The Farm

by Matt Moss

  “Don’t know. They didn’t speak much and we only saw them at supper.”

  “I shall have to meet them sometime then.” He begins putting on his work boots. “Going to be a good day to work. Not so humid. I’m looking forward to it.”

  And to think, I was just warming up to you being somewhat normal. “Hey, do you have that book?”

  “Yes. Why? Are you going to read it?”

  I nod my head yes and he walks over to a pile of straw that it looks like he’s been sleeping on. I’m not even going to ask.

  He pulls Meditations from the middle of a hay bale and tosses it to me. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m going for a walk now. I should be back before everyone’s ready. If I were you, I’d use this time to start reading.”

  “I will.”

  When he leaves, I find a corner in the back of the barn and begin to read. Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome. Philosopher, soldier, commander, leader. He’s hailed for his wisdom and profound knowledge of stoicism. The chapters read like a diary journal—his thoughts bouncing from one topic to the next. But they are clear thoughts and it’s nice to see that I’m not the only one who struggles with the way things are in the world. Even though he was a ruler, he shared the same problems that everyone does in life.

  I don’t have much time to read before the others arrive. I hear them coming so I hide the book and make my way to the front of the barn.

  “Cole, what are you doing here so early?” Mr. Gibbs asks.

  “Couldn’t sleep much. Guess I’m just excited for the party tonight.”

  Gibbs fires up a smoke and flicks his lighter shut. “You and me both,” he says with a smile after exhaling. “It’s gonna be a doozy, for sure.”

  Mr. Red rolls up with buckets of corn on the back rack. Mr. Gibbs turns to us and claps one time. “Alright. Let’s go earn our keep. Work hard, play hard.”

  Before I know it, the farmhands are calling work for the day. It’s earlier than normal due to the position of the sun, and that’s fine by me. I’ve been looking forward to cutting loose and letting go. Been thinking about it all day.

  “Man, this is going to be great,” Don says at the well while we all wash up. “I’m really looking forward to this. Larry, c’mon. You sure you don’t want to join us?”

  “Surer than sure, thank you,” Larry replies. Donald shakes his head.

  “More for us then,” Abram notes. “Hey Cole, you think Mr. Whyte will party with us?”

  “I don’t know. Hard to say. I guess it depends on what mood he’s in and how everyone acts tonight, especially Red and Gibbs. I think he feels betrayed a bit.”

  Abram blows his nose. “Bah, he’ll get over it. He could do to lighten up a bit, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how about you? You gonna lighten up and have a good time tonight?” Donald asks and knuckles my head.

  I shove him back. “Yes. Now get off me, damnit.”

  He smiles back at me. “That’s right. Cole’s feeling it, I’m feeling it, you’re feeling it,” he points to Abram and Benji. “Tonight’s going to be epic!”

  Without warning, Mr. Red comes around the corner of the barn holding an armful of fine, black clothing. “Wear these tonight. Shouldn’t be looking like a bunch of trailer park boys on a night such as this.” Beside the barn, he gently sets them down on the bench that we’ve made out of a fallen tree and a couple large, flat rocks. “We’ll see you shortly,” he says, then leaves.

  Abram’s the first to put the suit on. “I’ve always wanted my own tuxedo. Knew I would look damn good in one, too. What do you guys think?”

  “Not bad,” Donald says, fixing the top button of his own suit. “But not as good as me. Sorry, Abe, you just don’t look this good.” We all laugh as he pulls the collar tight to emphasize the words.

  “How do you get this damn thing around your neck?” Benji asks, struggling with the tie.

  “Here, I’ll show you,” Abram says and begins to tie a windsor. Precise hands make quick work of the knot and he stands back to admire his work. “There. Much better. And here I would have thought you would have been the first to know how to put a tie on.”

  Benji furrows his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Abram says and slicks his hair back with a handful of water.

  “Thanks for showing me,” Benji says and steps to Donald. “I’m ready. How do I look?”

  “You look great, Benji. Cole, you ready? Abram? Here we go then. Let’s do the damn thing.”

