by Chase Connor
“Jeez, maybe I was wrong about being his friend.” I teased.
“I ain’t seen you do nothing except take your prescribed medication since you got here, and I didn’t even see that, so stop acting so goddamn special.” She grumbled playfully. “But, since you gotta take something, stay away from alcohol and sugar.”
“Well, we’ll stop by the store before we head over to his house.” I shrugged.
“I’m not going.” She snorted.
“Why?” I frowned. “I mean, he invited the two of us.”
“Because I got things to do.” She turned on me, putting her hands on her hips. “Just because you accepted an invitation on my behalf doesn’t mean that I’m going to go somewhere. Do I tell you what to do?”
“Every chance you get, yeah.” I nodded earnestly. “Won’t Lucas be upset?”
“Oh, hell.” She turned back to the sink. “I see him once or twice a week. We get our quality time in, don’t you worry.”
“Fine.” I shrugged as I stood from the table, coffee mug in hand. “But, if it’s awkward or he’s upset you didn’t show up, it’s on your head, lady.”
“Won’t be my first time getting labeled the villain.”
“I have no doubt.” I rolled my eyes.
I left the kitchen without another word. Instead, I went to the front door, grabbed the Carhartt that I had been loaned by Mr. Barkley, slipped it on, then went out to the front porch. I sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs on the front porch and kicked back with my cup of coffee. Even this late in the morning, the front lawn looked a little frosty from the overnight chill. I sipped at my coffee as I kicked back and enjoyed the fresh air.
On a crisp, clear day, since the house was elevated in relation to the lake, a person could see from the house, over the tops of the trees in the woods, and spot the water of Lake Erie, shimmering in the sun. I smiled to myself as I looked out over the property. A decade had gone by since I had last called Oma’s house my home…and…something inside of me told me that I wanted that to change. Hollywood, movies, music…none of it held any appeal anymore. Even thinking about making another movie, singing another song, signing another autograph, giving another interview…it made my stomach do flip flops.
Whether or not I’d been specific with Oma—I had enough money that I’d never have to work again. For ten or more lifetimes. If I ever had children, they wouldn’t have to work. Neither would their children. It brought me no happiness, other than the knowledge that it provided the luxury of not having to do anything I didn’t want to do. And I didn’t want to be Jacob Michaels anymore. I just wanted to be Robert Wagner. After a week in my grandmother’s home, I was beginning to feel that it might be possible.
Chapter 9
Lucas answered the front door when I knocked, right at seven o’clock, like a good, respectable, punctual guest. He looked harried and nervous and completely out of sorts. He had missed a place shaving on his chin, his shirt wasn’t buttoned properly, and something was smoking in the kitchen in the background. It was absolutely adorable. Typically, people who get nervous around me because I’m a celebrity leave me forcing myself to tolerate them. But Lucas made it seem like the friendliest thing ever.
“Your kitchen is burning down,” I stated simply as he stood before me, absolutely frantic.
“I…I…oh jeez.” He shook his head.
Then he ran from the door in a harried dash to go deal with whatever it was in the kitchen that was making the smoke plumes billow up.
I turned to look out at his property from the front porch. He really was right on the shore of the lake. His front porch looked towards the north of his property, the shore of the lake just twenty yards from the front door. In the setting sun, it was absolutely majestic. I smiled to myself as I entered the reasonably large, cabin-like home, gently closing the front door behind myself. The paper bag cradled in my arm went along for the walk. I went straight to the kitchen and set the bag on the counter and looked in on my new friend.
Lucas was rushing around the kitchen, turning off burners, looking here and there frantically, then he opened the oven door. Smoke billowed out, black and miasmic, smelling like something had died a painful death within its confines. I couldn’t help but laugh, which didn’t help Lucas’ anxiety levels. He just fanned at the smoke and blew at it, trying to clear it away. Quickly, I located a couple of potholders and joined him at the oven. I reached in and grabbed the pan of…I didn’t know what…and lifted it out.
“Get the door.” I laughed at him.
Lucas rushed to the front door and swung it wide. I dashed out, carrying the pan with me. I quickly set it near the edge of the porch and joined him back at the door. Then we went about airing the smoke out of the house and out the front door of the house. When we finally shut the door, the smell lingered, but the smoke was gone. Everything on the stovetop was half-cooked or over-cooked—and I didn’t know what any of it was. I don’t think Lucas knew either, but it was absolutely endearing that he had tried.
“I really am a good cook.” He shook his head as we stood side-by-side in front of the oven, surveying the damage.
“I believe you.” I grinned widely.
“Where…where’s Mrs. Wagner?” He suddenly realized that she had not entered the house with me.
