Chapter Ten #3
I wasn’t so worried about people sneaking around outside, now that I knew what they’d been doing — scouting for a dodgy new development — and I wanted to give Mickey his space, not pressure him into anything he didn’t want.
Of course, I could barely sleep.
I took a melatonin tablet, but my mind kept reminding me of how nice and warm and safe I’d feel if I was in bed with Mickey, being spooned.
But I couldn’t have that, not unless he explicitly invited me in.
When I eventually slept, I dreamed about alpacas leaping through the lake, trying to escape a horde of corporate zombies, all dressed in suits and dark glasses.
Friday, August 7th
Mickey
Someone knocked on the front door as Aster and I were eating a weirdly quiet, awkward breakfast.
I opened the door to a man in an ill-fitting blue suit who looked as cranky to be there as I felt having to meet him.
“Are you the owner of this farm?” he demanded.
“I am.” I could have offered him my name, could have invited him in, but I was cranky as hell and didn’t want to do anyone in a suit any favors.
“Some surveyors were out here yesterday, staking out the plans for a new development but it seems it was all destroyed. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Ah, so that’s what this guy was about. I could handle this with an ‘I don’t know what happened, I’m just an innocent farmer’ kind of vibe, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Can I see some credentials?”
“I’m Bob Maskin, I’m on the town council.” The man drew a business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. The business card confirmed his name, the Foggy Basin town council role and told me he was also a property developer.
Huh.
“Okay.”
Bob huffed. “So, about the survey markers?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes my alpacas escape their field. They’re very sensitive creatures. Disturbances and strangers rile them up. I don’t know about any surveyors.”
It was astonishingly easy to lie to this guy. I straightened spine and folded my arms, doing everything I could to look intimidating.
Bob Maskin seemed very small all of a sudden. He took a half step back. “Well, see that you keep them away from the site in the future.”
“I don’t remember being consulted about any planned construction, you know.
” I stepped towards him, crossing my threshold to stand on the verandah.
“Pretty sure there should be notices of works, of new developments and then a consultation period when things go up out here. This is a quiet are. You’re planning to put something up, you say? What is it? An apartment building?”
Bob Maskin’s face shuttered and he shook his head. “Keep your farm animals inside your farm, Mr Cooper.”
“I’ll do all I can.”
He left fast.
I came back inside to find Aster watching from the hallway. “He’s one of the council members that didn’t actually reply to me,” he said.
I passed Aster the card. “Says property developer on it. Think he’s maybe getting some kind of deal, a kickback or something for taking this project on?”
“Almost certainly.” Aster examined the card. “I’ll get in touch with the council members that actually replied and ask about him.” He sat at the table and opened his laptop.
I pulled out my phone and texted Harlow.
Mickey: Hey, ‘Lo. Some asshole was here about the survey markers and I made a big song and dance about consultation or whatever
Mickey: do they actually need to consult us if they’re building something new?
Harlow: why are you asking me? I’m not in property development
Mickey: because you’re smart and you know lots of stuff?
There was a pause before she replied. She knew I was playing her, but she was a sucker for compliments. I genuinely wanted her research expertise on this. Aster was doing great but he wouldn’t know every place that should be checked. While Harlow’s time at the community center gave her insights.
Harlow: okay fine, I’ll look up the county bylaws
Mickey: you’re the best!
Harlow: how’s it been with Aster there? It’s so good of you to give him space to write
I wanted to tell her everything, that age gap be damned, I was desperately in love with her best friend. But how would she take it? Besides I knew nothing could come of it and also, what? Love? Was I really in capital L love?
I swallowed the panic down and tapped a neutral reply.
Mickey: yeah it’s good, we’re watching X-Files at night
I added a smiley face so she would see how cool and chill I was being. She replied with a kissing face and a thumbs up. What did that mean?
I didn’t reply.
Aster
I fired off an email to Barbara Traylor and a couple of the others who had replied to me, asking what Bob Maskill’s deal was and if he was allowed to start a massive construction project near the Cooper’s farm.
Group chat has been renamed to Gen AI Out!
Harlow: hey, good news! I was chatting with Nova Dawson from the feed store and he reckons we can get leaflets dropped from the crop duster. Would be a great way to advertise, no?
Aster: !!!
Aster: that’s awesome! OMG I’ll put together something real quick and get it printed with the posters. Plan for protest is next town council meeting: Monday 10th, 2pm, spread the word!
