SmokeTransformer

If you ever want to see what your son’s future is, all you have to do is look at your past. It is a chain and, no matter how hard you try to break it, you end up reinforcing it.

I realized this as I handed my son his tool bag. I came from a family of roofers. My father was a roofer and I was a roofer. I didn’t want this for my son. However, he was going to work just one summer with me before he started college. This was the start of the same story from 30 years ago.

The year was 1995 and I had just graduated high school. My father was a hard working man and his body was breaking because of it. He had inherited Ironridge Roofing from his father. “Don’t worry Danny Boy,” he’d say to me, “The business ends with me.”

My father didn’t want me to be a roofer like him. He wanted me to be the first in his family to go to college and that was the plan.

However, one early Monday morning he woke me up. “Daniel, I need your help today,” he said as he walked in. One of his employees had an injury over the weekend and was going to be out for the Summer season.

My father drove us to the shop. He was a heavy smoker and constantly smoked in his work truck. I didn’t care much for it so I rode with the window completely down.

Once we got there, he handed me my equipment. It was supposed to be just the Summer season.

The first few weeks were hard, but I got a hang of it. The hardest part was working with the rest of the crew. They all knew I was the boss’s son and they all knew I was just a temp. Therefore, they didn’t bother.

It was break time and my father was checking in. The rest of the crew sat together, smoking their cigarettes.

“Why aren’t ya sitting with the rest of the guys?” my father asked with a cigarette between his lips.

“I don’t know. They treat me different. They don’t see me as one of them,” I confessed.

My father pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds and slid one out of the pack. He handed it to me. “Don’t tell your mother,” he said. I had never smoked before and wondered why he was giving me one. I placed it in my lips and my father lit it for me.

After that, things got better with the rest of the crew. I wasn’t othered anymore. I only smoked a few throughout the day, usually just on breaks, but they were a bridge.

The Summer season rolled into Fall. Just one more season eventually because just one more year.

It was the Summer of 2000 when college wasn’t discussed anymore. After 5 years, it just wasn’t in the cards anymore. I knew this and my father knew this. It was a mutual acceptance.

I started smoking a bit more throughout the day. With my paychecks, I eventually got my own place and even got a tattoo that made me feel tough.

I was just one of the guys. I was now a hard working man, just like my father.

In the evenings, me and the crew would go to the local dive bar. We’d drink the rest of our paychecks. That’s how I meet Rebecca. She was a pretty girl who I think liked my edge. What started out as a one night stand eventually became a relationship. Rebecca was smart; she went to college and was a teacher. She probably deserved more than what I could give. Her high-class family disapproved of me, but I think I was a form of rebellion for her. Something against the grain of her life.

It was 2005 when she found out she was pregnant. I proposed soon after and we had a shot gun wedding. However, neither of us were truly happy. I knew what I was for Rebecca and I knew it wasn’t what she wanted. I was supposed to be a phase in her life and an eventual bad decision.

We split up shortly after Ryan was born. She had full custody, but I occasionally saw my son on the weekends.

I escaped my reality with work, Marlboro Reds and cheap beer. It was 2010 when my father asked me to take over the business. His health was declining. I agreed without a second thought.

The crew accepted this handover; they had all respected me. I was the first one at work and the last to leave. They trusted me as their new boss.

In my evenings, I’d pick up take out for dinner, a case of beer and a pack of Reds. I’d eat alone, only with Ryan’s toys scattered around. I’d always wonder when I’d see him again.

2015 was a tough year. The years of heavy smoking had caught up to my father and he passed. After he died due to lung disease, I attempted to quit smoking myself. It was for myself and for Ryan. I didn’t want to be a bad role model for him. I wanted him to have a different life than what I had, and what my father had.

I was stressed at work. Even though my father retired, he was still a source of guidance for me as I ran the business. Now he was gone. I only made it a few days before I was lighting back up. I’d try quitting again once it slowed down.

It was 2020 when my body was really started to feel the effects of my life choices. My back was always sore. I’d wake up in the morning with a deep cough. I never attempted to quit smoking again. I accepted that ship had long sailed.

Ryan was now 15 years old. As he got older, our relationship got stronger. Now that he was a teenager, he was able to make more of his own choices. He’d come over on the weekends and we’d chat on the phone in the evenings.

“How was work, dad?” he’d always ask.

“Rough,” I’d always respond, usually with a cough. He wasn’t going to take on this business, I promised myself.

But promises are usually broken, and this chain is unbreakable.

Ryan was standing before me, ready to work for just one summer. I could have break the chain right now, but I needed his help just like my father needed my help 30 years ago.

The last 30 years flashed in my mind after I handed him his bag. I hoped Ryan’s next 30 years would be different than mine, but I also knew I had just placed Ryan’s first link of the same chain.

Level 6

After a night of playing a game he couldn’t recall, Travis took off his headset and lit up a smoke. Once again, there were tissues spread across the table. His balls ached as they were completely empty, but he felt good. He felt like he had the best virtual night of his life.

Travis started his Sunday morning with a a few Marlboro Reds and a heavy breakfast. He cracked open a beer as well. He figured that it was the weekend and it was meant for relaxation.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Rob as well. He had never had a crush on a man before. His thoughts automatically went towards kissing him and fucking him.

He opened another beer, noticing it was his last one. He chugged it and headed out to get another case.

He lit up another smoke and walked down the sidewalk.

As he was walking, he passed by the construction office. He noticed Rob was entering. With it being a Sunday, Travis figured Rob was trying to get his bearings before taking over on Monday.

Travis thought of an excuse to follow. Without thinking of one, he still headed in.

“Hello?” Rob called out from Bob’s old office.

“Hey Rob! It’s Travis. Just swinging by for a quick minute,” Travis announced as he entered as he office. Rob was standing by the desk, fresh Red lit between his lips, as he was looking at the mess of papers scattered across it.

“Oh, hi Travis,” Rob said as the Red bounced up and down.

“Working on a Sunday?” Travis asked as he took out his pack of Reds. He coolly slid one out and placed it in his lips. He flicked his lighter and inhaled deeply before exhaling.

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Been stressed about taking over. My Uncle didn’t keep things super organized.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Travis laughed. He looked at Rob, who was looking very handsome as he smoked. He wanted to be around him, “Well, let me help.”

“You don’t have to,” Rob said as he exhaled some smoke.

“I know, but I want to,” Travis assured him.

The two men spent the day going through all the papers and making sense of the mess. They both chained smoked as they chatted and worked together.

The two of them laughed and joked as they got to know each other. They even teased each other a bit. Travis was feeling a flutter in his chest. He was crushing hard.

Travis was not trying to overthink, but Rob had touched and brushed Travis’ leg with his own. It was just an accident, Travis thought.

It was starting to get dark outside when the office finally became organized.

“Thanks a lot. I mean that,” Rob said as he lit up another Red.

“Of course. I’ll help you anytime,” Travis said.

“Well, we better lock up. Enjoy our last part of our weekend,” Rob said as he got up. Travis stood as well. Rob seemed anxious, maybe a bit nervous.

“Yeah, we better,” Travis agreed.

“This might be a weird question, and I don’t want you to think any differently of me….but…you know, never mind. It can wait,” Rob said as he walked away.

It was almost like instinct. It was something Travis had been wanting to do since last night. He grabbed Rob’s hand and pulled him in. He placed his lips on Rob’s and the two kissed. The kissing turned into intense making out.

Rob finally stepped back and placed his Red in his lips.

“Sorry…I…didn’t know what came over me,” Travis started apologizing.

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me. Your place or mine?” Rob said as he grinned.

—

Several months had passed. Rob and Travis had been seeing each other each night and without even putting a title on it, had become boyfriends.

Travis’ beard and belly had grown a bit. He still worked hard at the construction site but now as the site manager.

One evening, Travis came home to find Rob already there. Rob had unofficially moved in a few weeks ago. Rob was sitting on the couch in his underwear and shirtless. He was smoking and having a beer.

“Hey Babe,” Rob said, “You’re home late.”

“Yeah, Greg was having some difficulties with the cement mixer. Was helping him fix it.”

“Get comfortable and come sit with me. I already ordered a pizza. Should be here soon,” Rob suggested.

Travis got out of his work clothes and grabbed a beer. He sat next to Rob and out his arm around him.

The two men chatted about their day and they smoked. Both of them became even heavier smokers when they started dating.

“Anything you wanna do tonight?” Rob asked.

“Besides you?” Travis teased.

Travis looked at the man that he loved and thought back at who he use to be. He grabbed his phone and pulled up his old Twitch account. He had been inactive for a long time.

“You won’t believe this. I never showed you this,” Travis said as he showed Rob an old clip from one of his streams.

“Who’s that?” Rob asked, confused.

“Me,” Travis answered.

“No shit? That little nerd was you?” Rob teased, but in shock.

“Ha, yeah. I grew up,” Travis laughed.

“Yeah, and much hotter now too,” Rob said before leaning in to make out.

After fucking Rob, Travis laid next to him. The two of them were having a post-sex Red.

After their smokes, Rob kissed Travis goodnight. Travis wasn’t tired though. He was reflecting on how he became who he now was.

He got up and headed to his gaming station. He hadn’t turned on his computer or played the ManUp game in months. He didn’t feel a need to anymore.

He booted up the game and put on the headset. There was nothing showing, besides the following words:

“Congratulations! You did ManUp!

Was it the blue collar job? Or was it the extra weight you now carry? Or was it the heavy smoking? Or was it fucking a man?

Whatever made you ManUp, enjoy it. This is your life now and there is no resetting it.

GAME OVER.”

Travis stared at the last two words as he lit up a Red. He loved who he became. And even though the game was over, his new life was just beginning.

Level 5

Travis came to with a shirtless Virtual Rob standing there. He was smiling with a cigar and was said, “I had a good time, big man. A real good time.”

The screen went black with only the words ‘Welcome to Level 5.”

Travis, still having his cigar in his mouth, took off his headset and realized he too was shirtless with only his boxers on. There were crumpled up tissues around him. He checked the stream and it had ended sometime ago.

Travis took a big final haul on the cigar before placing it in the ashtray. There was a flag on his account profile. He clicked on it and said ‘Stream ended due to explicit content. First and final warning.’

He immediately lit up a Red, worried he may have shown too much online.

—

A month had passed by and Travis was still feeling some shame from his last stream. He hadn’t turned on the game at all. He tried instead focused on his job, but was having a hard time concentrating. He found himself distracted; he admired the men at work in a way he had never done before.

Through his admiration, he still worked hard everyday and relaxed in the evening with a few beers and smokes, occasionally having a cigar instead of his Reds.

His nightly beers, greasy food and hard work has taken a toll on his body. He had gain some fat with muscle exceptionally fast, almost unnatural. His beard was also growing in faster and thicker than ever before.

It was an early Friday morning when he was on his way to work. He chained smoked the entire way there. It was now normal for him to smoke at least 5 before starting the work day.

When he pulled in, he saw a group of his coworkers huddled around Bob. Travis flicked his Red out of the window and parked.

As soon as he got out of his truck, he lit up another Red and walked over.

“Morning, men,” Travis said.

“Travis!” Bob enthusiastically said, “Just the guy I wanted to see.”

“Uh-oh,” Travis joked.

“Men,” Bob addressed everyone, “As you know, I hired Travis a few months ago. He didn’t look much like a construction worker back then, but he knew his shit and proved it.” Several of the men laughed in response. Bob continued, “But now look at him now. That’s why, starting next week, he will be shift manager.”

A few of the men clapped. A few looked jealous, but Travis didn’t care. He earned this.

“And one more announcement,” Bob added, “I will be retiring!”

A few of the men looked shocked, confused and concerned.

“But don’t worry. I’m leaving the company in good hands! We ain’t closing down, don’t you worry!” Bob assured them. The men still remained quiet, still stunned.

“Well, Bob,” Travis finally broke the awkward silence, “Congratulations! I’d be happy to host you a retirement party.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Bob quickly said.

“I insist. I owe everything to you,” Travis added.

—

The next day, Travis prepared Bob’s office for his retirement party. He had gotten a few kegs and put up some decorations. He also got a box of Bob’s favorite cigars to share amongst the men.

It was about 6:00 in the evening when people started showing up. Bob was impressed at Travis’ hard work in putting together the party last minute.

Bob gave a small speech, “Gents! I’ve enjoyed working with all of you, but I’m going to enjoy retirement more!”

The men laughed.

Bob continued, “I decided to leave the company to Rob. As you may know, Rob is like a son to me. I know he will be a good leader and boss to you all. Rob has been managing another company a few states away, but accepted taking over in my place. I know he will do great! Now let’s drink and have a good time!”

The men clapped and cheered. Everyone was having a good time, especially Bob. Travis thought he was going to drink a whole keg himself. Both Travis and Bob were hauling cigars the entire evening.

Travis never met Rob, but the name sounded familiar. It wasn’t because it was close to the name ‘Bob’ either.

Travis’ cigar was spent so he placed it in one of the ashtrays. He needed some fresh air and a Red. He headed outside. The sky was getting dark. He pulled out his pack and lit up a smoke.

“Enjoying the party?” a deep voice said behind him, almost startling Travis.

Travis turned around and saw a man, a little older than him, sitting on some steps under a light. He had a short mohawk with a horseshoe mustache. This man was also smoking a cigarette. He looked familiar, and handsome.

“I am. You?” Travis answered and asked back.

“I guess,” the man sighed.

“You Rob?” Travis asked. He somehow knew this was Rob.

“I am,” Rob confirmed before taking a drag off his smoke.

“Congrats on taking over,” Travis said.

“Yeah…thanks,” Rob exhaled, “You Travis?”

“Sure am,” Travis said as he walked over. Travis tried to act cool and confident, but he was getting butterflies in his stomach and chest.

Rob stood up from the step and shook his hand, “Nice to met ya.”

“Likewise,” Travis said. Rob had a tight grip.

The two men stood in silence until Travis broke it, “I haven’t seen ya inside. Just get here?”

“Been sitting out here for a while,” Rob answered. Travis could tell he was not in good spirits.

“Everything alright?” Travis asked, hoping to be supportive of his future boss.

“Not sure if I’m cut out to take over, if I’m being honest. Bob called, asked if I wanted to take over. I couldn’t say no. He’s almost like a father to me,” Rob confessed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to unload on ya.”

“It’s alright. I asked,” Travis assured him.

“Might walk home. Just tell Bob I wasn’t feel good if he asks,” Rob said as he flicked his cigarette.

“I can drive ya home if you want. I haven’t drank too much,” Travis offered.

“Sure,” Rob accepted, “It is about 5 miles away.”

The two men jumped in Travis’ truck. Travis lit up another Red. “Feel free to smoke,” he told Rob. And Rob did.

The two men chatted; Travis joked with Rob, which seemed to cheer him up. Rob was smiling by the end of the ride to Rob’s house.

“Have a nice evening, Rob,” Travis as Rob was getting out.

“You too, Trav. Thanks for the ride. I had a good time,” Rob said before smiling and shutting the truck door. Being called ‘Trav’ by Rob made his heart flutter.

Back at the party, Travis wasn’t very social. He was only thinking about Rob. He had never had a crush on a man before, which scared him a bit.

It was about 11:00am when everyone left, besides Travis and Bob.

“Come on, Bob. I’ll drive ya home,” Travis said as Bob was slouched over in his office chair.

“Oh, alright,” Bob slurred, “Where’s Rob?”

“He already left. Wasn’t feelin’ great,” Travis lied for his new friend.

“Oh,” Bob mumbled, “I see.”

On the ride to Bob’s, Travis asked, “So you and Rob are pretty close?”

“We are. Like a son to me, but he’s actually my nephew,” Bob confessed.

