by Tara Lain
She ran a hand over her smooth hair, then cupped it under her chin. “Remember I told you about the fan who contacted me and said she wanted to come to Ever After to meet me?”
“Uh, sure. Is she coming?” He wanted to sound really extra, since what kind of excitement did Gran get? He slid to the edge of his seat and leaned forward.
She seemed to be trying to suppress a huge smile and it made her lips get flat. “Well, yes, she is.”
“That’s incredibly cool, Gran.”
She looked up at him, still trying to hold in the grin. “But you see, I didn’t recognize her name when she wrote me.”
“Oh?” He dragged his mind away from the call he wanted to make to Hans to ask what to wear. Hell, Hans was his friend. Red needed to come out to him.
“Yes. You see, her name is Christasy Anselmo.”
“Oh really, that’s—what?” His mouth opened and stayed there.
Gran finally laughed. “I see you’ve heard of her.”
“Heard of her. Good grief, Gran, she’s like the biggest thing on YouTube and Instagram. She’s this teenage girl who started making up her own clothing designs and turned them into a monster street brand, and—”
Gran held up a hand, still laughing. “Yes, yes, so I’ve learned since I received an email from her, asking if she can come to Ever After with a full camera crew to record videos for her YouTube channel with me!” She pressed both hands against her chest and rocked back in her chair.
“Holy crap!” He slapped a hand over his mouth, then said, “Sorry.”
They laughed together.
Red said, “Seriously, Gran, I don’t know anything about fashion, but everybody’s heard of Christasy Anselmo. She’s huge. I mean, not Beyoncé but still big. Really big.”
“Yes, and this really big person is going to be here this coming weekend.”
“What? Day after tomorrow?”
She clapped her hands together. “Yes, and I’m freaking out!”
“Oh jeez, I mean good grief, I sure get why.” He pressed a hand to his mouth. If he was horribly, selfishly honest, he wished he could just go off and dream about having breakfast—and maybe imaginary lunch and dinner—with Mark. But that was pure crap. Gran had a huge event in her life rolling in like some tidal wave on Okinawa, and she needed help. Hellfire, if he started today doing for her as she’d done for him, he’d never get to the end of the gifts she’d given. He clapped his hands together. “Okay, lets make a list of what we need to do before she gets here.”
“Oh my, I’m so excited.”
He gave her a look. “You bad girl, how could you sit here asking me about my day when you knew you had this royal visit about to happen?”
She crossed her arms. “Darling, I hardly think that you officially coming out to your grandmother—finally—is a second-place event.”
“Thanks, Gran.” He smiled at his flip-flops. “It sounds like you were way ahead of me.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s still an occasion I’ll never forget.” She bounded from her chair, rushed over, and gave him a huge hug.
Red chuckled as he stood, picked her up, and gave her a swing, which made her giggle. Setting her back on her feet, Red said, “Okay, let’s get to work.”
A dragging hour later, he left their lists behind and headed for the stairs. “Oh.” He looked back at her as she turned off the lights. “Did you tell anybody else about having a reader come to Ever After?”
“No, dear. I didn’t know for sure until this morning.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. Whatever the residents of Ever After were gossiping about, it couldn’t be that important. He smiled. And now Gran had something they’d all be gossiping about.
He climbed the stairs, collapsed onto his bed, kicked off his flip-flops, and yanked his covers over himself.
His eyes popped open. Jeez, set the alarm.
He pulled himself up, plugged in his phone, set it for 7:00 a.m. slid quickly into the bathroom for a fast pee and tooth brush, then returned to the clean sheets.
What a list. The next morning, his gran was going to call Rex at the carpet cleaner and beg him to come clean the wall-to-wall. Then she was going shopping to buy herself a couple new outfits—and promised she actually would. Her hair and nails were last-minute projects after they decorated her “workspace.” That was funny, because Gran usually wrote the blog on the dining table or sitting up in her bed, so the decorated little workstation was pure fiction. Still, they needed someplace to take the video.