Dillon: that’s soon! Aster: they’re trying to like, speedrun the building of this thing so we gotta work quick
Aster: quick like a bunny, or like Thumper, the cria Mickey named after a bunny
Aster: Thumper is very cute and likes to bounce around a lot
Harlow: I need pictures of Thumper ASAP
Aster: mama isn't letting anyone close enough to Thumper yet, sorry!
Mickey: Nova’s a good guy
It was absolutely ridiculous of me to feel jealous of Nova. I knew Mickey also thought I was a good guy, but like... ugh.
Making a little ‘come to my protest’ flyer was straightforward. I sent it to the print shop to add to my other order.
I emailed Barbara Traylor, who I was already thinking of as my ally on the inside, letting her know about our planned protest.
I should probably contact law enforcement and let them know, too. I should be sensible, and follow the rules, and not get my protest shut down, right?
Sighing, I looked up Foggy Basin police and found the official website. I filled out the email form with my details and the plan for the protest. I didn’t tell them about the leaflet drop though, that wasn’t even confirmed, right?
Getting up from the table, I went for a cup of juice from the kitchen. Out of habit I opened my phone. Joel had sent me a Reel and I opened it up. It was a clip of an extremely hot drag king act from Vegas.
I watched it, filled with a mixture of admiration and yearning. I wanted to be on stage again!
I messaged him back.
Aster: it’s been too long since I performed! Find me a show?
Joel: I’ll see what I can do. Bobbi’s planning a Trans-centric show for charity, I’ll send the details as soon as I have them
Aster: love it!
Joel: babe, are you not literally going loopy staying in a farm?
Joel: I wouldn’t be able to stand it
Joel: I’d be tearing the wallpaper trying to get at the woman trapped inside it
Aster: no, I’m fine
Aster: it’s nothing like The Yellow Wallpaper
Aster: Hey, you made a literary refence, I didn’t know you could read
Joel: Rude.
Joel: my drag name is LITERA Lee as in literature
Joel: But I bet you don’t mind it because of dreamy big brother beardy boy
Aster: I’m blocking your number
Picking up a paperback from the shelf of books I settled into an armchair to distract myself from a) waiting around and b) obsessing over Mickey.
Option b) proved difficult because Mickey settled on the couch, put on some ambient music and picked up his knitting.
He was just right there, looking all handsome and strong while the needles of his knitting clicked together in a regular pattern.
The paperback I’d picked up was an early Stephen King which was both engrossing and pretty problematic so for the most part, I was able to focus on that.
An hour or so later, I had a notification from the print shop that my posters were ready, so I waved to Mickey.
“I’m headed to Hartsville. Okay if I take the truck?”
Mickey had been moody all morning, so it surprised me when he said yes.
“I guess I could stand to get out of the house.” He stood up from the couch and set his knitting down. “Can I come too?”
“Sure.”
I pulled on my boots and grabbed my wallet before heading out to the truck. It was a hot day, and Mickey’s T-shirt was dangerously tight.
I forced myself to look away. The drive to Hartsville wasn’t quick, was this a mistake? Mickey hopped into the driver's seat and I climbed in on the passenger side.
Once we were going, Mickey fiddled with the radio a bit before swearing softly and turning it off. The driveway up to the main road was rough, but the highway wasn't too bad once we were on it. The heat pounded down on us from outside so I flicked on the air conditioner.
“Aster,” he said. My name usually sounded great coming out of his mouth, but this time it had a portentousness to it. He wanted to have a Serious Conversation.
I cringe, figuring I knew where this was headed. “Yeah?”
“Um, so. I know it’s been awkward and everything, since... since the other night. I feel like I owe you some explanations.”
“Uh, you don’t owe me anything,” I said so quickly I stuttered. “Like I said, it’s fine to-to just... to just have done that once and not make a big deal of it.”
Mickey breathed out slowly and shook his head. “It’s not about that. Well, I guess it sorta is. But I haven’t been open with you about my last relationship or what I learned about myself from it.”
I blinked, doing my best to sound casual. “Yeah?”
Inside my heart was pounding with a sudden wild hope that maybe maybe we could have something more than friendship? Maybe it was a foolish hope, but I’ve often thought I’m not much more than a fool.
Maybe I should do some kind of jester drag routine? Sorta medieval comedy but make it sexy?
Stay focused Mickey is trying to share.