said again, clearing his throat, "it's like this - you are going to have to win a few matches in some small rings outta town in order to be eligible for the city ring. We can't fix any of the matches, you'll have to win them on your own." He hesitated, looking from one man to the other. He knew that the dark one was going in as the wrestler, but the blonde seemed to be in charge just now.

"No problem," came the deep-voiced response from the dark Italian.

"What else you got for us?" asked the blonde Texan in a raspy, sharp voice after a glance at his friend.

"I've got money for you and contacts with the right folks to arrange costumes, equipment, and how to get on the mats in the out-of-town matches. My secretary has all the things you need in a file. The money is in an untraceable account. Your story is that you two met up when Lundy here was visiting some casinos in Vegas. LaFiamma was a bodyguard who had to do some work that you saw." He nodded to Lundy, still addressing the Texan, "You liked what you saw and offered LaFiamma a chance at some big time stuff on his own. He took you up on it and now you are back down here on Lundy's turf, ready to get some action."

Joe's eyes were almost half-closed, not sleepy, just hooded, as he listened. His deep blue eyes slid towards Levon's brown ones. As far as Levon could see, Joey had decided to let him take the lead in all this, perhaps practicing for their upcoming roles, with Levon Lundy as his manager. The blonde sat forward, frowning. "I don't have any connections here, though."

"You will. That's one of the things we're arranging. You already have a snitch, I believe, name of Chicken? He's into this scene and can help out, too."

Levon's eyes had widened at the mention of one of his best friends' names. Chicken was much more than just a snitch, but no need to go into that with Hoffsteader. "Okay. Anything else?"

Hoffsteader shook his head and rose to offer his hand. Both men stood and handshakes were exchanged. The neutral look on Joe LaFiamma's face continued to make Randy Hoffsteader feel uncomfortable, while Levon Lundy's grim countenance was not very encouraging either. He cleared his throat, "Good luck. I'll expect you to keep us informed through the carriers and drops that Lisa, my secretary, has for you."

Joe and Levon looked at each other once more, then both nodded to the anxious official and headed out.

**************************

"Chicken, whyn't you ever tell me you were inta the wrestlin' scene here?" Levon sounded almost offended. He leaned back on the counter stool at the BBQ joint and waited for the burly black man behind the counter to answer. Joe, who was leaning casually against the counter, had his back to the two men and was scanning the light crowd to make sure this conversation was not being overheard.

"Why, Levon, it jest never came up in conversation. Now I hear how you boys are gonna get into that stuff, I got to warn you, it's real. Ain't no faking involved once two men are on the mats, Mr. LaFiamma," he warned with a glance to the tall brunette.

LaFiamma shrugged his shoulders easily inside the beautifully tailored suit jacket that matched his elegantly cut trousers. He always looked immaculate, dressed in the latest men's fashions. He always looked out of place, yet able to hold his own. Other men might look at him with raised eyebrows, but he was rarely challenged. There was an animal aura of danger about him that most sensed. The foolish few who did not, never came back for seconds, Chicken knew.

"I can handle it, Chicken," LaFiamma answered without turning to face the other.

Levon's own rough outfit of Levi's and worn cowboy blouse were a sharp contrast to his partner's mode attire. His scuffed boots kicked at the sawdust under the counter. "Chicken, we won't use you directly, too many people know us through here as cops, but we need you to keep an ear to the ground, let us know if you see any reason for us to worry."

The big man shook his head sorrowfully, "Levon, I see reason for that right now. But I don't suppose that'll stop you?" He wiped the counter, then continued, "Right now you both need to do some adjustments to your wardrobes. Joe here looks much too slick and you don't look slick enough by half for the world you're gonna be in."

Lundy grinned good-naturedly. "Yeah, I hear that. We're gonna take care of that tomorrow." He swung away from the counter, his shoulder seemingly by accident brushing his partner's. "See ya, Chicken."

"You two take care now, you hear?" came the response. The black man watched the two men stride out, the brunette following after the blonde. Chicken shook his head again. Trouble. They's gonna be real trouble for Houston's WWF. Have a feelin' Joe and Levon will be movin' up fast, just hope they can handle all the shit that's gonna come down on them.

Part 2: "Clothes Make the Man"

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The chains on Joe's black leather biker's jacket chinked softly as he moved across the floor. "Well?" He shot a quelling look at his partner who was standing there grinning.

"LaFiamma, even knowin' you, I feel like arresting you just on general principles." Lundy shook his head, then continued, "You look right mean in that get-up. Showin' a bit a skin, though. Shore that's necessary?"

It was Joe's turn to smile now, a slow, fire-lighting bend of his lips. Dropping his head down a bit, a dark flag of hair fell forward and he looked up through it at Levon. "It's part of the image, the machismo, Lundy. I'm supposed to be a cocky, body-conscious hunk. A wrestler these days is half talent, half showmanship. You think I'll pass muster as Houston's new Italian Stallion?" As he asked the last, he raised his face up and moved his heavy shoulders slightly. It sent a shock through his quiet partner who was suddenly not so sure he really knew this ex-Chicago cop after all.

Levon sighed. This was definitely going to be a long day, not to mention long assignment. "Yeah, LaFiamma, you look the part I reckon. Don't imagine that Mr. Stallone will hear 'bout us using that nickname from his Rocky movies for this gig."

Joe straightened, shedding the body language in a mystifying shrug that somehow returned him to the man that Levon was familiar with, his partner. "Hope not. Okay, then, Lundy, it's your turn. Won't find what we need for you here."

"Right," Lundy dropped his hat back on his tousled blonde hair and turned, leading the way again, this time out into the street. This is becoming a habit, Joey mused, guess I'd follow that cowboy just about anywhere. God, who am I fooling? I would follow him anywhere.

It didn't take long to get to the kind of men's store that would favor what Levon needed, a kind of mix of tourist-cowboy, dude-ranch special, and Las Vegas. Lots of sequins, rhinestones, and snakeskin. White jeans, skin tight like he always wore jeans, with a cream silk western shirt, embroidered in beige and lavender, tucked into a white silk vest and creamy leather western-cut suit jacket completed the wardrobe. The white stetson set off his blonde good-looks in a flashy way, indeed. Feel like a pimp, Levon glanced sardonically in the tall mirror.

Joe, however, stood staring at him without speaking. Levon started to fidget, finally tucking his hands flat into the front pockets of his jeans, he leaned back and looked challengingly back at his partner. "Well?" he echoed Joe's earlier question at the other store.

"My prince," Joe said smiling. Levon, you are positively gorgeous. My god, why hadn't I noticed before?

"LaFiamma, cut the bull and tell me whether you think this'll work," Lundy said bitingly.

"Oh, yeah," LaFiamma stepped closer without touching, conscious of the clerk hovering to the side, "it'll work." His breath was warm in Levon's face.

Lundy took a hesitant step backwards, also aware of their audience, then lowered his hands to his sides and shot an irritated glare at the Italian. Damn it, boy, don't you know you kin scare the livin' daylights outta a man, jest by the way you look and move. But, oh, lord, you look good enough to eat...and where didthat thought come from?

"Let's go, then," Levon said gruffly, "we still gotta git you something for a wrestlin' costume."

*************************

If Levon thought Joe looked dangerous in the black biker clothes, now he looked positively overwhelming in a totally different way. Standing there stiffly in front of Lundy, as if daring him to say something funny, Joey was the picture of a pro-wrestler, TV-style. He was built like a Roman soldier from the old statues in the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, Lundy thought, inconsequentially. Tall, heavy shouldered, with muscles clearly defined in his strong arms and across his broad chest that gave him a threatening look, he stood twisting his narrow waist and swimmer's legs. The basic one-piece wrestling costume seemed to be painted on to his muscular body, turning him into a living sculpture. The suit was black, with stripes down the sides which Joey had had to have specially made and added. The stripes were red, white and green, the colors of the Italian flag. His stockings and boots were colored the same way. He wore the body stocking under the one-piece, so that his arms and chest were also covered in black, but the neck scooped down low in front, exposing the smoothly defined throat and upper chest. At his neck, though, he wore a white ribbon.

Levon leaned forward to touch the ribbon lightly, questioningly. Joe had figured out the costume alone and Lundy could see how it fit the role, all except that ribbon. LaFiamma gave him a black look.

Afraid that anything he might say would go down wrong, Levon contented himself with a nod. Joe, however, obviously uncomfortable in the outfit, looked ready to pick a fight, his brows going down into thundercloud position. Guess a nod ain't good enough, Lundy thought. Speaking quickly he said, "Joe, you'll fit right in. Turn around and let me see what they did on the back."

Joe grudgingly turned, twisting his head to see over his shoulder at the back. There was a red silhouette of a stallion, reared back on its hindquarters, teeth out as it seemed to snarl at the world. Joe rolled his shoulders and the horse rippled. He looked up at Levon and grinned.

Lundy had to laugh. "Joe, you give anyone that look and no one'll take you serious," Levon said, still chuckling. He tried not to look too closely at the perfectly shaped buns just below his partner's waist.

Joe spun around to face his partner, knees slightly bent, arms akimbo, ducking his head down and forward, then scowling fiercely. He growled, "Yeah?"

