Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
DEVIN
All I receive from Zane when I arrive five minutes early on Monday morning is a curt nod.
I bite back the urge to say something and instead follow him around the feed store as he points out the different sections, where everything is kept, and also some of the less common products in case anyone asks.
He talks fast, as if he wants to get it over and done with as soon as possible.
I haven’t got a hope of remembering it all, but I’ll figure it out as I go along.
It doesn’t look too challenging. I never excelled at school but I’m not stupid.
“We have a large delivery on Wednesday and we have to fit in a line of alpaca feed, so I want you to move all this to the far corner.” Zane points to around thirty sacks of feed and a few troughs and buckets.
“Sure,” I reply and make a start. He watches for a few minutes, his face in its usual dour look. I endure his scrutiny until like always my skin starts to itch.
“Don’t you ever smile?” I mutter as I walk past him for the fifth time carrying a sack. I curse myself as soon as the words are out.
“What?” he demands through gritted teeth.
“Nothing,” I say.
He lets out a heavy sigh and goes away. I feel the immediate relief of not having his intense gaze on me, and can breathe properly now while I work.
Not the best way to conduct myself on my first morning.
But there’s something about Zane that makes me want to poke him until I get a reaction.
A bit like someone might poke a sleeping alligator to get it to snap.
I might not be stupid, but I’ve never claimed to be smart, and I know it’s a dangerous game to play, but I can’t help it.
He walks around all wound up tight, like a coiled spring.
I wonder what he does to relax . . . But looking at him, he probably doesn’t.
He’d have to take the rod out of his ass first.
I work steadily until my phone buzzes, and I take a breath and sit on a pile of sacks. Pulling out my phone, I see there’s a message in the group chat with my brothers.
How’s the job, Dev?
This is from Griffin.
What’s your new boss like? Is he hot?
Of course this is Corbin’s first question.
Hope it works out for you, Dev
The last is from Godwin and is typical of him.
Okay so far. Boss is as stiff as an ironing board and as much fun as a dish full of dead flies
I answer and receive the expected lol emojis in return.
By stiff, you don’t mean in a good way?
I send the only appropriate response to Corbin, which is a flipping the bird emoji, though I half expect him to say something about that too.
“Hullo, Devin.” Nova’s appearance startles me, as I hadn’t heard him approach, and I jump up.
“Sorry, I was just taking a minute.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother me.” He gives me a sunshiny smile, and I can’t believe how two brothers can be so different.
“Anything good?” He perches on the next pile of sacks and indicates to my phone, which I’m still clutching in my hand.
“Oh, just my brothers in our group chat, asking how it’s going.”
“You have brothers? How many? What are their names? What are they like? Are they like you?” Nova asks excitedly.
“There’s Griffin. He’s the eldest, a couple of years older than me.
Corbin is two years younger than me. They’re bigger than me and have our dad’s reddish-brown hair and beard, whereas I have black hair like our mum.
They’re both stonemasons and run their own company.
Then Godwin is the youngest. He’s also the smallest and has bright red hair. He’s an archeologist.”
“Three brothers! I’m so jealous. I would have loved to have more brothers. But my mom died when I was born. Not that I don’t love Zane of course, but sometimes he acts more like my dad than my brother.”
“That must have been tough, not having a mum,” I say, and Nova shrugs.
“I guess I don’t know any different. Not Zane, though. He was twelve when I was born. Since then it’s just been me, Zane, and Dad.”
“What about your aunt Arlene?” I know I shouldn’t really pry.
“She’s Dad’s sister. She came to live with us when Uncle Buck died a few years ago.
She didn’t have any children, so I haven’t even got any cousins.
” He scuffs the toe of his boot on the floor, looking glum, and I get a glimpse of how lonely it must have been for him and Zane.
I guess I take my family and brothers for granted.
“They can be fun. But I promise you that sometimes they’re too much. Even from a few thousand miles away.” I try to lighten the mood and he brightens up.