“Oh?” Travis said surprised. It made even more sense now why he was taking over.

“Yup - practically had to beg him to move back. Wanted to keep the business in the family, ya know?” Bob said.

“I see,” Travis said.

“His partner broke up with him when he decided to move back though. Been bummed about it since,” Bob added.

“Her lost. Rob seems like a good guy,” Travis said.

“His lost. Rob’s gay,” Bob slurred then stumbled, “Fuck, wasn’t supposed to say that. He didn’t want his future employees to know.”

Travis’ heart fluttered once again, “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t say anything.”

After dropping Bob off, Travis went back home. He was smiling while thinking about Rob.

When he got home, he cracked open a beer lit up a smoke. He then sat down at his gaming desk and put on the headset. He didn’t know why he wanted to play the game again after not touching it for a month, but he felt like he had to. He had to unload.

Level 4

“Welcome to Level 4” was what Travis saw when he snapped out of the trance. He turned off the stream and the game then immediately grabbed for a Marlboro Red.

He was still dirty from yesterday, but didn’t bother changing or showering because he knew he would just get dirty again at work. Also, he was wearing his only work clothes he had. He needed to go shopping.

—

Over the next few weeks, he worked hard and smoked hard. He went to the local dive bar afterwork to relax with greasy food and beer. Then he would go home and play ManUp. This was his new routine.

However, he was stuck on Level 4. Virtual Bob kept telling him he wasn’t man enough. Travis didn’t know what else he could do.

At the job site, he was one of the guys now and was starting to blend it. His facial hair was growing longer, his build was starting to get beefier from lifting heavy equipment, and his gut was expanding from bar food and beer.

On Friday, Steve approached and informed him that Bob wanted to see him. So he left early to head across town to the office.

Travis nervously smoked as he drove, wondering if Bob found out that he actually didn’t have any experience. He parked his car, flicked his cigarette butt in the ground and walked inside.

“Travis, how are you?” Bob welcomed from his desk.

“Good, Bob. You wanted to see me?” Travis asked as he sat down. Bob was smoking a huge cigar and Travis got an urge for a smoke.

“Sure did. Wanted to hand deliver you your first paycheck. Been hearing good things about you,” Bob said as he handed Travis an envelope.

“Thank you,” he looked inside. The check was worth $4,000. He use to make that in a few days on Twitch, but this was hard earned money from a real man’s job.

“Here, reason to celebrate,” Bob chimed in and handed Travis a cigar.

“Thanks,” Travis said as he grabbed the cutter from Bob’s desk, placed it in his mouth and then lit it with his own lighter.

“Knew you smoked cigs, but didn’t know you smoked cigars too,” Bob added as he puffed away on his cigar.

“Love them,” Travis said without thinking. He breathed in the smoke. He never smoked a cigar in his life, but it just felt right. He smoked Marlboro Reds regularly, but now was going to smoke cigars occasionally.

“Knew it was a good idea to hire ya,” Bob stated and a chuckle.

The talked briefly about work. Travis shook Bob’s hand before he left, tightly.

Travis continued to smoke his cigar in his Tesla while he looked at his first paycheck. He realized what he was going to buy first. He turned his car on and drove down the road.

He stopped at a Ford Dealership. When he got out of his Tesla, he was approached by a salesman.

“Hey there, how you doing today?” the man asked.

“Pretty good. Looking to upgrade,” Travis answered with his cigar clenched in his teeth.

“Just so you know, we don’t sell electric vehicles here,” the salesman informed.

“Good, because I want a truck,” Travis responded.

“You look like a F-150 man,” the salesman said, “Wondered what you were doing in that Tesla.”

The two of them walked around the lot. Travis puffed away at his cigar.

“That’s it. That’s the one,” Travis said between the cigar in his jaw. He pointed to a dark grey 2026 F-150.

“If we take it for a test drive, you’re going to have to put out your cigar,” the salesman informed.

“No need. I know how to handle a F-150,” Travis said confidently.

“Sounds good. I’ll bring the papers out here,” the salesman hurried off.

By the time the sale and trade was done, so was the cigar. Travis got into his new truck and reached in his pocket to pull out his pack of Marlboro Reds. He lit one up, needing to make this truck officially his.

He noticed that the truck didn’t have an ashtray built in, but he didn’t mind. He flicked his ash anywhere.

Before heading home, we swung by the smoke shop to get a few packs of Marlboro Reds and several cigars. He only had his first cigar ever today, but he now knew all about them. He knew which ones were the strongest. He knew which ones had certain flavors. And he knew which ones a real man smoked. He still saw himself as a regular Marlboro Man, but wanted to have at least have a cigar a day. He just needed smoke now and didn’t care about the source.

When he got home, he lit up a cigar and grabbed a beer. He was going to see if he could beat Level 4 finally tonight. He sat at his desk and started up the game and stream.

He only had about 10 viewers, which was extremely low. Travis didn’t really say anything but read the chat comments:

‘drew_fyre: dude, what’s wrong with you?’

‘honey_han34: I think you should stop playing this game…’

‘user3053772: you’re getting disgusting’

Everyone didn’t like this new version of Travis. His fans were all concerned, but one message stood out:

‘ManBOB: You’re looking great. Keep it up! You are a MAN!’

Travis put on the VR headset. The game started up with Virtual Bob standing in his man cave, smoking his usual cigar.

“Hey there, big man,” Bob said, “I think you have successfully completed Level 4.”

Travis got excited, “Finally!”

“We can end the game here…if you want. Level 5 and beyond is intense. Think you are man enough for it?”

“Let’s go for it. Fuck yes I am man enough,” Travis said.

“Good,” Bob said with a grin. Another virtual man appeared. The virtual man had a thick horse shoe mustache, beefy build and a short mohawk. He was smoking a cigar too. “This is Rob. He is like a son to me. I took him under my guidance a long time ago and look who he has become. I think you two should get to know each other. Man to man.”

Level 3

Travis set the VR headset down on the desk and ended his stream. The screen said “Welcome to Level 3”. He once again played all night and could not remember a single thing. His desk was littered with beer bottles and cigarette ash. The ashtray was full of butts.

His chest felt a bit tight from the apparent chain smoking, but immediately grabbed another Marlboro Red and placed it in his mouth. He also felt a little hungover and bloated from all the beers.

He got up as he lit his Red. He took a deep drag and held in the smoke in his lungs. He did not smoke like someone who just started yesterday. He looked like a man who smoked since his younger teenage years. Like it was not new to him.

“Fuck, that’s better,” he said to himself as he exhaled the smoke. His voice was a little raspy and deep from the late night chaining.

He walked over to his coffee maker and started to make a cup. He mainly drank energy drinks, but somehow knew that a morning smoke went really well with a cup of joe.

He felt like he had to get ready for work, but knew he didn’t actually “worked”. He just played video games for a living, but he was starting to realize that wasn’t a real job. He also knew that his skills were not being utilized.

Travis was remembering all knowledge of and experience with construction work. He didn’t fully know how he gained this skill of hard labor, but he knew he had it. He knew his hands were meant to work with tools and not click a mouse.

He grabbed the morning paper from his front step and sat down at the table with another freshly lit Marlboro Red and his cup of coffee. He skimmed over the job listings, looking for anything construction related.

As he looked over the listings, a construction company’s name caught his eyes: ‘ManUp Construction, LLC.’

He thought it was just a weird coincidence that the company’s name matched the game, but took it as a sign that was the place where he had to apply.

He finished his coffee and headed out the door. As soon as he got into his Tesla, he lit up another smoke. He was running low on cigarettes, so he stopped by the mini mart. He got a few more packs and three breakfast burritos. He rarely ate breakfast and if he did, it was usually something not so greasy. But he was starving this morning and the burritos looked good.

He parked his electric car at the office of ManUp Construction. He took a final drag off his Red, took a deep breath and headed in.

As soon as he walked into the office, strong cigar smoke hit his nose. He thought it smelled good and made him want to light up another Red.

A familiar large man was sitting behind the desk. He was bald, stout and had a massive mustache. He was smoking a large cigar.

“Can I help you?” the man gruffed.

“Answering your job posting,” Travis answered confidently.

“Take a seat,” the man ordered as he puffed on his cigar.

Travis did so, and as he did he pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds. He took one out and lit it up, casually and confidently without even asking. He belonged in this space.

“So, what experience do you have?” the man asked.

Travis listed off false experience automatically. He somehow had the knowledge of all this experience, like it was engrained in him.

“Impressive for a guy your age,” the man said, “Well, seems like a no brainer. When can you start?”

“Today,” Travis said as he placed his smoked butt in the ashtray on the desk.

“Good, head here,” the man said as he handed him a piece of paper and a yellow hard hat, “Tell Bob sent ya.”

“You got it,” Travis grabbed the stuff and got up.

“Good luck, Travis,” Bob said.

As Travis headed out the door, he wondered how the man knew his name. He never told him.

He arrived to the job site. A few of the workers stared as Travis got out of his Tesla. The lot was full of trucks and his eco friendly vehicle stood out. Travis immediately lit a Red.

“You the new guy?” a man asked as he walked over. This man was beefy and fully bearded. He too was smoking.

“Yeah, I’m Travis. Bob sent me,” Travis confidently said before taking a drag.

“He gave us a call saying you were coming. I’m Steve,” the man said as he held out his hand. Travis placed his Red in his lips and grabbed Steve’s hand tightly and shook it.

“What needs to be done?” Travis asked as he followed his coworker.

“Bob said you knew how to use the excavator?”

“Sure do.”

“You’re going digging out some foundation,” Steve informed him.

“Sounds good,” Travis said as he placed his hard hat on.

He climbed up on the machine and took a seat. He looked at all the buttons and levers. He knew exactly what each one did. He started the engine and got to work. He naturally operated the machine and enjoyed handling this massive piece of equipment. It was better than any video game he ever played.

Travis worked and smoked for a few good hours until Steve waved him down. From digging in the soil, he was dusty and dirty.

“Break time,” Steve yelled out.

Travis climbed down and joined the other men for a smoke break, even though he was smoking the entire time he was working.

“Ya know, I was hesitant when I saw ya get out of that Tesla. Thinkin’ who the hell did Bob send us,” Steve confessed, “But fuck man, never seen a guy operate that as smoothly as ya do.” Steve slapped Travis on the shoulder.

“Thanks, man,” Travis said.

The men chatted with him as if he belonged even though they all looked gruff, weathered and beefy.

Travis continued to work and smoke hard the rest of the day. He mainly worked on the excavator, but did other random jobs on the site.

By the end of the day, Travis was very dirty but he didn’t mind. He actually liked having the dirt on him; it showed the world that he was a hard working man.

Before heading home, Travis stopped by a local dive bar to have a few after work beers and dinner.

The bar was smoky, just how he liked it. He sat at a table and lit up a Red.

“What you like, honey?” the bartender asked.

He took a quick glance at the menu board. He was starving from all his hard work. “I’ll take the combo burger and a Budweiser, tap,” Travis answered.

He people watched as he ate, smoked and drunk. There were other blue collar men doing the same as him. There were mechanics, some truckers and other fellow construction workers. He was among his people.

After eating a second combo burger and drinking a few beers, he headed back home to his apartment.

He grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat back at his gaming desk. He didn’t feel like video games or streaming, but he wanted to finish Level 3 of ManUp.

He lit up a smoke and turned the stream on.

“Hey men, just working on finishing Level 3,” he told his viewers. His viewer count was low, only about 30. He was losing his online popularity.

Virtual Bob was sitting in his man cave. He was smoking a cigar, like usual.

“First day of hard labor done,” Bob said, “Good job! A hard working man deserves a reward.” Bob pulled out a cigar from thin air and handed it over, “Smoke up, man!”

Virtual Travis did as he was told. Real life Travis only had his Marlboro Reds, but smoked along anyways.

“A real man knows pleasure,” Virtual Bob said has he pulled out beers and handed them over, “So feed it. Enjoy. Indulge. You earned it, you hard working man.”

“Yes, Sir,” Travis said aloud.

The virtual smoke filled up the screen, swirling around and real life Travis fell back deep in a trance. He silently watched the swirls as he smoked away.

Level 2

Travis came to. All he saw in the VR headset were words that said “Welcome to Level 2”. He slowly lifted the headset off his head. The lights were bright and hurt his eyes, which felt dry.

He looked at his computer monitor. He was still live on Twitch. He noticed the timer; he was live for 24 hours and didn’t remember any of it.

He glanced at the chat messages. There were a lot of ‘WTF’s in the chat.

“Umm…hey crew…I must have fallen asleep. Sorry about that,” he said to his 100 viewers, which was exceptionally low for him. He turned off the stream suddenly.

He wanted to check the replay of the stream to see what the hell happened, but had an off feeling. He thought maybe he needed sleep, but he didn’t feel tired.

Caffeine. He needed caffeine. That was it.

He left his apartment and walked down to the nearest convenient store. He walked past a man walking nonchalantly and slowly. This man looked very familiar. The man smoked a fat cigar and had an enormous mustache. Travis couldn’t remember where he had seen that man before.

He strolled in and grabbed a Red Bull. When he went to the counter, the cashier asked, “Is that it?”

“No, a pack of Marlboro Reds?” Travis answered as he also grabbed a Bic lighter that was sitting in the stand on the counter.

The cashier rang him up and Travis walked out. He tapped on the pack with the palm of his hand before ripping off the cellophane. He flipped open the box top and tore out the silver rapper. He gave the 20 cigarettes a quick smell and slid one out with his lips. He flicked the Bic and brought the flame to the end. He pulled hard on the Marlboro Red before sucking in air for a deep inhale.

Instant relief. It was what he needed. He took a few drags and held in the smoke for a few seconds. He suddenly realized what he was doing.

He dropped the cigarette immediately. He never smoked in his life. “What the hell am I doing?” he asked himself aloud. His brain was on autopilot for the last 5 minutes. He just naturally asked for a pack of Marlboro Reds, lit up and smoked naturally. As he he had been a smoker for years.

He then headed home.

As he walked down the street, with his Red Bull in hand and his pack in his jeans, he saw a barbershop. He brushed his hair, his “shag mane”, and thought for the first time ever that it was too long. So he stepped inside.

“Looking to get a cut?” the barber asked.

“Yes,” Travis answered.

“Alright, take a seat,” the barber ordered.

As Travis sat down, he could smell that the barber was a smoker. He got an itch to light up again. “So, what we doing today?”

“Just buzz it,” Travis said automatically with no hesitation.

“You got it,” the barber said as he grabbed the electric clippers.

Travis watched with blank eyes as his famous hair fell down. He didn’t know why, but this is what he wanted.

“Want a shave too?” the barber asked as he ran the clippers across Travis’ skull.

“No, growing my beard out,” Travis declined.

Travis paid the barber and he headed out, but the barber followed. The barber pulled out a pack of Reds and took one out.

Travis, without hesitation, did the same. The two men lit their smokes up.

“New in town? Never seen ya before,” the barber asked.

“Nah, just use to go to a salon. Thought it was time to change it up,” Travis answered as he exhaled some smoke. He enjoyed smoking with this man, even though he was a stranger to him. The shared smoking formed a connection and felt a sense of smoker community.

After their quick chat and smoke, Travis continued down the sidewalk.

In the window of a clothing storefront, he saw a mannequin wearing a red flannel. He always wanted a flannel like that so he went inside the store. He picked out the flannel in his size, along with some jeans and boots.

He tied everything on and it fit. Not just his body, but his mind. He looked in the mirror and saw his reflection. He liked what he saw as he ran his hand across his short hair.

After his impromptu shopping spree, he stopped by the convenient store once again. He remembered he was out of beer. He never drank beer, though. He grabbed a six pack and asked for another pack of Reds.