Backing up at the quick change, Levon sat abruptly in the single chair in the store's fitting rooms. He took a deep breath and said sincerely, "LaFiamma, when you look like that, ain't no one not gonna take you serious."

He paused, "I jest gotta ask, though, what's the white ribbon for?"

To his surprise, Joey blushed scarlet and turned slightly away. "Gotta keep'em guessing," he muttered. Levon wisely decided not to ask any further.

*******************

The first gig was in a little coastal town, the other wrestlers little better than farmboys and sailors, mostly Mexican-American. Joe had no trouble pinning his opponent. Levon only had to drive the showy Cadillac convertible they came in, and lounge around in his dude-duds as he privately thought of them. No one talked to the two gringos more than necessary. The win was met with a few catcalls and a few claps of applause, but obviously the audience was not interested in the out-of-towners.

It was almost a relief when Esteban emerged from the crowd at the end of the match to help escort Joey out of the tent. Lundy saw the dirty looks from some of the men around the ring and was grateful for the Mexican cop's appearance.

"Good match, LaFiamma," Esteban Guiterrez said quietly as he guided the dark haired wrestler through the parting crowd. Lundy trailed behind, carrying towels and the bucket they had used to keep Joe cool.

The northerner hadn't said a word since the beginning of the event, letting Lundy do any necessary talking. He didn't respond now, either. Levon nodded to Guiterrez. "Thanks, Esteban, they didn't look too friendly in there."

"Yeah, the lieutenant thought you might like some quiet back-up for now, at least until you finish with these out of town matches," the other answered still speaking in a low voice, though now they were through the crowds and heading to the smaller tents set up as changing rooms for the contestants.

Joey finally spoke as they entered the small tent that had been assigned to them, "I'm gonna need a rub down." His voice was low, tired. He leaned against the long wood bench that had to double as a massage table. No one answered for a moment, then the Mexican cop looked over at Lundy.

"I gotta go, Lundy, I'll leave you to help Joe out." Without a backward glance, Guiterrez slipped between the tent flaps and was gone.

Joe LaFiamma pulled the flashy suit down off his shoulders and let it sag about his waist as he settled face down on to the bench. Levon hesitated a moment, then offered the towel he was still carrying. Joe accepted it and bunched it into a pillow under his forehead. He flexed his shoulders and repeated, "I need a rubdown, Lundy. I haven't done anything like this in a long time."

Suddenly Levon realized this was probably the closest Joe was going to get to asking for help, that he was hurting and needed, expected Levon to do something about it. The cowboy took off his jacket, rolled up the white silk sleeves and pulled a squeeze-bottle of liniment out of the carryall they had brought for the wrestling suit. Putting some of the ointment on his hands, Levon rubbed them together, then taking a deep quiet breath, leaned down and began sliding his hands firmly over the tense shoulders of his friend.

Joey sighed. Wonderful. He felt the tension begin to loosen and dissipate. Only gradually did he notice as the firm probing fingers eased into softer caresses. Abruptly they stopped and the touch was gone. He looked around in disappointment to see Lundy wiping his hands on a towel, standing with his back to Joe. "That should hold you 'til we get you back to Houston. You ken get a real massage there at your gym," Lundy said, still looking away.

Joe couldn't argue with that, but somehow he wanted to argue. I want your hands back on me, Levon, not some stranger's. Too soon, I guess, he thought regretfully. But, for a moment there, he had thought the touch had changed, become personal. Maybe I'm just fooling' myself.

Wearily Joe stood and accepted the clothing Lundy handed him as he changed from the wrestling gear to the street clothes. Back in biker black, looking lethal, Joe's darkly tired eyes hooded as he trailed after Lundy to their car.

The young men who appeared suddenly in their path separated to let the white suited cowboy through, then closed ranks in front of the out of town wrestler. The man who had thrown their champion. Joe LaFiamma stopped and straightened, his body seemed to shimmer with threat as he shifted into an aggressive pose without a word. Levon sensing something turned in time to see three of the men leap on to Joe and then seem to bounce back off. Lundy wasn't sure exactly what Joe had done, but the remaining two ambushes suddenly turned shy. They backed away from Joe and bent down to help their comrades up. The five stumbled away, Hispanic curses thin in the air behind them.

Levon met Joe's eyes. Joe was practically vibrating with adrenaline. "Joe?" No answer. "LaFiamma?" Finally, Joe blinked and half-shook his head. He looked at his partner and simply said, "Let's go home, Lundy, I've had enough of this burg."

"Riiight."

*************************

The drive back was uneventful. Levon drove, Joe slept. When Lundy realized that he had lost his partner to exhaustion, he slowed the speed of the pale blue Cadillac slightly so that the movement was smoother on these back roads. Lafiamma didn't need to be jounced around any more than he already had been. Some of those moves out on the mat had left Lundy breathless, clutching the ropes in fear. Joe had dominated his match but clearly was moving stiffly when he got up after the pin.

He's gonna have to work out before the next match. We've only got three days before he's in the ring again and the next one might not be so easy on 'im. Lundy thoughtfully glanced over at his partner. Lafiamma's head had tipped forward and he was turned slightly into the corner of the seat and passenger door. Even the seat belt and shoulder strap didn't keep him from slumping down and resting against the window. No, this whole assignment is not gonna be easy on him. I better stop playing at being a manager and start acting like one, Levon decided.

Part 3: Rub Downs and New Thoughts

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"Explain that position again to me, Lafiamma," Lundy stood to the side and kept his arms crossed. His hands were trembling slightly. He had been watching and listening as his Italian partner went through a series of warm-ups on the mats with one of the gym's regulars. The guy, Juan Gonzalez, had agreed to work-out with Lafiamma, act as a kind of sparring partner, except that this was for wrestling, not boxing.

The flip was fast and the grip torqued both sweaty bodies, glistening in their minimal safety outfits for the practice match. Lafiamma had ended on top, again. His practice helmet made him look like an old-time football player to Levon who was not a wrestling devotee at heart. After each throw, Joe had paused to explain the movements and the grips to Lundy. He would point out the positions for feet and hands, what was legal, what was not. Lundy was impressed at how technical such a physical sport could be, especially when described in clinically dispassionate terms by the ex-Chicago cop.

"Look, Levon, I just put my hands here," Joe demonstrated on the cooperative Gonzalez, "and then apply pressure like this," he pushed slowly, "and twist with my right leg extended here." Like a tower toppling, Gonzalez went down again, ending once more with shoulders flat on the mat, Joe grunting softly as he applied pressure from above.

After a pause, Joe stood back and offered his hand to the downed man, "Juan, thanks, you're really helping here, man."

The dark-featured Gonzalez, about Joe's height and build, but with less defined muscles, shrugged and smiled easily. "De nada, Joe. I am learning a lot here, too. I will be a better wrestler and each time, I think, next time I pin you."

Joe's blinding grin flashed like a neon sign as he slung a friendly arm over Juan's shoulders. "You bet, buddy." Tossing a look at his own partner, Joe called, "Lundy, we're gonna hit the showers, I'll be out in a few minutes." Still draped over Gonzalez, Lafiamma and his wrestling mate half-walked, half-staggered up away from the mats and toward the locker room.

Levon was left standing there, arms still tightly crossed over his chest, fists invisible to any one curious enough to pay attention. He took a shuddering breath deeply in, then exhaled slowly. With tight lips, he watched the two wrestlers disappear into the changing rooms.

As he had watched the practice match evolve, Lundy had become more agitated and quieter. He didn't think that Lafiamma had noticed his lack of comment throughout most of the match. He tried not to think of Juan and Joey in there together, getting undressed, showering, probably flipping each other with towels. Joking, laughing. Touching. There, he'd thought it through to the botherment. That's what was disturbing him. The Mexican-American was friendly and a perfect foil for Joe on the mats. Just what was needed. But Levon began to suspect that it was going to be very difficult to watch them in the clinches, even though it was just a sport.

Don't know why it's botherin' me, but it is, Levon mulled. He walked over to the locker room door and, taking another breath to steady himself, he walked on in. To his surprise, he saw that Joe was standing alone by a bench and locker, toweling himself off. His back was to Lundy and Levon could see that he was pausing and flinching as he stretched. All thoughts of the missing Gonzalez disappeared. He stepped forward and reached out a hand toward his partner.

Before he quite made contact, Lundy's fingers curled back into a loose fist and the arm dropped. His face carefully expressionless, he said, "Joe, shall I get one of the attendants over to give you a rub down?"

Joe spun around and stared at Lundy. He clutched the towel to his chest with both hands and seemed to be squeezing it. "Levon. Didn't hear you, sorry." He lowered his head for a moment and Levon could have sworn that he was seeing a full-body blush, even in the dim lighting. "No, I'd rather get out of here. Would you mind doing it for me, back at my apartment?" Joe looked up only after he asked the question, as if he'd been afraid to meet Levon's eyes while saying the words.

I'm walking off a cliff here, Levon thought. I don't even know what's happening or why, just know that things are suddenly different between us. Wish I knew if this was a good idea. "Ok, Joe, whatever you want." He listened to himself agree to something that his brain was screaming was a VERY bad idea. Oh, well.

