--The Drive
Chad and Bento had every reason to be excited. It was Saturday night, but instead of Bento's usual Dungeons and Dragons campaign which Chad passively sat in on, they were driving - on their own! - to a show. In celebration of the Shiba Inu's acquisition of his driver's license and with the blessing of his parents, Bento was lent his mother's Ford Focus for the night and told that his curfew had been lifted for this night only.
The occasion was exciting. The freedom was like a gift from the gods. They were going to a concert. Chad, Bento's closest friend and six months his junior, still sixteen, had scored the tickets - an early Christmas gift from mom and dad since the singer was finally in a nearby city.
Chad watched the mile markers go by with a smile on his face. Slightly vacant but growing into a handsome man, Chad was the opposite to Bento in most every way. He always had been and, he believed, always would be. Where Bento was bright, level-headed and unabashedly nerdy, Chad was dull-witted, quick to anger and a jock through and through. He liked Bento, and as of late he had begun to think he loved the dog not just as a friend, but as something more. The term boyfriend never came up between them but those close to them saw them as a couple.
Bento glanced briefly at Chad. His bare eyes continued to unnerve Chad. Once a victim of Coke bottle glasses, Bento had moved onto contact lenses. He complained at times of their thickness but considered the discomfort a fair trade for shedding the most prominent aspect of his nerdiness. His legendary slow-burn D&D campaigns would never die, of course.
"You excited?" the Japanese but Americanized dog asked, and flashed Chad a smile.
"Totally," the bull answered. "I kinda didn't like this dude's music at first. But I got into it."
Bento snickered. He carefully changed lanes, moving to the I-PASS section of the toll lanes. "Oh, yeah, I've heard that coming out of your headphones. You like the new Kahnso, the experimental stuff where he's playing acoustic and pianos."
"Shut up, the old stuff is cool too," Chad huffed, grinned back.
"Oh, just cool, huh?" Through the toll booth, Bento merged back to the fast lane. Driving earnestly since he turned sixteen, the dog was fastidious and careful behind the wheel. He hoped to teach Chad how to drive. "Try not to say that when we're there. A lot of people think the only real Kahnso music is from the nineties and two-thousands, when he was all," he gnawed his lip, "well, you know."
Chad leaned on the door somewhat. He was tapping his hoof along to the music - not Kahnso, but some offering on the classic rock station. Unfamiliar with Kahnso's history, eager to share a moment with Bento even if it meant bullshitting, he nodded and said, "Yeah, totally, I know what you mean."
"Uh-huh," Bento grunted. "Y'know something, Chad? You've always been a shitty liar."
The bull laughed. His cheeks were warm. "Shut up, asshole!"
"Fuck you," Bento said, laughing too, practically giggling.
"Fuck you harder!" Chad roared, and then they both lost it. Bento was quick to reel it in but Chad kept giggling a while longer. When his laughter leveled off too, he said with a hint of nostalgia, "Oh, man, cussing practice. So much fun."
Chad reached out and cranked up the radio. The speakers in Bento's mom's Focus were tinny but the message was pure.
--The Stadium
Bento kept near Chad. A foot and a half shorter than the bull, he felt as if he could get swept off in the undulating, anxious crowds piling up to the ticket booths. When their turn came, he and Chad turned in their tickets to the Rottweiler guarding their entrance. Bento was very amused when he, technically the adult, had to pledge guardianship of Chad on the premises.
And then they were in the bowl of the stadium, its turf planked over, its far end devoted to a stage piled high with speakers and scaffolds. It stood like a colossus and Chad and Bento mingled among thousands of bodies, holding onto each other as if in fear of being swept out by a riptide.
After five minutes the lights went down. Ten, and the show had begun in all its tinnitus-inducing magnificence. Kahnso strutted and sang like nothing either boy had ever seen before. To hear his music on an album was one thing; to see him really hitting those notes was another. Middle age had not slowed the giant fox down, nor had sobriety, and unlike his golden years, he could now play the acoustic guitar - which he did. That his music weaved from blues rock to twinges of country to experimentation with odd styles and influences was no problem for the delirious crowd.