  There’s an extra pep in our step as we strut towards the white house. Not fast, but a slow, cool, gangster type of walk. One with swagger. We stand on the porch with hands in our pockets as Donald knocks on the door.

  Gibbs opens it and his eyes go wide. “Oooeee! Look at you four bad mother fuckers! I ain’t never seen a better looking bunch on this farm, I swear. Come on inside and let’s get this party started.” With an open arm, he welcomes us into Mr. Whyte’s home. He’s wearing a nice button up shirt that’s tucked into a pair of slacks and I wonder why he’s not wearing a tux like the rest of us. Maybe he just wants us to feel special. We step into the foyer and immediately get hit with the smell of delicious food. Music is playing in the background; some song I don’t know but it’s classical and suits the mood.

  Jane and Eve appear from the living room to greet us, and all eyes are on them. The four of us stand dumb and speechless, gawking at how marvelous they look.

  Jane’s wearing a red dress that rides about mid-thigh, tightly cropped. A pearl necklace drapes between her half-covered breasts, her hair wild looking and a bit messy. Red lips smile at us below her enchanting green eyes that seem to swallow me in.

  Eve has on a flirty little black dress that sits tight against her body, revealing her curves in all the right places. Her straight, black hair gently rests on her shoulders. And she must’ve just had her bangs cut from where they were long before.

  We stand there, still gawking.

  Gibbs hugs them both, smiling from ear to ear. “Go on, ladies. Show them into the living room.”

  They strut towards us, one ivory leg crossing in front of the other, their eyes intense and looking right at us, as opposed to last night when they could barely look up. Eve takes Benji’s and Abram’s hands, and Jane takes mine and Donald’s in each of hers. “Right this way, gentlemen,” she says and her voice sends chills down my spine.

  “As long as you’re leading, I’ll follow you anywhere,” Donald tells her, not lacking at all in confidence.

  Her hips sway and brush against mine as we walk. The smell of her perfume is more than intoxicating, and my fingers twitch in her hand.

  Mr. Gibbs follows us. “Every girl’s crazy about a sharp dressed man, in case you didn’t know.”

  They guide us to the furniture. “Make yourself comfortable,” Jane tells me and walks to a table in the back. I do as she tells me but can’t take my eyes off her. She comes back and offers us a drink.

  “Thank you,” Donald says and gives her a wink. She smiles back and touches his arm before serving the others. Don eases back in his seat with a grin and takes a drink.

  “Told you boys I had a big night planned, and I’m about to make good on that promise. For starters, whiskey. And not just any whiskey.” Gibbs walks to the table and brings the bottle back for us to admire. “This is Louis VIII. Right now, I’m holding the equivalent of a mortgage payment on a house sitting next to the eighteenth green of a country club. And that’s what’s in your glass. Enjoy.”

  Benji nearly chokes on the expensive drink after hearing the price, but puts his hands up to keep any of it from spilling from his mouth. Jane stands next to Gibbs and offers him the last glass, which he takes with appreciation and lets the drink fall down his gullet, his eyes closed as he takes it in. “Gah-damn… now that’s good.”

  “Shall I pour you another glass?” Jane asks.

  “Pour us all another,
sweetheart,” he tells her and sets the empty glass on her serving tray along with the bottle of whiskey.

  I drink all mine at once and relish every moment of it. Not just the whiskey—the tuxedo I’m dressed in, the house and the furniture, the company. The women.

  So this is the high life. I ease back and sit comfortably in the lap of luxury.

  “Whatcha think, Cole?” Gibbs asks me. My eyes shift to him, then to the side where the ladies are working together to make us another drink, their bodies moving and bending more than they should for such a task.

  My gaze snaps back to Gibbs and I feel a smile creep onto my face. “I could get used to this.”

  He claps and bites his lower lip. “My man. How about the rest of you all? Could you get used to this?”

  “Oh hell, yes,” Abram says.

  “Too late, Mr. Gibbs,” Benji replies. “I’m already used to this.”

  “Ha! How about you Don?”

  “To the whiskey, it’s okay. I prefer the cheap shit,” Donald says. “But to this way of life? I don’t ever want to look back.”

