Chapter 3
Josh
Idanced down the stairs, across the living room, and into the kitchen, humming the George Michael song I’d heard on the radio earlier.
“You’re in a good mood.”
I shrieked, spinning as I clutched my chest. “Grandpa! You—” I clapped my hand over my eyes. “Can you please put on some clothes?”
He chuckled, but I heard him head for the living room. “It’s after 10:00 p.m. That was our deal, remember?”
I moved a finger to peek, and he’d picked up the afghan blanket Grandma had crocheted when my father was young, making a quick toga out of it.
I’d given up on using any throws or pillows in the common areas.
I mean, it was their house, but did they have to sit on the couch cushions with their bare asses?
Sighing, I let my hand drop. “Yeah, you’re right.
Sorry.” I really needed to order the prefabricated tiny house for my nephew Julian to live in when he moved here this fall for college.
As soon as the house I was building for myself on the land west of the barn was habitable, his was next on the list. He could’ve stayed in the room I was using now, but a college freshman shouldn’t have to lock himself in by 10:00 p.m. every night just to avoid getting an eyeful of Grandma and Grandpa.
“Back to my question. What’s got you in such a good mood?”
I filled a mug with water and put it in the microwave, hoping my grandmother didn’t show up and see me not using the teakettle. “My new book is coming along great. And remember how I texted Hill Concannon?”
Grandpa’s bushy white brows flew up. “He replied?”
I grinned. “Even better! He gave me a couple of great plot ideas!”
“Really? That’s amazing, Joshie!”
The microwave dinged, and I took my mug out as my grandmother emerged from their bedroom. At least she was wearing pajamas, though I kept my gaze above her neck due to the thinness of her top. Hastily I dropped a teabag into the mug and hotfooted it out of the kitchen. “Goodnight!”
I should check with my sister about whether she’d informed Julian of the grands’ predilection for nudity.
They’d hidden it when her kids had visited as children, but it was Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and they should be able to do as they liked.
But Julian needed to know to avoid looking in their windows after dark.
Two weeks later I’d finished a rough draft of my novel, so I took a whole weekend off from writing to reset my brain before starting edits on Monday. Today I’d begin putting the roof on my house, but farm chores came first.
I was feeding the miniature horses and the donkey when my phone chimed with a text. It wasn’t even 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. My grandparents were up, but they would’ve shouted instead. Most of my friends and my sister’s family were still asleep.
I gave Benny the donkey the last of his feed before wiping my hands off on my jeans and fishing my phone out of my pocket.
Hill Concannon: Option one [video]
Hill Concannon: Option two [video]
What the heck? A rush of pleasure filled my chest. The huge movie star was asking me for an opinion?
I clicked on the first video. Hill—I’d decided after all our texts I was allowed to call him by his first name—was standing in what I thought was a hotel suite living room wearing jeans and a black t-shirt.
He paced away a few steps, then spun to face the camera.
His voice was low and intense, and the room, what he was wearing, it all disappeared.
I couldn’t look away from his face. He delivered a monologue about revenge and betrayal.
I was riveted, and it was a shock when he reached for the camera and stopped the recording.
Wow. What role was that for? Quickly I clicked on the second video. The dialogue hadn’t changed, but his approach was entirely different. Now he was casual and relaxed but smirking and supercilious. A hundred other actors could’ve done it the same way.
Holy crap.
Me: I don’t know what film this is for, so no idea which suits the character better, but IMO the first one is fire, sex, and an Oscar. The second one is leaning toward Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham.
Hill Concannon: Oh, shit. Sorry, Josh. I meant to send those to someone else whose name is similar to yours. Sorry to bother you!
Well, fuck. So much for him valuing my opinion.
Hill Concannon: But thanks for telling me who the second one reminded you of! I don’t have the part yet, and the producers are pushing for that version of the character. It felt really derivative to me but I couldn’t place it
Me: I hope they let you do it your way.
Hill Concannon: Please don’t share those videos with anyone
Me: I won’t, I promise. Remember, I’m an author. I know what it’s like to have my books pirated within twenty-four hours of releasing them.
Hill Concannon: Yeah, sorry. I should’ve realized you’d get it. And book pirating sucks
Me: People are assholes and that’s a fact.
Next to me, Benny brayed for attention. I took a quick close-up of his face and sent it to Hill.
Me: Benny says good luck with getting the part! [photo]
Shit, was that too dorky? Definitely too dorky. He didn’t respond right away, and I cringed. I hoped he didn’t block me. Not that he had any reason to ever text me again anyway.
I waited a few minutes, but my phone was silent. “Well, Benny, my brief acquaintance with a famous person is over.” My chest was heavy with disappointment, which was ridiculous. A few text exchanges didn’t mean we were friends.
I busied myself mucking out the stalls, and then, after breakfast, I donned my safety harness and went to work putting the tar paper on the frame of the house.
Nail guns were the best invention ever. My friend Diego, who had a contractor license, was coming over tomorrow to help me with the shingles.
No way could I do all of those by myself.
I’d hired Diego and his crew to put my foundation in, and they’d do the plumbing, electrical, and the HVAC system, but I was trying to at least participate in the rest of the work.
The house would be almost nine hundred square feet, with a full kitchen and bathroom. But Julian didn’t need a place this big, and it was too much work to build him something from the ground up anyway. I had the money to buy a tiny house for him, and I knew he’d love it.
I’d been lucky. The startup I’d created with a couple of my college buddies had sold for a bundle. If I was careful, especially if my book revenue kept growing, I was set for life. Even better, my being here meant Grandma and Grandpa would never have to go into a nursing home.
So if living on a hobby farm with my grandparents made me practically undateable to the average gay man, well, it was worth the trade-off.
By early evening, my back was complaining, my muscles were sore, and I was covered in grime. But I’d gotten started on the shingles, and with Diego’s help they might be finished tomorrow.
Grandpa came outside to take care of evening feeding as I was putting the ladder away. He detoured down the path I’d worn in the grass between the barn and my future home. “Lookin’ good, Joshie!”
“Thanks, Grandpa.” I began gathering my tools and putting them in their carryall. “I’ll help you with the horses and Benny if you’ll handle the birds.” Grandma and Grandpa had started out with four chickens, and slowly over time they’d added more, plus a duck, a turkey, and a guinea hen.
“I’ll take you up on that.” He was still going strong in his late seventies, but I made a mental note to run a paved path between the main house, the barn, and my house. All I needed was Grandma or Grandpa falling down in the mud after a rain.
I put my tools away then took care of the miniature horses and Benny. As I exited the barn, heading to the coop to help Grandpa, my phone chimed with a text. I’d been expecting something from Diego, but instead it was Hill.
Hill Concannon: Is that a donkey? OMG he’s so cute! I’ve never seen a donkey up close before
Grandpa came to a stop next to me, the bucket of chicken feed under one arm. “Well, now. You didn’t say you had a beau.”
My head shot up. “What? I don’t!”
He snorted as he moved past me. “Nobody smiles like that unless they have feelings.”