Better Red

by Tara Lain

  “Red, I’ve never seen you do a Diva thing in your life.”

  “Yeah, until tonight. First and last time, I hope. And thank you.”

  There was a short pause, and then Mark said, “So that guy’s a modeling agent?”

  “Uh yes, apparently.”

  “So you’re finally going to get discovered like your gran always wanted.”

  “I doubt that. I mean, they probably look at hundreds of people for every one they actually represent.” Say it as if you believe it.

  “They’d be insane not to sign you. I mean come on.”

  Red couldn’t catch his breath. He desperately wanted to ask Mark what he meant, but he didn’t have the nerve. “Thank you.”

  “He’s a pretty young guy to be such a big deal.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. He’s not more than forty, maybe less, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.”

  “Really good looking too.”

  Red took a breath and told an out-and-out lie. “Oh? Is he?”

  For the first time on the comfortable, relieving phone call, they fell into silence.

  Finally, Red tried to make his voice sound not awkward and said, “I better get to bed. Big day tomorrow. Come on over if you want to see the Ridley three-ring circus.” He laughed, but it didn’t sound too real, so he quit.

  “You don’t know if that would be okay with Christasy.”

  “Heck, it’s our house. We can invite our friends if we want.” He really wished he hadn’t decided to say friends. “You know, we can have who we want.”

  “Thanks. You’ll probably be done before I get off. But thanks.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  There was a pause. Mark said, “See y’a.” And hung up.

  He’d just reached quintuple fuck.

  * * *

  “Red, time to get up. Come on, the crew will be here in half an hour.”

  Red opened one eye. The other one was pressed against the mattress under his pillow. “Ohh-kay.”

  “Don’t okay me, young man. I want to see you moving and I’m not leaving until you do.” She yanked the covers off his face, then pulled his pillow from his head.

  “Ohhh, it’s so early.” He glanced toward his bedroom window where the sky was barely light.

  “I know, but today’s a special day and you need to participate. I’m sorry, but today isn’t about you, my dear.”

  After his disgusting behavior toward Mark, that hit home. Red sat up and stretched his neck. “Sorry, Gran. You’re right. I’m up.”

  She was already dressed in a pretty outfit of pink jeans and a lightweight rose-colored sweater. With hands planted firmly on her hips, she said, “Let’s not get carried away with the Mother Teresa thing, okay? I’m actually sorry you don’t get more rest, but this will only last a day and then we’ll be back to normal. Just get dressed and I’ll have some food for you downstairs.” She paused at the bedroom door and gave a little hop. “I’m so excited.” Then she vanished into the hall.

  Red jumped up. Of course she is and I’m acting like an asshole.

  Rushing into the bathroom, he took a quick shower and washed his mane. He even pulled out his dryer so he wouldn’t look like a drowned rat when the camera crew came. He would not embarrass Gran on her big day.

  After dressing in jeans and a white sweater that he knew Gran liked, he carefully made his bed in case somebody came upstairs, and then hurried down to Gran who was pulling some cinnamon rolls from the oven. “Whoa. Those smell like heaven.”

  “She pointed at a small bowl at his place on the kitchen table. “You can have one, but you need to eat your eggs first. The protein prevents—”

  “The sugar rush.” He grinned. “So I’ve heard.”

  She stopped and gazed at him. “I’m sorry to be a nutrition nag.”

  He snorted. “No you’re not. You wouldn’t be Granny in Jammys if you couldn’t tell the rest of us how to live better.”

  “I suppose it does go with the job.” She put the roll on a small plate and set it beside the eggs he was spooning into his mouth systematically.

  Red waved his spoon at the bowl. “These are good. Is that feta cheese in there?”

  “Yes, do you like it? It adds both protein and flavor. Win/win.” She iced the rolls, leaning over to add a little icing to Red’s pastry, and then put the rest of them on a pretty plate.

  Voices drifted in from the front of the house and Gran’s eyes got wide. “That must be them.” She rushed out of the room.