Holding his six pack, he walked back home as he dangled a lit Red from his lip.

Once he got home, he cracked open one of his beers. He decided he was hungry as well so he called the pizza joint down the street. He ordered a family size meat lovers.

After eating all of his delivered pizza, he grabbed an ashtray that was left from the tenants before him from a cupboard and lit up a Red. He made mental note to order a few more ashtrays for the apartment.

He grabbed his third beer of the evening by and sat in his gaming chair. He wanted to continue playing ManUp. He hit the start button of his live stream.

“How’s it going, men,” Travis said into the camera, “We’re continuing ManUp.”

Travis took his pack out and slid out another Red. He lit it up confidently. He noticed a few chatters saying “Ewww” or “Is he joking?” or “What happened to the shag mane?!?!”

He ignored them though as he put on the VR headset and the game continued.

The game opened up to Bob sitting in front of him, behind a desk. The spiral if smoke was behind Bob.

“Time to pick a manly job,” Bob said with the cigar in his teeth. He pulled out three folders. One said “Construction”, another said “Truck Driver” and the last one said “Mechanic”.

Travis looked at all three, not knowing what to pick. He looked back at Bob, not knowing what to do. Bob to blankly stared back. He wanted to win this game.

“What should I pick?” Travis asked aloud to his viewers.

Without hesitation, Bob answered for them, “Easy, construction worker. That way, you can work for me.” Bob handed digital Travis the folder.

Level 1

“That’s our stream, crew! Thank you for all the subscriptions and tips! See you all tomorrow!” Travis, also known as ‘dweeber3’, said into his mic as he waved to the the camera for all of his 5,000 viewers.

Travis was a big Twitch streamer. At 25 years old, he has reached internet famous status. He was known for his dorky humor and nerdy looks. His “shag mane”, as called by his community, was his signature look.

He played all sorts of video games, with simulators being the most popular. Game developers would send him early copies of games to show off and review. This was one of his favorite perks.

After calming down after the high energy stream, he continued to work by checking his inbox before editing some videos. He would receive offers from companies to advertise different products on stream. There was one email that caught his eye. “ManUp: The Video Game” was the subject. He clicked on it:

‘To dweeber3 -

You are granted first access to our new simulator game. It is called ManUp: The Video Game. Using VR technology, level up to manhood!

Download the attached file to be the first ever player!

From your friends at SmokeForm games’

He was familiar with SmokeForm games. They developed the hit VR game, ‘Truckers Full Throttle’, which was comedic success. The game was so campy and clanky, which made it great.

He couldn’t believe he got an early copy of their next game and downloaded it immediately. He didn’t hear of this new project before, which meant he would be breaking this exclusive news by streaming it tomorrow.

—

It was 10 minutes before his daily stream and he was setting up the new game. He thought it was odd that he had to upload a picture of himself before starting, but figured it must have been some game mechanic.

The game booted up with a smoky logo that read “ManUp”.

He then hit the button to go live.

“What’s up crew?!?! I’m dweeber3 and today we are playing a never before seen game called ‘ManUp: The Video Game’! It is made by our friends at SmokeForm games. Yes, the SmokeForm games that made ‘Truckers Full Throttle’!”

He already had 700 viewers in the first two minutes. He could tell this was going to be a great stream.

“I’m excited so let’s begin!”

He hit start and placed the VR headset over his eyes. He found himself in a messy room. There were pizza boxes, beer bottles and ashtrays scattered around. A large man appeared in the virtual room.

“Hey! Who’s that?” Travis goofily said.

“I’m Bob. Who the fuck are you?” the large man said. He had a thick cartoonish mustache with a large cigar protruding from it. He was in a white tank top and dirty jeans.

Travis laughed, not knowing whether the virtual man was actually talking to him. “I’m fucking Travis!” he joked.

“Well, fucking Travis. You think you are man enough for my man cave?” Bob replied.

Travis paused the game and spoke to the camera, “Wow, this is incredible! It can actually respond to what I say.”

He continued the game. “Hell yes I am!” Travis answered.

“Well, let’s look at ya,” Bob said.

A pixelated character popped on the screen. It looked just like Travis because of the image upload of himself.

“Wow, this is weird but cool,” Travis said.

“Weird? Weird that you think you’re man enough. I’m going to have to kick you out if you don’t MAN UP!” Bob yelled.

The game turned back into first person. Travis was able to walk around the man cave.

“Crew, looks like we have to MAN UP!” Travis told his viewers.

He explored the man cave as Bob was watching him, almost menacingly.

He found a closet in the virtual man cave. In there were a bunch of various clothes, something like a blue collar worker would wear.

“I’m thinking a flannel with a tank top. Maybe some boots and jeans. What do you think, crew?” Travis removed his headset to look at the chat. His viewers agreed.

Travis continued the game and found the bathroom. There were clippers sitting by the sink. He grabbed them and gave his virtual self a haircut, buzzed down to a high and tight.

“Crew, I think we done it. I think we have MAN’ed UP!” Travis exclaimed.

He went to go back to talk to Bob. “Did you MAN UP?” Bob asked.

“Yes BOB!” Travis enthusiastically said.

“Well, let’s see…” Bob said.

The virtual game Travis appeared back on the screen. He was wearing the new outfit and haircut.

“Better, but not there yet,” Bob said.

“Dang it, crew. Thought we had it!” Travis snapped, but laughed. He thought this was a silly, simple but fun game.

He walked back around the virtual man cave. He noticed he could grab the beers from the mini fridge. He spent the next 5 minutes making jokes as he virtually drank them all.

There were also weights along one of the walls. He had his virtual character lift them all. Lastly, he grabbed a few slices of pizza from a box on the couch and ate them all.

He continued to look around. There were tools scattered around, such as hammers and screwdrivers. He had his character pick them all up and place them into his inventory. As he did so, Bob added, “Now you know how to handle my tools!” Travis awkwardly laughed in response.

He then found a bottle that said “Bob’s Miracle Beard Grow.” He had his virtual self pick it up and he drank it automatically.

He then looked back at Bob who was grinning with the cigar in his mouth. He was puffing on it hard, which gave Travis an idea. He looked around and saw several cigars sitting on a table. He also saw a pack of cigarettes that looked like Marlboro Reds.

“Crew, I think we gotta smoke. But don’t in real life! It’s bad for you!” Travis said.

“No, it’s what you need! MAN UP!” Bob said loudly.

Travis laughed, “This game is ridiculous.” He had his character try to pick up a cigar, but the game wouldn’t let him. Bob said from across the room, “You ain’t ready yet for one of my gars.”

So instead, virtual Travis picked up the pack of cigarettes. His virtual self opened it up, pulled one out, placed it in his virtual lips and lit it up with a lighter that came out of nowhere.

“Crew, we did it. MAN UP!” Travis joked.

“Well done, MAN!” Bob complimented.

His virtual self appeared back on the screen, but this time his character was big with muscle and gut. He also had a long beard and was smoking a cigarette.

Bob then looked right at the screen, as if he was talking to real life Travis and asked very seriously, “You like what you see? Who you became?”

“Yes Bob! MAN UP!”

The virtual man cave went dark. All that was left was Bob himself. He started puffing away at the cigar. The smoke started swirling.

“Good. The next part will begin,” Bob said with a devilish smile.

Travis watched the swirling smoke. He grew quiet. He grew numb. He couldn’t not watch the smoke. His mind went empty.

Eric stood in his clean white sneakers and blue shirt in a yard of full of weeds in the middle of nowhere.

“You sure this is it?” he asked his friend, Greg.

“Of course it is, there is no other place around,” Greg smartly replied. Greg was always dragging Eric to god knows where. Greg was a schemer and was always looking for ways to make “easy money” without working a real job.

Greg and Eric, both 20, had been friends for a long time but they were very different. Eric was a clean cut guy, never partied or did drugs. Greg, on the other hand, was always getting into trouble.

“How much did you say this guy was paying us?” Eric asked, annoyed.

“300 bucks, cash,” Greg grinned. Eric debated whether the amount of yard work was worth it. “Come on, let’s knock on the door,” Greg added.

The house was a little ran down, but it had potential. Greg knocked and a large, beefy man opened the door. He had a shaved head, full greying beard and was equal parts fat with muscle. He had a large cigar protruding from his mouth. When he had opened the door, a haze of smoke emerged with him.

“You must be Greg,” he said in a deep voice.

“Yup, that’s me,” Greg confirmed, “This here is my friend, Eric. He’s helping too.”

The man stared at Eric then reached out his hand and said, “Butch.”

“Umm,” Eric hesitantly reached for his hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you.”

Butch looked back at Greg, “I’m still only paying you $500. Extra help don’t mean more pay.”

Eric shot a piercing glance at his friend and Greg sheepishly agreed, “Yes, of course.”

“Well, you better get to it,” Butch suggested.

Greg and Eric starting pulling weeds in that early morning. There was an awkward silence between them.

It was about two hours in when Butch emerged from his house and offered the guys some water bottles. He still had a large cigar in his mouth.

“Thanks, Mr. - ummm…Butch,” Eric said as he took a water. Greg just grabbed the water without saying anything.

“I need to head to town for a couple of hours. You boys alright?” Butch asked as he got into his parked truck.

“Should be,” Eric responded.

“House is unlocked if you need to use the bathroom. All I ask is you don’t touch anything. Specifically my gars,” Butch grinned as he held up his lit cigar that was resting between his fingers.

“Of course, we won’t,” Eric assured.

“Good boy,” Butch said as he turned the engine on before driving off down the dirt road.

A few minutes passed and Eric finally spoke up, “You know Greg, I can’t believe you were going to short me.”

“What do you mean?” Eric defensively asked back.

“You know what I mean. He was going to pay you 500 bucks. You told me three,” Greg snapped.

“Chillax, I got it mixed up. I’ll split it evenly with ya still,” Greg assured him. Truth was, Greg was originally going to short him and was now backtracking.

“Whatever,” Eric said as he continued to work. He knew his friend and didn’t believe him.

Greg tossed his rake down on the ground. “I need to take a piss,” he shortly said as he stomped off.

Inside, the house was nicer than the outside. When he first answered the Facebook marketplace ad for yard work help, Butch mentioned that he recently bought the house was doing remodeling work. Greg had no idea though. This place was both masculine and fancy, and must have cost a bunch to get done.

After finding the bathroom, he looked around and saw the living room. It had wooden walls, oak furniture and leather seating. There was a deer head mounted above the fire place mantle. He saw a large cedar box resting there.

Being the rebel he was, he opened the box and saw several large cigars sitting inside. An idea popped in his head. He grabbed two cigars and a lighter that was sitting next to the humidor.

He had seen his uncle smoke cigars before and knew you had to cut them. He picked up a cigar cutter that was sitting on the mantle and cut each cigar poorly. He tossed the cut pieces into the fire place and quickly hurried outside.

“Look, I feel bad about almost cheating you, so I got you a present,” Greg called out as he walked back into the yard. He held up the two cigars.

“Are you fucking serious? You heard Butch,” Eric said, annoyed.

“The guy’s weird and off. He won’t notice two missing,” Greg said as he placed the cigar in his mouth. He flicked the lighter, brought it to the end and puffed on the cigar. Smoke poured from his mouth before inhaling, causing him to cough. Greg had dabbled with smoking cigarettes and other substances in the past, so he had an idea to what he was doing. He then held out the unlit cigar and lighter to Eric, “Don’t be a baby. Smoke it. Tastes expensive.”

“Like you would even know,” Eric said as he took the cigar from his friend. Eric never smoked anything before. He just stared at it.

“Come on. Don’t be a wuss like always. Smoke it and I’ll give you 250 instead 150,” Greg smirked.

“Fine,” Eric conceded, “I’ll smoke it.” Eric placed the cigar in his mouth. It tasted rich, which is not what he expected. He brought the flame to the cigar, over burning it and puffed. The smoke tasted of caramel and wood; it was actually pleasant.

“Now be a man and inhale it!” Greg demanded, not knowing you don’t normally inhale cigars.

Eric did and it caused him to cough aggressively. Greg just laughed. Eric thought he wasn’t going to do that again.

The two friends were more talkative from that point on as their cigars were an icebreaker for them. Eric was surprised at how much he was enjoying his cigar and the taste it had. He even thought about buying some on his own. Greg was also enjoying his cigar, but differently from Eric. He enjoyed the harsh smoke in his lungs and the quick buzz it gave.

A half hour went by as the two of them worked and smoked.

“Dude, I don’t feel so good,” Greg spoke up.

“You’re inhaling too much,” Eric informed him as he continued to pull weeds.

“No, it’s not that. It’s my stomach. It feels funny. And my face is itchy,” Greg said as he put his rake down.

Eric looked at him and was shocked at what he saw. Greg had a full beard. “Greg, your face! You have a beard!” Eric exclaimed as a thick cloud of smoke blew from his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Greg asked confused. his voice even sounded a little deeper. Greg touched his face and felt fuzzy hair. He was startled. He had never been able to grow facial hair.

Greg ran to the house and Eric followed. Once inside, Greg hurried to the bathroom while Eric stayed in the living room, still smoking his cigar. He didn’t want to put it down.

Greg saw his reflection of the bathroom mirror and sure enough, a beard was quickly growing. He looked different and barely recognized himself with the beard and cigar in his jaw. Much like Eric, he didn’t want to stop.

He then noticed his hair falling out, all over the sink under him. It fell until all that was left was short hairs. It looked like he had just given himself a buzzcut.

His stomach still felt off. He looked down and saw that it appeared bloated. He left the bathroom to find Eric still smoking his cigar, but he was also now sporting a short stubble beard.

The beard was not the only thing different. It looked as if Eric had been a dedicated gym goer and weightlifter.

“Dude, you’re ripped!” Greg said even in a deeper voice.

“I am?” Eric asked as he flexed his bicep and admired it. His voice was also getting lower. “I look good!

Greg even had to admit to himself that Eric was looking good.

The two of them stood in the living room, confused with these sudden changes. They continued smoking their cigars as it was the only constant they had right now. It seemed to calm their nerves.

The two friends didn’t know what to do. All they did was keep smoking their cigars.

“What’s happening to us?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know. Why are you getting jacked while I’m getting fat?” Greg asked back.

Eric looked at Greg. His belly was getting rounder and his face was filling out. Eric thought his friend looked good as a bigger guy.

“I don’t know, but my cigar is almost done and I want another,” Eric said as he snubbed his cigar out on an ashtray that sat on the coffee table. Greg did the same and the two friends grabbed another from the humidor.

They both lit them up as if they were regular cigar smokers now.

Both Greg and Eric’s beards were getting fuller and longer. Eric’s hair was also starting to fall out, but only on sides, leaving him with a short Mohawk.

Greg let out a belch. His belly had became massive, compared to what it once was. Eric couldn’t stop flexing his new muscles. His arms were huge.

Greg watched his friend as he rubbed his belly. He liked his belly; it made him feel manly. He also liked his friend’s new muscles.

“Dude, take off your shirt! Let’s see how ripped you are!” Greg enthusiastically suggested.

“Only if you do too!” Eric exclaimed.

“Deal!” Greg agreed.

The two men took off their tight shirts. Greg had a fuzzy belly and Eric had a hairy chest.

“Dude, you look hot…erm…I mean great!” Greg said to Eric.

“Thanks man, you look hot…umm…great as well!” Eric complimented back.

The two men looked at each other, admiring, as they puffed away fiercely on their cigars.

Eric had never been attracted to guys, but Greg was looking very sexy. He felt his dick twitching as he imagined riding him.

Greg never saw his friend in this light, but he wanted to touch Eric all over and please him.