“Have you told them about me?” I look to see if he’s being coy, but he’s not. He looks genuinely interested.
“Not yet,” I reply noncommittally. But also, no way am I doing that.
All of my brothers are gay, and while Griffin seems to be in a new relationship that he’s keeping annoyingly quiet about, Corbin is like a vulture even at this distance.
A customer arrives and Nova gets up to serve them, so I return to my work.
When I’ve cleared the area, I carefully sweep the floor until there’s not a speck of dust to be seen.
Since Nova’s still busy, I walk out into the yard.
The doors of one of the large barns are standing open, and inside I can see a huge tractor.
Attached to it are three platforms. I’ve always loved machinery, the bigger the better.
It’s one of the reasons I came over here to drive big rigs.
So I can’t help taking a look. I walk into the cool of the barn and see Zane working on what looks like a set of large cutting blades. He raises his eyes as I approach.
“That’s some impressive bit of kit you have there,” I say. I see the corners of his mouth twitch for the briefest second before he slams down the usual sour look he has for me. But I don’t care. I’ve seen a crack in his armor, and if I can do it once, I can do it again.
“It’s a mega mower. We start the first cut of hay in a few weeks, so I’m just getting it ready,” he says and then gives me a few facts.
They don’t mean a whole lot to me, but he’s almost animated about the subject, so I’m content to let him ramble.
Once he’s run out of steam I let him know I’ve finished the task he set me, and he follows me back to the feed store to inspect my work.
“Looks good.” He gives his verdict and I nearly whoop at the heady praise, but luckily I manage to hold it in.
For the rest of the day I help with customers, loading their trunks with feed and also Zane’s truck for the deliveries he’s going to make.
At the end of the day I sweep around and make sure everything’s in place before I walk back to town and to Foggy Inn.
I’m tired, so I just grab a taco from the stand for dinner before falling into bed.
As first days go it wasn’t too bad, and I’m looking forward to returning tomorrow.
Tuesday is pretty much the same as Monday, and I feel that I can cope with the routine of it.
Again, Zane is working on the mower. Every time I’m in the yard loading up for a customer, I take a look, and damn it if each time I don’t see Zane staring right back at me.
Other than that we don’t talk much except when he comes to explain about the delivery tomorrow and where everything needs to be stacked.
“I reckon I can handle it.” I try to reassure him with a big smile, but his jaw clamps down and his nostrils flare slightly.
It makes me think I might smell or something.
I have been working hard, but I haven’t sweated that much.
As soon as he’s gone I give my armpits a sniff, but nope, I’m good. Zane sure is hard to understand.
When I get back into town at the end of the day, I feel restless, so I decide to explore a little. After taking a shower, I walk into the town and decide to try out Pints and Pool, where I sit on a stool at the bar and order a soda.
“You must be the mysterious man Zane’s got working for him.”
I turn at the voice and see a couple of guys. One who looks to be in his forties and the other quite a bit younger.
“Handsome too,” the younger one says. I’m glad my beard hides my blush.
I’m not used to being called handsome, especially not by a guy.
Not that I mind, I’m just not gay. But as the older guy has his arm flung round the shoulders of the younger man, I decide they’re probably a couple and he’s just being friendly.
“I’m Hudson and this is Jack. We run Nuts and Bolts, the hardware store,” he introduces them both.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Devin Brookes, and yes, I’m working for Zane up at the farm.”
“Oh, your accent is so cool!” Jack exclaims. “Are you from England?”
“Yes, I am,” I laugh, more used to getting comments about my accent than my looks.
“Do you play pool?” Hudson asks. “We’re going to play and you’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve played, though, so I might be a bit rusty,” I say and follow them over to the pool tables.
Over the next couple of hours, I play them both and I lose more than I win.
Another couple joins us and Husdon introduces them as Tig and Issac.