  Red shoved most of the cinnamon roll into his mouth in one bite, chewed, then pushed in the balance as he carried his two dishes to the sink, rinsed and set them in the dishwasher. Then he wandered toward the front where the collection of voices had gotten louder. Sucking in breath against the nerves he got thinking about meeting Christasy Anselmo, he stepped into a now very busy living room.

  A whole lot of people, mostly guys and not including Christasy, rushed around carrying lights and poles.

  Gran said, “Redmond, please show people where to set up in the kitchen.”

  “Sure. Follow me.” He waved toward the group, not sure who’d follow. Two men did, carrying lights and equipment. Red waved his arms around, showing them where Gran stood when she cooked and other details.

  As the lights were set up, Gran came in with a tall guy probably in his forties with a pencil behind his ear.

  Gran said, “Red, this is Mr. Hathaway, our director.”

  Wow. He knew Christasy was a big deal, but this was like Hollywood, not YouTube. Red extended his hand and shook with the director. “Please to meet you, sir.”

  “Just call me Rog. Everyone does.” He reached out fast and grabbed Red’s chin in his fingers—hard. “Wow, that’s some face you got there, kid. I’d like to use you in a bunch of the shots with your mom, here.”

  “She’s my grandmother.” Red yanked his chin away and tried not to scowl.

  Gran said, “It will be fine to use Red in your video, Mr. Hathaway. Right now, he comes free, but we don’t expect that to be true much longer.” She put a hand to her mouth and mock-whispered, “A big agency’s after him.”

  Oh jeez, he’d almost forgotten about that in his rushing around that morning. Yeah, and he’d been happy to forget.

  Chapter Ten

  “Redmond, we need a light right there.” Gran pointed to the middle of the ceiling in the living room.

  Red glanced up. “Seriously? Do I get there by skyhook?” He was now two relentless hours into setting up for Gran’s big adventure, and gymnastics wasn’t on his agenda.

  “We’ve got a stepladder and a few strong men to help, right gentlemen?” She glanced around at the two big men —Marv and Rico—who’d been manhandling everything into place.

  They nodded. Marv said, “You’re the tallest and the lightest, Red. We can lift you easier than the other way around.”

  After a look at Marv’s fireplug build, Red shrugged. “Okay.”

  He clambered up on the ladder, balanced on the top, and put his hands out for the light. It wasn’t too heavy, but the LEDs had been enclosed in a box made of light fabric that diffused the light and it was large and awkward. Red grasped the edges, but it was so big, he had trouble seeing around and over it to the hook on the ceiling that had been there since he was a baby and maybe long before from some forgotten chandelier of some forgotten ancestor. At least forgotten by him.

  Red leaned back and tilted his head toward the ceiling and—whoa!

  Marv shoved a hand against Red’s butt and kept him on the ladder.

  “Thanks. That was close.” Red laughed hysterically.

  Marv waved to Rico. “Come on. Let’s hold him up.” The two men grasped Red by the legs and balanced him as he leaned far out and reached up.

  Three things happened at once.

  As Red strained upward to reach the hook, his never-tight-enough jeans started sliding south on his nonexistent hips, and he felt a startling cooln
ess on his butt crack.

  At the same moment, the front door burst open and a bright, musical and loud female voice said, “Did you think I’d never get here? Oh, dear God, Marv, Rico, what are you doing sniffing that guy’s ass?”

  As anyone who’d ever seen Marv and Rico would have guessed, at the accusation they let go of Red’s legs so fast that he over-balanced in his stretched-out position and, like someone chopped down his Christmas tree, he timbered toward the ground. All he could think was how much the damned light must cost, so he struggled not to let go of it, even though his feet left the ladder, and he saw the freshly polished glass coffee table seeming to rise toward him in slow motion.

  Gran screamed, “No! Red. Oh Lord, somebody!”

  Bodies roiled around him. Someone grabbed the light from Red’s grasp, which at least freed him up to flail his arms.

  Just as he threw up an arm and squeezed his eyes shut to protect his face from the effects of shattering glass, strong arms grabbed him and he was clutched against a lean, hard body.

  “Gotcha!”

  Heart beating so hard he could barely breathe, Red blinked and stared at the deep, dark eyes, bright white teeth, and inch deep dimples of Brock Wolfe. “You.”