As the men got harder, they smoked their cigars harder. Then suddenly and fiercely, the two men held their cigars in their hands, approached each other and started passionately making out. Eric grabbed Greg’s ass as he started grinding his crotch against his friends. Greg moaned in pleasure.

It all came to a stop when they heard Butch say, “Looks like we got a couple of rule breakers.”

The two men stepped away from each other, speechless and shocked. Butch was watching them as he hauled hard on his cigar.

“Butch, what is happening to us?” Eric asked in a deep voice.

“You smoked my cigars and became cigar cubs. I told you not to,” Butch said as he moved in closer.

“Cigar cub?” Eric asked, confused but still horny, “What’s that?”

“Take a look at yourselves and each other. That’s a cigar cub, son,” Butch answered as he drew on his cigar, “My cigar cubs.”

“Yours?” Eric asked.

“You smoked my special cigars. That means you’re my cubs and I’m your Cigar Bear, son,” Butch answered somberly.

“But you can change us back. Right Dad…I mean, Butch?” Greg asked as he rubbed his cock.

“Sure I can, since you both haven’t shot your load yet. That is what seals the transformation in forever. But look at you son. Been hard since you lit up. Do you really want to change back?” Butch replied with a grin, already knowing the answer.

Greg looked at Eric, who looked back. They both felt great. They deep down liked who they became, and what their friend became. They couldn’t imagine not feeling this type of pleasure ever again.

“No, Dad,” Greg said.

“No, Dad,” Eric also said.

“Just as I thought,” Butch said as he took off his shirt, “Now, why don’t you cubs come sit on the couch with your Daddy Bear before we make this permanent.”

“Yes, Dad,” the two cigar cubs chimed together, looking forward to sealing their smokey fates forever.

Avery sat at the bar, drinking his third hard seltzer of the evening and getting lost in the haze. He couldn’t believe he was just laid off from his office desk job of 10 years. He didn’t know what he would do now or how he was going to make rent for his apartment. He had enough savings for a few months, but living in Boston was expensive.

The bar was loud but he drowned it out. There were a group of construction workers having beers a few tables away and having a good time.

Avery didn’t drink often. When he did though, he became a lot more talkative. He was telling the bartender everything. How he was laid off and how he was worried. The bartender just listened and kept him supplied with White Claws.

“Hey, buddy,” a deep voice sounded behind him. It was met with a touch of a hand on his shoulder, which startled him. “Doing alright?”

Avery turned around and saw a large man with a long beard. He was both muscular and hefty. His skin was tan and sun baked. He wore a construction vest. He looked dirty from working outside all day. He smelled of sweat and smoke. He stopped to talk as his buddies left the bar.

“Oh…umm…I’ll be alright,” Avery answered.

The man sat next to him and asked, “Sure about that?”

This man seemed intimidating, but also warm in an almost protective way. Avery opened up and flatly said, “No. Not sure what I’m going to do. I just have been laid off.”

“Heard that,” the man said, “Name’s Ox.”

“Ox?” Avery asked back, never hearing that name before.

The man leaned in and whispered, “Short for Oxford, but nobody knows that. And I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Gotcha. I’m Avery,” he chuckled.

Ox held out his hand, “Nice to meet ya, Avery.”

Avery shook it with a “You too, Ox.”

“So, you’re out of a job?” Ox continued, “Ever done construction?”

“No, never,” Avery answered.

“Want to?”

Avery remembered watching the construction workers across the street from his office window. He sometimes was envious of being able to work outside all day and being free from all the formalities that came with a corporate job.

“Umm…not sure if I would be a right fit. Look at me,” Avery confessed.

Ox laughed, “We all start somewhere. Know it would be different than whatever office you came from, but you’d learn. Better than being unemployed. Can be temporary until you find something else.”

What Ox was saying was true. It would be better than being unemployed.

“Sure, okay,” Avery said.

“Perfect!”

The two of them chatted for a bit and Ox told him where to report to tomorrow morning before heading out.

Outside, Ox took out a pack of Marlboro Reds and slid one out with his lips before lighting it up. Before parting ways, Avery asked, “Why are you offering to help me?”

“Trust me bubs, I was once in your shoes. Exactly in your shoes. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Ox answered.

Avery reached out his hand and Ox shook it. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

—

Avery reported to the job site. He woke up with second thoughts, but decided to not let Ox down and to give it a go. He wore his tennis shoes, jeans and a long sleeved dress shirt.

The minute Ox saw him, he said, “Buddy, I’m glad you showed up but you can’t wear tennis shoes on site.”

The color in Avery’s face drained, “It’s all I have. I don’t own boots.” Avery feared he was going to be fired before even starting.

“I got an extra pair you can borrow in my trailer. Follow me,” Ox said.

Ox unlocked the trailer and gestured Avery inside. His trailer was messy and smelled of stale smoke. Ox lit up a cigarette as he grabbed a pair of boots that were sitting on a chair.

“Put ‘em on,” he said as his lit cigarette bounced, “And if you got an undershirt, take off the fancy one.”

Avery did as he told as Ox looked through some filing cabinets. The boots fit just right and he had a tank top under his dress shirt, luckily.

“You have to fill these out then when can get started,” Ox said as he handed Avery some standard new employment paperwork.

When he was done, Ox looked over it, “Bullock? Your last name is Bullock?”

“Yes,” Avery confirmed, “Why?”

Ox chuckled as smoke exhaled from his nose, “I’m calling you Bull from now on. Ox and Bull.” Ox then gave Avery a vest and a hard hat, “Put that on and let’s get started, Bull.”

Ox showed Avery the job site. There were other men already hard at work who all knew what they were doing. These men looked rugged and strong. He noticed most of the men were smoking and wondered why most blue collar men smoke. Ox must have felt Avery’s lack of confidence because he said, “Don’t worry, Bull. You’ll be working with me for a while. I’ll teach ya.”

The two men started working. Avery was surprised that Ox was a good teacher; he explained everything, was patient and never made Avery feel stupid. After a couple of hours, Avery was already feeling exhausted so Ox suggested they take a “smoke break” - even though Ox was smoking the entire morning as they worked.

“You smoke?” Ox asked.

“No,” Avery answered.

Ox laughed and said, “Never smoked myself until I started construction work.”

“Oh,” Avery responded, knowing he would never pick up the habit himself.

After a long day at work, Ox invited Avery to go to a bar for some food and beer. “First day beer is on me, Bull,” he said.

“Umm…sure, I’ll go. Thanks, Ox,” Avery said.

—

After a month of working as a construction worker, Avery was getting use to working long, hard days. He found himself liking the work and spending his day with Ox and the other men. He was starting to feel like he belonged, but still felt a like a fish out of water. He and his coworkers were still just too different. Most of the guys, with the exception of Ox, called him “Pretty Boy”. Avery knew it was in a friendly teasing way, but it still bothered him.

At lunch, Avery and Bull sat down on a makeshift bench. Ox lit up a fresh cigarette and the smoke drifted into Avery’s face. By now, Avery was use to it as Ox seemed to smoke all the time.

Avery looked around and saw most of the men were smoking on their lunch break. The workers chatted and smoked, almost like their same habits almost united them. Like a shared connection.

“Umm…Ox? Mind if I try one of your cigarettes?”

“Sure, Bull,” Ox said as he tossed him his pack and lighter, “Tryin’ the fit in, eh?”

“You could say that,” Avery confirmed. He figured most of the guys seem to enjoy it, so he might as well give it a shot.

After watching Ox smoke for a month, Avery had an idea what to do. He slid a Marlboro Red out of the pack and placed it between his lips. He then flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the end. He took a drag and inhaled, deeper than he planned. To his surprise, though, he didn’t cough. He exhaled the smoke and saw Ox grin.

“Smokin’ like a pro,” Ox laughed, “You like it?”

“Yeah, actually it’s not bad,” Avery answered truthfully. It wasn’t what he expected. It was better.

The two men finished their smokes before heading back to work.

—

A few months passed and the construction work was now natural to Avery. He had bulked up with the hard labor and had grown out his beard. He felt like he was now one of the blue collar guys. Everyone stopped calling him “Pretty Boy”. He was now Bull.

Bull worked hard as he smoked throughout the day by Ox’s side. He enjoyed smoking; it felt manly. He kept with it to blend in and connect with Ox and the other workers, but it was now a necessity. He slipped into addiction and realized it when it was too late. He didn’t mind though.

He and Ox not only were coworkers who grabbed a beer after work, they had become good friends.

They were carrying some lumber when Ox spoke up, “So still looking for a new job?”

“No, stopped looking,” Bull said as he exhaled some smoke, “Enjoy the labor too much. Feels like home.”

“Atta man,” Ox grinned.

After work that day, Ox and Bull went to the nearby dive bar to get a few beers in and eat a grease filled dinner.

“Going to have to find a new place though,” Bull chimed in, “Rent is too high. Gotta downsize and downgrade, unfortunately.”

“Come live with me,” Ox suggested.

Bull laughed but Ox’s face said he was serious, “Oh shit, you for real?”

“Yeah man,” Ox confirmed, “Got my own house. It’ll be cheaper for ya. And less rules than that pretty boy apartment you got too.”

“I’ll think ‘bout it,” Bull said and it was left at that.

—

Another few months had passed and Bull was spending a lot of time with Ox. They became pretty close. Even on the weekends, they hung out. They chained smoked, drank many beers and ate unhealthy food. Bull gained a bit of a beer gut.

On a Sunday night, Bull was at Ox’s house. They ordered a couple of pizzas and watched a football game.

Bull loved spending time at Ox’s house. He was able to smoke inside and light up at anytime, unlike his apartment.

Later that evening when Bull got back home, he stood outside having a couple of smokes before heading in. It was time to cut ties to his old self.

He gave Ox a call, “Hey Ox, your offer about living with you still on the table?”

“Of course, Bull,” Ox said.

—

It had been over a year since Avery became Bull, the gruff construction worker. He loved his new life and couldn’t imagine going back to the corporate office.

Without even realizing it, Ox had quite the influence on Bull. Bull had buzzed his head and got a tattoo sleeve. He was planning on getting the other arm done soon.

He spent his days off hanging out with Ox, drinking beer and eating whatever he wanted. He had no worries in life. It was simple and freeing.

The two men would indulge in pleasures on their days off while watching tv in only tank tops and boxers.

Bull’s voice became deeper from all the smoking and extra weight; he had never felt manlier.

Most people had assumed Bull and Ox were brothers as they looked a lot alike.

One day on a construction site, the two men stood taking a break from their work.

“Remember when you said getting fired and working construction was the best thing that ever happened to ya?” Bull asked.

“I sure do,” Ox said.

“Well, I gotta say it was the best thing for me too,” Bull said.

Elder Sam Anderson stood outside a metal door in the alley. “This is the place?” he asked to himself. The other Elders was sent to help old ladies by mowing their lawns. He was sent here to this address, apparently a place called “The Hole”.

He was 21 years old and was almost done with his missionary work. He grew up in the church and knew it was his duty to spread the word of God, but he was unsure about this.

He looked around, confused. He was unsure if he should go in. It was sketchy and no one was around. He had a bad feeling, but he knew Jesus wouldn’t judge. He pulled to door handle, but it didn’t budge. He was about to turn around, but the door swung open.

A tall, muscular man stood there. Sam didn’t know what this man was wearing or why. The man had a dark black leather jacket with a matching leather shirt underneath. He had a sense of formality as he had a leather tie, but the man also carried a sense of power as he had thick black leather boots.

The man had short buzzed hair, but had a thick dark mustache that had a lit cigar right under it. This man was both scary and alluring to Elder Anderson, a feeling he couldn’t quite understand.

“Can I help you?” the man asked in a deep voice.

“Umm…Hello. My name is Elder Anderson. I’m here to help and hopefully talk about our Lord and Savior.”

The man looked at Sam up and down. “Please, come in,” the mysterious man invited him as he held the door open.

Sam stepped in and found himself in a bar. He didn’t know why he was sent to the bar.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sam mentioned.

“Didn’t give it, but you can call me Boss,” the man said.

“…Okay,” Sam hesitantly replied while trying to smile, “I brought a copy of The Book of Mormon that you can have. What would you like me to help you with first?”

“Just set your book down and take a seat right here. Gotta watch a training video, even if you’re just volunteering,” Boss said as he grabbed the book from Sam’s hands and set it on the bar top. He placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders and guided him to a chair that was in front of a tv.

Sam felt uncomfortable being touched. The smoke from the man’s cigar made his eyes water.

Boss pushed him down in the chair, “Watch the screen,” he ordered.

The screen was nothing but static. There was a loud hum coming from the set. Sam watched and began to ask, “Are you going to play the vide—”.

The hum became soothing and Sam could not hear anything else. A quick shot of fear filled his body, but it soon disappeared. There was nothing else around him. It was just him, the hum and the static.

Images of men in leather, men smoking cigars and men nude appeared on the snow like screen. Words like “obey” and “serve” also appeared. He saw men kissing. He saw men fucking. He saw it all and thought of nothing at all.

The words “cigar boy” appeared and then the screen went black. The blank eyes of Sam saw a man placing a cigar in the mouth of another man on the screen, who then started puffing away without a thought in the world. But this wasn’t video. It was a reflection.

The static and hum returned. Sam didn’t feel anything but pure pleasure throughout his body. He didn’t think of anything else except an urge to serve and obey. An urge to make other men feel pleasure, like the pleasure he was feeling right now.

The hum started getting louder, almost like an aggressive buzz. The buzz came with a sensation of coolnesss. The screen went black again and it revealed a man smoking a cigar while getting his hair buzzed. Again, without Sam realizing or caring, this was a reflection. The sight made Sam moan uncontrollably, causing smoke to shoot out of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Boss said in a caring yet controlled way. Sam kept moaning in response, almost like he was agreeing.

The static and hum came back on. The words “You are”appeared with “Boss’ boy”, “a cigar boy”, “a good boy” and “the hole” flashing across the screen in turn, rapidly and repeatedly. The hum got louder and the screen brighter. Sam was blankly watching and moaning. His whole mind was being wiped and rebooted, trapped between pain and pleasure.

His eyes were widening until the tv suddenly turned off. Sam went limp. His moaning stopped, his eyes shut and his cigar fell out of his mouth, burning a hole in his shirt before hitting the floor.

—

“Boy,” Boss said, “wake up.”

Boy opened his tired eyes, “Boss, what happened, Boss?”

“You took a break and fell asleep,” Boss said, “And apparently had a wet dream.” Boss pointed down at boy’s pants. They were indeed wet.

“Boss, sorry, Boss,” boy apologized.

“It’s alright boy,” Boss assured him. He felt safe around Boss. He always tried to make Boss proud, but also knew he would be disciplined if he stepped out of line. “Get changed. Your gear is in the bathroom.”

“Boss, yes, Boss,” boy obeyed as he headed to the bathroom. Boy knew he must always start and end each sentence with “Boss”.

Boy went into the dimly lit bathroom. It smelled of smoke, sweat and sex. He loved that smell and all the actions that caused the odor. His gear was lying on the counter. He didn’t remember why he had a dress shirt, tie and slacks on, but didn’t want to think any more of it. He knew his Boss wouldn’t want him to think any more of it.

He first slipped in tight leather pants. He then unbuttoned his shirt and saw the thick chain with a lock around his neck. He knew he could never take this off because Boss had the only key. He put on his leather vest and then his boots. He was ready for the night. He was ready for Boss.

After getting changed, he bundled up his old clothes and was about to throw them away when he saw something in the garbage bin. He reached in and saw it was a name tag. It said “Elder Anderson.”

“Who the fuck is Elder Anderson?” boy asked aloud before throwing it and his clothes in the trash.