*******************

Joe was stripped down to his skivvies, lying face down on his bed. He had thrown an old blanket over the coverlet, commenting on wanting to keep stains off things. Levon stood above him, clutching the bottle of liniment oil. Getting to be pretty good at this, Levon thought, as he warmed the oil in his hands before leaning down to press against Joe's back. Levon's hands pressed into sore muscle groups and slowly worked out the knots and swellings. He let his hands travel firmly over the beautiful body spread like a feast before him. He tried not to let his mind wander that way but it was difficult. Joe was beautiful.

Joe floated in a dreamlike state of haze, his concentration centered on the wonderful, healing touch of his partner. Those hands should be insured, he thought smiling. No wonder he's so good with his horse, the animal probably gets touches like this all the time. God, I think I'm jealous of a fuckin' horse. Joe half-coughed, half-choked on his laugh.

"Joe?" Levon stopped, resting his hands lightly on one shoulder blade.

"Mmm, don't stop, Lundy, it feels so good." Joe twitched under Levon's hands. "I can't believe how sore I can be from such a short session."

"Not the same as weight lifting," Levon commented, fingers biting deeply into a shoulder now.

"No, different stress on the skeleton and muscles altogether," Joe agreed. He desperately wanted to talk about other things, like how those fingers made him feel, what they were doing to him. How Lundy's voice seemed to find sympathetic vibrations inside Joe's bones. It was all so new, such a surprise. He lay there, disgusted with his own confusion and timidity. Damn, I want him and I haven't got a clue how to do anything about it.

Levon stood away from the prone figure, rubbing his hands together to belay the itch to the palms where the liniment was permeating deeply. "Joe, I better leave now. You need your rest. Your next match is tomorrow night and it's clear down by Brownsville. We'll be driving more'n half the day."

Joe lifted slightly on to his elbows and twisted his neck to see Lundy. He didn't turn over, his cock was stiff as a board. "Ok, Lundy. You gonna stop and pick me up?"

"Sure, Joe. I'll bring the truck with it's bed mattress liner, too. That way you can lie down in back while we're traveling, keep you from gettin' too tired afore the match."

Joe nodded, "Thanks, Levon. Can you let yourself out? I don't think I can stand just now."

"Lafiamma, we're gonna have to get you in better shape than this," Lundy smiled to take away the sting of the comment. "See you tomorrow."

Letting himself out, Levon felt like he'd just escaped from a situation that he wasn't quite ready to face. Not even shore there WAS a situation here, jest that it felt like it.

************************

Brownsville was down on the Mexican border and would be over seven hours of driving. Levon wisely decided that his truck was better than the Caddie for the long haul. As promised, he set up the mattress in the back, along with a cooler and basket of simple sandwiches he picked up from Chicken's.

Chicken had not been encouraging. "Levon, you and Joe watch yourselves. You may still be in the sticks, but people are gonna start noticing you men. The bent ones may try you out for size. Be careful, and don't trust anyone."

"You know us, Chicken," Lundy shrugged.

"Yes, sir, Levon, and that's why I'm warning you extra-special like." Chicken frowned mightily.

"We're being careful," Lundy spoke seriously, meeting his friend's eyes. The big man nodded and stood back from the lunch counter, watching as the blonde cowboy sauntered out.

************************

LaFiamma dropped heavily into the passenger seat of the Jimmy. His black leather made a soft creaking noise as he stretched for the seat belt. "You shore you don't want to stretch out in back?" Lundy asked.

"Not yet," LaFiamma tossed his bag in the back seat, then swiveled to face forward. "I got news. The Lieutenant called just now. There's been a death that the Commission suspects is related to all this."

"So, now it's homicide?"

"Yeah. One of the backstreet promoters. He was found with a knife in his belly. Bled to death in an alley behind the Houston arena. Hoffsteader thinks he might have been on the take."

"Well, it's too early to expect a nibble on our hook," Levon commented as he swung the wheel and turned the truck into the traffic.

"Maybe we should start making the right noises?"

"Like what, LaFiamma? 'We can be had?' Yeah, I don't think so. We need to get you a reputation first. Otherwise they's nothing anyone will need from us."

Joe agreed silently. Lundy was right. First, get a string of wins, then move for the big time and that's when trouble would come knocking. "Ok, we'll just take it one match at a time."

"You need anything for now?"

"No," LaFiamma settled into the seat and studied his partner's profile. The fine lines and prominent cheekbones of Lundy's face seemed soft in the early morning light. Joe had a sudden urge to reach out and stroke that jaw, capture those golden curls in his fingers. He stirred in his seat and abruptly sat on his left hand.

Lundy glanced down and to the side, seeing Joe's action. "You ok?"

"Yeah." No. Oh, my god, I don't know anymore. Joe closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest.

Part 4: The Brownsville Bear

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Levon looked anxiously at the referee. The black and white striper bounced all over the mat, trying to keep up with the two wrestlers. Joe was tangling with a giant this evening. Lundy began to suspect that Hoffsteader's arrangements left much to be desired. The match was not regulated according to weight. This was the free-for-all category. The winners in these matches advanced much faster than the weight-class wrestlers. They tended to be flashier and more theatrical. And, more dangerous. The last match had ended with a stretcher being called to take away the loser with a dislocated shoulder.

Joe had been underneath almost from the first whistle. He had been fighting hard immediately, trying for a quick win before the other's size became the deciding factor. Again and again, he was held down, straining to keep one shoulder free of the mat, the ref chest down next to the pair, squinting at the small space between the Italian's shoulder blade and the mat below.

The giant, going by the name of Grizzly Bear, was not only tall, he was broad, weighing in at nearly double Joe's weight. Used to winning by merely falling down on top of his opponents, he was being forced to actually do some work now. This seemed to make him angry because he had begun to bite. Levon screamed foul repeatedly from the sidelines, finally jumping up and hanging on the ropes, one foot up, his left hand grabbing the corner post for lift. He hurled epitaphs at the mountain of flesh that had avalanched down on top of LaFiamma.

Even as the crowd, rowdier and nastier than their first crowd had been, began to chant for the pin, the monster's skin seemed to shiver. There was a definite quiver now, and the audience quieted. With the recession of sound, everyone heard the harsh gasps that Bear was making.

With a cry of agony, Bear fell back off of his victim, to wobble on his knees. The Italian Stallion was up and thrusting hard at the enormous belly of Bear. The man howled and crashed his fists into the sides of Joe's head. LaFiamma's eyes crossed for a minute. A bead of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

LaFiamma erupted, coming up from the floor now, one knee connecting with a chin, arms locking around Grizzly Bear's head. A quick flex of two strong arms and the Goliath was down, crashing to the mat and landing on one side. Another turn of the locked arms and LaFiamma had the great beast flipping onto his back. In the silence of the room, everyone heard the skull hit the mat, shoulders following with a dull thud.

Lundy was standing on the middle rope, hanging on to the corner post with one arm wrapped around it. Mesmerized, he was unable to move as he watched his partner stagger to his feet, one wrist pulled high in the air by the referee. The cheers and screams made a solid wave of sound rushing over the undercover cops. Pandemonium followed. Lundy grabbed his Stetson and waved it wildly in the air, screaming along with the crowd. Joe stood waveringly above his opponent, who lay unconscious on the mat. Medics were crawling under the ropes to get to Bear.

Joe swung in an almost complete circle, his feet stumbling to keep up with his twisting body, his eyes searching. His face was smeared with blood from Bear's bites and from abrasions where he'd been shoved face down on the rough mat. "Lundy? LUNDY!"

Levon clambered over the ropes and into the ring when he heard Joe's confused call. "Right here, Joe! Hold still."

Nearly tripping in his haste, Levon ended up against LaFiamma before he realized it. Catching one quivering bicep in his hands, Lundy hauled. "Come on, we got to get out of the ring. You won, you're done, LaFiamma!" Lundy had to shout to be heard over the storm of sound from the crowd.

Joe focussed on his partner and subsided. With a kind of dip and slide, he started moving, following Lundy's lead out of the ring. Both made it out between the ropes and up the aisle leading back to the locker rooms.

At least this time we don't have to use a tent, Lundy thought as he guided his friend through the press of contenders still waiting for their matches. He noticed that several of the men backed up quickly when they saw LaFiamma, respect in their eyes. Joe really did it, Levon thought. He took out a bad mother and now he's making a name for himself. That free-for-all was the right match after all, only I hope Joe lives long enough to survive his new rep.

LaFiamma was trembling steadily now, his teeth chattering. Levon threw a heavy terry cloth robe over his partner's shoulders and continued to push them past the waiting wrestlers until they seemed to pop out into the relative quiet of the locker room.

Getting LaFiamma slowed down, cleaned up, showered, and rubbed down took the better part of an hour. Even then, Lundy noticed that Joe was not really responding coherently, just following Levon's directions blindly. Levon paused as he finished snapping the last clasp on Joe's jacket. The black leather seemed especially grim just now.

He had checked and found out that Grizzly Bear was all right, awake and refusing further medical assistance in another part of the locker room. Reassuring Joe that no permanent damage had been done, he clasped both of Joe's arms and peered into the vaguely unfocussed eyes. "Joe? You in there, partner?"

At first, LaFiamma didn't answer, his head continuing to bob erratically. Levon released one arm to hold Joe's cheek in the palm of his free hand. "Joey? Snap out of it." He gently shook the head that suddenly weighed down on his hand.