  “Fancy meeting you here.” All the teeth appeared in full display.

  For a couple seconds, that mesmerizing effect Wolfe seemed to have on Red went into action, then he managed to take a breath, squirm to be let down, and say, “Thank you. Uh, what are you doing here?” Red took a step back.

  Wolfe chuckled. “I think that’s my question.” He waved the very pretty, young woman behind him forward. “This is Christasy. She’s my client. Christasy, this is Red.”

  Red felt his face heat as he took Christasy’s offered hand. “Hi. I’m a huge fan.” Wow, just wow. On her YouTube show, Christasy was pretty, funny, and completely cool. Standing here, the force of her personality shone through her smile.

  “Hey, amazing. You’re the one Brock’s been raving about. Glad to meet you.” She looked around. “But actually, how did this happen? Did you know we’d be here?”

  “Uh yes. I knew you would, Ms. Anselmo. I’m Red Ridley and my grandmother is—”

  She clapped her hands together. “Nora Ridley. Granny in Jammys! That’s a wild coincidence. You’re the grandson she’s always talking about.”

  “Guilty.” He walked across the room to where Gran stood observing the scene with slightly raised brows. Probably glad Red met Christasy, but maybe feeling like he’d stolen her thunder. “This is who you came to see.”

  “Oh my God, of course it is!” Christasy flew across the room and hugged Gran like she’d known her forever. “The woman who changed my life. I’m so thrilled to meet you.”

  Gran actually blushed as she hugged back. “I can’t imagine how a person like me could have any impact on the life of such a brilliant young woman, but I’m honored you think so.”

  Christasy stepped back and looked around. “Well obviously, I’ve changed your life—for the worse! Good God, guys, could we have interrupted Mrs. Ridley’s home anymore?” She crossed her arms. “I mean, you missed a satellite dish on the roof and a new cell tower.”

  Hathaway, the director, stuck his head in from the kitchen. “Knew you didn’t want to miss anything, babe. Get ready and we’ll start with the living room interview.” He disappeared again.

  Christasy turned to Gran. “Okay, go do anything you want done and then I’ll do a last minute touchup on your makeup, okay? I like to do it myself.”

  “I made some tea, cinnamon rolls, and cookies for us,” Gran said.

  “Perfect.”

  Gran bustled out of the room and a woman who’d come in with Christasy hurried over to her and set up a lighted mirror on one of Gran’s side tables.

  Red turned to speak to Brock just in time to see him disappear into the kitchen where Gran had gone. Hathaway was standing near the door looking at the room set-up. Without intending to eavesdrop on Wolfe talking to Gran—exactly—Red sidled over to Hathaway. “Everything ready to go?” Red grinned, but his ears should have been spinning he was listening so hard.

  Hathaway nodded. “We’ll have to do some last minute tweaks after they’re in place.”

  Red nodded back, but he heard Gran saying, “I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Wolfe. I was very excited when Redmond told me you’d spoken to him.”

  “Red’s very interesting to me, but then, so are you.”

  “Me?” Red could imagine her pressing a hand to her chest as she said that. She did everything except giggle. Somehow, that reminded him of Mrs. Delphi and he felt a shudder go up his back.

  Wolfe’s voice sounded like some kind of expensive liqueur being poured into a cup of coffee—warm, silky, and overwhelming all your best judgment. “Yes. When Christasy called and told me she was doing a show with her favorite blogger who had changed her life, I knew I needed to meet you. Then I found out you were right in the tiny town I happened to be visiting and I knew it was a serious act of fate. I always pay attention to destiny, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes, but are you saying when you came here today, you didn’t know this is Redmond’s home?”

  “No. I actually didn’t. Even more destiny, right?”

  “Amazing.” There was a pause and then Gran said, “I better get the tea out there or Christasy will think I chickened out.”

  Wolfe laughed as dishes clanked. Red ambled back into the room, away from Hathaway. A minute later, Wolfe carried the tea tray in with Gran hot on his heels. Christasy commandeered Gran and started touching up her makeup.