Boy came out of the bathroom. “Looking good, boy,” Boss complimented with a lit cigar in his mouth. He had an unlit cigar in his hand and handed it to his boy.

“Boss, thank you, boss,” boy said before placing the cigar in his mouth. He leaned in toward Boss who then lit the cigar with a torch lighter. Boy knew he had to smoke whenever his Boss told him to, which was a good thing. Boy enjoyed cigars and was starting to need them as much as Boss.

“Ready for a busy night? Bar’s opening up in 10 minutes,” Boss asked as his boy took a deep drag off the cigar.

It was boy’s job to make drinks and make sure the customers were enjoying themselves. “Boss, yes, Boss,” boy said as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke. He loved his life serving his Boss and his customers. It was the only life he knew of.

September 14, 2025

It was Rich’s birthday. Everyone knew it was better to not ask what age he was turning, but it was 41. The Hill Family was having a barbecue to celebrate. RJ had invited Ryan and his family, but only Ryan came.

RJ was helping his Pop grill some steaks as they smoked cigars. His mom was putting together some sides in the kitchen. Ryan was playing with his younger sister, Susie, along with her cat, Ginger.

“Those two get along well,” Rich pointed out, talking about Susie and Ryan.

“Yeah. Ryan’s good with kids. He’s like a big kid himself sometimes,” RJ said.

“Yeah, Ryan’s a great guy,” Rich stated, “I can tell you two have a special connection. Think he’ll be a lifelong friend for ya.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” RJ agreed.

The family and Ryan sat at a picnic table under a tree after the steaks were done.

“I hope you don’t mind medium rare, Ryan. Anything more done and I’d have to ask you to leave,” Rich joked.

“No worries, Mr. Hill. I would have left if they were more done,” Ryan joked back, making Rich laugh as he dished himself up.

“I knew I liked you,” Rich grinned.

Ryan was sitting next to RJ at the table. Prior to the barbecue, they had talked about when RJ would tell his parents about them. He considered telling them tonight, but decided against it. It was his Pop’s birthday and he didn’t want to make it about him.

Ryan said he could be there with him when he did decide to tell them. RJ appreciated his support and thought it would be easier if he was.

After dinner, Susie ran off to play with Ginger in the yard.

“Have enough to eat, Ryan?” Denise, RJ’s mom, asked.

“I sure did. Thank you, Mrs. Hill. The potato salad was the best I’ve ever had,” Ryan complemented, causing Denise to blush a bit.

“Got you something, Pop,” RJ said as he pulled out a small box from his shirt pocket and handed it over to Rich.

“I told ya not to get me anything,” he said, but opened the box anyways. It was a stainless still lighter that had a longhorn engraved.

“It’s like our tats. I hope you like it,” RJ said.

“Son, it’s great,” Rich said as he pulled it out and looked at it, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Pop.”

“It is a great gift, but not as the gift right around me. Just my family, being happy together. My beautiful wife, my crazy daughter, my hard-workin’ son and the best friend he could ever have,” Rich listed off.

RJ felt the pressure grow inside his chest like the truth was knocking against his heart, wanting to come out. Was now a good time?

RJ looked at Ryan, who was looking at him. He nodded, as if he was reading RJ’s mind.

“Umm…mom…Pop…I have something to tell you,” RJ nervously mumbled. He looked at his listening parents, sitting across from him. “For the longest time, I knew there was something different about me but I pushed it deep down. Not letting it reveal itself. But this summer, you taught me what it means to be a man. A man isn’t someone who just smokes cigars, works long and hard days or even has a mustache. A man is someone who is true to himself and supports those he cares about. It isn’t what a man does, but why he does it. I’m telling you this because of the why. Ryan is my best friend, but he is more than that. He is my boyfriend…I’m gay.”

There was silence. RJ felt the weight lift from his chest, but his head ran with anxious thoughts.

“Oh, RJ,” his mom finally broke the silence. She got up from the table, but not to walk away. She rushed over to her son and gave him a hug.

Rich was still silent. “Pop?” RJ asked, nervous about hi lack of words.

“Son…I’m proud of you and will always be proud of you. What you did, was the bravest thing a man could do,” Rich said. He got up from his seat and hugged RJ too. “Oh, get in here too, Ryan,” he added as he motioned him to join the group hug.

Susie ran in and joined in the hug. “Did I miss something?” she asked in an innocent way, which caused everyone to chuckle.

September 15, 2025

The next day, it felt the same as it ever was, but also different. RJ felt more like himself, like the man he was meant to be.

His Pop treated him the same way, giving him more odd jobs around the ranch. The two worked hard together and kept up with each other’s cigar smoking pace.

“So Ryan’s folks don’t know yet?” Rich asked as he handed his son a hammer. They were fixing up the ladder inside the barn.

“Not yet. He wants to tell them soon, but just scared,” RJ answered as he started hammering a nail.

“Ya gonna be there with him when he does?”

“I think so, only if he wants me to be,” RJ stated.

“Might be good if you were,” Rich added.

About an hour later, RJ got a text from Ryan: “Can you come over?”

RJ told his Pop that he thought Ryan was ready to tell his parents. His Pop let him go and wished them luck.

After a short drive in his truck, he pulled up in the driveway, got out and knocked on the door. Ryan answered. He looked both angry and sad.

“I’m just need to grab a few more things,” he said and headed back to his room.

“What’s going on? Everything alright?” RJ asked as he followed.

“No - told my parents. My dad was in one of his moods, made a comment that made me mad and I just told them, both,” he rambled as shoved some shirts in a backpack.

“Told them about us?” RJ pried.

“Not really about us, just me. Dad didn’t take it well. He’s in the barn and mom is trying to calm him down,” Ryan explained. RJ could tell he was on the verge of tears. “That’s good enough, let’s go,” he said.

The two of them headed to RJ’s truck when Al walked out, “Where’d you think you’re going?”

“I’m leaving,” Ryan said, carrying his stuff.

“Boy, you ain’t leaving anywhere until I beat some sense into you,” Al approached aggressively, “RJ turned you this way? He’s the queer?” Ryan’s mom, Carol, was yelling him to calm down.

RJ was quiet. Ryan stood in front of his dad, who then hit him across the face. Ryan fell to the ground; his nose was starting to bleed. “I didn’t raise no fa-”

The next few seconds were a blur for RJ; he was on autopilot. Before Al could finish what he was saying, RJ tackled him to the ground and started punching him in the face. Al was yelling, maybe even screaming.

Carol came out of the barn and yelled for RJ to stop. Ryan pulled RJ off his dad. RJ had came down from the instant rage. He looked at his boyfriend and then his bloodied fists. An instinct to protect this man from the world went off. RJ never hurt anyone before; he wasn’t the aggressive type. He looked down back at Al, whose face was almost unrecognizable and emotion flooded him as he started to cry.

“Let’s go,” Ryan said as closed his bleeding nose. His eye was already bruising.

“I’m going to call the police,” Al managed to say.

“And tell them what? A queer beat the shit out of you?” Ryan said as the two of them jumped in RJ’s truck.

RJ drove and eventually stopped crying as Ryan held his his bloodied hand. Ryan cleaned up his nose with his tank top, staining it red. RJ had a cigar and Ryan had a which helped both of their nerves.

“I’m sorry,” RJ apologized, still a little shook.

“It’s fine. He deserved it,” Ryan stated matter of factly.

“That, but also just for everything. How he reacted,” RJ said, tearing up again.

“I figured it’d end up that way,” Ryan flatly said.

“And I’m sorry, if I pressured you,” RJ looked over.

“No, you didn’t pressure me. I’m glad it came out regardless. I love you and want to be with you, with no one holding me back,” Ryan assured him.

“Love you too,” RJ said back.

RJ and Ryan pulled into the ranch and got out of the truck. Rich and Denise were sitting on the porch and saw the state of the men.

“Oh my god,” Denise worriedly said and stood up. Rich stood after her, cigar in his mouth. He looked concerned and angry.

Denise approached and put her arm around Ryan. “Let’s get you inside, hun, and clean you up,” she said as she guided him inside.

RJ walked up to the porch, cigar between his bloody knuckles, and sat down in a chair. His Pop sat next time him.

“Al did that to him?” Rich asked in a serious tone.

“He did,” RJ answered.

Rich looked down at his son’s knuckles, “And you took care of it?”

“I did.”

“Good man.”

December 25, 2025

It was Christmas morning. Ryan and RJ sat on the couch in their living room. Ryan moved in the day his parents found out. For Ryan’s safety, it was actually Rich’s suggestion that he move in. Ryan still talked to his mom once in awhile, but lost contact with his dad.

Both of them worked on the ranch with Rich, but Ryan was thinking about going back to school.

The two of them finished exchanging gifts and were now lounging in their comfy clothes, enjoying their coffee and smokes.

Ryan has grown out his beard a bit while RJ stuck with his horseshoe mustache. They both gained a little bit of weight like most people do in committed relationships.

RJ reflected on their love with an anxious heart. “I have one more gift,” RJ said as he set his cigar on an ashtray. He stood up, took a deep breath and pulled out a small box from his pocket.

“I never thought I’d ever get to this point. I never saw it in the cards for me. But then last spring, you gave me a kiss. I’ve always had a crush for you and ever since then, my love for you has grown and I don’t ever want to stop kissing you,” RJ said as he got down on one knee, “Ryan Fletcher, will you marry me?”

Ryan stood and nodded with happy tears, “Yes. Of course.”

RJ shot up and gave his fiancé a kiss.

After a few minutes of hugging and passionate kisses, Ryan went to the kitchen to get a couple of beers. Even though it was early in the morning, they had a reason to celebrate.

RJ’s phone rang and it was his Pop calling. “Merry Christmas, Pop,” RJ answered.

“Merry Christmas, son. So…did you do it?” Rich eagerly asked.

“I did. He said yes,” RJ smiled.

“Good man. Of course he did,” Rich said, “When are you two heading over? Your mom is patiently waiting. She’s been pacing all morning, anxious about you asking.”

“We walk over in a bit. We’re having a celebratory beer,” RJ answered with a chuckle.

—

At the dinner table, Rich in his usual flannel was looking at his family. They were eating their Christmas feast, which was a large prime rib with all the sides imaginable. His wife in a green sweater was smiling ear to ear at her son’s engagement. His daughter in her festive dress was playing with a doll she got from Santa. His son and his fiancé were smiling with joy, both in matching red sweaters.

“Have you thought of a date for the wedding? A venue?” Denise asked excitedly.

“Geez Mom, we’ve only been engaged for like six hours,” RJ said.

“I was thinking summer would be nice. Doesn’t have to be a big wedding,” Ryan chimed in.

“Can I be the flower girl?” Susie piped up.

“Of course. We need a princess to be our flower girl,” Ryan answered, causing her to chuckle and blush.

After dinner, Rich asked, “You boys need a smoke?”

“Yes, Sir,” RJ answered. By now, his mom accepted that her son was now a cigar man like her husband and any comment she could say wouldn’t make a difference.

The men stepped outside. RJ and Rich fired up their cigars while Ryan lit up a Marlboro Red.

Rich and RJ took a seat at the only two rocking chairs while Ryan stood close by.

“Happy for you two,” Rich said, “And lucky that you’re my going to be my son-in-law, Ryan”

“Lucky that you’re going to be my Pop-in-law, Rich,” Ryan said, “And to officially be a part of the family. Thank you for welcoming me in so warmly.”

Once Ryan finished up his Red, he went back inside to help Denise with the dishes. Rich and RJ stayed to finish their cigars.

“Your man is going to make us look bad, son,” Rich joked.

“Yeah, he is,” RJ laughed.

“That’s alright, he is a good one,” Rich added.

“I am going to be honest, I didn’t know how you and mom were going to take the news. I wouldn’t say I’m surprised, but I also prepared for the worst too,” RJ said, “I’m just really lucky to have you guys. So is Ryan.”

“I’ll also be honest, son. When I figured out that the pack of Marlboros were Ryan’s and that you were hiding about spending time with him, I kind of suspected something,” Rich confessed.

“Really?” RJ asked, shocked.

Rich just nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” RJ pried.

“It wasn’t for me to ask. The whole summer was about you discovering the type of man you were. I knew you were becoming the type of man to tell me yourself.”

RJ just nodded back and realized the type of man he had truly became.

“I’ll be right back,” Rich abruptly said as he placed his cigar in the ashtray and stood up. He then went inside.

RJ sat there alone, thinking back and wondering if it really had been that obvious.

Rich soon walked back out on the porch, grabbed his cigar and took a seat. He held a leather bound journal that looked old.

“This was your grandpa’s journal. I found it a little after he passed. I think you should have it,” he said as he handed his son the book.

“Should I read it? Feels like it is personal,” RJ asked as he inspected it.

“I think he wanted me to read it. And I think he would have wanted you to read it too,” Rich said.

“Thanks, Pop,” RJ smiled.

“Now we better get inside before Ryan takes all the brownie points,” Rich suggested, placing his cigar in the ashtray and standing up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” RJ agreed and did the same.

August 8, 2025

RJ and Ryan sat close on the couch, playing video games. Ryan was chaining his Reds while RJ puffed away on his cigar.

“I think you’re losing, babe,” Ryan said as he nudged RJ.

“Well, I will if you keep bumping me,” RJ replied as he nudged him back.

They were playing a racing game. Ryan brought over his PlayStation for them to play. After a long week of working around the ranch, RJ was glad Ryan was over.

“First place!” Ryan yelled as he set his controller on the coffee table.

“Shit,” RJ said, “I got third.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Ryan said.

“I never shook on it,” RJ spatted back.

“Doesn’t matter. You have to do it,” Ryan said as he stood up and grabbed RJ’s arm to hoist him up.

“Fine, but I’m going to look like Pop and it’s going to be ridiculous,” RJ said, defeated.

“Ridiculously hot,” Ryan deflected.

“Ewww…are you saying my Pop’s hot?” RJ said, grossed out at the idea.

“Mr. Hill is definitely daddy material,” Ryan teased.

“Gross, please stop or I won’t do it,” Ryan pretended to gag.

“Yes you are!” Ryan persuaded.

RJ placed his cigar in the ashtray, took off his shirt and went into the bathroom with Ryan following. RJ took out a beard trimmer, shaving cream and a razor from one of the drawers. He started buzzing part of his beard off. Once it was short, he lathered up the cheeks and chin with shaving cream and started sculpting.

Once he was done, he turned to Ryan and asked, “Happy?”

“Yes, daddy,” Ryan grinned with his cigarette dangling.

“Stop that or I’ll shave it all off,” RJ said as he looked back in the mirror. He had a horseshoe mustache, just like his Pop.

A knock was at the front door, so RJ put his shirt back on and headed to the door.

He opened it to see his Pop. “Oh, thought a mirror was opening the door,” Rich laughed.

“I lost a bet to Ryan,” RJ said, defeated.

“Well, looks good,” Rich said, “He over now?”

“Hi Mr. Hill,” Ryan called from the living room.

“Hey Ryan!” Rich said back, “You boys want to join for some beers? I built a bonfire.”

“I’m down,” RJ said, and looked to Ryan, “You?”

“Umm, yeah. Sure,” Ryan was hesitant, but agreed.

The three men sat around the campfire. Both RJ and Rich lit up fresh cigars. Rich offered Ryan one, but he declined. Instead, he smoked a few cigarettes throughout the night.

“How’s your dad doin’?” Rich asked Ryan.

“He’s doin’ alright,” Ryan shortly said.

“And your mom?” Rich continued.

“Same,” Ryan answered.

“Good. If any of ya need anything, just give us a holler,” Rich said, “I’m happy you and RJ been spending a lot of time together. What was that nerdy guy’s name, RJ? ”

“You mean Ben?” RJ said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, him. Nice kid, just a bit of a bore,” Rich said.