I must have stumbled upon the town’s gay contingent, and then I remember that only a few days ago the town hosted a massive Pride parade, so there must be a much larger community.
It certainly beats having women hitting on me, which is what usually happens in bars, and I relax, enjoying myself even if I do stick to drinking soda all night.
On Wednesday morning I’m setting up a few items that are on display at the doors of the feed store when I see an old man painstakingly crossing the yard from the house.
He looks like he was once tall, but is now stooped and walks with the aid of a stick.
I gather this is Zane and Nova’s dad. He certainly doesn’t look well.
When he reaches me, he stops to catch his breath, and across the yard I watch as Zane comes out of the house and looks around.
Noticing his father, I can see him sigh before he gets in his truck and drives it over. He climbs out.
“Dad, you shouldn’t be out here,” Zane says, but the old guy ignores him. Instead he turns to me.
“Hello, you must be Devin. I’m Clive Dawson.”
“Yes, I’m Devin. Pleased to meet you, sir,” I reply.
“That’s good. Zane’s told me all about you.”
“Has he?” I look at Zane with surprise, but his jaw is so tight he could crack his teeth.
“Ha, no.” Clive barks a laugh. “Of course he hasn’t, but Nova has.”
“Dad, we’re going to be late. We need to leave now.” Zane’s tone holds a hint of exasperation and he moves closer to take his dad’s elbow.
“Don’t rush me. I’ll come when I’m ready.” Clive waves him away and then says to me in a loud whisper, “He fusses too much.”
I press my lips together to stop a smirk from escaping and steal a glance at Zane who’s looking thunderous. I like Clive very much.
“I’m just looking after you, Dad.”
“Yeah, yeah, fussing.” Clive brushes off his explanation. I can imagine this is an old argument between them, each man as stubborn as the other, and I do my best to hide my amusement.
“I hope you’re settling in well,” Clive continues.
“I’m enjoying it so far, sir.”
He nods and allows himself to be helped into the truck. Zane’s final look is pained, and for the first time I feel sorry for him. It can’t be easy seeing your parent ailing in front of your eyes.
Once they’ve gone, Nova joins me, and we serve customers until the delivery arrives.
Zane wasn’t wrong that it’s large, and it takes me nearly two hours to stack everything and tidy away.
Working with Nova is fun, and he tells me stories about him and Sandy, who I learn is his best friend.
He quizzes me about growing up with my brothers, all the while sighing that it sounded like fun.
I hardly notice how late it’s gotten, and it’s nearly closing time before I see Zane’s truck pull back up in the yard.
He helps his dad into the house before coming over.
He looks around the feed store, and I assume everything is how he wanted it as he makes an approving sound.
“How did it go?” he asks.
“Everything’s put away, as you can see.”
“Did it all arrive?”
“Yep, Nova checked it all off, and the invoices are in the office.” I indicate the small sectioned-off area of the barn that holds just one desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet.
“Good, and thank you.”
I nearly choke at the expression of gratitude, and hide it with a cough.
“Right, I’ll be off, then. See you tomorrow.”
“Err, would you like a lift into town?”
I stare at him for a few seconds, not sure if I’ve heard correctly.
“Yes, sure, thank you,” I say, and quickly follow as he’s already striding toward his truck.
He doesn’t speak until we’re halfway along the road to Foggy Basin.
“My dad, he puts on a brave face, but he’s very ill. It’s his lungs. He has cysts and they can’t operate,” he says, staring fixedly ahead, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.
“It must be hard for you all.” I’m not sure what else to say to this man who’s been shut up tight ever since I met him.
“It is, but thank you.” He stops in the lot of the Foggy Inn. “I appreciate you helping out.”
“Thanks. How am I doing?” I climb out of the car.
“The week’s not over yet.” He gives a tight smile before pulling away. I stare after the truck as a cloud of dust drifts in his wake, and I’m left with the unsettling feeling that Zane Dawson might just have made a joke.