Midway through the show, as Kahnso had a breather and sipped from a bottle of water, he encouraged the crowd to give it up for his daughter - "This rotten little bitch can finger the bass like nobody's business, and she came from my balls! Give my little girl a big hand!" - and they did, they all did, even Chad who had no idea that Kahnso had a daughter or that she toured with him. Chad was only too happy to be there with Bento, to be away from the quiet regiment of his happy life.
As the show wore on, passing the two-hour mark with no sign of slowing, Chad let Bento ride on his shoulders. The dog did so giddily and clung to Chad's horns. He whooped and shrieked from his perch. Chad was delighted to see Bento enjoy himself so much.
Another hour of music and half an hour for the encore came and went in a mad blur of pyrotechnics and lights. When it was all over, Chad, Bento, and a lot of others felt worn-out, exhausted but contented, the afterglow to three hours of musical orgasm.
The crowd began to file out, the show done and the star vanished. Chad and Bento kept close as though joined at the hip. They were shifting and squirming and laughing, both still high from the show which had been so unlike anything they had ever seen in all their lives.
Chad let himself be pulled over to the souvenir stands and they both ended up with a pair of t-shirts, paid for out of Bento's pocket. Bento's read Kocaine Kahnso - Daughter of the Demon Tour. Chad's was more austere; the moniker Kocaine Kahnso in letters like claw slashes above a relief image of a snarling, long-fanged vulpine face.
"Do you suppose we should head home now?" Bento asked, eyeing the exit doors, then Chad.
Like a man proposing to his wife, Chad pulled something surreptitiously from his back pocket and offered it to Bento. The dog's eyes went wide and he laughed, almost shrieked from shock and delight.
"Oh my god! How did you get these?" he squealed, taking the pair of backstage passes from Chad's fingers. "These are so expensive!"
"My folks bought the tickets. I paid for these myself," Chad said proudly. He did not necessarily enjoy serving fried chicken for minimum wage, but the look on Bento's face made his efforts worthwhile. "Come on, let's go backstage!" he enthused, pulling Bento along.
The boys looped the passes around their necks with the lanyards and went up to the side door. The crocodile guard stepped aside without saying a word, but Bento said to him excitedly, "Backstage passes, check it out!"
Walking in the employees only area was mundane but exciting - it was forbidden. They were just a couple of kids but they were going to meet him, the rock god Kahnso himself. Bento squeezed an arm around Chad's middle, said, "This is so-o-o cool. Thank you!"
"Yeah, you're welcome," Chad said, blushing, grinning. They walked past bustling stagehands, over bundles of thick cable and misplaced tools. Looking at doors as they passed them, they checked the placards on them, looking for something exciting like Kahnso's dressing room.
"Here! Here it is," Chad said urgently.
"Hold on a sec there, boys," a guard gruffly said. Tall and muscular, a horse who was surprisingly female, she regarded the two with stern eyes. "You supposed to be back here?"
The bull held up his pass. Bento indicated his with a finger.
"Oh, so you think you get to meet Kahnso because you have those passes, huh? What if I said you just got to look around back here and never meet anybody cool?"
Bento's expression soured, his eyes wide and puppylike. "But-, but-."
"But, but, but," the mare mimicked. She grinned, leaned low. To a couple of straight guys, the look into her deep cleavage would have been interesting. "Relax, I'm fucking with you. Go on in."
The boys didn't move, only regarded her cautiously. "Go on, seriously," she urged, even opening the door for them. "Go!"
Chad nudged Bento along, walked him into the dressing room. His legs were all wobbly, the way he felt sometimes when he had to talk in front of the class, but it was a good feeling this time. The bull was excited.
Once he got moving, Bento bounded in happily. They stepped through a temporary hall of dressing screens which let out into a spacious, if not unfinished dressing room. A pair of scuffed wardrobes stood at crooked angles in one hall of screens with a trio of body mirrors close by. Central to the room was a bed, big and garishly zebra-striped. The rock god himself sat on it, his daughter standing close by, both blotting their sweaty faces with towels. Both of them turned to see Chad and Bento.
"Well, hey there," Kahnso greeted the pair, waving. He smiled and looked an awful lot like the middle-aged dad he was despite being shirtless and sweaty. He sipped a bottle of water. "Backstage passes, huh? Nice."