Red forced himself to breathe long and slow. After working his shift, manhandling a pile of work orders into a bookkeeping program, coming out to Gran, and then planning her whole approach to the video, he was beat. Still, the muscles in his legs kept jumping and his eyelids twitched. He needed to relax and sleep. In through the nose, out through the nose…
Jeez, I came out to Gran!
She’d been pretty great about it, except for the Mark thing. Of course, she didn’t know Mark at all, and Mark never encouraged people to get to know him, so it was too much to expect her to jump up and down clapping. Funny how she’d always suspected Red was gay. I wonder how many other people think that? He released a breath. Most, probably.
How do I feel about it? Let’s say, Mark is out of the picture. Do I want to be gay?
Whoa, that made his heart squeeze. Still, he didn’t really believe in gay-for-you, no matter how much he loved romance novels. He believed in you-make-me-realize-I’m-gay, or bisexual, or pansexual, yes, but not I-was-a-straight-arrow-hetero-guy-and-now-I’m-sucking-cock-because-of-you.
Clearly, Red was picky and it might be too much trouble to come out for anyone but Mark, but that didn’t make him straight. Bisexual? He loved girls as friends, but never wanted to touch a breast in his life. So, gay. How do I feel about it?
Gran’s funny statement came back to mind. Right. I don’t have much to say about being gay. So I need to make it work.
He flipped on his side and cradled his head on his hands. Better yet, why not excel?
Chuckling, he fell asleep and dreamed of breakfast.
* * *
“Red!”
Caught. Red’s butt was out the front door when he leaned back in and yelled, “Yes, Gran.”
“Do you think I can get someone to paint my office?”
“You mean the ex-linen closet?”
“Don’t be fresh.” But she smiled. “I’d really like to paint it a lively color.”
“I don’t see how before tomorrow, Gran. I work until 11:00 p.m. tonight. It’ll be fine with all your cool pictures in it.”
“I guess. Have a good breakfast, dear.”
“Thanks, Gran.” He took that as permission and practically jumped off the front porch. Mark’s truck stood idling at the curb, and Red ran to it. Mark opened his door, but Red was into the passenger seat and buckling up before Mark got a boot on the ground.
Mark glanced at him, startled. “Uh, hi. Good to see you too.”
Red waved toward the windshield. “Just drive, before she thinks of something else.”
Mark threw the old truck into gear and they propelled forward with more noise than speed. Red leaned back against the scratchy plastic seat and blinked.
Mark glanced at him. “What’s going on?”
“Something pretty incredible, actually. Do you know my gran does this blog called Granny in Jammys where she gives advice on food and lifestyle and even romance?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it. I read it sometimes.”
“You do?” Red shook his head. “Sometimes she even turns it into a vlog and she videos the episode. Anyway, she got an email from a fan who said Gran had made all the difference in her life and she wanted to come visit her in Ever After.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah, well it turns out that the fan is Christasy Anselmo.” Red looked at Mark. “You know who that is?”
“Uh, yeah. I work under cars, not under rocks.”
Red chuckle
d. “Right. So Christasy is coming here to our house tomorrow to video Gran and interview her for Christasy’s YouTube channel. Needless to say, Gran’s freaking out.”
“Wow. That’s really great for her.”
“Yes, but she’s flying around trying to get a millions things done and—” His cell rang. “That’s her.” He clicked the speaker on. “Hi, Gran.”
“Rex can’t come and do the carpets.” She sounded so disappointed.
“Oh damn. Sorry. Well, it doesn’t look that bad. She wants to talk to you, not look at the floor.”
“That’s ridiculous, Red, and you know it. We’ve been putting that carpet cleaning off all winter and now we’re paying the price. Can you stop and rent a machine?”
“If I do it at midnight tonight, it won’t be dry in time for when your video crew arrives.”
“Just get the machine. I’ll do it.”
“Come on, Gran. Those machines are heavy. That won’t work.”
