Chapter 6
ASH
“We thank you for your interest in the position, but we have decided to go with another candidate at this time.”
Well, that makes forty-seven rejections in the past two weeks, one hundred something over the last six.
The remote work sector is extremely competitive right now, especially in my field of real estate escrow and title work.
Even companies that allow work from home as an option still want their employees to be within a geographic radius, which makes no sense to me.
It’s not like I will have to commute to the office.
Flopping back on the couch in a full-on manspread, I sigh audibly.
My severance pay is about to run out, and Pennsylvania unemployment is only paying about sixty percent of what I had previously been making, minus whatever I pull in from the bartending jobs.
While I can still exist on that for the next few months, combined with my savings, it’s looking like my previous job situation was a fucking unicorn that I’m not going to be able to find the likes of which ever again.
“Have you tried using your given name on your resume?”
My mother’s words keep echoing in my ears with every rejection.
I’ve gone by Ash since I was in middle school.
That’s when I realized that I was different from the other students.
I had always liked girlish things, but my parents had always just assumed I was effeminate as a boy.
Looking back, they were really open minded in comparison to a lot of my peers’ parents; however, they never really understood me.
Hell, I never really understood me – not until the last few years.
I spent most of my life waffling over whether or not I was transgender.
I had days where I truly was a woman in my mind, so when I would have days where that identity did not feel right, it felt like I was being a fraud in the community.
It took so long to reconcile with myself that I am not a trans woman, nor am I a cis man.
I am a gender fluid person, having days where I am a man, woman, or neither.
My dad seems to have come to accept my truth in his own way, introducing me to others just as his “kid” rather than saying son or daughter. But my mother…
As a kid, I was introduced as her son. In middle school, she went all in when I told her I thought I wasn’t a boy.
She got me put on hormone blockers early enough that I didn’t really develop any overly masculine traits through the puberty years.
Of course, it also helps that Dad couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it, and his genes are strong in me.
In college, I went off the blockers. It’s not that I wanted to be a man, but I quickly realized that it was easier to navigate life as an adult if I presented myself as a man outwardly.
That’s how I managed to get every job prior to this, except for the bartending jobs.
Ashton Reginald Harper is obviously a man’s name – a rich white man’s name – and unfortunately, that has more pull in the corporate world than Ash R.
Harper which could be someone of almost any gender and ethnicity.
Fuck this. I refuse to go back to being Ashton from nine to five and Ashley for my mother while never feeling right with either. If I wasn’t pinching my pennies, I would totally be moving forward with the legal name change that I kept putting off.
Noise outside has me being the nosy white bitch that I am, and I grab the broom with a need to suddenly sweep the deck attached to my mobile home.
From there, I notice the whole crew from Kink Manor making their way over to the trailer next door where Jackson Franklin is piling things up outside.
While he’s not the most responsible neighbor, he’s been a million times better than some of the assholes I’ve lived next to in the past before getting the invitation to move to Manor Drive.
“What the hell is going on, Jackson? I never agreed to you moving into the house,” Eli grumbles as soon as he is within earshot. “And why the hell did you ask us to pack up Jace’s room?”
Setting the broom aside, I head down the steps to join the crowd of neighbors that have come outside. We are all a family here on Manor Drive and moving in or out of the neighborhood is a big deal.
“It’s not my story to tell, but Jace needs space separate from…
well, frankly from any kind of kinky fuckery…
Don’t shoot the messenger!” Jackson dodges the kick from Lucky before picking up a box that he had stacked on his steps.
“He was gonna move away completely but I convinced him to take my trailer and I would take his room in the house. It was the only thing I could come up with on less than an hour of sleep!”
We all seem to reflect on what Jackson has shared with us. Jace is a cornerstone for a lot of us. He’s that solid presence we rely on. If he were to move away, it would leave a chasm behind.
He’s the resident handy man.
He’s the guy we call when a kitten is stuck up a tree.
He’s the guy who takes charge when Theo has clogged the sewers after Taco Tuesday.
He’s the warm hug when we’re hurting, and the fierce protector when we’re frightened.
The last week has been hard enough without his presence; I can’t imagine what life would be like if he moves away for good.
“Why didn’t he call me himself?” Eli asks.
What a shocker, the Sadist doesn’t like not being in control of everything.
Jackson shrugs, but there is an uncharacteristic anger brewing in his expression. I can understand it, honestly. Eli might be the boss for those of us who work at Mac’s, but he seems to forget that he’s not in charge of everything in our lives.
Judging by the glares shooting between the two men, someone should probably step in.
When no one in the crowd steps up, I realize that I am going to have to be the one to do it.
Everyone else present is either a drama loving brat or they are too naturally submissive to confront the more dominant personalities.
“So does this mean I get to live next door to the teddy bear instead of your stanky ass?”
Lucky giggles from where he is now perched on Stan’s back, and the tension ratchets down a few notches between everyone.
After a few more seconds of glaring, I manage to get everyone on track to pack and move the items between the two buildings.
Even Eric loaned his truck while he’s busy at Mr. Drag to make moving things a bit easier.
It might only be a move within the same neighborhood, but carrying a dresser over the length of a football field is not something you do if you don’t have to.
With the number of people helping, it honestly takes less than an hour to empty out the home next door and place the boxes of clothes and things from the house inside.
For the sake of my nerves and my now cold Chinese food, I am thankful when Jackson and the crew from Kink Manor disappear shortly after the last of his things were removed from the home next door.
About fifteen minutes later, Jace pulls up.
Right now, I am kind of glad that I turned down the invitation for pizza at the house because Jace looks wrecked.
“Hey TB,” I call out gently when he doesn’t immediately move to get off his bike after taking off the helmet. “Care for some leftover Chinese food? Jackson is over at the house, so you can just chill here with me if you don’t want to people.”
The raw agony on his face when he looks over has me ready to burn the fucking universe for him. Now, I think I understand why Jackson was ready to go up against Eli like he did.
Whatever happened to our teddy bear is trying to destroy him from the inside.
Instead of answering me verbally, Jace just nods and follows me into my home like a lost puppy.
I am not sure what is going on, but he can at least help me get rid of some of this lo mein and orange chicken before it goes bad.
Leftovers and chocolate cake do wonders for the soul – especially when you’re resisting the urge to dropkick someone at the unemployment office… or whatever is eating at my friend.