by Ashlyn Kane
Natalie and Kierstyn are still my lifesavers. They’ve pretty much been holding things down here. Of course, Kierstyn’s only twelve, so Natalie does more of the fort-holding, but they’re a wicked team. Though did your brat sister tell you about what she did the other day? I fell asleep over the accounting books over a week ago, and Natalie took pictures and then plastered them on the corkboard behind the cash desk. It took me four days to notice them! Now I’ve got all the older customers telling me how adorable I am when I sleep.
Emerson
§
SENT four days later:
Em,
Don’t worry about it. I know you’re a busy guy. I know how it is to work way more than is good for you, and I’m just a lowly peon employee instead of the guy in charge.
You mean those pictures that she made copies of and sent to me? Those ones? You drool in your sleep, you know. Adorable. Did you get new glasses?
If you can believe it, the leaves are already starting to turn up here. I’d complain about that, but it’s gorgeous. See attached picture for proof!
There are a couple new faces at the writer’s workshop. Non-cougar faces, even. Maybe if I’m lucky one of them will be partial to tall, dorky butternuts. Unlikely, I know, but hey, it’s possible they’re brain-damaged.
Jonah
§
“SHE’S going to find out,” Jonah said. “You know that, right?”
“Sure,” Gavin said easily, “but by that point she’ll be so into me she won’t care.”
Jonah stared at him for a moment. He was contorted on his sofa in the living room, watching carefully as he clipped the toenails on his left foot, the one not encased in a walking cast. Every once in a while, an errant clipping would fly off in one direction or another; a few even hit him in the face. He made no discernable effort to pick them up, and Jonah shuddered. “I don’t know, dude. Isn’t this kind of skeezy?”
Gavin’s apartment was full of what might have generously been termed “junk.” At the moment he was using the cast on his leg as an excuse for not tidying up, but frankly Jonah couldn’t see why he’d kept half of his stuff in the first place. There was a plasma screen TV with a crack the size of the Grand Canyon straight down the middle. It wasn’t even plugged in. An old VCR with a video still stuck in it, the tape pulled out and tangled and spilling over onto the floor. Three nonfunctioning video game consoles, two of which had already been replaced by new, working models. And that didn’t even count the few luridly colored items Jonah never bothered trying to identify—he had the sneaking suspicion at least one of them was a sex toy. It wasn’t like the toenail clippings were the strangest or even most revolting thing Gavin had lying around.
Gavin brushed the last of his disgusting DNA onto the floor and shoved the nail clipper into the couch cushions. “I won’t tell her I wrote it,” he said patiently. “Come on, man, I’ll owe you one.”
To avoid making eye contact, Jonah continued his mental catalog of Gavin’s collection of broken electronics. As ridiculous as it sounded—as frankly psycho stalker as it sounded—Jonah was tempted. Against incredible odds, Gavin was a good friend, and he wasn’t actually as horrible to his girlfriends as he sounded.
Then he saw it. Covered in a thin layer of dust on a shelf over a derelict computer was a complex-looking digital camera. Next to it on the shelf was a detachable zoom lens with a manual focus. Jonah reached out and brushed a finger through the dust on the pop-up flash.
“It’s broken,” Gavin said, seeing what he was looking at. “It fell off the desk, cracked the lens.”
Jonah took the lens cap off and surveyed the damage. It seemed pretty superficial to him, but he wasn’t an expert. But there was a camera repair shop in town that specialized in exactly this sort of thing. And Emerson’s birthday was coming up… and Emerson loved photography. Emerson would love to have a camera like that, but he would never buy one for himself, could never justify the expense, and it wasn’t like Jonah could afford it either, not a new one, but….
“Dude, do this for me, and it’s yours if you like it that much.”
Jonah finally decided that if the girl was stupid enough to believe Gavin had written her poetry, she deserved what she got. “Alright,” he said finally. “What’s she like?”
Unfortunately Gavin took this as an invitation to go on, in great length, about Sylvie’s great tits and ass. It took some extremely pointed questions from Jonah to glean anything useful at all—that she had dark hair and eyes and was new to Jackson, that they had met on one of Gavin’s stupid hikes, that she was staying with her aunt and was studying to be a nutritionist.
“Okay,” Jonah said at last, figuring that was about as much useful information as he was going to get out of Gavin without scarring himself for life. “I think I can work with that.”
“Seriously?” Gavin seemed surprised. “Cool.”
Even though he was praying it would be worth it, Jonah had to wonder what he’d got himself into.
§
Jonah,
I can’t believe she sent you those! There was no drool! And I’m not adorable!
But yes, those are new glasses. Zack wouldn’t shut up about my needing new ones whenever I was too lazy to put in my contacts, so Hayley helped me pick some out. She says the thinner frames and squarer look suits me better. I don’t know anything about fashion, but who am I to argue with a woman of taste? Besides… the old ones were really old.
Being the guy in charge sucks. You have to worry about everything. I can’t wait until Dad comes back to work. He says he’ll start taking care of some things again, like stock and order forms. I can’t wait.