“Knock it off, Pop. He’s still my friend,” RJ defended.

“Oh, I know. I’m just messing around. I’m glad you’re here, Ryan. All I’m sayin’.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hill. RJ’s a good friend and I’m glad I’m here,” Ryan said.

It grew late and the men called it a night. They each had a few beers. “You can stay over if needed,” Rich told Ryan as he was pouring water on the fire, “RJ’s couch ain’t too comfy, but better than a DUI.”

“May have to,” Ryan said, giving RJ a quick wink.

The next morning, RJ woke with Ryan sleeping next to him. It was the first time he and Ryan slept in the same bed, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

They cuddled throughout the night as each one of them didn’t want to let go. RJ laid there, looking at his boyfriend.

Ryan woke up about 30 minutes later. “Good Morning, babe,” he said as he propped himself up and reached for his smokes.

RJ sat up and grabbed a cigar. The two of them smoked in bed, not wanting their time together to end.

August 12, 2025

RJ worked outside with his Pop. It was an extremely hot day, but the still decided to tackle painting the barn. RJ wanted to paint it a blue, but Rich wanted to stick with the classic red.

“So, tell me the story about your tattoo?”RJ asked. His Pop was wearing a tank top so it was very visible. It was of a longhorn. RJ always knew his Pop had this tat, but never asked the story behind it.

“Your grandpa took me to get it when I moved in with him. He had one just like it,” Rich said.

“I didn’t know that Grandpa had one,” RJ responded surprised.

“Yup. Wanted me to get one like him. I wanted it too,” Rich confirmed.

“So it’s a family tradition?” RJ asked.

“I mean, it could be,” Rich laughed.

“Mom would definitely kill me, wouldn’t she?”

“Ha, probably me,” Rich corrected, “She already wants to kill me for your cigar habit.”

“We’ll tell her this was my idea then,” RJ said.

August 13, 2025

RJ sat in the chair, getting his first tattoo. He thought about getting one since he thought Ryan was hot with his. He was glad he was able to get something meaningful to both him and his Pop.

When RJ was done, he showed his Pop who was waiting outside while smoking a cigar.

“Turned out great. And remember, I had nothing to do with this,” Rich said.

On their way back to the ranch, RJ snapped a photo of it. “Gotta send this to Ryan,” he said.

His phone dinged and RJ looked at the text from Ryan: “FUCKING HOT!”

“What’d Ryan say of it?” Rich as he drove.

“Umm…that it looked cool,” RJ lied.

August 14, 2025

Rich and RJ worked a long day to finish the barn. The two of them were having their evening porch beer and smoke, in tank tops with red paint stained on them. They looked like they had just committed a murder.

“Ya know, I probably say this too much, but I’m proud of ya, son,” Rich said.

“Because I’m like you?” RJ asked with a grin.

“Maybe somewhat, but more so that you have grown to be your own man too,” Rich answered, “You care about your family and friends, and do anything to protect them.”

“What do you mean?” RJ asked.

“I now know that pack of Marlboros were Ryan’s. I’m not sure why you didn’t tell me they were his, but I trust you had your reasons,” Rich revealed.

RJ felt the pull in his chest to tell his Pop the truth. That he loved Ryan in a way that his Pop probably couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the time, though. He needed to tell Ryan first that he was ready to be out.

“Yeah, they were his,” RJ confessed and that’s all he said.

“And ya gave up your summer freedom for it. Been working hard, struggling on your own and started smokin’ cigars. It’s not the things ya do, but the reasons why ya do them that makes ya your own man, son,” Rich stated.

August 16, 2025

RJ and Ryan were down by the lake, doing some midday fishing.

“My line keeps getting tangled up,” Ryan said, frustrated. He had never gone fishing before.

“Just keep tryin’ and practicin’. Don’t worry about catchin’ anything,” RJ encouraged him.

“But that’s not fun. I wanna catch a big one,” Ryan whined back. Ryan was in his go-to style of a tank top, but he had some aviator sunglasses on that RJ thought looked hot.

RJ was wearing an old flannel that he ripped the sleeves off and a cowboy hat.

The two men smoked and fished away the afternoon.

“So, I’ve been thinkin’,” RJ confessed, “I think I’m ready to tell my family about me. About us.”

Ryan lowered his pole, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m tired of keeping it a secret. And part of me feels Pop might suspect it. He mentions ‘us’ a bit,” RJ added. He could tell Ryan wasn’t complete sold. “Just because they know about us, doesn’t mean anyone else has to,” RJ added.

“I’m just afraid my dad won’t take it well,” Ryan softly said.

“Then we don’t tell him,” RJ promised.

“Okay. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t tell them,” Ryan looked back up at his boyfriend, “I don’t want my fears to hold you back. To hold us back. Especially if you’re ready.”

RJ felt intense butterflies in his chest and had to say what he was feeling, “I love you.”

Ryan smiled with his Red dangling, “I love you too.”

“What I don’t love is your cast, though,” RJ joked and stood behind him. “Let me help you…more hands-on…and from behind,” RJ offered with a wink.

July 4, 2025

For the past few weeks, Rich treated RJ more like an employee than a son. It was part of his lesson, for RJ to support himself. RJ had to not only clean and fix up his Grandpa’s house to live in, but he also had to work on the ranch. Working on the ranch wasn’t new to RJ as he always had chores, but his new jobs were harder.

RJ was also paid now, but most of his pay wasn’t money. He was paid about $300 a week; but $25 went to electricity another $25 went to water for his new living quarters. Rent was also $100 a week. His Pop also bought him a box of cigars each week, which took out $50.

During the first week, RJ tried negotiating the box of smokes to not be part of his pay. His Pop said, “Nope. You’re a big man now, so you’re a gar man now.” And his Pop made sure he smoked. Every time his Pop would light up around him, he would say something along the lines of “Time for a cigar, don’t you agree?” All RJ could respond with was “Yes, Sir” and light one up too.

So RJ only had about $100 to spend after each “paycheck” and most of that went to gas and groceries. He couldn’t afford a cellphone, so he lost contact with all his friends and his secret boyfriend, Ryan.

RJ sat on the porch with a coffee and cigar. He was in a short sleeved button up shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. His shirt had the print of an American flag. It was tradition for the Hill family to go to the town’s Fourth of July fair to watch fireworks. His Pop had formally invited him to go with the rest of the family.

He hadn’t shaved for the past few weeks, since he didn’t want to spend his limited cash on razors and shaving cream. It was his first time growing out his beard and it was itchier than he could imagine.

His Pop walked up, wearing a matching shirt and a cowboy hat. “Happy Fourth,” he said.

“Happy Fourth,” RJ said back.

“Grab your hat, we’re just about to go,” his Pop said.

“Yes Sir,” RJ said as he put his cigar in his ashtray to come back to later. RJ hated to admit to himself, but he was actually enjoying his cigars. They were becoming the highlight of his day and was a way to break boredom. He was starting to smoke on his own and his Pop didn’t have to remind him so much. He was understanding why his Pop smoked the way he did.

On the way to the fair, RJ sat in the backseat next to his younger sister. She was a bit younger than him at 12 years old. She was looking at him, with her nose scrunched. “You stink!” she exclaimed.

“I do?” RJ asked, confused as he smelled his shirt. He didn’t smell anything.

“Yeah! You smell like Pop’s cigars!” she added.

Rich behind the wheel laughed, “Susie, that’s because he’s a cigar man like Pop.” Their Mom, Denise, sitting next to him gave Pop a quick glare as she didn’t approve of her husband’s discipline method.

“Ewww,” Susie said with a face, which made RJ chuckle, and then dropped the subject. She moved on about wanting to ride the Ferris wheel.

As soon Rich parked the truck, Susie jumped out and ran towards the fair. “Susie, wait up!” Denise called out as she hurried to catch up.

Rich and RJ got out of the truck more slowly. Rich pulled out a cigar from his center console, cut and lit it up. “Time for a gar?” he asked his son.

RJ looked at him and said, “I didn’t bring any.” He wasn’t planning on smoking while at the fair; he hasn’t smoked in public before.

Rich pulled out another cigar and handed his son one, “Make sure you bring your own next time, big man.”

RJ looked around, seeing if anyone he knew was around. He was timid and nervous about people finding out he was smoking.

“No one cares, son. Ya enjoy smokin’, right?” his Pop asked.

“Yes, Sir,” RJ answered truthfully as he was enjoying being a cigar smoker.

“Then who cares? Life’s too short to care what others think. Live your life how you want to,” Rich said as he handed his son a lighter and cutter.

There was truth to what his Pop was saying. He cut his cigar and lit it up.

RJ and his Pop walked around the fair. There were quite a bit of people around. He saw a few familiar faces from school, including a couple of former teachers. RJ just tried to act confident and that he didn’t care that they saw him smoking, but it was still a little awkward. He also felt bad if people didn’t like being around his and his Pop’s smoke. His Pop, though, looked like he didn’t even think about it. It was just who he was and people had to deal with it.

“There’s them Hill men,” a familiar voice came from behind them. It was Al, and Ryan was standing next to him.

“Howdy, boys” Rich said.

“Hey there, Al. Hey, Ryan,” RJ said timidly,

“Howdy, RJ,” Al said back. Ryan didn’t say anything. He just took a drag off the cigarette cupped in his hands. “Geez, son. What’s gotten up your butt? Aren’t you going to say hi?”

“Hi RJ,” Ryan mumbled as smoke jetted from his nose.

“Say, Rich, I was goin’ to hit up the beer garden. Care to join?” Al asked.

“Sounds good to me. You boys be good,” Rich said as both him and Al headed off, leaving their sons behind.

Ryan put his cigarette in his mouth, turned around and walked off.

RJ followed, “Ryan, let me explain.”

“Explain what? I’ve been texting ya and haven’t heard from you in ‘bout a month. Ghosted me. Now you’re here, with a beard and smoking a cigar. Barely recognize ya. So yeah, it’s pretty clear,” Ryan spouted off.

“It’s not like that,” RJ said.

Ryan walked behind the funnel cake stand and stopped, “Then what is it?”

“The night of graduation, Pop found out I wasn’t with my friends. Then my mom found your pack of smokes in my jacket. So Pop pretty much integrated me,” RJ explained.

“Oh shit, does he know? About us?” Ryan anxiously asked.

“No, I denied and lied. He assumed the cigs were mine. He smashed my phone, making me live in my grandpa’s old house, work for him and smoke cigars,” RJ listed off.

“Seriously?” Rich asked.

RJ placed his cigar in his jaw as he patted his pockets and turned them out. He then took his cigar out of his mouth and said, “Yeah, no phone. Sorry. I wanted to come by and tell ya, but my Pop has been watching me like a hawk.

“Okay…so he’s punishing you for smoking by smoking?” Ryan asked with a funny look.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. Think he is trying to ‘man me up’ or whatever. But cigars actually aren’t that bad. I’m actually enjoying them now,” RJ said.

Ryan looked around to see if there was anyone. “Well, I’d be lying if I said you smokin’ them weren’t doing something for me.” He leaned forward and kissed RJ, knocking his cowboy hat off.

“Missed you,” RJ said.

“Missed you too.”

That afternoon, RJ and Ryan hung out together. They had to stop themselves a couple of times before they became a little too flirty with each other. The entire day, RJ just thought about how much he wanted to hold Ryan’s hand as they walked around.

—

“Boys seem to get along,” Al said to Rich in the beer garden later in the evening.

“Yeah, they are. Remember them as kids?” Rich reminisced while finishing up his third beer. He was watching their boys stand not far from them, by a ring toss game stand. He saw Ryan pull out a pack of Marlboro Reds and take one out.

Al took a drag from his cigarette and nodded. He exhaled, “Sure do. Rowdy boys.”

“Ha, still are. Thought your boy was going to kick the shit out of mine though early today,” Rich laughed.

“Ryan can be so moody at times. You’d think he’s one of them queers,” Al said with a hiccup.

“Rich!” his wife yelled from outside the fence.

“The lady calls,” Rich said as he patted Al’s back, “Take care, Al. Happy Fourth!”

—

It was starting to get dark and the firework show was going to begin soon. RJ and Ryan were sitting at a picnic table, each eating a corn dog.

RJ’s family walked over. “Going to watch the fireworks with us, RJ?” his mom asked.

“Oh, we were going to find the guys and watch with them. That alright?” It was Hill family tradition to watch them together.

“Fine with me, big man, if that’s what you want,” his Pop said. RJ thought maybe he was gaining some freedom with his extra responsibilities.

“Alright. Love you, son,” his mom said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She always enjoyed their family tradition, so she was a little too sentimental with the breaking of tradition.

“Mr. Hill, have you seen my dad?” Ryan spoke up.

“He’s probably still in the beer garden. You may need to drive home,” Rich said matter of factly.

“Oh, great. Thanks,” Ryan sighed with rolled eyes.

“Find us by the truck afterwards,” Rich added.

“Yes, Sir,” RJ said. His family walked off, but RJ called back, “Pop?”

“Yes, son?” his Pop asked and turned around.

“You have an extra cigar? Want to have one during the show,” RJ whispered. He didn’t want his mom to hear him asking, since she disapproved.

“Sure, but you owe me one,” Rich laughed as he pulled his last cigar out of his shirt pocket.

“Thanks, Pop,” RJ said as he grabbed it.

“Anytime, big man,” Rich smiled as he walked off.

Ryan gave him a look that said “Really?”

“What? I like them,” RJ defended his new habit.

Ryan pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds and slid one out with his lips, “I’m just teasing ya. So we finding your friends?”

“No, but I have the perfect spot,” RJ said as he cut his cigar, “Follow me.”

The fireworks were starting as their bursts lit up the night sky. RJ and Ryan walked through the crowd that was forming. People stopped and looked up at the blasts.

“Where we going? We’re moving away from the show?” Ryan asked, trying to keep up with RJ.

“To the back of the crowd,” RJ answered.

“Why?”

The two of them finally got to the back and away from the crowd. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” RJ said as he grabbed Ryan’s hand.

Ryan looked down at the cupped hands, and tightened. They both looked and smiled at each other, before placing their choice of smoke in their mouths and looking up at the lights in the sky.

—

After the show, Rich waited by the truck. He really wished he didn’t give his son his last cigar.

RJ walked up, with said cigar, before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it.

“Sorry, Pop. Helped Ryan find Al. He was really drunk,” RJ said in a concerned tone.

“I suspected as much. He was pretty tipsy by the time I left him,” Rich said as they entered the truck, where Denise and Susie were already sitting.

RJ was talking with his sister, who was hopped up with adrenaline and sugar.

As traffic was bad in the parking lot, the truck was moving slow. In the distance, he saw Al and Ryan. Al was shouting at his boy and gave him a shove. Rich could tell Ryan was upset at whatever he was saying. Rich didn’t want to make things worse for him by intervening. Rich just hoped RJ was a good friend for Ryan, because it looked like he needed one in that very moment.

—

RJ had just got done getting changed for bed when he heard a knock on the door. He rushed over to answer it and it was his Pop.

“Everything alright, Pop?” he asked.

“Let’s have a porch chat, big man,” his Pop suggested as he held up a 6 pack and a couple of cigars.

RJ agreed and slipped on some boots, but was worried if he was in trouble again. And for what.

The two men each cracked open a beer and lit their cigars. The smoke danced in the cool, summer air.

“Just wanted to say I’ve been impressed by you the last few weeks. You know how to hold your own,” Rich complemented his son.

“Thanks, Pop,” RJ said before taking a draw off his cigar.

“Better than those Marlboros?” Rich asked.

“Wouldn’t know,” RJ said, “Never had one. Though I am enjoying cigars, if I’m being honest.”

