Uncovering the Story
UNCOVERING THE STORY
Tessa: Did you say spaghetti dinner strip tease?
Chris: Now I have a date with my boyfriend’s dad.
Tessa: …
Tessa: …
Chris: Yes?
Tessa: Wait. I’m still unpacking.
In the middle of the day, Firefly almost stood still. New York never slept. At any hour of the day, the streets were filled with people, and cars sped through intersections. Here, the town appeared to take a deep breath and relax. I thought I’d grow bored with the slow pace, but it had become an opportunity to reacquaint myself with… well… myself.
My phone rang. Tessa never called if she had the opportunity to text. If she lost both of her arms, she’d learn to text with her nose. I found a bench in the park and parked my butt, preparing for a deluge of questions and a healthy dose of judgment. It was eerily quiet, not a single gardener or chess player. The chill hung in the air, forcing me to zip my jacket while I answered her call.
“Hel—”
“Boyfriend?” When I didn’t reply, she filled the silence. “Just because I said you were getting away with a hunk doesn’t mean you needed to make it come true. It’s not like the media is doing a deep dive into your love life.”
“It’s not for show.” Tessa was the first person I asserted my feelings for Bobby. Saying it out loud made it real, and I couldn't help but smile. I could swear the sun shone a little brighter now.
“Christopher Wilde.” —My full name… that’s never good.— “Are you telling me you’re dating your fake boyfriend? Oh, the tabloids would have a field day with this.”
I chuckled. They would, and with any luck, we’d turn it into a movie. “I don’t know. I think the fresh air is doing me some good.”
“At least part of you.”
I wasn’t going to take the bait. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“It never ends. Good news, I should have a proposal for you in the next few days. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think you’re going to be happy.”
“How happy?”
“Cha. Ching.” I knew the idea of a big role meant a good salary, but part of me wanted to hear about the smaller roles. My career would rebound, and the roles would come in, but at some point, I’d have to talk to Tessa and let her know I needed a change.
“Gotta go. Studio is on the other line.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Click.
I think she’d understand. Or at least, I hope she would. If she found out I was unhappy with the big-time roles, I’m sure she’d pivot and make it work. Instead of focusing on work, I took a deep breath, returning to the secluded town and its ability to dismiss my stress.
“What to check out today?”
It had become a game, poking my head in shops and wandering aimlessly. After the hilarity of the spaghetti dinner, I had gotten more than a few sheepish waves and knowing winks. I couldn’t wait to find a copy of the Town Crier to see if I made the front page.
“Oh, perfect.” I couldn’t remember the last time I walked inside a hardware store. Normally, I hired somebody to handle home improvements, somebody like Bobby. Not as handsome, of course. I walked across the street, wondering if the Logan of “Logan’s Hardware” would be a weathered retiree or a rugged young buck.
Bobby was working at a farm outside of town today, but I hoped I’d bump into him as he picked up supplies. I’d make a casual comment about looking for a screw, and then we’d cue the horrible techno music while the lights dimmed.
The moment I entered the store, I couldn’t help but grin. It smelled of freshly cut wood with an accent of metal. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Bobby had turned the hardware store into a cologne. To my left, bags of grass seed were stacked chest-high, waiting patiently for spring to arrive.
“Oh, it’s you.”
This had become the customary welcome. “It is!”
At the back of the store, a young man, barely old enough to have a mustache, gave me a slight wave. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. Just didn’t imagine you’d come in here, of all places.”
“Logan?”
“Everybody calls me Junior. The original Logan is my grandfather.”
I could barely tell the difference between a flathead screwdriver and a… whatever the other one was called. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to nails, screws, and those little circular things that went around them. Wow, if Bobby realized how not handy I was, it’d be embarrassing.
“Can I help you with anything?”
I strolled past the axes, stopped, and took it off the rack. It was heavier than I anticipated. After handling the chainsaw, I imagine an axe wouldn’t be enough to get the job done, not for an entire cabin. The number of chainsaws on the shelf made it clear most people preferred the power tool approach.
“If I were going to help somebody chop down some trees, what would I need?”
“Like clearing a field or?—”
“Log cabin.”
“You mean Bobby’s cabin? He’s been dreaming about that for years. I’m glad he’s started making some progress.” I continued until I reached the counter. Junior appeared more like a lumberjack in training. Red flannel, a little chin scruff, and not quite the guns Bobby had. He’d get there in time.
“I was thinking I’d offer to give him a hand. Of course, I left all my power tools in New York.” Junior’s eyebrow raised. “You caught me. I think I have a hammer, maybe some duct tape?”
Junior shook his head. “If you were going to be of any use to him, you’d need…” He glanced about the store, eyes narrowing. I imagined him picking out a chainsaw or one of those vehicles with blades on the front. It’d be like driving a real-life Tonka truck from childhood.
He walked from behind the counter. In a few years, he’d make a cute cub and break the heart of every bear in town. He vanished into an aisle. “I have just the thing for you.” He came back with holding up a pair of gloves. “Can’t stress the importance of good gloves.”