“I have to do something.” She seldom sounded upset, but this was definitely an exception.
Mark put a hand on Red’s arm. “Tell her you’ll handle it.”
“But how—?”
“Just tell her.”
“Don’t worry, Gran. I’ll get it done somehow.”
“Are you sure?”
Mark nodded, so Red said, “Yep. Stop worrying. It’ll get done.”
She literally breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, dear. That means so much to me.”
When Red had assured her a couple more times, he hung up. “How’s this going to work? You really know someone who can do this on a minute’s notice?”
“Yeah, not a problem. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll drop you off at the shop, and then I’ll go, uh, work it out.”
“Man, you’re the hero of the hour. I think she’d clean that carpet with a toothbrush if we don’t do something.”
“We’ll save her from carpet dentistry.”
Red snorted. When Mark was just being himself, he was really funny.
Mark pulled into the parking lot of the Wafflery, and fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in front of two plates heaped with fried eggs, waffles, and bacon. True, Gran would not be proud, but the pace they were moving just couldn’t be maintained on oatmeal and fruit. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
Mark was chewing slowly and mostly pushing food around on his plate. He seemed distracted. Staring at his waffle, words suddenly burst out of his mouth. “So how’s work?”
Red blinked. “Uh, good.”
“What do you like about it?”
Red almost laughed. It was as if Mark had practiced these questions. Maybe he actually had. “I like that it’s always busy and different.”
Mark looked up with wide eyes. “Really? It seems like it’d be the same.”
“No. I mean, think about it. Every group of people’s different. Even if you’ve met them a bunch of times, you don’t know what kind of day they’ve had or what kind of food they want that day. Plus Mom and Pop give me lots of different responsibilities, so I get to do books when I want some mental challenge, and when I’m brain dead, I can fill the ketchup and mustard holders.” He chuckled.
“I never thought of that.”
“I think it’d be fun to run a small business like Mom and Pop’s or your garage. Do you like it?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I mean I never got to think about it much. My dad died and I took over. It was sink or swim.” He sipped his coffee.
“That’s amazing really. You were just a kid and you had to do everything.”
He shrugged and his cheeks might have gotten a little pink. “My dad kept things going pretty well, until the end when he was dying. But he worked hard to make sure I knew where everything was and signed over the business to me so it wouldn’t get tied up in court.”
“Wow, he must have been a great guy. I never knew him.”
A crease popped between Mark’s brows, but then he shrugged. “He was tough. No touchy-feely. And he had a lot of problems when my mother left. But he worked hard and expected me to do the same.”
“What happened to your mom?”
Mark’s bright green eyes flicked up to Red’s face, then back to his plate. “She walked out when I was little. Like I said, my dad was tough and I guess she couldn’t take anymore.” Red shivered at the edge of pain that flashed across Mark’s face and then was gone. Mark softly let go of a breath and said, “A few year’s later, he told me she died. I didn’t really know her very well. I guess I always thought I might get a chance to, but—” Those shoulders lifted again, and then a trace of a smile tugged at his mouth. “I always wondered if I was like her.”
“Aren’t you like your dad?”
He ran a hand across his dark hair. His voice was soft. “Shit, I hope not.”
Suddenly, that moment when Mark said he wasn’t proud of doing something violent flashed in Red’s memory. He wanted to cry or hug Mark or at least put a warm hand on his arm. He didn’t. He just said, “I’m sorry.”
Mark’s hand made another pass and then he sat back. “But now it’s just me and he left me set up well enough to make some kind of life if I don’t screw it up.”
“Did you get to finish high school?”
He shook his head. “No. I left to take care of him while he was sick and learn the business at the same time I was running it. I went back and got my GED. Even took a couple college courses at night in business. I’m sure no whiz at it.” His lips turned up. “I guess you know that firsthand.”
Red gave in to his desire and put his hand on Mark’s forearm. “I can’t even imagine how you’ve managed to do it all by yourself.”
“Can I get you boys anything else?”