Rich laughed, “Good, I can tell. Makes me feel less guilty about getting you started.” He paused for a moment then asked, “Ryan smokes Marlboros, right?”

RJ looked at him, trying to hide his “oh shit” face, and thought about his Pop confronting him about the pack. “Yeah.”

“You and Ryan have a good time? Looked like it.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“That’s good. I like Ryan,” Rich said before exhaling some smoke. “It’s always a good thing to have a best friend. Someone who always has your back, and you theirs.”

RJ just nodded while taking another puff.

“I’ve known Al for awhile. He’s been a friend, but I also know he can be a dick. Especially if he’s been drinking. Trust me, I like my beers. But some men can’t handle them,” Rich added. He pulled out a cellphone from his pocket and handed it over. “Here, it’s my old phone. Nothin’ fancy, but we’ll go down to the store to get it activated tomorrow morning.”

RJ took it. “Seriously? What me about supporting myself?”

Rich grinned, “Yeah, but you also need to learn it’s okay to get support too. And to give it.”

RJ nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

June 11, 2025

Richard Hill III, or RJ, was running late on his morning chores. He ran down the stairs and through the kitchen. His mother, Denise, and little sister, Susie, were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Don’t have time to eat. Pop will already be on my ass!” he called out as he sped by and out the door.

“Language!” his mom called out.

His Pop, Rich, was standing out by the fence while smoking a cigar, so he hurried toward him.

During his whole 18 years old life, he respected his Pop but he also intimidated him. His Pop was a man’s man. He valued hard work, enjoyed his beer and smoked cigars at every chance he had.

“Sorry, Pop,” RJ said as he caught his breath.

“It’s alright, son,” Rich said to his son’s surprised. Morning chores weren’t something you missed in this family. “Ya only graduate high school once. Did ya have a good time last night?”

“Yeah, me and the guys…umm…Ben, Eli and Grant…went out to the lake. Made a bonfire,” RJ said.

“Invite any cute girls?” Rich grinned.

“Nah, Pop,” RJ awkwardly replied.

“Damn, have I taught ya nothin’?” his Pop joked, “Back yer truck up and help me load up this hay.”

RJ and his Pop lifted bales of hay into his Red Ford Ranger. It was considered an old school car compared to the one they made these days, but it was reliable.

His Pop smoked like a chimney. After every lift, he’d exhale a huge cloud of smoke. RJ associated the smell with his Pop. However, he didn’t care for the smell and had never picked up the habit himself, even though his Pop has offered him a cigar before on multiple occasions during their occasional evening porch talks. Even though he declined the cigars, his Pop would let him sneak a beer.

“Thanks, son - can you take these to Al? I gotta run to town and get some more feed.”

“Al’s?”

“That’s what I said,” his Pop confirmed.

“Oh, okay. Sure thing, Pop,” RJ obliged as he got in his rig and drove off.

Al was outside by his barn when RJ pulled up. “Howdy, Al,” RJ said as he jump out his truck.

“Hey there, RJ,” Al said as he lit a Marlboro Red. Al was a good friend of his Pop and Grandpa, when he was still alive. He was only a few years older than his Pop though. “Ryan! Hay’s here! Need your help!” Al yelled across the pasture.

Ryan stopped shoveling up cow pies. Ryan was a couple years older than RJ. They knew he each other since they were little though. Ryan had dark brown hair and a short beard. Having worked on a farm most of his life, he was well built. He was wearing a white tank top, that showed off a barb wired tattoo wrapped around his left bicep, jeans and some boots. He was a smoker of Marlboro Reds, just like his dad, and had one dangling from his lips.

“Be right there,” Ryan yelled back as he threw his cigarette to the ground.

Ryan walked coolly over. He was a bit cocky and everyone else was on Ryan’s time.

“Get this unloaded into the barn,” Al told his son, “RJ, would you like some sweet tea? Carol made it just yesterday.”

“That’s alright, Al. I’ll help Ryan with the hay,” RJ said.

“Suit yourself then,” Al said as he headed towards the house.

The two guys carried the several bales of hay in quiet, but Ryan would occasionally bump into RJ as they walked.

Both Ryan and RJ set their last bale down. Ryan turned to RJ and then wrapped his arms around him.

“Are you crazy? What if your dad sees?” RJ quickly asked, trying to stop him.

“He won’t. He’s already having his mid morning nap on his Lazy Boy,” Ryan grinned.

The two men gave each other a secret kiss. “You smell like shit, by the way,” RJ teased.

“Figured you’d be use to it by now,” Ryan joked back.

The couple kissed a few times and hugged each other tightly before heading out.

“Oh, by the way…I think I left a pack of Reds in your jacket when you let me wear it last night.”

“Okay, I’ll give them back if I find them,” RJ said as he got back into his truck. He gave Ryan a quick wave as he drove off.

—

Rich was in the feed store, carrying out two big bags of chicken feed when he saw his son’s friend, Ben, passing by.

“Howdy Ben,” Rich said.

“Hi Mr. Hill,” Ben said. Ben was a skinny guy, and a bit of a nerd in Rich’s opinion, but he was a good friend to his son. He was wearing a plain blue t-shirt and khaki shorts.

“You boys have a good time last night?” Rich asked.

Ben looked at him, confused, “Not sure what you mean.”

“Last night, at the bonfire, at the lake, with RJ, Eli and Grant there,” Rich looked at him, also confused.

“No, sir. RJ didn’t hang out with us last night. He said he was spending family ti-,” Ben said, trying to stop himself but it was too late. He had already said too much.

“I see,” Rich said as his face turned red. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was being lied to. He and his son were close, so he didn’t know why RJ would lie.

When he got home, he told his wife what Ben had told him.

“There is something he’s hiding from us, because I found these in his jacket. And it smelled of smoke,” Denise added as she held out a pack of Marlboro Reds.

Rich’s face even got redder, “I’ll talk to him when he gets back from Al’s.”

“Should we both?” his wife asked.

“No,” Rich huffed, “You’re too easy on him.”

“Why? Are you going to be harsh on him?” his wife asked, concerned.

“No, I’m just going to give him the summer my Pop gave me,” Rich said as he headed out the door. He hated being lied to, especially by his own son.

—

RJ parked his truck when he heard an angry “Get over here!” from his Pop across the property, standing at his grandpa’s old house. He barely remembered his grandpa, but knew his Pop was just like him.

RJ hurried over and said, “Sir, something wrong?” He knew from his Pop’s tone that ‘Sir’ was the correct address in the moment.

Between the cigar in his teeth, he ordered as he opened the door to the old house, “Get your ass inside.”

“Yes Sir,” RJ said as he walked in. His Pop slammed the door shut, causing the windows to rattle.

“Sit down,” Rich barked. RJ did as he told.

The house had cobwebs and the tables had dust. The only light was from the sun that shined through the cloudy windows.

“Now boy, I’m going to ask you two questions. You better answer them truthfully,” he spoke angrily with force.

“Yes Sir,” RJ agreed.

“First question. Where were you last night?” he asked red in the face with his finger in the air, almost pointing at him. It was amazing how loud and clear his Pop could yell with a fat cigar tucked back in his jaw.

RJ paused and thought quickly. Did his Pop find out? How much did he know? RJ wasn’t out to anyone. Did Al find out? Through nervousness, he decided it was best to deny everything and lie for both his and Ryan’s sake.

“I was with the guys, Sir,” RJ tried to say calmly.

Rich just glared. RJ could tell his Pop knew this was a lie.

“Second question. Whose are these?” he asked as he pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds from his back pocket. The box was kind of squished.

Another series of questions and thoughts raced through RJ’s mind. Does he say they are his? Maybe his friends? But he couldn’t throw them under the bus? Should he say they were Ryan’s? But he didn’t want there to be any suspicions as to why he was seeing him in secret.

“I don’t know,” RJ mumbled.

Rich crumbled the box and threw them across the room.

“Dammit boy! I didn’t know I raised a liar!” he yelled.

RJ didn’t know what to say.

“I know you weren’t with your buds last night. Saw Ben at the store. And I know those smokes were yours. Your mom found them in your jacket,” Rich said.

“I mean, I’m an adult now. Why do you care?” RJ tried to reason with him, but it became very clearly that it was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, is that so?” Rich glared. RJ had never seen his Pop this mad before. “You turn 18 and now you’re a big man?”

RJ remained silent.

“Give me your phone,” Rich ordered.

“What?”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

RJ pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Rich looked at it before throwing it straight down on the floor, smashing it in pieces.

“You’re a big man now. You can support yourself,” Rich said, “You can buy your own things. You can live here, on your own.”

“You can’t be serious,” RJ said as he looked at his shattered phone.

“Oh, you’ll see how serious I can be. I didn’t raise you to be a liar,” he said before heading towards the door. “Oh yeah, almost forgot,” he added as he pulled out a cigar. “You’re a big man now. Smokin’ on your own. Well, let’s see how much a big man you are,” he handed over a cigar with a lighter. “Light ‘er up, big man.”

“Seriously?” he said. His Pop just looked at him. RJ reluctantly grabbed the cigar and lighter. It was already precut. RJ placed the cigar in his mouth and flicked the lighter as his Pop watched. He had seen his old man do this many time before. He puffed, bringing the cigar to life. He then inhaled, causing him to cough.

“Much harsher than those cigs, huh? Real men smoke cigars, son. So you smoke gars now. Not cigs. Understood?,” Rich ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” RJ coughed out. He had never smoked anything in his life.

“Good, now get this place cleaned up. This is your home, big man,” Rich said as he exited out the door.

RJ sat there with his cigar in his hand. He hated it, but it was better than telling his Pop the truth. The truth would have lead to more questions. And more questions would have lead to outing both him and Ryan. Smoking cigars was a small price to pay. Even though this place needed a lot of work, living on his own ended up being just an added bonus for lying. Or so he thought.

“I don’t see you smokin’, big man,” Rich said as he walked back in with a broom and dust pan.

RJ placed the cigar back in his mouth, firmly in place between his teeth.

“And leave it there,” Rich said as he handed his son the broom and walked back out.

RJ didn’t respond. He just puffed on his cigar.

September 13, 2002

RJ was finishing the last few things on the fence. He wanted it to be perfect before taking off to LA tomorrow, on his birthday. His last full day at his Pop’s ranch was a hot one. He took off his shirt and threw on his Pop’s hat.

He had packed on several pounds. Eating well and working hard each and every day for three months would do that to any man his age.

Rich came over and asked what he was doing.

“Just doin’ some finishin’ touches, Pop,” RJ answered. The truth was, he was just trying to stay busy. He didn’t want to think about leaving tomorrow. Three months ago, he couldn’t wait for this day. Now, he was dreading it.

Rich patted his son’s back and put his arm around him “Well, you’ve done a good job,” he said with his cigar clinched in his teeth.

“Thanks, Pop.”

“When you are done, get cleaned up. We’re goin’ to the bar,” Rich added.

The bar parking lot was busy, which was unusually for a Tuesday evening. RJ and Rich headed to the front door when Rich said, “Oh shit, forgot the gars. Can you grab ‘em for me, son?”

“Sure thing, Pop,” RJ eagerly obliged, knowing he was going to need them too.

After grabbing the smokes, he entered the bar. “Surprise!” a group of men said. These were the familiar faces of Rich’s friends. There was a banner that had “Good luck RJ!”

“Oh wow, thanks guys,” RJ said, stunned. He didn’t expect this and felt it was just going to make it harder to leave tomorrow. A lot of his Pop’s friends became his friends.

Throughout the evening, RJ mingled amongst everyone. He almost constantly had a cigar in his jaw, just like his Pop.

At the end of the night, Rich wanted the group to take a photo.

On the way home, Rich was quiet.

“Thanks for setting that up, Pop,” RJ said as he looked at the burning end of his cigar.

“Of course, son. Everyone wanted to give ya a proper send off,” Rich said.

“Glad I saw all the guys,” RJ added.

“You’re going to come and visit, right?” Rich asked, his voice tender.

“Of course, Pop,” RJ looked over at him. This Pop looked sad. Maybe heartbroken.

“Good, because it’s the last rule. You must visit your Pop,” Rich said, softly.

“No rule needed,” RJ stated.

September 14, 2002

RJ woke up and immediately reached for a cigar, but realized that the deal was over. He didn’t have to smoke anymore. He told himself that he would quit the day he left, so he held back. A brief thought of “just quit tomorrow” ran through is head, but he pushed it away.

RJ packed his clothes. He was leaving behind some of his ranch clothes since they weren’t really the California style. He slipped on his khakis and white t-shirt, though they were a little tight. He felt off.

RJ went down the stairs with his luggage. His Pop was cooking breakfast with a cigar in his mouth when he said, “Happy Birthday, son. No gar, huh? Really quitting today?”

“Thanks, and yes, guess so,” RJ sighed. He really did want one though and the cigar smoke in the kitchen made it more tempting.

“And on the day where I don’t have to buy them for you anymore,” Rich joked.

Breakfast was quiet. There was a somber tension in the air.

After they ate, RJ wanted to hit the road early so he was going to load up his things. He looked around the ranch. He was going to visit occasionally, but was really going to miss living here. He made a promise to himself that he was going to leave here as a free man, though, and he was going to stick with it.

“All set?” Rich stepped out of the house, cigar in hand.

“Yes Pop,” RJ said, “Better hit the road.”

“Okay,” Rich said as he placed his cigar in his mouth and hugged his son.

“Love ya, son,” he said for the first time this summer.

“Love ya too, Pop. Thank you for everything,” RJ said back.

RJ had driven about six hours before needed to take a break. He really wished he still smoked as it would have the drive a bit more bearable.

He stopped at the diner where he had dinner with his Pop for the first time. He ordered country fried steak and attempted to order a Budweiser. He must have looked over 21 because the waitress didn’t even ask for his I.D.

He sat there, reflecting on the summer with his Pop. Moving there three months ago felt off, but leaving felt wrong.

He sat there, alone, and ate his meal.

After eating, he crossed the road to the gas station. He needed some energy and wanted a coffee.

He headed to the coffee when he saw a glass case of cigars. He stopped and looked. In the reflection, he saw who he was. There was a pull of his old self to move back to California.

But that was his old self, he thought. He looked at his reflection and saw his new self. “Just because that was who I was, doesn’t mean it is who I’m meant to be,” he whispered to himself.

“What was that?” the fast station asked, who was working nearby.

“Oh, sorry. Can you get me some of these?” he asked.

As soon as RJ got back in his truck, he cut the end with a cigar cutter he still had in the glove compartment and lit up.

He took a deep inhale, held it for a second and exhaled. He got an immediate head rush and felt relaxed. He smiled and turned the key.

It was starting RJ sped out of the parking lot. “I’m going home,” he said with the cigar in his mouth, and he didn’t mean California.

Rich was sitting on the porch, smoking and drinking. It was an unproductive day for him. He morned for the summer with his son.

He looked up and saw headlights pulling up the driveway. Once he realized it was RJ, his face lit up.

RJ parked his truck and jumped out. He had a cigar in his jaw and asked, “Guess I got lost!”

Rich came forward immediately and hugged his son.

“Got halfway there and realized I was goin’ the wrong way,” RJ said, “Is it okay if this is home for me a little while longer?”

Rich laughed, “Of course, son. I’d love it, actually.”

February 3, 2012

RJ stood outside in the rain outside of a church as he reflected on the past nine, almost ten, years. He was hauling on a cigar. He never attempted to quit and had no plans to.

He also never made it to college. His Pop taught him everything to know to run the ranch. The two of them even built a house across the property, so RJ could have a place of his own.

They spent many nights on the porch together, but it still wasn’t enough. His Pop was gone now, all because of a heart attack.