Non-cougars? Pretty, young aspiring writers, then? I keep telling you that referencing your Tennessee heritage by calling yourself a butternut is woefully uncool. Seriously, that’s probably too dorky for most people.
Emerson
§
ON A computer-enlarged copy of one of the incriminating photos:
Oh, Em. The camera doesn’t lie.
You should listen to Hayley more often. Things between you must be pretty serious if you’re consulting her for such life-altering decisions.
Turns out the new girl (her name is Xie) actually likes dorks, and get this—she’s spent her summers with her aunt and uncle in Jackson Hole since she was seven, but she actually grew up in Houston, so we already have something in common. I think you’d really like her, Em, despite the fact that she is vertically challenged. Actually, she’s a photography major at the University of Wyoming.
Glad to hear that your dad’s feeling better. Hopefully you are taking better care of yourself now that there’s someone around to supervise you.
Jonah
§
Jonah,
I can’t believe you have these pictures. You should burn the rest of them like I did.
I listen to Hayley in a lot of things, things much more important than new glasses—though was that sarcasm, or have I misled you to believe that Hayley and I are dating? I suspect sarcasm, but just in case….
If you like her, then Xie must be awesome. You’ve always had great taste.
Dad is feeling good. He’s been doing inventory for the past week, which is good because classes have started up again. Zack, Greg, and Hayley are all back in town. Zack and Greg are staying in a townhouse off campus, so I’ve been by to see them a few times. I stayed at their place last Friday night after we went bar hopping.
They’re both already talking about gigs on and off campus this fall. I’m looking forward to another night out with Hayley listening to Peter and the Hanged Man. Think you might be able to join us soon?
Emerson
§
Emerson,
I’m keeping the pictures forever just in case I ever need to blackmail you into doing what’s best for you. So there.
No, I didn’t really think you and Hayley were dating. I know better than that. Come on, now. You are way too square to go out with someone that cool.
Things with Xie are really great. We went on a couple of dates and really hit it off. She’s a little busier now that she’s back at school, but it turns out these art majors usually have Fridays off, which leaves us lots of time to get to know one another better.
That’s great that your dad is feeling so much better. You deserve a break after working yourself half to death (don’t deny it; I have photographic evidence, remember?).
Bar hopping again, huh? Making good use of a fake ID?
Tourist season is starting to wind down before gearing up again in the winter. Maybe I’ll see if I can get some time off.
Jonah
§
WRITTEN on the back of a “Welcome Back!” concert flyer put out by the Faculty of Music:
Jonah,
That’s it. I’m going to maim your sister. I’d threaten death, but then I’d be down one employee. Which would be really tragic, as it would drag me back into full-time employment at the store.
Dad’s doing really well. You wouldn’t believe it. He’s almost the same man he was before. It looks like next term I’ll be taking a full course-load.
It’s good to hear you’re so happy about the way things are going with Xie. Though you always could charm just about anyone, so it’s not a surprise.
Not so much fake ID as it is knowing the right people. Zack and Greg are both known in a lot of the local bars. Some of the guys at the door look the other way, and some of them seem to think I just look young. Still, Zack has some “interesting” contacts, so I’ve got an ID that looks genuine.
Speaking of Zack, this flyer is from the concert he’s going to be in at school. His mom was worried about him not having an education and wasting his life on his music, so she sent him to college. He’s taking Music Business and Composition, so I’m not sure how much she’s reassured. Anyway, the music students put on all these shows. It’s pretty funny to see Zack dressed up in his black and white dress suits to play.
No time off at Christmas? What kind of barbaric heathens do you work for?
Emerson
§
JONAH’S phone rang at an absolutely ungodly hour. He normally resisted getting even a cheap local cell, but he had needed this one earlier in the year in case one of the other guides called in sick and he had to go into work at the last minute, and he hadn’t gotten around to canceling it yet.
“Gavin, if you are calling me to tell me you got laid, I will kill you.”
It had to be Gavin. No one else would call at—at—Jonah squinted at the clock, but his eyes couldn’t make sense of the numbers, too full of sleep.
There was a pause. “Jonah?”
Shit. “Xie?” Jonah sat up a little in bed. It was the middle of the week, so she still had classes, and she didn’t usually call him from her apartment in Laramie. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I—no.” She paused. “Would Gavin really call you in the middle of the night to gloat about sex?”
“Probably. Now are you going to tell me why you called? You should tell me why you called so that I can make it better, and you can go back to bed.”
“So you can go back to bed, you mean,” she corrected.
“Potato, po-tah-toe.”
Silence.
Jonah prodded, “Xie?”
A gusty sigh filtered down the line. “I can hear them,” she admitted quietly.
Hear them—? Oh, Jesus. “Xie, man, you should find someone to take over your lease. This isn’t good for you.” He could have counseled her to man up and tell her roommate off for sleeping with the boy she knew Xie had been in love with since the summer after eighth grade, but it hadn’t worked the last forty times he’d suggested it, and it probably wasn’t going to work now. “I thought they broke up?”
“They are currently making up very loudly,” she hiccupped.