"Hi," his daughter said. "You guys like the show?" Her short stature shocked both of the boys. Below five feet save for her long kangaroo ears, she was the first dwarf Bento or Chad had ever met.
Kahnso stretched his back, stood, stretched again. The tiny size of his daughter was even more apparent when he was on his feet. He inclined slightly, putting himself closer to Chad's level. "You guys gonna say anything?" He grinned.
"Oh, my god, it's really you," Bento cooed. "Chad! Chad, it's him."
"Yeah, it's me," Kahnso chuckled. He glanced at his daughter. "Jeez, sweetie. I thought the guys you brought home were stupid."
"Aw, they're not stupid," the girl said, walking close. She had her father's smile, eyes, hair; she was like a smaller version of him. "Just tongue-tied! You're still cool I guess, barely."
Kahnso smiled and pulled her up against his hip. Patting her head, making a rat's nest of her hair, he sighed, "And you're still part of the will I guess, barely." He looked the boys over, rubbed his chin where he was slightly gray. "Hey, so, what can I do for you guys? You want autographs? Maybe a selfie with me?"
The girl grunted. "Gawd, dad, attention whore."
"We'd love that," the dog said, nodding his head, smiling big and toothy.
"Yeah, that'd be cool," Chad agreed. "Um, from-, you know, from both of you." He looked at the daughter, grinning. "Your bass playing kicks ass."
"I know," she said, grinning back. "My old man's got glossies to autograph. Uh, I could sign the back or something."
Chad leaned down, whispered something in Bento's ear. The dog chuckled and said, "Oh, that's a cool idea. Yeah."
Kahnso moved past them to the desk. From a drawer he took out of a pair of glossies. It amused his daughter to no end that he never made new glossies; the photograph on them was from twenty-five years ago. Kahnso's look had changed very little except for some graying, and the glossies had always been black and white to begin with. "Let's see," he murmured, and plucked the cap of his marker off with his teeth. "From Kahnso, to my friend?"
"Bento," the dog volunteered.
"And Chad."
"To my friend Bento," he passed off one glossy to the beaming dog, "and from Kahnso, to my friend Chad."
The boys both looked brightly at their glossies. Chad slipped off his backstage pass which was embossed with the same stylized image of Kahnso's face as his souvenir shirt. "Can you autograph our passes?" he asked the daughter.
"Yes, yes please," Bento concurred, pulling his off and offering it as well.
She looked at her dad, then the passes. Kahnso handed her the marker and grinned. "See, told ya you should've practiced your handwriting."
"Oh fuck off," she scoffed.
"Raise you for twenty-two years and this is how you talk to me," sighed Kahnso. The boys both chuckled.
"Let's see, um-," she bit her lip, started to write. "Alex! No way I'm writing my whole name." She did the other pass next, neither signature alike, both full of wild strokes looking like crumpled spider legs. The boys loved it.
"Thank you, so much," Bento graciously said, grinning up at Kahnso. "So, that selfie?"
Alex pulled Chad aside as her dad struggled to fit himself and Bento into a picture together. "Lemme guess, your friend dragged you along, right?"
"Kind of," Chad admitted. "I mean - the concert was awesome. You were awesome. It's just for him."
The girl - Chad was trying to figure out what she was besides a fox - grinned. "Ohhh. I get it. You guys are friends." She winked, clapped his shoulder. "That's cool, my best friend's like that."
The bull's cheeks reddened. "Wait-, wait, what do you mean? We're buddies."
"Yeah, butt buddies," Alex sneered. She nudged his ribs.
Chad laughed, swatting at her elbow. "Shut up, jeez."
Bento came over, grinning still. In fact, Chad wasn't sure Bento had stopped grinning at any point since they entered the room. He showed Chad a selfie on his phone. He was barely in the margins of a picture taken up mostly by Kahnso's muscular bulk. Bento's side was wet with Kahnso's sweat but the dog seemed not to mind it.
"You guys want one with me?" Alex asked somewhat hopefully.
"Now who's the attention whore?" Kahnso tutted.
"Fuck you, dad," she snapped.
Chad nodded. "Yeah, let's get one with Alex, man."
"Dad," Alex called, "come take a pic of us!"
Kahnso came over, sipping his water again. "Oh, now she wants something from me. Hey boys, you want to see some baby pictures?"