His black suit and cowboy hat was getting soaked, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to go inside.

A woman’s hand touched his back. “I think they are starting soon. You should be in there,” his wife said.

“Yeah, okay,” he said as he took one last puff of his cigar before flinging it a puddle.

The service was small and short. A lot of his Pop’s friends were there. The pastor asked if anyone wanted to say anything, but RJ didn’t raise his hand.

His Pop’s friend, Al, did though. He talked about how Rich was the best poker player and joked that he also suspected he was the best cheater. He then mentioned how he would talk about his son all the time, with how proud he was and how lucky he felt to have him in his life.

RJ teared up. There was no way he could say anything now.

After the service, a few of the friends were going to Rich’s favorite bar and invited RJ. He didn’t want to, but his wife insisted he go with them. So he did as she took the truck to head back home.

At the bar, the men smoked cigars and drank Budweiser in honor of Rich.

The whole bar was getting smoky as they each took turns sharing stories of Rich. Some of them, RJ never heard before and a few made him laugh. These tales of his old man made him feel better.

Al drove RJ home. RJ was a little buzzed as he listened to his chauffeur talk about his son, Ryan, who was seven years old. RJ didn’t say much, but just listened.

Al dropped RJ off at about midnight. RJ unlocked the door and quietly entered. He set his keys on the counter and opened the fridge to grab a beer. He wasn’t ready to go to sleep.

He stepped out on the porch, lit another cigar and cracked open his beer. He took a seat in one of the rocking chairs and looked across the property.

His Pop’s house was dark and empty. Just a week ago, the porch light shined. Now it was off.

The front door opened. “Pop?” a quiet voice asked.

A five year old boy with light brown hair stepped outside onto the porch.

“RJ, what are ya doing up?” the big RJ asked.

“Heard you and wanted you to tuck me in,” little RJ said.

“Sorry, son,” big RJ said as the little one took a seat in the rocking chair next to him.

“It’s okay, Pop. How was grandpa’s frumeral?” he asked in a soft tone.

“It was good,” big RJ said.

“I miss him.”

“Me too, son. He loved ya very much.”

“Yeah. He’s still here though,” little RJ said.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a lot like you” the little boy said.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yup,” Little RJ exclaimed, which made his Pop smile. “Love you, Pop,” he added.

“Love ya too, RJ. Now, let’s get ya back to bed.”

August 10, 2002

RJ was waiting by the barn. His Pop told him to wait there. RJ scratched his scruffy beard as he took a pull off his cigar. He inhaled it like it was nothing as he wondered what his old man was up to. He crossed his arms as he thought, something his Pop usually does.

A honk came from behind him. RJ looked over and saw his Pop, Rich, drive from around the barn in a Ford Ranger. It was the same shade of red, like his Pop’s F350.

RJ thought his Pop was showing off a new truck, but wondered why he’d downsize.

Rich popped his head out the open window, with a cigar sticking out of his mouth. “Happy Birthday, son!”

“My Birthday isn’t until next month,” RJ said back.

Rich parked and got out of the car. “I know, but figured to give it to ya early.” He handed the keys over.

“Thanks, Pop,” RJ said as he gave him a hug.

“Woulda got ya something bigger, but figured this might be easier to get around in LA,” Rich said.

“It’s perfect,” RJ said.

August 12, 2002

RJ and Rich were having their nightly cigars and beers on the porch. Rich was saying he would set up a bank account for RJ that he’d deposit money into every week.

“You’ve held your end of the deal, so I gotta pay up,” Rich laughed.

RJ didn’t actually like talking about it. At the start of the summer, he couldn’t wait to get out of here. But now, he was dreading it. He knew he had to leave and that this version of him is temporarily, but still wondered who he actually was.

“There’s still a month left,” RJ said.

“I know you’re moving back to California, but you don’t have to look like such a hippie,” Rich said as he messed up his son’s hair.

“Yeah, I should do something about it,” RJ said.

“Rule 33, buzz your head by tomorrow. And shave,” Rich demanded.

“Yes, Sir,” RJ said.

Rich headed to bed and RJ took a shower. After that, he stood in the mirror and looked at himself. He’d reckon that old him wouldn’t even recognize the new him, and he didn’t know how that made him feel. He had a tattoo just like his Pop’s. He was also forming a bit of a beer belly. He looked completely different now.

He took a drag off his cigar that was smoldering in the ashtray in the bathroom counter. He raised the clippers and started buzzing off his hair.

He then trimmed his beard, cleaning it up. He realized he looked like his Pop. He never thought he did until this moment.

He reached under the sink for the shaving cream and lathered up his cheeks and chin. He started shaving away the hairs, leaving only a horseshoe mustache.

“Yeah,” he whispered to himself, “I am my Pop’s son.”

August 13, 2002

RJ woke up early, as usual. As soon as he stood up, he lit up a cigar. Just a month or so ago, he’d wait to light up until he went downstairs to his smoking Pop. Now, it was the first thing he did. It made waking up easier and more enjoyable.

After getting dressed, RJ went down to the kitchen. His Pop was already up with his morning coffee and smoke. When he saw his son, he almost spit out his coffee.

“Damn, son! Thought me from 20 years ago was walkin’ in!” Rich exclaimed.

“Does it look good? Know you told me to shave, but wanted to see how it would look,” RJ said.

“Looks great, son! You’ve got Pop’s approval,” Rich answered.

Later that day, Rich asked his son to go down to the feed store to pick up his order of cow supplements. As RJ was driving in his truck, he lit up a cigar. There was something relaxing about cruising down the road with a smoke.

RJ left his cigar in the truck’s ashtray and headed inside the store. A voice called out from behind the front counter, “Howdy Rich! Got your stuff here!” It was Ed, from the poker night.

RJ turned around and Ed squinted. “Howdy Ed,” RJ said back.

“Oh damn, thought you were your old man for a minute. Eyes don’t work like they use to,” Ed corrected himself.

August 19, 2002

It was a Friday night and after dinner, Rich suggested they go to the tavern.

“I can go in?,” RJ asked as he was doing the dishes.

“They don’t check I.Ds. Plus, no offense son, but you look at least a 21 year old man” Rich said. RJ took it as a compliment. He didn’t want to have boyish looks anymore.

The two of them sat at a table. The bar was quiet for now, but RJ figured it would pick up as the night went on. There was only an old woman smoking slim cigarettes at the bar.

The two of them ordered a couple of beers. RJ grabbed a cigar from his shirt pocket and a lighter and cutter from his jean pocket. Mindlessly, he cut the cigar and lit it up. He puffed away as smoke poured out of his mouth. He looked over at his Pop, who was giving him a look. He took a deep inhale.

“Lightin’ up even when I’m not. Huh, son?” Rich grinned.

RJ chuckled as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs. His father was right and he didn’t even realize it. He was smoking on his own accord now. “I guess I have been,” RJ confessed, both to himself and Pop.

Rich laughed, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I’m still going to quit next month,” RJ said. Rich didn’t believe it and RJ, deep down, didn’t either.

July 20, 2002

RJ was working on the tractor with a cigar planted firmly in his jaw. It has been over a month since his Pop had him start smoking. He couldn’t say whether he liked it or not. It was easier though than when he first started, just like his Pop said it would. He was able to keep up with his Pop now and the smoke didn’t bother him as much.

He worked long days outside with his Pop, Rich. Their biggest project, which was repairing and adding to the fence was close to completion. RJ became familiar with hard labor. It started out rough, but he enjoyed being able to work mindlessly through things and getting stuff done. He spent less time in his head and it made grieving his mom easier.

He was trying to figure out a way to replace a part when he scratched his beard. Starting early in the morning prevented him from taking time to shave, and he was too exhausted to care by the end of the day. Before coming to live with his Pop, he knew he could grow a good beard for his age, but he never did.

His clothes became tattered and dirty, regardless how often he washed his clothes. Most of his shirts looked like a hard working man’s now.

Rich pulled up to the house; he had a few errands to run. RJ set his wrench down and headed to greet him to see if he needed help carrying anything.

“Need help, Pop?” he called out.

“Nah, got it,” he said as he carried some bags and set them down on the patio before taking a seat.

RJ sat next to him, “Tractor’s almost fixed, I think. Got it to run once.”

“Good job, son,” Rich said as he took a pull from his cigar.

RJ exhaled some smoke before saying, “Thanks, Pop.”

“Gotch ya some stuff,” Rich said as he handed him the shopping bags.

RJ looked inside and saw that there were new shirts, clothes and even a pair of boots in there. It looked like clothes that his Pop would wear.

“Thought you needed some better clothes. Your currents are getting worn out. Plus, you’re growin’ out of them,” Rich said.

This was true. His clothes were dingy from the hard work, but they were also getting a little tight. Doing heavy lifting each day and eating heavy meals each night was catching up to him. Over the past month, RJ suspected he gained about 10 pounds, a mixture of muscle and fat.

“Geez, thanks Pop!” he said as he sorted through the clothes.

“Get cleaned up and try them on. We’re going out,” Rich ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” RJ obliged.

After taking a shower and putting on some of his new clothes, he walked out of the bathroom and lit a cigar, knowing his Pop would be smoking one too. He walked into the living room where his Pop was.

“Looking sharp!” Rich said as he gave a thumbs up while puffing on a cigar.

“Thanks, Pop,” he said and then asked, “So, where we goin’ tonight?”

“A buddy’s. He’s hosting a poker night,” Rich said as he pulled out his keys from his pocket.

“Sounds fun,” RJ said. He never played poker before, “Don’t know how to play, but ready to win some money.”

Rich laughed, “Ha - rule number 21: don’t take any of mine.” Rich was always giving rules to his to follow, but RJ didn’t know if he actually meant this one.

Rich’s friends were all the country type. There was Bill and Ed, who were brothers that owned the feed store. They smoked hand rolled cigarettes and liked to drink. Then there was Al, who was hosting. He was the youngest out of the group, maybe only about 5 years older than RJ. He didn’t talk much, but knew a lot about cars. They welcomed RJ and taught him how to play.

“Your boy is a lot like ya,” Bill said to Rich as he was fumbling with shuffling some cards.

“Definitely has his dad’s blood running in him,” Rich said as he patted RJ’s back.

RJ nervously laughed. He thought he was putting on a charade just so that he could leave mid-September with his Pop’s financial support, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe this version of him wasn’t a charade?

Either way, RJ brushed it off, finished his beer and planted his cigar back in his mouth. “Ya boys ready tah lose some more money,” he said between puffs.

The men laughed. “Yup, he’s definitely Rich, Jr.,” Al said.

July 21, 2002

RJ woke up with the sun in his eyes. He had slept in and had a pounding headache. RJ never been drunk before. He barely remembered getting into bed. He got up, placed his bare feet on the floor and sat there for a minute. He was feeling dizzy.

He must have managed to take his shirt, boots and belt off, but he slept in his jeans. He could smell the smoke from the night before on them.

He looked at his nightstand and saw that there was an ashtray with a half smoked cigar. Sober him never smoked in his own room, but apparently drunk him did.

Desperate for a remedy, he grabbed the cigar and pulled out the lighter in his pocket. He placed it in his mouth and lit it up.

He took a quick and deep inhale and it provided some relief, but not for his hangover.

RJ managed to put on some clothes and head downstairs. He figured he’d be in deep shit with is Pop for sleeping in.

“He lives!” Rich called out as RJ stepped into the kitchen. He was sitting at the kitchen table as he drank some coffee and enjoyed a cigar.

RJ poured himself some coffee and took a seat. He placed his cigar in the ashtray as he sipped from his mug. “Sorry Pop for sleepin’ in,” RJ apologized.

“Shit son, you drink like a mule. You are like your old man,” Rich laughed.

“Guess so,” RJ sighed.

“Have a good time at least?” Rich asked.

“Yeah, I did,” RJ confessed.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Rich said, “It’s supposed to be hot today. With you feeling like shit, why don’t we take it easy?”

“I’d appreciate that, Pop,” RJ said and laughed.

“I have an idea,” Rich added, “Put on some swimming trunks if you have them.”

The two of them got in Rich’s truck and drove a few miles down the road to a pond. It was beautiful and the water was clear. The hot sun reflected off the water, making the whole pond glow.

Rich took off his shirt, ran and cannon balled in. RJ watched and laughed.

“It’s deep enough here to jump, but I wouldn’t anywhere else!” Rich yelled out once his head popped out the surface.

RJ pulled off his shirt and jumped in. The water was just cool enough to be refreshing.

The two swam around for a bit before swimming to the shallow side of the pond.

“Enjoying your summer?” Rich asked as they stood up.

“Yeah, Pop. I am,” RJ said, and a part of him meant it. He noticed the a longhorn tattoo on his Pop’s left bicep. He pointed to it, “When did ya get that?”

Rich looked at it, “Got it when I went to the University.”

“You went to college?” RJ said, sounding surprised.

“Sure did. Bet you didn’t know that about your old man. I dropped out my sophomore year, though.”

“What did you study?”

“Physics,” Rich answered.

“Really?”

“No. Studied agriculture,” Rich laughed.

“Why did you quit?” RJ pried.

“Just wasn’t for me,” Rich said, “Met a woman and perused other things.”

“Mom?”

Rich nodded.

“Well, the tattoo looks cool. I’ve always wanted one, but mom said I had to wait till I was 18. She wouldn’t sign the paperwork.”

Rich grinned and said, “I thought of rule 22.”

July 22, 2002

The next day, Rich took RJ to the tattoo shop. Rule 22 was for RJ to get a tattoo of a longhorn, just like his Pop. RJ’s initial reaction was no way, but then thought that it might be good way to remember this summer once he moved away. After all, he was starting to enjoy this summer with his Pop.

RJ sat at the chair as the tattoo artist needled the piece of permanent artwork on his left bicep. It hurt and a brief thought of wishing he had a cigar entered his mind. He pushed it away though since he still considered himself a nonsmoker. He just temporarily smoked as part of the deal.

Rich watched with a sense of pride as his son got the same ink as him. He reflected on how much his son has changed and grown from just a month.

That evening, they sat on the porch. They both wore tank tops, showing off their matching tattoos to a non-watching world. This was their nightly routine now. They’d each have 3 or 4 Budweisers, smoked a cigar or two and chatted. They caught up on each other’s lives. Discussed future plans and goals.

The thing about these conversations was that they weren’t forced. They chatted like close father and sons do.

“So, where are you wanting to go after this?” Rich asked.

“I was thinking L.A., but not sure. Thought about trying to enroll to UCLA for winter quarter, since I’m late for fall,” RJ said as he exhaled some smoke.

“I see. You know, University of Texas isn’t a bad school either. You already got the tattoo,” Rich suggested with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s true,” RJ said. He looked down at his beer bottle. It was like his Pop read his mind. He did think about Texas. Part of him really wanted to leave after this summer, but a small part of him thought he should stay.

This whole deal thing with his Pop was starting to reveal everything that could have been. What if his mother never left? Or what if his mother left without him? Is this more in alignment with who he could have been? Who he should have been? Is this the life she intentionally prevented?

“I guess…I just don’t know who I am. Or want to be,” RJ sighed.

Rich looked at his son with concern and spoke, “Whoever you are, just know you’ll always be my son.”

“Thanks, Pop,” RJ said. “And I’m sorry for those things I said the first night here. I was just overwhelmed and angry. Not just at you though. Just at-”

Rich interrupted, “You don’t have to explain yourself. I was at fault. I never told you my side of the story. I just was pretending it never happened. Ignored it. That wasn’t fair to you. Everything wasn’t fair to you.”

RJ sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say, but finally found the words, “It’s okay. I’m glad we are making up for lost time now, Pop.”

“Me too, son.”