  Eve brings the rounds this time while Jane walks to a jukebox that I hadn’t seen before. They must have brought it in for the party tonight and exchanged it for the record player. I watch her bend over the glass to make a selection, her dress riding up higher as she contemplates what to put on. “Here you go, Cole,” Eve says, snapping me out of my daze. “Thank you, Eve.” Before she can walk away, I speak my mind. “By the way, you look lovely tonight.”

  Wordless, she turns back to me and smiles fondly in appreciation. She takes drinks to the others and a song begins to play. Jane begins to wiggle, her back turned to the group. She runs both hands through her wild, straight blonde hair and cranes her neck back as they slowly make their way down to her hips.

  All eyes are on her. She turns around and doesn’t seem to mind that we’re all watching her. The next thing I know, she’s inviting Eve over to dance with her and the two mesmerize the room.

  Just as the song ends, Mr. Red enters the room pushing a cart of succulent meats steaming inside a silver platter, the smell igniting my pallet in anticipation.

  Mr. Gibbs rubs his hands together. “Here comes the good stuff. Everyone, dig in.”

  We gather around the platter and begin to pick from an assortment of beef, pork, and lamb.

  “What about plates and silverware?” Benji asks, not finding any.

  “Use your hands,” Gibbs replies and takes a piece.

  Greasy fingers pull from the piles as we all consume the food that’s in front of us. To my surprise, even the women dig in, uncaring about what properness should or shouldn’t look like. We all eat like savages with bits of meat and grease around our mouths and covering our hands. The only sounds that come from us are grunts and moans of jubilee.

  Gibbs pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes himself clean.

  “Any napkins?” Benji asks, holding his messy hands up.

  “Here,” Gibbs says and tosses him the handkerchief. Benji scowls at the soiled rag, but uses it anyway. “Anyone care to smoke?” Gibbs asks and holds up a joint.

  “Me,” Jane says.

  “Me, too,” Eve chimes and raises her hand up.

  “Yep!” Donald says and wipes his hands on his pants.

  Gibbs walks over to the middle of the room in front of the fireplace and lights up. Everyone joins him, including myself. I deliberately make sure I’m the last one to join the circle so I can slide in between the women. Donald and Abram give me a jealous look when I do, and I can’t help but grin back.

  Gibbs passes to Jane who’s on his left, and I watch as she puts the joint to her ruby red lips. She pulls it away slowly, smoke trailing from her mouth, and passes it to me—her soft fingers touching mine in doing so. I take two hits, then hand it off to Eve who takes it and touches my arm with her free hand. Jane giggles and gently nudges me, pressing my body between them. The guys are really glaring at me now. I look up to the ceiling and blow smoke, a sheepish grin a mile wide, trying my best not to laugh out loud.

  When we’re done, Gibbs tells the ladies to pour another round. The bottle empties, but it’s enough to fill everyone’s glass. “We’ll get another one in a minute,” Gibbs promises and we toast to tomorrow.

  “To tomorrow.”

  Red comes back in with another platter of skewered vegetables and fresh fruits. A short time later, he returns with ten different hand-crafted cheeses.

  I’ve never ate so good in my life.

  Abram cracks open a jug of his homemade wine and passes it around. Everyone compliments the drink, especially the ladies, and he begins talking science with them about the process of fermentation. They nod like they’re interested, smile and occasionally take a drink as he rambles on. Donald, jealous of the attention, eases over and joins the three of them, nodding at Abram like he’s never heard the story before. He’s heard it at least three times; we all have.

  I look back at the buffet and steal a piece of cheese.

  Damn, I forgot about Larry.

  I scrape one of the trays onto another and begin compiling a meal for him. Everyone else is preoccupied with one another, so I make my way out of the room, unnoticed.

  “Where you going?” Mr. Red asks as I reach the front door, carrying another tray of food.

  “I’m just taking this to Larry. I’ll be right back.”

  “Alright. Tell him that he’s welcome to join us anytime.”

