Chapter 5 #2
“Bring ‘em on, furry butt!” I shot back.
The words tumbled out without thought, just instant snark, which tended to be me even in the worst situations.
When Briar doubled over, laughing even harder, I knew it was more than welcome tonight, especially with all the laughter coming from the kitchen.
When Maverick emerged, pink-cheeked with eyes so bright they were almost glowing, I should have known he had something up his sleeve.
“At least my furry butt comes complete with a spare appendage,” he said as he offered me a bucket of popcorn…with his tail. “You’re welcome.”
Passed it to me perfectly too, tail unfurling from where the tip was wrapped around the thin handle, then used the tip of that furry tail to boop me on the nose.
Holy shit, his fur was soft.
“What was that for?” I asked as I dug my fingers into the popcorn, eager for a taste.
“Preemptive strike,” he shot back with a wink. “Briar told me you’ve got a thing for booping kitty snoots.”
One glance at Briar and I could tell he was just done. Sideways in the chair, half hanging over the arm, he was rocking around laughing, one hand pressed to his face.
“Did he tell you he has a thing for booping back?” I asked.
He just snorted at that. “You’re behind the 8-ball, my friend; I’ve been on the receiving end of his booping for years.”
And the winner and grand champion of our impromptu comedic timing comedy show was Maverick, as I inhaled a piece of popcorn and needed that extremely dexterous tail of his to deliver a few well-placed and stronger than I expected them to be pats on the back to help expel the kernel.
Waving my napkin in the air like a white flag, I conceded defeat, then cautiously sipped my tea as Briar finally got himself back under control and righted himself.
If this was any indication of how the rest of our two-week stay together was going to go, then I was going to go home with memories of the absolute best vacation ever outside of Disney World.
“Are you an artist?” Maverick asked as he slid back into his chair and pulled the blanket over his lap.
“Technically, I guess you could say that,” I hedged, since it was a question I constantly wrestled with.
“I’m still working on establishing a following, but I’ve got a website, and I do work on commission when people have something in mind that they’d like to have created for them.
Mostly though, I’m a staff photographer for a small lifestyle magazine, though after the last event I covered, I’m seriously considering a job change. ”
“Oh shit, dish the deets, dude,” Briar said. “What happened?”
“In this case, the question really should be what didn’t happen,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose and just shaking my head as glimpses of the sheer and utter catastrophe that event had turned into flashed behind my eyes.
“First off, the information in the press release regarding the event was extremely vague, including the details of the actual location. It just said Remington Park, which is an extremely large park with three different parking areas, two event centers, and numerous pavilions. There was no mention of if it was going to be an indoor or outdoor event either, so neither me nor the other photographer I was working with knew what to expect.”
“Oh damn, this is already gearing up to be a recipe for disaster,” Maverick said, fingers lightly caressing the cover of the notebook on the arm of his chair. “And not of the wonderfully delightful, triple-chunky chocolate peanut butter and banana fudge cookie variety.”
My eyebrows shot up as I glanced over at him. “We are going to revisit that lovely-sounding creation at some point, ‘cause I’ve got some serious fucking questions, starting with where they’ve been all my life.”
“Right!” Briar said. “Best kitchen disaster ever.”
“I wish I could say the same thing about the event I covered.
Holy shit. We were late arriving because we literally drove around the park twice and checked both event centers, plus put in calls to the parks department and the folks hosting the event, hoping someone could give us some clarification about where to go.
When we finally did get someone to answer their damned phone, the best they could do was tell us, “Pavillion 3.”
“Why am I getting a sudden sinking sensation that the pavilions weren’t clearly marked?”
Groaning, I shook my head. “Do signs the size of postcards count?”
“Ouch,” Maverick grumbled.
“No bull. We weren’t the only ones struggling to find it either.
There were maybe a dozen or so people milling around when we arrived, and you could just tell by the way those folks were dressed that they had not been expecting an outdoor event.
I’m talking ladies in high heels with stylish coats instead of functional ones, that sort of thing.
Fortunately, it was a mild day with temperatures in the mid-fifties, or there would have been far more complaints. ”
“Ohh, o-kay, I’m half tempted to ask what the most colorful complaint of the day was, but I’ll save that for after you finish telling the story,” Briar said.
“There were more than a few, let me tell you. Now, I already mentioned that we were late, so that should set the stage for things to come right there. We were hurrying to get set up, while still trying to work out exactly what kind of event it was, there was a guy with a phone in each hand absolutely losing his shit, trying to give directions to one person while simultaneously cursing out another. It turns out the caterer was the one he was cussing at, and the sculptor, whose work was being unveiled, was the one he was trying to give directions to.”
“Two phones?” Maverick squeaked. “Man, that’s a fuck-up waiting to happen.”
“And it did,” I explained. “Which the sculptor did not appreciate and loudly told him so upon his arrival, after having to stop with his crew and a heavy-ass sculpture in the back of the van that they had to remove to change a flat tire. While those two are having it out, more people are starting to arrive, after someone finally got the bright idea to go put signs up at the entrance to the park to point people in the right direction. So, at that point, I’m thinking the worst is over.
People are milling around talking; the sculpture, still covered, was being installed on its base, so we snapped a few pictures of the people doing that and the folks in attendance, just to get some ambiance shots and make sure we had the settings right for the lightning. ”
I paused there to take a sip of my tea as the Cheshire Cat appeared on the screen in the first of the live-action movies.
“The caterer still hadn’t arrived by the time the statue was installed, so the presenter went ahead and did a mic check to kick off the presentation and dedication of the statue, and that’s when they realized that the power hadn’t been turned on to the pavilion.
So now the poor guy with the phones had to try to get someone from the parks department on the line so they could get it turned on, and he was sweating buckets; like, it was gross.
It was dripping off his face, he’d fiddled with his tie so much it had come completely undone, the top button on his shirt was undone, and he just looking frazzled.
The presenter has a teeny, tiny little voice that couldn’t be heard across the Pavillon, which wasn’t that goddamn big, and while all of that was going on, the wind had started to pick up, the temperature was dropping, and the cords tethering the cloth tarp to the base of the statue to keep it covered had started to pop loose.
We wound up with an impromptu unveiling just as a storm rolled in and literally started pouring all over us. ”
“Oh shit, your gear didn’t get damaged, did it?” Briar asked.
“Fortunately not,” I said. “My partner and I were under the roof of the pavilion with almost everyone else at that point. Some people gave up on the event entirely and headed for their cars; others were still trickling in after struggling to find the pavilion after a few of the signs blew away. It was just a shit show. The kicker was when the event coordinator got in our faces threatening to sue us and the magazine if we ran any of the pictures we’d taken or wrote about the event in any way, and I do mean he went off on us.
Complete fuckin’ meltdown that went on after we’d packed up our gear and headed for the van, because holy fuck, he was completely out of control.
I really thought he was going to take a swing at one of us. ”
“Damn, seriously?” Briar asked, a slight snarl in his voice.
“I shit you not, man, it was damned intense, and it wasn’t the first time we had someone get in our faces or threaten us if we ran certain photos. It gets to be a bit much.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“You’re lucky. I expect that most people who pop into a cookie shop are the happy sort.”
“Yeah, they are; we’ve got some awesome customers,” Maverick admitted. “Anyone want some more tea?”
“As long as you promise not to make me choke on it,” I remarked as I passed him my cup.
“Not my fault you need to work on that gag reflex, man,” he said, winking and walking away, once again claiming victory in this verbal snarking match of ours.