I thought he might be joking as he moved behind the counter and handed them to me. “I expected something flashier.”
“When your hands are covered in blisters, you’ll thank me.” I slid them on, flexing my fingers. “You won’t be any good to Bobby if your hands are banged up.”
I refrained from a crude joke in front of the young man. “I’m going to take your word for it.”
While he rang up the gloves, I spotted the new edition of the Town Crier. I spun it around, surprised my half-naked photo hadn’t made the cover. I suppose Firefly needed to know about impending frost and its impact on crops. Flipping it over, I found it… my name in a headline. “Chris Wilde: Facts and Fiction.” I only read the first few lines, calling into question my reason for hanging about the town. It wasn’t the article that concerned me. The writer, on the other hand? William Wright.
I’d need to have a chat with Laurel about her son using me as cannon fodder. I put the paper back and looked up to see Junior giving me a curious glance from the corner of his eye. The men of Firefly weren’t immune to the gossip mill. I could tell he had a question that needed answering.
“Junior, you look like a man with a burning question,” I said.
He took my credit card, swiping it through the machine. Handing it and the gloves back, he leaned on the counter. “Everybody is talking about you and Bobby. If you haven’t figured it out, nothing exciting happens here. We’ll milk this for all it’s worth.”
I chuckled. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Are you moving to Firefly?”
I wish I could say I hadn’t given it any thought. Every time I pondered what might happen between me and Bobby, this behemoth of a question stopped me cold in my tracks. I thought about flying between Firefly and wherever the next role took me. It wouldn’t be much different from how I operate now. However, it ignored the other half of this question. What would Bobby say about me being gone for months at a time? Would he visit me?
“Looks like a loaded question,” Logan said. My scrunched brow must have given away the difficulty.
“Right now, I don’t know.”
“I’ve known Bobby since I was old enough to pick up a hammer. Do you want a piece of advice?”
Everybody in Firefly talked about our relationship, but it was the first time somebody offered input. I was nervous about opening the door. It was one thing for them to speculate from the outside, but the moment I opened this door, I’m sure we’d get a flood of opinions. Maybe this was part of small-town living? Everybody had a stake in Bobby’s happiness.
“I’m scared to ask.”
“Bobby is trapped.” I raised an eyebrow at the statement. “Firefly is wonderful. It will always be my home. But for some of us, we dream big, and Firefly has a way of keeping them in check. He'll say he's happy where he is, but if you ask me, he needs somebody to shake it up.”
Junior defied his age. “I can see that.” Jason talked about a similar feeling. He feared he settled for Firefly. He found a way to marry his dreams and Firefly. Simon brought the city to Jason and now they had monthly adventures beyond the town limits. He rediscovered his home. Here.
“Believe it or not, I wanted to go into video production.” That would be hard to come by in Firefly. “Dad wanted me to take over the store. So, you know what I do in my free time?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a couple pokes, he handed it to me. He walked through the steps to hang artwork on the wall without leaving dozens of nail holes. “Tools and Tips,” I read the last screen with a smile. “That’s pretty good. Nice job with the transitions.”
“I’m still learning. But it’s been fun. Dad keeps giving me lists of ideas to film. Who knew a few social media videos would take off?”
“Seven hundred thousand followers?” My eyes went wide. He only had a few dozen videos on his account. “At this rate, I’ll be coming to you for advice.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you guest star.” I snorted, handing his phone back. “I just wanted you to see that. Bobby’s got similar dreams.”
Other than a log cabin, we hadn’t delved into talking about the future. I think I avoided it because it’d complicate whatever we had brewing. Yet, I caught myself drifting in that direction. I wanted to ask Junior if he knew any of Bobby’s dreams, but I wanted to hear it from the source.
I let out a hard exhale. “Thanks, Junior. I needed to hear that.”
“You can pay me back by doing a reaction video.” He gave me a wink. “Or at least a selfie for my fans.”
“Let’s do it.” He spun around, similar to Gladys, and I held up the gloves, smiling as he took the photo. “Make sure you tag me so I can share.”
I gave him a wave as I exited the store. On the sidewalk, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I grinned at the photo of Bobby standing next to that directional chicken thing on top of the barn roof.
Up to this point, I had been content living in the moment and enjoying my personal handyman. If we were going to take this relationship from fantasy to reality, it was time to explore the future.
Chris: So tell me, what do you want to be when you grow up?
“Wendy, stop putting Peter in a headlock.” I covered my hand with a script, groaning as the two toppled to the stage. “Tiger Lily, stop riding Nana.” There was no stopping them as they ran back and forth. Had their juice boxes been swapped out for soda and lunch with candy? I need to check if tonight might be a full moon.
“This is madness,” I mumbled.
Laurel had a parent-teacher meeting and put the cast in my hands. I barely knew the kids’ names. Yelling didn’t have any effect on them. Did I let them go until they tired themselves out? This is why teachers deserved more money. How did they make these tiny terrors behave?