Sleepy eyes blinked widely at him. "I'm.....ok......I'm ok, Lundy. Just give me a minute more here." The dark-haired cop coughed and straightened, his tremor easing. "I won. Didn't I?" Levon's heart went out to his friend then, as he heard the soft confusion in Joe's voice.

"Yeah, man, you pinned him. He went down like an old oak my grandpappy chopped down."

"I didn't have an ax, Levon."

"You didn't need one."

*******************

Lundy realized that neither he nor LaFiamma were fit to drive back to Houston that night. It was easy to find a Best Western motel just off Highway 77 heading north. The room had two double beds.

LaFiamma stumbled into the room behind Lundy, toting his carryall with his wrestling costume in it. He dropped the bag by the wall and eyed the beds as Levon drew the drapes on the room's window and headed back out to the truck for the rest of their things. Joe stretched out on top of one of the beds, closed his eyes and was instantly dead to the world, sleeping softly. Black rings of exhaustion lay beneath his closed eyes. Levon, who was still unloading the Jimmy, walked in carrying the rest of the bags and found his partner sound asleep.

Lundy stood and looked down at the brunette. This is gettin' harder, partner, he thought. You really had yore hands full tonight.He pulled the comforter off the other bed and gently draped it over the sleeping Italian. Levon smoothed the covering and softly touched the other man, lightly stroking down the back of one upraised shoulder. Touching was becoming quite natural now that he spent hours giving Joey rub downs after his matches and practice sessions. Giving in to temptation, Levon's fingers stole into the thick, dark hair, combing it back from the furrowed forehead.

"Is it really worth this, Joe?" he murmured, not expecting an answer.

"Levon?" the name was only a half-uttered sound.

Lundy's eyes widened in surprise. He pulled back his hand hastily, saying, "Go to sleep, LaFiamma, you need your beauty rest."

Joey, who had been curled on his side, turned onto his back, stretching a bit, and settling into a more comfortable position. His lips bowed in a small smile. His breathing slowed perceptively.

Asleep, good, he needs it. Levon watched his partner sleep from the safety of the hard vinyl chair in the room's only free corner. As his own heart rate finally returned to normal, he decided to call it a night, he'd probably have to do most of the drivin' again tomorrow, anyway.

Not bothering to undress either, he crawled onto the far side of the other bed and closed his eyes. Within minutes there was a light purr of snoring coming from his bed.

Joe relaxed. At least he's not running. That's got to be a good sign. LaFiamma cautiously stretched his sore back and arm muscles in small increments. He didn't want to wake Lundy. Levon's got the tough job this time, he has to mostly stand by and watch while I get to go in and do something. The brunette flexed his fingers, even they ached. I could use his magic touch again,he thought. Better let him get some rest, he's going have to do all the driving again tomorrow, no way I can do it right now. Joe let sleep take him.

Part 5: Moving In

-------------------------------

The trip back to Houston was uneventful. As they came into the heavier traffic around Houston, Levon checked his partner with a quick glance. "Joe?"

LaFiamma had been nodding off in the passenger seat. He jerked his head back and instantly regretted the quick reaction. With a grunt, he sat up in the seat and put a hand to the back of his neck to rub. "Yeah."

"Whyn't you stay out at the ranch tonight? I got the guest room, it's all made up and you could use the tub for a hot soak. I don't think you're in any condition to be on yore own jest yet."

Joe LaFiamma barked a sharp laugh. "On my own? I'm fine, Lundy. Don't worry about me."

Levon started to shrug, then looked over at the pale skin of his partner. "No," he said slowly, "no, I don't think yore fine at all, Joey. Let me help. Stay with me tonight."

Joe fingered the white ribbon still tied around his neck. He'd worn it since the first match, leaving it on even when wearing his leathers. He pulled at one end now and let it fall loosely into his hand. He looked down at it, twining it between his fingers. "Levon, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Lundy tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Staring straight ahead into the traffic, he pursed his lips. "Look, I ain't really asking here. While yore undercover, so am I. 'N I'm yore manager. I may not know all there is to know about wrestlin' but I played my share o' football games in high school and college. When you get as battered as you got yesterday, yore muscles'll all bunch up on you. One rub down ain't gonna be enough. I have a duty to keep you fit. Let me do it, LaFiamma, it's my part of the job."

Somehow, the speech seemed to set off Joe who was glaring at Levon now. "Lundy, I think you're trying too hard. Just let me off at my apartment, I can take care of myself."

"Yeah? Well, if you want to get to your place, yore gonna hafta walk, man, cause I'm stopping at the ranch and the Jimmy ain't moving after that." Lundy was speaking sharply now, no hesitancy left in his tone.

Joe stared at the cowboy for a minute, then two. Finally Lundy began to shift uncomfortably. Before he could speak again, though, LaFiamma was talking. "Ok, Lundy. You're the manager. You want me to sack out at the ranch, then I do it." Joe could see that the cowboy was confused by his quick reversal and surrender, but he didn't seem suspicious. Just wanted to make sure you wouldn't change your mind before we got inside your place, my friend,he thought. He turned away to look out the side window so that Lundy wouldn't see the wistful look in his eyes.

**********************

As the truck pulled into the unpaved drive beside Lundy's small ranch house, LaFiamma began to tense. Last night, after the match, he'd been too tired to do much thinking, certainly too tired to imagine anything except sleep. If he'd harbored some new waking dreams, he had no energy to pursue them - last night. Tonight, however, he was feeling much better. Levon had done all the driving, insisted that Joe needed to rest.

This protective Lundy was a new side of his partner for LaFiamma. He rather enjoyed it. He was careful not to let Levon realize quite how much.

Joe slipped his short length of white ribbon into the watch pocket of his leather pants. It wouldn't do to jump the gun. He smiled to himself as he stepped out of the Jimmy. Lundy, who was closing the driver's door, looked over the hood of the truck at LaFiamma. "Joe, go on in and make yourself at home. Here." He tossed the keys over the truck to his partner who caught them easily. "I want to see how Fooler did with my neighbor looking in. I'll just be a couple o' minutes."

"Sure thing, Lundy. Give her my regards." LaFiamma smiled angelically as Levon looked back suspiciously at him. When it was clear that the Italian was not going to elaborate and had, in fact, started up to the porch, Lundy frowned and with a slight shrug headed out to the barn.

*******************

Joe seemed to be enjoying himself far too much, Lundy thought as he slowly curried his horse. She stood contentedly in her box stall, twitching an ear at him and flicking her tail almost in time with his strokes. He patted her flank as he finished. "There you go, girl. Lookin' good."

With a snort, the red mare dipped and bent her neck so that she could give him a friendly nip on his open jacket. "Sorry, Fooler, I ain't got nothing for you tonight. Tomorrow I'll bring out something special." He gave the red roan a final swat on her hip and stepped out of the enclosure, latching it behind him.

Joe was settled into the hot water by the time he heard Levon re-enter the house. Lundy's right, he thought drowsily, this is good. He could hear the cowboy moving around in the next room and then there was a hesitant knock on the half-open bathroom door.

"Come on in."

"Everything alright, LaFiamma?" Lundy stood just on the doorsill, not moving into the room itself.

"'s great. You were right, this feels good." Joe squeezed the bath sponge and let the hot soapy water drizzle over his chest.

"Glad yore finally recognizing who has the brains in this outfit," the blonde smirked, folding his arms and propping up a shoulder on the doorframe. His view of the brunette was unimpeded from here and quite a sight it was. Joseph LaFiamma was wet, his dark brown hair looked black now that it shone with dampness. His eyes were gray-blue in the indoor light, his sleek, well formed body was incredibly exciting.

In fact, perhaps too much so, Lundy shifted uncomfortably after a moment, feeling his heat rise to press against the seam of his jeans. Best git while the gittin' is good, Levon decided as Joe snorted and replied, "Never been a doubt in my mind, Lundy."

The blonde was already backing out as he listened to this ambiguous response. Figuring it was better to drop the conversation than to suddenly be confronted with a dripping, naked LaFiamma in his face, Lundy retreated to his master bedroom.

Joe had lifted his arms to the sides of the high, old-fashioned clawfoot tub as he answered Levon. Now, realizing that he no longer had an audience, he let himself sink back down into a comfortable slouch. Just as his head touched the back rim of the tub he heard the distinctive snick of Lundy's bedroom door closing. We've got time, he thought.

*******************

Joe moved in with Lundy the next day.

Joanne Beaumont had called the evening before to check on them. She passed on word from Hoffsteader that Joe's name was now being mentioned around the pro-wrestler circuit. Evidently the free-for-all match in Brownsville had been even more of a success than they had realized at the time. Grizzly Bear was a fairly big name in the Texas WWF. He'd gone to Brownsville for some extra points in the rankings prior to a league event in Austin. Now his manager was passing the word that the loss had been a fluke, that the Bear had been feeling poorly and the Stallion was not nearly that good.

When Beaumont finished, Lundy had asked what Hoffsteader wanted them to do next. "Stay low for a few more days, Levon. Joe, too. He thinks that more time for the rumor mill to operate will increase interest in LaFiamma. By then he'll have the next match lined up for Joe."