Red glanced up straight into the narrowed eyes and phony smile of Rachel Machellian, their waitress and one of the biggest gossips in Ever After. Her over-made-up eyes bounced from Red’s face to his hand.
Shit! He ripped his grasp away from Mark’s arm before he even got how guilty that made him look. Double shit. He swallowed hard. “No thanks, Rach. This mountain of food about killed me as it is.”
Her bright red lips pulled back from her teeth. “Well, you’re just such a wisp of a thing, you must eat like a bird.” She glanced at Mark who was staring at his hands and then back at Red.
“Yep, well, Mark’s just feeding me before I go to work balancing all his business’s books. I’ve got a real busy day ahead.” Yes, he was babbling and Rachel probably knew it, but Mark plopped some money on the bill and it was a fair amount more than the total. Not so much it looked like a bribe, but enough to get a big smile from Rachel.
“Oh thanks a lot.”
He just nodded, but she batted her lashes. She was in her thirties, which made her a lot too old for Mark, but he had to be yummy to any woman.
Red said, “We better get to work.”
Rachel looked straight at Mark. “Can I give you a refill to go?”
He cocked half a smile—did he know that was more devastating than a full grin? “No thanks. I’m overcaffeinated. But appreciate the thought.”
Hell, if anything would convince her Mark was totally hetero, that was it. Of course, that wouldn’t keep her from telling people Red was trying to hit on Mark Woods.
Chapter Seven
Shit!
Frowning, Red stepped off the bus, kicked at a stone, and started walking the two blocks to Mom and Pop’s. He hadn’t seen Mark since the guy had dropped Red off at the auto shop five hours before. After Red had worked for a couple hours, one of Mark’s employees had come in to say Mark had called. He wasn’t coming back to the repair shop, but Red shouldn’t worry, he’d taken care of the carpet cleaning. So hell, Red should be grateful and he was—kind of.
No. He kicked at another stone on the sidewalk. The truth was, he mostly felt disappointed.
Oh well, at least Gran would be satisfied.
And he’d gotten Mark’s books balanced. Yes, he could improve an
d simplify the system, but within the constraints of Mark’s processes, he’d done the job.
That was disappointing too. He sure wouldn’t have minded having an excuse to go back a couple more times, especially since he hadn’t seen Mark the whole day.
Jeez, I wonder if I’ll see him at all—except from the back at the counter at Mom and Pop’s?
As he rounded the corner toward the restaurant, he glanced across the street and stopped. Gran stood talking to Hansen Hefferson. Funny. Red had figured she’d be totally immersed in house stuff all day. Her hands waved as she looked up at the local real estate guy. Red was pretty sure Hansen was on the Ever After Improvement Committee with Gran so something must be important. He started to wave, but she seemed engrossed and he was almost late. Get going.
He trotted down the alley, hopped over a puddle, and walked up to the back door of the restaurant with a deep breath and square shoulders. Time to go to work. They had popular comfort food specials on Thursday that always made it crowded.
He pushed through the back door into the storage room they also used as a place to keep their personal stuff and ran into Chewy, who grabbed Red’s shoulders to keep him from falling over.
“Whoa, my man. You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. My fault. I wasn’t watching.”
Chewy grinned, which popped dimples in his freckled cheeks. “Was I right about that big-city party, or was I right?”
“Yep, they were big tippers, all right.”
He laughed. “I figured that pretty puss of yours would ring maximum moola from those big-city pockets, and man, was I right.”
Red must have frowned because Chewy grabbed his arm. “Hey, no offense. I just got the feeling they were like in the entertainment biz or something and thought they might be used to the beautiful people. You know, like you.”
No point getting mad. Chewy really didn’t mean anything by it. “Thanks, Chewy. They were very generous, so we all got a nice bonus.” Red opened his small locker, put on his fresh apron, tied up his ponytail, glanced at his phone once to see if maybe, just maybe he might have heard from Mark, then, disappointed, headed out to the thick of things.