  Standing in the warm, humid night air, my head begins to spin and I nearly fall off the steps and into the yard. I laugh at my inebriated self; apparently loud enough that Larry can hear all the way from the barn.

  “Cole, is that you?” he yells from the darkness.

  “It’s me, Larry. I’m bringing you a meal fit for a king!”

  He meets me halfway and takes the platter before I spill it. “Looks like you’re having fun.”

  “I am, Larry,” I reply and walk with him back to the barn. “You should be with us. Everyone would love to see you there. And the ladies, Larry. The ladies are amazing and so friendly. You gotta come party tonight and I swear I’ll never ask you to again if that’s what you want.”

  Larry doesn’t say much, and when we get inside the barn, he inspects the food under the lights. “Where do you suppose this food comes from?” he asks.

  “Animals. The ground.”

  He looks at me sideways. “I’m serious. Have you seen an animal since we’ve been here? A single bird, rabbit, squirrel? We’re on a farm for heaven’s sake, so you’d think that we would have seen something.”

  I remember the conversation we had about bugs. Still haven’t seen a sign of one. “Hell, I don’t know, Larry. I suppose there’s a town nearby and they bought all this at the market. People buy food at stores. What does it matter?

  “What does it matter?” He picks a piece of meat up and dangles it in front of my face. “Is this real food? I don’t know. What if I told you this was a turd, would you eat it?”

  “If a turd smelled that good, yeah.”

  He shakes his head and slings it back onto the tray. “My point is,” he pauses to think, then shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t have a point.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, man? Maybe you shouldn’t be by yourself out here. I’m sure it’s lonely.”

  “It is. But maybe you all shouldn’t be in there.” He points to the house and turns away in frustration, then leans on a beam.

  I look at the food. “So what are you going to do… not eat? You can’t do that.”

  “I’m fine with what we were eating before.”

  “How do you know that what we were eating before is really food?”

  “I don’t.”

  Frustration rises and I feel my anxiety creep in again. Stop. Not tonight. For one time, I’m not doing this; not giving into this. “Well, I’m gonna go back inside. And I won’t try to convince you to anymore if you don’t want to go.”

&nbs
p; “Have fun,” he grumbles.

  “You too, Larry.” I turn to leave.

  “I will,” he replies. “Hey, thought I would tell you that I’m going to finish reading that book tonight. You really should read it at your earliest convenience. I think Mr. Whyte is trying to show you something.”

  After hearing him out, I leave the barn and hurry my way back into the house. I think of the book and my mind begins to wander.

  Not tonight.

  Throwing the door open, the group is lined up and following Gibbs into the smoking room. “Cole, you’re just in time,” Jane tells me and locks her arm with mine.

  “Where are we going? I thought they said this room was off limits.”

  “Oh, it is. But for tonight, anything goes,” she replies with a grin. We pass the club, the axe, the bow—all the ancient weapons—and everyone pauses to look at them just the way I did when Mr. Whyte led me here for the first time.

  “The smoking room,” Gibbs says after everyone’s in the room, his arms outstretched. “My favorite room in the house.”

  Everyone is speechless as they look around the room at all the artwork, furniture, and maps on the walls. But the real showstopper is the gun case that takes up the entire wall in the back. Like a moth to a flame, Donald walks over to it. Gibbs smiles and meets him at the glass. “Anything catch your interest?”

  Donald points. “Colt 1911. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

  “A man who knows his guns… I’m impressed!” Gibbs says. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the glass.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” Donald asks nervously.

  “If a man’s always wanted something, and it’s sitting right in front of his face, then by damn he should have it, right?” Gibbs slides the glass aside and pulls the pistol from its resting place. He slides the action, makes sure that it’s not loaded, then hands it to Donald.

  Donald cradles it like a priceless gem. He looks at us, not knowing what to do or what to say.

  “Well, go on. Check it out,” Gibbs tells him. Donald slides the action, unloads the magazine then slams it back in, pulls the hammer back with his thumb, and points it out the window. The trigger squeezes and the gun clicks. He turns around, holding it with both hands and offers it back to Gibbs. “It’s everything I’ve ever imagined.”