"Joanne, I ain't certain that this is the best way in. That match in Brownsville nearly went down on top of LaFiamma -"

"I had it covered, Lundy," Joe interrupted from the other phone. "We'll hang out for a couple of days, Lieutenant."

"Good, and Joey?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant?"

"I think you better move in with Levon for a while. It will be easier to keep tabs on you two, and you're less likely to break cover that way."

So, Joe moved in with Lundy the next day.

******************

Levon was getting edgy around his own partner. It didn't make any sense but it was happening. The Italian was the same as always, loud, argumentative, and vehement. And utterly fascinating. God damn it! There he went again. These errant thoughts kept slipping in on him. It wasn't as if LaFiamma was doing it on purpose. He was just there. All the time.

Levon caught himself watching his partner. Noticing little things, like the way the corners of his mouth was shiver just before he smiled. The way he would open his eyes wide when he was looking at you as if he was trying to see into your very soul. The strong column of throat with the tiny pulse spot near the place the throat met the chest. That wonderful smoothly sculpted chest. God damn it!

Levon was getting edgy around him, Joe could tell. It was little things, like the way Levon stared at him at odd moments. The way he jumped when Joe caught him at it. LaFiamma was good at reading people, but reading Texans had taken a while. It was still a new skill for the ex-Chicago cop. Reading Lundy was only sometimes successful, and right now he was not certain about the signals. He could only wait. And hope.

Part 6: Laredo and the Angel

---------------------------------------

For two days they waited. LaFiamma worked out, ran, and practiced moves on his own. He had asked if Lundy wanted to give him some help, act as a sparring partner. The cowboy had paled and quickly refused, suggesting they get Juan Gonzalez out to the ranch for a few matches. This time LaFiamma refused, saying it was better that no one knew where their safe house was.

When the telephone finally rang as they ate a desultory dinner on the third day, Lundy pushed back his kitchen chair and went to the wall phone nearby. "Yeah. Lundy here." He listened in silence for a while then, said, "Got it. Ok, that's tomorrow night in Laredo? Yeah, we'll start tonight, go as far as Victoria, then do the rest of it in the morning." He swiveled to catch Joe's eye and nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell him. Ok." Hanging up, Lundy faced his partner.

"That was Randy Hoffsteader. He's put your name on the bill for a meet in Laredo tomorrow night. It'll be another free-for-all match, LaFiamma."

Joe stood as his chair scraped loudly on the kitchen floor. He dropped his napkin to the table, he was no longer hungry, a surge of nervous energy sung in his veins. "I'll go change and get packed."

"Ok, I'll clean up in here and then do the same. We should hit the road in about an hour."

The drive took them southwest, away from the coast. While Victoria wasn't a big city, it had the usual motel strip at the outskirts. They were on their way again at first light, anxious to get the lay of the land at Laredo before the meet began.

The arena was another tent, full circus tent. In the heat, it was devastating inside the canvas walls. When they walked into the center, they watched workmen setting up the ring, installing a raised, resilient platform, adding corner posts and springy ropes. Others were busy with full arrays of spotlights on high poles around the ring. The ground seating and rising bleachers behind circled the central ring. Things looked to be nearly finished as they made a leisurely circuit and then strolled back out, in search of someone official.

Registering didn't take long and then they were ready to find a motel and rest for the afternoon. Levon watched Joe settle on to one of the big beds in their room. He had shed his leather jacket but still had on the skin tight tee shirt and leather pants. He'd kicked off his low, scuff boots upon entering their room. He looked like a large shadow on the white comforter.

"You need to work on me some, Lundy. I can feel the tension in my shoulders and back muscles." LaFiamma wasn't looking at his partner but had twisted so he was head down on the mattress, offering the tense bits of anatomy for a warm up massage.

"Sure, LaFiamma. I'll go git some oil." Lundy went to the traveling gym bag he carried for the matches, seeing his hands tremble as he sorted through the items within. Now is not the time for this, he thought to himself savagely. Whatever my problem is, Joey don't need it. Especially not jest afore he gits in the ring with some fool crazy enough to do it for a regular living. Gotta focus.

Joe sighed in relief as the warm hands pulled up his tee-shirt and gently pulled it off over his head and away from his arms. Then the hands were back, working their magic. This is great, perfect, he thought and closed his eyes. The moan came out, surprising them both.

"You hurtin' boy?"

"No," Joe said shortly, covering his embarrassment. "Just feels good, Lundy, don't stop."

Joe forced himself to remain quiet during the remaining exquisite torture, thinking of the first moment he'd realized that this man was so very important to him in a new way. They'd been getting along well for some time now, even if those who didn't know them well, might have thought they still were an ill-suited pair. Some how they had learned to adjust to their differences and learn to allow those differences to complement each other, strengthen the whole. He thought back to the moment that Levon Lundy had stepped out of the changing room at the clothing store, suited out in blinding white. My prince. Joe smiled again. Yeah. You, Levon, are my prince and I will claim you one of these days. Just as soon as I figure out how to do it without you freaking out on me. Until then, love, I'll wear a bit of white for you.He pictured the white ribbon he'd chosen the next day. For you, my love, I'll wear it until the day I can tie it on you.

"Joe?" The warm breath against his ear caused a frisson of electricity to radiate through LaFiamma's relaxed, somnolent body.

He yawned to cover his surprise at waking. Musta drifted off while Lundy was rubbing my shoulders.He flexed his back muscles. Mmmm, feels good. "Yeah?"

"Time to go."

*******************

The locker rooms this time were in underground bunker-style buildings. Normally, they were part of the set up for an outdoor football field. With the big top put on the field to house the wrestling ring and audience, these buildings became the changing rooms for the wrestlers. Protected, fenced off paths led from these rooms to the ramps into the tent and on into the center ring. Lundy noticed the private security guards posted outside of the fencing that bordered the paths. We're getting closer to the big time here, he thought uneasily.

LaFiamma followed Lundy in through the check-in gates for the participants and their managers, coaches, entourages. It was like watching a parade of peacocks, LaFiamma thought, as he took in surreptitious glimpses of the competitors each trying to out do the other with outrageous costumes and posturing.

Levon Lundy noted the quality of the performances going on around him as he and his partner made their way through a crowd of waiting fans. Eyes turned their way and he threw his shoulders back, adding a bit of a puff to his chest. Time for the grand gesture, he thought, lifting his hat high and nodding graciously to the ladies among the crowd. He was dressed in white, but more rhinestones had been added with a glittering multicolored vest. His new hat was trimmed in silver and turquoise stones, gaudy enough for P.T.Barnum.

Knowing that his darkly dangerous-looking partner was following him, Levon pivoted on his heel to make a grand sweep of his hat toward LaFiamma who stopped in surprise. The fans whose eyes had been caught by the motion of the lean cowboy all in white, looked toward where the swinging hat directed them. Standing like a bull at the gate was a tall, well-built man, all in black, like some Harley-Davidson man. Chains, black leather, dark good looks. Joe realized he had an audience and slid into his persona with a few subtle changes in his stance and posture. The silent, menacing stranger strode forward into the space left by Lundy's forward progress. Already there were cries and small screams coming from the women.

"Meet the Eye-tal-yon Stallion!" Levon bellowed in his most Texan accents. "Next WWF champeen!" Cheers and clapping met the announcement, it was a generous crowd, happy to be entertained.

Lundy grinned at LaFiamma who was scowling fiercely to the left and right. Settling his hat back on his head, the cowboy motioned with his chin to come on ahead and turned, leading the way in through the gates. Joe locked his eyes on his partner's back and followed, careful to keep his stride and swing in character. As he, in turn, passed through the security gates, he heard a strident female voice say, "Did you see that ribbon around his neck? Pure-de white! I wanna piece o' his ass, baby! Gonna wear a ribbon fore him!"

Joe nearly choked. Then he grinned in delight and slipped passed the guards who closed up in front of the gate once he was through.

Joe found Lundy inside by the registration tables, standing there studying a bill of the night's events. Reaching his side, Lafiamma plucked the list from Lundy's hands to look for himself. "Yore number five on the list, Stallion. Not bad outta twelve matches. Coming up in the world."

"Soon, Boss, soon," LaFiamma growled, still in character.

Lundy paused, liking the sound of this new nickname that Joe had unexpectedly conferred on him. Levon understood what his partner was doing, there were plenty of folk around to hear. It was important to be convincing he just wasn't used to living a role for such long periods of time. "Ok, Stallion, let's go find yore lockers."

******************

Strobe lights and rock music blaring, the rumbling sound of thousands of voices raised in shouts, screams, laughter, and cheers. A ripple of hand-held posters, each touting the worth of a favorite. Color, lights, sound. It was like bedlam in there, LaFiamma thought as he waited at the top of the runway for his entrance cue. His view was occasionally impeded by the tall white Stetson worn by Lundy who would go in first. Been a while since my 'I-go-in-first' days, Joe thought. We've come a ways since then, Levon. And, if I have any say in matters, we got a ways more to go, partner. LaFiamma's eyes glowed brightly, drinking in the sight of his beautiful cowboy.