Bento and Chad both started to laugh. Alex groaned, snatched Bento's phone, handed it to her dad. "Take the picture and quit being a lameass."
"Bento, Chad, never have kids, guys," Kahnso said, lining up the three of them. They pressed in against Alex at either side; even the nerdy dog towered above her. "They give you nothing but shit."
Chad and Bento soon said goodbye. They left the dressing room and the backstage area with their glossies, autographed badges and selfies. Bento leaned on the bull and said softly, "That was so much fun. Thanks."
Chad looked quickly around. "I like to make you happy," he mumbled.
"Well you definitely did it tonight," Bento sighed. "Let's go grab something to eat, what do you think?"
"Uh, I kinda shot my wad on the backstage passes," Chad admitted. "All I got's gas money."
The Shiba Inu chuckled. "I can pay for food. Just pay me back when you get your first paycheck from the NFL."
--The Drive Home
Bento drove carefully back from the stadium. Their souvenir t-shirts and autographed glossies rested neatly on the backseat. Chad, for all his energy, snoozed in the passenger seat. His head rested on the window, lips leaving a smear of drool the dog would have to clean up before returning the car to mother. He didn't mind. He just smiled, let Chad sleep.
He was going to thank Chad for the backstage passes. It was possibly the sweetest gesture Chad had ever made. More than a gift from his best friend, he recognized the feelings behind it. He reciprocated those feelings. It just never seemed as if there was a right time to bring them up. Bento's parents, who had an idea that their son was gay and privately felt he was too close to the big dumb bull, were no use with such mature questions. Bento chose to simply wait. He believed good things came to those who wait.
Like Kocaine Kahnso backstage passes, thought the Shiba Inu with a few extra centimeters of smile on his lips.
He pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a national fast food chain. Open late! the billboard said. Bento checked his cell phone; 1 AM was pretty late.
"Chad. Cha-a-ad," he said, jostling the bull's shoulder. "Wake up. You hungry?"
"Mm, yeah," muttered Chad, smacking his lips noisily. It was something he always did when he woke from deep slumber. Bento found it irritating sometimes but cute right now. "What time is it?"
"Quarter after one," Bento said. "Let's get something to eat. My stomach is growling."
In they went. The restaurant was mostly empty. Chad and Bento got their food, Bento vetoing Chad's suggestion they eat in the car. His mother would skin him alive if he got any food in her car, he explained in the same hushed tones one would use when describing an ancient curse.
Sitting across from one another, Chad ate a salad and Bento tore into chicken tenders. As if in a library, he spoke in a whisper, "That concert tonight was amazing. And Kahnso turned out to be such a nice guy."
"Kind of a dork," Chad remarked.
"I guess," Bento shrugged. "Maybe that's what being a dad does to a guy. 'Cause trust me, he used to be so awesome. And dangerous."
Chad kicked his shin under the table. Bento yipped, huffed. He stole one of Bento's tenders and grinned as he bit into it. "His daughter was cool. I liked her."
Bento smiled, almost grinned. "She, uh, figured us out."
"What do you mean?"
The dog's eyes briefly, succinctly scanned the restaurant. "That we're gay," he whispered.
"Oh." Chad dipped his tender in the barbecue cup Bento had asked for, threw the rest of the piece into his mouth. As he masticated like the bull he was, he said, "So what?"
Bento shrugged, stole a piece of ranch-covered lettuce from Chad's salad. "Not a big deal, I guess. She thought we were boyfriends."
The bull's eyes narrowed. His cheeks warmed. "We're not, though." The query at the end, are we? was all but implied in his shy avoidance.
Bento only smiled wider. His biggest, warmest smile. He gently rubbed the back of Chad's hand. "I really appreciated the backstage passes. That was very nice of you."
Chad chuckled, almost giggled actually. He busied himself with eating his salad. "Oh, yeah. You know. It was-, I figured you'd like it. I know you like that guy."
The Shiba Inu thought, I love you. You're so dumb and sweet and I love you. He said, "You're really cool, Chad. Thanks."
"You're cool too, Bento," Chad said.
They finished off their food, tossed the packages in the trash and left for home. Chad fell asleep again and made his smear of drool bigger. Bento still didn't mind it.
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