Chapter 8 Kris
Things are so shitty here at home I almost wish I was back at The Rough Cut, even though it’s my day off. I’d rather deal with rock throwing punks than wondering what’s happened to Jer. My old friend never came back after going out for smokes yesterday. I walked the neighborhood for hours looking for him, but there was no trace. I’m not a worst-case scenario kind of guy, but I’m scared he’ll end up dead in the morgue. Maybe I’ll get him his own set of keys if he shows up again.
That’s got me unsettled enough, plus I’ve been dealing with insurance stuff all morning. I’m lying on the living room couch, boots up, scrolling through my phone looking for something or someone to keep me from putting a fist through the wall.
I see Jules’ names and open the texting app. My last conversation with him was a week ago. He was telling me about going furniture shopping with his boyfriend, Neil. I managed to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. Who says personal growth isn’t possible after 30? I quickly type out a message and send it before I can think better of it.
Me: Whatcha doing?
For a moment nothing happens, and I imagine Jules is off adulting with Neil but then the three flashing dots pop up. I guess he’s not done with his old loser friend Kris.
Jules: Working on a friend’s movie
Me: K
Jules: Want to come by and help?
Me: Depends. What do you need?
Jules: We’re building sets
Me: Send me the info
I’m not great at construction, but getting the chance to hammer something sounds great right about now. Part of me wants to stay home to see if Jer will show up, but I don’t think he will today. Jer would sometimes disappear in the old days too, and it usually took him a couple days to return. After tying up my hair and grabbing my tool belt, I scrawl out a note for Jer and tack it to the door, just in case.
I arrive faster than expected and find my way to Soundstage 3 at the university cinema school. The red light on the door jamb is off, so there’s no filming happening now. Jules explained that I should always check before entering.
I open the door and see why Jules wanted help. The stage is littered with wood pallets and half-finished plywood walls. Judging from the layout, the walls look like they’re part of a hospital set. The painted portions are light green and white. I walk around the back of the structure, and spot Jules crouched at the base.
“Hey Jules,” I say, and he looks up and smiles.
“Grab a hammer. We’re reinforcing the walls now. Then we’ll paint.”
“Solid,” I say.
There are tools and goggles nearby. I gather everything I need and crouch down. My back gives a little tweak of complaint, but I carry on. This is perfect. Much better than trying to sweet-talk insurance agents into paying me what they owe.
It’s nearly impossible to keep my cool going through the same explanations over and over with the various representatives I’ve spoken to. More than once, I’ve yelled at someone or hung up when I got too frustrated. I tell myself I’m fighting the good fight, but really, I’m just pissing off the people who I need to help me. If only the insurance company did their job. If only my club hadn’t caught on fire. If only I hadn’t tied up all my money, there to begin with. If only, if only .
I think about Dave and how easily he interacts with people, like a hot knife through butter. His only problems seem self-inflicted. What if mommy and daddy don’t approve? What a joke. Why’s he really so on edge? And more importantly, why do I care?
It can’t be because he makes me salads every day, or how he was visibly concerned about Jer. I already knew he was a decent guy. Maybe I’m just easy. A few leafy greens and I’m yours. I just wish he had better taste in food because it felt like eating a lawn.
A pair of steel-tipped boots walks into my field of vision, and I look up to find Jules standing there.
“Let’s take a break. I’ll introduce you to Chelsea. This is all hers.” I must make a face because he rolls his eyes. “And there’s lunch.”
He holds out a hand, and I grab it. If food’s involved, I’ll put up with all the chit chat he wants. My back protests as I stand. I take a moment to shake my muscles out then follow Jules outside. In front of the studio building, there’s a folding table covered with sandwiches.
“Jules!” a high-pitched voice exclaims. Its owner is running towards us. She’s like a goth girl Tasmanian Devil.
“Thank you so much for coming. I need all the help I can get.” She turns to me and smiles. “And who is this?”
“This is my friend, Kris. He’s helping me out today,” Jules says.
“Kris! I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks genuinely excited to meet me. I try not to sneer too much, but her expression changes once she gets a better look at me.
“Wait, are you the same Kris that works at The Rough Cut?” She leans closer, as if inspecting me.
“One and the same,” I say, unsure why she cares.
“Oh, this is splendid.” Her smile turns sly. “Dave can’t stop talking about you.”
“You know Dave?” My heart rate picks up when she says his name.
“He’s my brother. Who do you think got him the job?”
“Ahh, I guess it was you.”
Chelsea grins.
“It most certainly was me. I’m friends with the owner”
“I see.”
I’m still digesting the fact that Dave’s talked about me to his sister when she grabs my sleeve.
“Are you coming for the shoot tomorrow? We could use some extra hands.”
“Would you want me to?” I ask, wondering what Dave has said.
“Of course I would. I never turn down free labor. Plus, Dave will be thrilled to have you. You can discuss cappuccinos and donuts between takes.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She gives us a few more details for tomorrow, then sweeps into the soundstage. I watch her go, then turn to Jules. He gives me a look.
“So, your co-worker Dave will be thrilled to see you? That’s an interesting development.”
I shrug, but on the inside, I’m feeling pretty smug.
“Maybe it’s because I’m so much fun to work with. Or because I’m so good at the job.”
“Are you either of those things?” Jules asks pointedly.
“Do you have to ask? Have I ever botched a gig?
“I’m not doubting your ability. I wouldn’t have recommended you if I did. But I was wondering how you would get along with the other baristas.”
“Well, now you know. I’m getting along great.” I open my arms wide like the universe wants to hug me.
“That’s…interesting.” He smiles.
“No, it’s a no-brainer. I’m extremely lovable.”
“Of course you are.”
He rolls his eyes at me and pushes my arm away. I push his back, and we smile at each other. It almost makes my cold heart warm. But not as warm as it feels when I think of Dave talking about me to his sister. I can’t wait to ask him all about it tomorrow.