The announcer was describing the next pair of opponents now. Lundy knew it was their turn. He stole a quick look at LaFiamma who looked ready. As the spotlights moved to them, first to enter as the challengers, Lundy stepped out. He looked like some white-hatted western hero out of the old silent screen cowboy and Indian pictures. Making grand gestures again, he swept off his hat and waved it above his head as he very nearly heel-toed down the ramp. The spot seemed married to his strutting figure, then a second one swooped up and back to capture a dark shadow still hovering at the top of the runway. By now Lundy was standing at ringside. He raised both arms towards the dark waiting figure. All eyes swept back up the runway and then the crowd roared good naturedly as the Italian Stallion paced out and down the run way. Looking neither left nor right now, his strode forward with a grim, angry look. Gradually the sounds diminished as it was clear that this one was ignoring the crowd. Suddenly Joe leapt into the air about midway down the ramp and spun a complete 360 circle, fists pumping in and out. He landed like a dancer and ran the remaining steps up to the ring.

Making a high five with his partner's raised hand, Joe continued up and sprung on to the edge of the ring. He grabbed the ropes and thrust himself high into the air vaulting them to land lightly in the dead center of the ring. Knowing that attention was about to switch to his opponent ready to make HIS grand entrance, LaFiamma insolently subsided to the mat, to lay on his back in a clearly dismissive posture. The crowd loved it and to Lundy's amazement, in one spot several white ribbons fluttered madly. A bevy of screaming, busty women held the ripped bits of a white sheet and waved them from extended arms. Now how the damn-hell did they do that? Levon thought in surprise.

He didn't think about it for long because there was a drum roll now and the music changed, becoming macabre, almost funereal. The fickle lights swung wildly around the tented arena, then settled like a flock of starlings on the opposite runway's entry. There, a line of black clad shapely women, veils over their heads, began a solemn procession down the ramp toward the ring. Each carried a low burning torch. Immediately behind them came an oily looking character in a bright red jacket, his obese form topped with a simpering face complete with Hitler-esque mustache. Black hair slicked back and over a balding spot, he walked down the ramp waving to people who obviously knew him by name. Two more women followed him.

Then, a sound like the crack of thunder and a huge man stood outlined in light at the entry. He was surrounded by more of the black veiled women who moved back to allow him to start down the ramp. What had been a roar of sound became an impossible cessation of air as every throat seemed to scream at once, pushing the available oxygen out of the way. The man was almost nude, wearing only tight-fitting black wrestling briefs, and a mask. His hair was long, shoulder-length and blonde, nearly white. His tall black wrestling boots were laced in yellow that matched the mask. The mask covered his entire face, eye, nose and mouth holes giving away nothing.

"Ladieeeees and Gents! It's Death's Angel!" The announcer's voice was hard to hear over the continuing sounds. Lundy, who was lounging against LaFiamma's corner of the ring, down on the floor, cringed inside as he studied the new man. Some angel, he thought, fear tightening his innards. The man is at least twice LaFiamma's size. This is just like Brownsville, only this guy looks a lot tougher and more prepared than Grizzly Bear was.

If Joe was feeling any fear, he didn't show it. When he could tell that his opponent was nearly at the ringside, he sat up and yawned hugely. Then casually climbed to his feet and stood waiting quietly at ring center.

A reporter for the local paper was sitting ringside. Carson Wells was ambitious and willing to ride any story that might earn him a prominent byline. So far, tonight had been the usual predictable set of matches. The early ones were always the neophytes. This was the first of the better-known fighters on tonight's bill. Angel had been around for a while. He'd never gotten the Belt but was always a contender. He did a good job with his show, thanks to his manager, Charlie Bacon, the scum in the red jacket. Wells spared a glance over at the Stallion's manager, Levon Lundy. The man was cool and looked good, like a modern day Buffalo Bill in that white outfit. He looked like he might really be a cowboy under the gilt. He was acting confident, but Wells could see the worry in his eyes. Your man is still new to this league, he thought, Angel will break him in good. Maybe this will be tonight's story?

The referee, Bill Rogers, came into the ring now, short and stocky. He walked over to where LaFiamma waited, then turned and both watched Death's Angel finish his entrance, rolling in under the ropes and gliding up to tower above them. Angel ignored both as he slowly turned around for his fans, flexing his muscles and arching his back, hair flung out in a snap of bright light.

Joe was beginning to think he'd be getting a permanent crick in his neck from looking up at his opponents. Did they all grow this big out here? The mask is kinda eerie. Then he caught sight of the actual eyes behind it. Pale washed out blue, rimmed in red. The man was out partying last night, maybe even today. I may have to use that. He listened as Rogers finished his quick monotone of warnings, then blew the whistle.

After the first few moves, Carson Wells was sitting up and paying closer attention. He had his eyes fixed on the two wrestlers even as his fingers flew across his laptop, taking notes about what he was seeing. There was a wonderful grace of movement to the smaller man on the mats. Not the normal heaviness that most of the players assumed. He flew in at the Angel, then would bounce back away, using the ropes for another push in, almost airborne as he sailed into the other.

The Angel grappled and pounded. He had started out trying to do little gimmicky bits, a sort of swagger here, a dance step there. But each time he stopped concentrating, the Stallion ambushed him. So far, nothing serious had been accomplished. The crowd was getting bored. When the Angel heard the first catcalls, he stopped trying for the show and began to work on the match, get the pin. Then he could give them some more goodies.

LaFiamma was beginning to tire. He had given up on standard wrestling moves when it became clear that this was anything goes. He'd thrown in some street-smart bits and one step right out of his ballet studies from college. God, Lundy doesn't know I ever studied THAT, he had time to think just before he was slammed down and felt a boot on his back, crashing down with no caution. Feeling the air whoosh out of his lungs, Joe rolled to one side and curled himself up to his feet before the Angel could finish the job.

Wells, biting on an unlit cigar, wrinkled his nose. So far, this was interesting but not a story. The dance moves were a surprise but not something most fans would care about. He stole another quick look to the managers. Lundy was gripping the corner pole with one hand, the other arm straight out, hand clenched in the bow tie of Charlie Bacon. The short, fat man had obviously been up to his old tricks, trying to throw the match by intimidating the other manager. This man didn't intimidate, Carson decided grinning as Lundy shook Bacon, all the while facing the ring with eyes glued to his boy.

He was shouting something now, though Wells couldn't tell from his vantage point what it was. Whatever he called to the man up on the mats, it seemed to have a galvanizing effect. In a flurry of quick moves of hands and feet, more like some oriental combat techniques than any wrestling holds, the Stallion pressed the Angel into the ropes. Then, grabbing the taller man's hair in one hand, the darker man stepped back and swung wide pulling his opponent by the hair. The Angel took off, feet leaving the ground with the momentum of the action. He landed with a crash that shook the platform. Dropping to his knees on top of the blonde wrestler, one thigh on either side of his head, the Stallion butted heads and then went for the pin.

Still bleary from the fall and then the crack on the head, the Angel fell back and the Stallion was able to hold his shoulders down long enough for the ref to slap the mat three times. Screams and shouts met the action, the crowd on its feet, more white ribbons materializing in a sprinkling of locations, all waved by women. LaFiamma stood breathing heavily as his arm was raised to end yet another match. From across the ring, Joe's eyes met Levon's. Wells, watching, saw the eye contact made and wondered. There's more to those two than usual. Distracted by the eddies of white in the crowd, he thought, I like the white ribbons - that's a nice effect after all the usual placards. Haven't seen anything catch on so fast since the Hulkster's fans all in green for Hulk Hogan. Wonder why he's wearing that ribbon round his neck? Might be a story in that, too. Wells smiled, no matter what else happened tonight, he had his lead story now.

Part 7: Levon's Fantasy

---------------------------------------

Lundy's eyes narrowed as he studied LaFiamma up in the ring. The man had a pallor now that tinged his exposed neck and face almost gray. Somethin's wrong. He hovered at ringside, waiting as the two wrestlers parted and rolled under the ropes in opposite directions. LaFiamma landed on his feet but had to grab at the edge of the platform to steady himself. Conscious of eyes on them, Lundy shook Charlie Bacon one last time and dropped him, then swaggered over to Joe.

In a voice pitched low to be heard over the noise, he said, "LaFiamma, can you make it outta here on your own?"

Face wet with the sweat flowing down from his temples and forehead, hair plastered down with it, LaFiamma looked more like the loser than winner. He didn't try to speak, simply gulped for air and nodded jerkily.

"Ok, then, let's go - you first, case I hafta catch you," Lundy ordered not even noticing that he had taken charge.

LaFiamma's legs braced and he seemed to shake himself like a wet dog. With plodding steps, he started up the runway. The lights had moved on to the north - south entries and the next pair of contestants, the Italian Stallion and Death's Angel were old news now.

Nearby fans stuck out hands to touch Joe as he passed. He ignored everything, head up as he kept his gaze fixed on the exit arch. Lundy followed closely, doing little two steps and small gestures of triumph to entertain and distract the nearby crowd from Joe's taciturn departure. He moved fast though, so that he was only steps behind the northerner as they reached the exit and cooler night air outside.

Dragging to a halt just outside, LaFiamma stuck out a hand and latched on to a post of the path's fencing. Lundy came close, noticing that in all the excitement no one was here to watch them. He put his hands on Joe's shoulders and felt the heat, the dampness, the trembling. Boy's going into shock from the fight and the heat.

"Joe, let's get you into the showers. You need to cool off."