“Hey!” Will walked down the center aisle. After reading his article, I hadn’t figured out what I wanted to say to him. I’d deal with that later. Right now, I needed assistance. A single word from him and everybody on stage froze. “Cut it out.” His voice controlled the room, and the kids listened. “Mr. Wilde is trying to talk.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled to him. Now, with the entire cast staring at me, I forgot what I had planned. Apology notes to my former directors wouldn’t be enough. I’d need to buy them the finest bourbon. I understood why Laurel had taken to pacing and talking to herself.
“Line circle,” I said. Half a dozen hands shot up before I could explain myself. “I want everybody to sit in a circle. Then, take it from the top and recite your lines. The idea is to see how fast you can pick up your cues. If somebody misses a cue, make sure you’re helping them.”
“Got it, Mr. Wilde.” Ollie gave me a wave. It seemed the kiddo had regained some confidence. I might be blowing it as a director, but at least he walked away feeling like he belonged.
“In a circle!” Tinker Bell, the tiny tyrant. I wouldn’t argue if she helped keep everybody in line. As long as she didn’t bite anybody today.
Now to deal with another complicated situation. Turning to Will, I crossed my arms across my chest. “I know you’re the one writing the articles.”
“I wasn’t hiding it.” Teenagers. They had all the answers and more attitude than necessary. When I was his age, I had a chip on my shoulder the size of a small boulder. Eventually, time would temper it. Right now, I needed to uncover his fascination.
“Something doesn’t add up,” he said.
“If you wanted to write about me, you could talk to me. Better a first-hand source than the rumor mill.”
“Bobby isn’t the reason you came to Firefly, is he?”
I gestured to a chair. I listened as Pan and Wendy were going back and forth with their lines. When it went silent, somebody whispered… loudly… Michael’s name. He jumped in with a “Whoops,” and they continued. Perhaps we had hope of this going off without an issue?
Now to deal with Will. “Off the record? No. He’s not. I came here because everywhere I turned, somebody wanted to drag my name through the mud to sell papers.” I shot him a look, hoping he picked up on the irony. “Everybody thinks being famous—” Yes, I used air quotes. “—means we can take a beating day after day. Truth is, I’m angry that it has nothing to do with my performance. Soft Spoken is a great movie. My best! But because I’m not wearing a cape or jumping off an exploding building, it got review-bombed.”
I let out a long sigh. Of all people, I didn't expect my issues to come pouring out to a teenage journalist. "Being famous isn't all it's cracked up to be. Everybody thinks I owe them, and when I do something for myself, I'm the jerk."
“So, you came to Firefly to hide?”
“I know Jason and Simon from the convention. I mentioned needing an escape between projects. Jason sent me some listings. I know you’re itching to get away from Firefly, but there is something magical about it.”
“Honestly? I don’t care why you’re here.”
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if?—”
“I care about my uncle.”
He might be searching for a way out and rebelling against authority, but Will still had the heart of a Fireflian... Fireflier? He wanted what was best for Bobby. Any animosity I might have over the newspaper articles evaporated.
“I care about him, too.” I meant every word. “But you’re right; your uncle turned out to be the best accident I could have hoped for.”
The kids had made it to Neverland, and the Lost Boys were giggling over their lines. I watched as Ollie pointed to a boy who missed a line. There were a lot of accidents since that first night. Bobby. The play. Spaghetti dinner. Things were changing, even if I couldn’t predict how.
“I feel like there’s more to this story.”
I chuckled. “You’re going to make a good journalist.”
“You’re not going to tell me. Are you?”
I shook my head. “Some secrets deserve their locked boxes. But I’ll make you a promise.”
Tinker Bell had gotten to her feet. I got up, ready to sprint to the stage if she latched onto one of her classmates. Will eyed me, waiting for my proposition.
“There’s a story unfolding. I don’t quite know what it is, at least not yet. But when I can put words to it, I’ll give you the exclusive.”
“Really?” Skeptical, another mark of an excellent journalist. “Why help me?”
Had I been that distrusting of adults as a kid? Or maybe he still saw me as an outsider? I cracked a smile. I might not be from Firefly, but the longer I spent here, the more I saw the potential.
“You deserve your chance outside Firefly. It’s the least I can do for your mum.” Laurel had come to me asking for a huge favor. But as Ollie belted his lines, I realized I was the one benefitting.
“You like him, don’t you?”
I liked a lot of things. I liked the smell of the air as a storm got ready to drop rain. I liked the first cool day of the year when I could put on wool socks. I liked a good glass of bourbon and the lingering taste of juniper. I liked daydreaming about the future and wondering what might be. No. Like didn’t quite cover the ripple Bobby caused since our first meeting. I liked him, yes. But I liked the potential we had even more.
“I’m going to take that goofy expression as a yes.” Before I could reply, he pushed past me, charging the stage. “Nobody said build a human pyramid!”
We had only looked away for a few minutes, and they were already on all fours, stacked three children high. I wanted to keep imagining the future with Bobby, but that wouldn’t happen if I went to jail for child neglect. I risked the possibility as I grabbed my phone and sent Bobby a text.
Chris: Date night. Tomorrow. Dress warm.
That’d give me time to plan the romantic date Bobby deserved.