  Wolfe set the tea tray on the coffee table, then walked over to Red. “Funny coincidence seeing you here.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at Gran getting some extra eyebrows. “Are you interested in Gran as a model?”

  He grinned. “I see you inspected the website.” He glanced toward Gran. “It’s very possible. My talent pool is made up of fashion models and what we call ‘real people’ who do commercials as well as catalogs and such. We’ll have to see how your grandmother photographs and looks on camera.”

  “You know she’ll look great.” He grinned. “She does everything well.”

  “You two seem really close.”

  “Yep. She’s my family.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  Funny. Since everyone in Ever After knew his story, he seldom had to answer that question. “Never knew my dad. Actually, didn’t know my mother either.”

  “So you’re adopted?”

  “Kind of. Gran actually is my grandmother, my mother’s mother. My birth mother had problems. She had me and died soon after. Gran pretty much had me from day one. Nobody else would ever have thought about naming me Redmond.”

  Brock smiled. “Right. Red. Not about the hair.”

  “No.” He ran a hand through his mane. “Gran figured she must be naming a romance hero.”

  “I’d say she figured right.”

  Some combo of embarrassment, thrill, and fear coursed through Red. What the hell does he mean by that? Worse, what do I want him to mean? Red inhaled slowly. Seriously, this is a sophisticated, big city man who must have ten or more years on me. He can have anybody he wants. Why would he come on to me?

  Meanwhile, Brock’s gaze had moved to where Christasy and Gran sat in two side-by-side chairs with a small table between where their teacups were sitting. Hathaway knelt in front of them, giving instructions.

  As Hathaway stood and backed up, he pointed at the two women and Gran began to pour tea, then she dished up a cinnamon roll on a pretty plate that she handed to Christasy.

  Christasy’s eyes widened. “What? Is Granny in Jammys, who changed my whole dietary life, suggesting that I eat a cinnamon roll?”

  Gran smiled. “Everyone needs a cinnamon roll once in a while to celebrate a special occasion, and for me, this is a very special occasion.” She held up a finger. “But, these are made with almond flour and allulose for sweetness, so they’re gluten-
free, keto—” She held up a finger. “—and paleo.”

  Christasy looked at the camera as she picked up a cinnamon roll. “Hey guys, this is a special day for me too since I came all the way to Ever After, New York to meet one of my favorite bloggers, Nora Ridley, the famous Granny in Jammys. If you guys haven’t read this fantastic blog, then run don’t walk.” She took a bite of her roll, chewed and licked her lips. “Yum. So let’s dig into the secrets of this amazing woman, and then we’ll put her to work cooking some of her fantastic recipes and maybe even doing a few of the exercises she recommends to squish fitness into your day.”

  They plunged into the interview and Gran was doing great.

  “So, you did look at my website.”

  Red jumped as Brock’s silky voice poured right into his ear. “Oh! Uh, yes. Yes I did.” He took a small step to separate his body parts from Brock’s lips.

  “What do you think?”

  Red whispered, “Very impressive, but I have to watch Gran. There will be a test later.”

  Brock snorted and Red moved in closer so he could see and hear every detail—and so he didn’t have to answer Brock yet.

  * * *

  Brock Wolfe stood back, crossed his arms, and stared at Redmond Ridley as Red, in turn, stared at his grandmother. Though truthfully, the kid did seem very aware of Brock. His lips turned up just a hint. Brock wandered slowly to Rog Hathaway who stood behind the videographer.

  “Rog?” He spoke softly.

  Hathaway nodded but kept his eyes on the two women talking. “Yeah?”

  “Get the kid in there. The grandson.”

  “Yeah.”

  Brock sauntered back to where he’d been standing near the arch that led to the entry. Behind him, he heard the front door open just as Rog yelled, “Let’s stop for a minute. Christasy, ask Mrs. Ridley to introduce you to the grandson she’s always talking about.” He turned toward Red then waved at the makeup artist. “Slap some makeup on Red, okay? Just enhance those eyes a little and maybe turn down the shine.”

  The kid was pretty much backing up, a hand pressed to his chest, and his cheeks flaming. “No. You don’t need me. Gran’s doing great.”