Ignoring LaFiamma's mute angry look, Lundy took the nearer arm and pulled it over his own shoulders. Slipping his free arm around Joe's waist, he steered them down the path and into the waiting locker rooms. After a moment, LaFiamma leaned into the support, moving without protest.

This close to LaFiamma, Levon could feel the racing heart and hear the hoarse breathing. Damn it, he's in trouble here. Fearing heatstroke, Lundy pushed through the few men lingering in the cool concrete hallway, and walked them straight into one of the showers.

Cool water running over him, Joe lifted his weary head and opened his mouth. He swallowed the water that filled his mouth, letting the rest rush over his face and clean away the salty sweat from his hair and skin. He could feel his body temperature normalizing. There were still sparkles of white light dancing in front of his eyes but the world had stopped swaying and blurring. He braced his hands flat on the cold tiles in front of him and felt Lundy tugging at his body suit.

Finally, his hearing returned. "...dang thing was a stoopid choice. Cain't believe I didn't think of that afore this. Yore wearing a death wish, LaFiamma. Now give me yore damn arm so's I ken git this thing offen you." The fussing was so unlike Lundy that for a moment, Joe just stood there smiling foolishly, then he lifted the arm that Lundy was yanking at. It was pulled down and wet, sticking cloth was unceremoniously dragged off. This was repeated with the other arm.

Lundy grit his teeth, worry allowing him to ignore his earlier half-formed desires. He had the top of the bodysuit off of his partner now. The skin beneath was clammy. He reached up and adjusted the shower to warmer, slightly tepid water. Joe just stood there, giving him complete rein. Almost like tending Fooler, came the thought.

Tugging with absolute determination, the blonde cowboy ripped the suit on down his partner's body, down the legs and into a puddle at the ankles. Not even looking up, Lundy grappled one foot up and dragged the gathering of cloth off it. He set down the foot and turned his attention to the other. Still squatting, he clamped his hands on this ankle and lifted, felt an unsteady hand momentarily brace on his rounded shoulders. He finally got the rest of the wet cloth free of the second foot and released it, making certain it was flat on the floor before looking up.

The view from here was breathtaking. He'd never thought of himself as a voyeur but suddenly he was tempted to stay here and just enjoy the sight of LaFiamma's half-hard cock curling up and out of a nest of thick black wiry hair, two heavy round balls in the sac depending down from that spot, nestled in lovely bulges against the muscular thighs. The rosy color of the tip of Joe's cock was sending saliva to Levon's mouth. What the hell? I ain't felt like this since Bobby, and even then, it took more'n the sight of him to make me hot. Now Joe? Oh, god, he'll hate me for shore iffen he ever realizes I'm beginning to want him - that way.

LaFiamma's eyes were closed. He was leaning against the wall of the shower. The white satin strip of ribbon remained at Joe's throat, Levon had been too busy with getting the clinging suit off him to worry about ornaments. Doesn't appear to be bothering him, interfering with his breathin' or enythin'.

Lundy stood up and looked down at himself. He was still fully clothed, and drenched. And hard. A few minutes more in this cold wet outfit and I won't have to worry about that. Just the wet suit and what I'm gonna wear home. Oh, well, don't make no never mind. Got Joe cooled off, his color is lookin' better now. He ain't shaking no more.

The blonde backed out of the shower's range for a moment, shedding his own clothing, then stepped back under the water and grabbed onto the faucet handle. A moment's work adjusted the flow of water to a slightly warmer, comfortable level. Taking a bar of soap from the wall rack, Lundy soaped up his hands and turned to his friend.

"Now hold still, LaFiamma, I'm gonna clean you up some."

Then, unbelievably, Joe felt those warm treasured hands on his body here in the shower. They were scrubbing his head, cleaning out the last of the sweat from his hair. Then they began to travel the familiar paths down his neck and shoulders, rubbing, loosening, and soothing away stiffness and pain. He let himself press back against them, felt the bare skin behind the hands. Levon's in here with me, and he's naked.

Soap still in his eyes, LaFiamma swung around to face the blonde, hands moving blindly outward.

"Ain't this nice? You boys need yore privacy or can anyone join in?" A chuckle followed. The words and the amusement froze the two detectives.

Lundy recovered first, looking over his shoulder to see the Angel standing relaxed and curious in the open arch of the shower room. "Plenty of room," he answered curtly. "My boy ain't used to Texas heat, got to get him some new rags for the ring, more like yor'n."

The taller man, mask-less now, laughed good-naturedly and shrugged as he strolled over to another showerhead. "Yeah, I wondered about that outfit. Looked too heavy for this time of year, especially when you're dealing with tented arenas." He nodded to Joe, then looking back at Levon, added, "My name's Tommy Halinger. I leave 'Angel' in the ring."

"Levon Lundy, and this here is Joe. He comes from up north, got to toughen him up a bit."

"Toughen him up?" Halinger was disbelieving. "Hell, he jest beat the living crap outta me, he's tough enough far as I'm concerned."

The object of their conversation blinked at their laughter and wiped the soap from his eyes. Joe looked over at Halinger. "You ok?" his low rumbling bass was a deep contrast to the two tenors.

Halinger was surprised. The guy seemed to genuinely care. "Yeah, I'm fine. Looks like it took more outta you, Joe."

"I'm ok. Lundy here takes care of me."

Levon blushed suddenly, heat gathering and flushing his body. He turned the water to cold with a quick flip of his wrist, needing to cool his own system before his reactions were noted.

"Ow! Damn it, Lundy, I don't need to be froze now!" Joe stepped indignantly out of the stream of water, threw his head back to clear the dark locks of hair from his face, and stalked from the room.

The Angel and the cowboy watched the angry naked Italian leave. Lundy turned off the shower and bent down, picking up his own clothes as well as Joe's wrestling outfit.

"Got it bad for him, have you?" The gentle question was another surprise.

He looked up into understanding eyes. He shrugged but didn't answer.

"They's a lot of us out here, feel right at home in each other's arms, and not always on the mat in a ring." Halinger smiled and turned away, scrubbing vigorously at his scalp under the stream from his showerhead.

Lundy realized he'd been dismissed. Food for thought. There's layers and layers here, he studied, as he padded out of the room, dripping.

Joe's breathing was more normal now, the coolness of the shower had eased his discomfort. This time, it wasn't exhaustion so much as the heat that had gotten to him. Guess Levon's right about the suit. Right about getting in shape, too, this match was not as hard on my body, 'cept for that blasted heat.

Joe was already in his black street clothes when Levon, moving slowly, got to their locker area. He'd evidently scouted out some warm-up clothes from somewhere because there were some simple blue sweats folded on the bench, waiting for Lundy. Levon flashed a look of gratitude at his partner. Guess I'm forgiven, again.

Joe grinned and relaxed against the metal wall of lockers. "There's a big plastic garbage bag there, too. You can use it for the wet clothes. I did rescue your hat, though - you musta dropped it outside of the showers."

There it sat, upside down on the bench, just like Levon had taught him all those years ago. Lundy felt his heart squeeze. What is happening to me? To us?

Joe closed the short distance to Levon, his leather radiating heat against Levon's bare skin. "That for me, partner?" One of Joe's fingers brushed gently at Levon's once again treacherously hard cock.

Lundy gasped and dropped the armful of wet clothing onto the floor. He swayed forward, up against the solid chest of his partner. Right here. Right now. His brain shut down and he looked up into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen in his entire life.

Two massive, leather-clad arms came up around him, pulling him in close. One moving up where a large hand cupped the back of his head and fingers slid into his damp curls. A wonderfully warm set of lips found his, an assertive tongue taking possession of his mouth. The other arm moved down and lifted Lundy's buttocks, kneading the fleshy mounds in one large, cool hand. "J-J-Joe?" he mumbled against that consuming mouth.

Levon blinked and looked again at the upturned Stetson. He let his eyes travel up to where Joe was leaning against the wall of metal lockers, still smiling at him. He held the wet armful of clothing against his groin, cooling that traitorous heat once more. Then he nodded his thanks again for the warm-up suit and turned to put his bundle on the floor and take up the fleece garments. He put them on in a kind of haze. The momentary daydream had been so real that he was still trying to convince himself that it had not happened.

Joe watched Levon's face go through a series of lightning changes, for once very revealing. We are getting close to meltdown,he thought. I can feel it. Soon, baby, soon, he crooned in his thoughts while he smiled at Levon and waited as his partner dressed.

When they were ready, LaFiamma shouldered the bag of wet clothes, quieting Lundy's unvoiced objections with a raised eyebrow and shrug. Lundy sighed and led the way out. They slipped away from the tented arena where the heavy rock beat and muffled crowd roar would continue well into the night.

Part 8: Sleep Tight, Little Levon

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Ain't no way we're sharing a motel room t'night, Levon thought anxiously, his fantasy still so real that he was scared to look Joe in the eyes. When they reached the Jimmy and LaFiamma began to drop the bag of wet clothing inside it, Levon came to a decision. "Joe, I got a lot of rest this afternoon and I feel all antsy now, I'd druther just start driving. How 'bout you bunk down on the mattress in back and we scoot?"