Jonah thought he maybe heard an errant bedspring through the speaker and guessed that she wasn’t exaggerating. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault, don’t be stupid. I’m sorry I called you in the middle of the night like a lovesick teenager.”
“If you can’t call me in the middle of the night like a lovesick teenager, what the hell else am I good for?” Jonah retorted. Certainly it had been useless of them to try to date each other. Jonah thanked God Xie had been brave enough to ’fess up, on their fourth or fifth or whatever date it had been, to her abiding unrequited love for her childhood sweetheart. Once he’d owned up to his own set of issues, the friendship between them had been cemented. Tried though they had to make one another forget, they had been unsuccessful, and Jonah couldn’t help but think that it was at least partially because they didn’t want to be in love with anyone else.
He could hear the slight smile in Xie’s voice. “Well, I can think of a few things.”
“Oh, is that what you wanted me for?” If she was joking about that, she would probably be just fine. The arrangement between them was less than ideal, but Xie was hot and kind and got just as much out of the sex as Jonah did; it was a good distraction. “You’re coming home next weekend, right?” he asked, a vague plan forming in his brain. It wouldn’t fix anything, but it might take her mind off it for a time.
Xie pretended to think. “Hmm, that depends. Are you going to make it worth my while?”
“When have I not made it worth your while?” All right, he’d been somewhat inexperienced with women, if not technically a virgin, before Xie had come along, but she’d never held that against him. Besides, he had other skills.
“Cute.” Xie laughed a little, which Jonah counted as a major victory. “Okay, I think they’re done. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jonah said around a yawn. “I’ll see you in a week, okay? And we’ll do something fun.”
He heard the rustle of blankets and then a soft sigh and imagined Xie settling down into her blankets and the small mountain she had the gall to call pillows. “You know, your mystery man back home is really missing out.”
He shook his head. “Goodnight, Xie.”
He barely heard her answering murmur before the line went dead.
Chapter 7
NOW
EMERSON woke up at five in the morning. He looked at his clock, remembered what had happened the night before, and then turned over and went back to sleep.
The second time he woke up, his clock said 11:23.
When he walked into the kitchen, Zack said, “So he’s alive after all.”
Emerson grunted in reply. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Zack be cute.
He stumbled to his coffee maker and pressed at the buttons until rich coffee started dripping into the pot. He made his way to the cupboard, where he found a bowl, a can of ravioli, and the can opener. By the time his pasta was hot, his coffee was ready to drink.
He sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat.
Zack broke the silence. “So. You going to tell me what happened between you and Jonah yesterday?”
Emerson took a sip of coffee. “We had a fight.”
“I figured that.” Zack didn’t look amused.
Emerson put his fork down, not feeling hungry anymore. He stared down at his ravioli, trying to avoid Zack’s gaze.
“You going to tell me anything else?”
“The fight was pretty bad,” Emerson admitted. He brought a finger up to push at his coffee mug, spinning it with a press against the handle. “We yelled, Jonah got mad, and then he left.”
Zack made a humming noise. “Right. That’s all you’re going to say, then?”
Emerson shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose—screw contacts today, they were a pain to put in. He stood then and began cleaning up his breakfast. He tossed out the last of the ravioli and started to clean the bowl.
Zack let out a gusty, put-upon sigh.
In the silence that followed, Emerson became aware of the new song playing on the radio: “Hot Blooded.” Mick Jones was inviting Emerson to take his temperature. Emerson j
erked at the sound of the familiar tune. The last time he had heard this song, it had been in this kitchen when he had come home to find Jonah cooking and singing along.
Jonah was a terrible singer and an even more terrible dancer, which was why Emerson had burst into laughter when he saw him. Jonah had whipped around, smiling widely. Because Jonah was Jonah, he had refused to be embarrassed about being caught at being a dork. Instead, he just danced badly over to Emerson, still singing along.
“‘Come on, baby, do you do more than dance?’” Jonah had asked as he grabbed Emerson around the waist and pulled him close. “‘I’m hot-blooded, hot-blooded.’” Jonah was murmuring by the time he reached the end of the line, placing his mouth right over Emerson’s in a sweet greeting.
Emerson had reveled in the kiss for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. “You lunatic, what are you doing?”
“Making dinner for my gorgeous boyfriend. He’s been working hard all day.”
“I meant the terrible singing.” Emerson had let out another laugh that continued on as Jonah pulled back to grab his hands so he could drag him into the middle of the kitchen. He was laughing so hard he could barely stand as Jonah tried to dance him around the kitchen.
By the time the song had ended, Emerson had been crying with laughter. With the final strains, Jonah moved in to kiss him again.
Emerson rose from the kitchen table, passed Zack, and brought his hand down violently, shutting the radio off.
“Okay… you suddenly have a hate on for Foreigner?” Zack asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Emerson ignored him and went back to his coffee.
§
EARLIER
EMERSON sat behind the cash register, elbow propped on the counter, leaning his head in his hand. Today had shaped up to be rather boring. It seemed no one needed any organic groceries. Despite it being summertime, the store was often quiet on weekdays.