LaFiamma hid his surprise and looked closely at his partner across the front seat of the truck. He's showing a lot of color again. Flush or blush? Joe leaned over the distance and placed a hand on the nearer stiff forearm. "If you want to, Lundy, it's ok by me." Blush. Yeah. "We'll have to stop by the motel here in town and pick up the rest of our stuff, check out."

"Only take a few minutes, you go ahead and sack out. I'll take care of it." Lundy kept his voice even, made it sound very casual despite the current wave of heat still pushing through his system.
By the time, Levon got the truck to the Laredo motel, LaFiamma was sound asleep in the back. He slept through the repacking of the truck, Levon was very careful to keep everything slow and quiet as he worked. By midnight, Levon had the truck on the road and pointed back toward Houston.

Lots to think about, Levon considered the changes in how he and Joey were relating to one another, the feelings that he felt surfacing. Does Joey feel any of this?he wondered. The road was empty and Lundy kept his foot on the floorboards.

The bright rim of sun cracked the dawn wide open and made him squint against the piercing brightness. Time for a stop and some coffee, mebbe some breakfast. Levon began to study the roadside stops. They were nearing Houston now and the litter of strip malls and fast food chain outlets grew to a near continuous blur. International House of Pancakes looked inviting. Not too many customers yet, Levon thought as he pulled into the parking area.

"Hey, LaFiamma? You awake yet?" He flung an arm across his backrest and craned to look between the back seats at the mattress beyond. There was a kinda grunt, then a very tousled looking LaFiamma rose up, head and shoulders filling the gap in the seats. His dark hair fell forward into his eyes, making him look very young indeed. Two blinking blue eyes sought out the smiling brown ones of his partner.

"Wha? Wha's the time, Lundy?" The voice, deep and slow, slid under the cowboy's newly erected passion barriers.

Sighing softly at the tingle along his nerves, Lundy kept his voice low and cheerful. "Rise and shine, boy, time to get some grub in yore gut."

"GRUB in my GUT?"

The half-awake, half-amused sound of that melodious voice only stirred Levon's cock to unwanted life. Damn, that boy has me but good. Lundy pasted a grin on his face and called back, "Come on, sunshine, I found us some breakfast. We need to keep yore energy levels up, cain't tell how long 'til the next match, boy."

"Ok, ok, I'm getting up." Joe ran fingers loosely through his hair, shoving it back from his face. The dark stubble on his chin and the dry, musty feel of his mouth told him that he'd slept through the entire night. Seeing the morning light through the truck windows, he suddenly realized that Lundy must have been driving for at least the last six hours.

Tugging his clothes into a semblance of order, the Italian climbed and fell over the seat backs and out the passenger door of the truck. His partner was already standing in the open parking lot, waiting for him, ready to lock up the vehicle. LaFiamma leaned back against the warm metal of the door and looked his cowboy up and down. Amazing. You don't even look tired, except for the redness around your eyes. Look wired up someway. Ah, and a bit hard, too, Joe thought, keeping a straight face with difficulty as he noted the definite ropey bulge in his partner's soft clingy sweat pants. It looks like a tent setting up camp in his crotch, Joe thought happily. Oh, yes. We are definitely making progress here.

"Ok, Boss, I'm awake, I'm up, I'm outta the truck. Now what?"

Lundy had already turned away and now only tossed a comment over his shoulder as he strolled toward the door of the restaurant. "Now we eat."

"Coming, oh wise one, coming," the Italian said softly, a smile on his face. He pushed away from the truck and, finding his legs, walked stiffly after his partner.

***********************

"Let me drive the rest of the way, Lundy," Joe said as they stepped back out into the sunshine, both full of pancakes and coffee. "It can't be far now and you must be beat."

"Naw, I'm fine. It isn't far and I know the roads better, ken make better time." Lundy settled his hat on and led the way to the Jimmy.

Joe enjoyed the sight of the slim blonde incongruously dressed in a blue fleece warmup suit, boots and a Stetson. Good enough to eat. I'll never get my fill of you, Levon. He rubbed his hands together and pulled his belt tighter, then followed Lundy to the truck.

When they reached the ranch, Joe took over. He pulled the keys from Lundy's suddenly fumbling fingers and jumped down from the passenger side of the truck. Opening up the house, he turned and beckoned. "Now you get in here and bed down, Lundy. I'll unpack, take care of the laundry and check on Fooler."

Lundy who had slid out the driver's side of the Jimmy and was building himself up to a standing position, decided not to argue. Though, "Check on Fooler? Boy, you wouldn't even know what to look for."

Joe grinned without taking offense, "I can see if she's on her feet, see if she has water and some hay. Anything else can wait on you. After all, you've been having Shelby stop by and feed her whenever we're on these road trips."

The blonde nodded. "Ok, LaFiamma, yore right there. I think I will sack out." Wobbling just slightly from fatigue and too long sitting in one position, Lundy made it to the porch without incident and brushed passed his partner who was strangely reluctant to give him enough room to pass.

LaFiamma snuck a breathful of Lundy's scent as the cowboy pushed passed him. Hmmm. Got to let him catch some zzzz's, Joe thought, but later, we're going to have a little chat. I think it's time. That thought made him shiver, suddenly not so sure that this was it, the right time. Well, let him sleep. See how things play out after that.

Levon made it to the bed but then simply crashed face down on it, not even removing hat or boots. One hand came to rest under a cheek and he was snoring softly when Joe stopped in to check on him.

Smiling affectionately, LaFiamma walked in to stand beside the bed. Carefully, so that he didn't rouse his partner, Joe lifted the hat sitting askew on the blonde locks. Setting it crown down on the bedside table, he moved to the foot of the bed and studied the booted feet. Both were dangling in space over the end of the mattress. Cautiously, he gripped one boot and slid it back and down. It came free easily. The second followed. Aside from a snort mid-way through the second boot, Levon showed no signs of life. Free of the constraint of the boots, his feet seemed to pull up on to the mattress, knees tucking toward chest, in an unconscious effort to get warm. LaFiamma looked around the room and went to the closet. On a top shelf, he spotted some folded blankets. Selecting one, he opened it quietly and laid it gently over the slumbering cowboy. "Sleep tight, Little Levon," he murmured, still smiling.

**********************

Joe LaFiamma was deep in a novel he'd brought from his apartment, ensconced on the sofa, a bottle of mineral water at hand. He'd done his lifts and presses, a half-hour run, and some stretches. He'd try out some moves later, maybe some Tai Chi moves. Lundy had been sleeping since they'd gotten in and it was mid-afternoon now.

The telephone's strident sound cut through the quiet of the old house, startling Joe and rousing Levon. In separate rooms, two hands reached for the receivers simultaneously.

"Lundy." "LaFiamma." The voices came in chorus, giving both them and the caller pause.

Then, Joanne's voice sounded in amusement, "I see you're both back. Good. You made quite a splash down there in Laredo, according to Hoffsteader. He's ecstatic! He called here a few minutes ago to tell me that the local press spent a lot of print on Joe's win and on some gimmick about white ribbons that women were waving. Whatever you two are doing, it seems to be working. Not only did you get press and a lift in the standings, but I think you may be getting your first bite soon."

"Do tell," Levon answered.

"Yes, Randy was ready to put Joe in another fringe match over in El Paso," Joanne paused as she heard Joe groan.

"Ohmigod, isn't that way the hell over the other side of Texas? We'd be on the road for our whole lives!"

Levon interrupted, "Ain't driving that far, we'll fly. Commission ken afford it if they want us out there."

"Wait, wait," Beaumont demanded, "you didn't let me finish. I said he was ready to do it, but then he got word that San Antonio wanted Joe."

"Who?"

"They want him? In San Anton'? You mean, we're getting to the big time?"

"Yes, Levon, and that means really watching your backs and listening at the doors."

"Who wants me? Guys, excuse me, but remember I'm new down here." Joe said plaintively.

"Shut up and listen, LaFiamma, I'll explain it all to you later," Lundy gruffed. "Now, Joanne, when is the meet? Do we got any time? Like to take the Caddie for that one, it's a short haul."

In the background, Joe could be heard muttering, "Yes, Boss, I live to serve."

"Quiet down, LaFiamma! You still there Joanne?"

"Still here. Randy will call you later tonight, I think you have a couple of days."

"Ok, thanks, Jo', we'll be here." When Levon emerged from the back, scrubbing at his face, he found a pouting LaFiamma sitting on the couch, arms crossed, feet on the coffee table, staring at nothing.

"Damn, Joey, now don't be like that. I'm sorry I yelled at you. Been easier iffn you just let me do the talking. I ken fill you in on local stuff later." He came to a stop wearily, resting his back against the fireplace mantle, facing LaFiamma.

The dark Italian stared at the blonde cowboy for several moments, then the sulky look vanished and concern replaced it. "You feel ok, Levon?"

Lundy relaxed. Joe's concern had overcome his anger, things would be ok between them. Good, cause he was too tired to fight just now. "Yeah, jest tired still. Feel like a spring that got unsprung."

Joe stood, rising smoothly from his seat. "Let me get you something to eat, Levon. You'll feel better. You can explain about the 'local stuff' while I cook. Come on." He led the way into the kitchen without looking back.

Levon watched that limber back, those tight, round ass cheeks disappear and sighed. Getting to be a regular habit with me, Joey-watching. Shaking his head at himself, he followed his partner into the kitchen.

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