“She said she had other things to do.” I shrugged. “I figured she would have texted you to let you know.”
“She didn’t.” He still looked frantic. “But okay.”
“You’re a vegetarian, right?” I asked simply.
He nodded.
“Do you eat cheese?”
“Well, yes.” He replied.
I went over to the paper bag that I had carried in with me. Reaching deep within the confines of the bag, I pulled out a large wheel of brie and a box of crackers, a can of cashews, a tub of seedless red grapes, and a small tub of figs. Lucas’ eyes lit up with each item that I retrieved.
“This was supposed to be a host gift—but it can easily be dinner, too.” I gestured dramatically over all of the containers set upon the countertop.
“That’s…this was really nice of you.” He smiled sheepishly.
“Eh.” I shrugged as I slid onto a barstool across the counter from him. “I don’t even know what was in that pan.” I teased. “At least this stuff is identifiable.”
“Veggie lasagna.” He cringed.
I reached into the bag and pulled out the bunch of carrots and held them towards him like they were a bunch of flowers.
“For the host.” I smiled goofily.
He gave a weird grin and took the carrots from me.
“Flowers for a host who is a vegetarian.” I laughed.
Lucas looked at the bunch of carrots in his hand.
“I know, that’s…kinda weird.” I chuckled nervously. “I just…I thought it was funny when I grabbed them.”
“Yes…I mean—no.” He shook his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s funny. It’s not weird at all. I get it.”
“Good.” I nodded.
Lucas looked over at me, holding the carrots.
“So…if you have a knife and a couple of plates, we can chow down on our little countertop picnic?” I suggested.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” He shook his head with a laugh.
Lucas put the carrots in the vegetable crisper in the fridge and then went about grabbing plates, napkins, a couple of forks and knives. He looked slightly less frantic the more he adjusted to the fact that dinner was going to be okay. He gathered up the dinner accouterments from various drawers and cabinets, holding them all in his arms, and turned to me.
“I’m sorry.” He seemed to suddenly deflate. “Usually, I’m not like this, it’s just that, well, you’re…”
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I totally understand.”
“You do?” His whole body seemed to sigh in relief as he set everything down on the counter.
“Yeah. I mean, the first time I met Jack Nicholson…well, we haven’t talked since un
less it was in a professional capacity.” I laughed. “I think he still thinks I need to be sedated.”
“Oh, yeah.” Lucas smiled. “You’ve met celebrities, too.”
I shrugged.
“What would you like to drink?” Lucas pulled himself together.
“Water’s fine.”
“I have some Riesling if you want?” He asked.
“Oma said you didn’t drink.”
He shrugged. “I drink a beer or a glass of wine every now and then. But, it’s always by myself. I don’t enjoy social drinking. But with dinner—well, that’s okay.”
“Riesling then.” I nodded.
“I don’t really know if Riesling is appropriate for everything you’ve brought…” Lucas began as he reached into the fridge.
“I think any wine you like goes with anything you like,” I said. “I don’t care about wine pairings, personally.”
“Do you drink a lot?” Lucas asked as he turned around with the bottle.
I laughed.
“Is that a yes?” He cocked an eyebrow as he pulled up a stool across from me and began to uncork the wine. “Mrs. Wagner said you’ve been having problems.”
I rolled my eyes. “I rarely ever drink.”
“Drugs?” The cork was extracted with a wet pop.
“I’ve dabbled…but nothing serious.” I said. “Not that I’m trying to minimize any bad choices, I’ve tried a few things…a few times…but I’ve never had a drug problem. I haven’t done drugs in a long time.”
“Then…what problems was she referring to?” Lucas asked as he fetched two glasses and poured us each a healthy amount. “I mean, if that’s not too personal?”
“We can fast track this friendship if you want.” I shrugged.
He stared at me.
“Um, well, I think Oma was convinced that I was on drugs when I first arrived, mostly just because of how exhausted I was and how skinny I got,” I explained, bringing my glass to my lips. Crisp and fruity. It made me happy. “But, she was probably talking about personal issues that you don’t want to hear about.”
Lucas took a sip of his wine and popped a grape in his mouth.
“I have nothing else going on right now.” He gave a crooked smile.
“It’s just boring relationship stuff—or lack thereof—that you don’t want to hear about.” I waved him off with a laugh as I began unwrapping the brie.
Lucas followed my lead and began opening the box of crackers.
“I mean,” I shrugged, “Oma is just worried that I don’t have any love in my life—and she’s not wrong—but I’ve been kind of happy, or at least, content, with being by myself. Sometimes it’s necessary to stick to yourself. Especially if you don’t really trust anyone or find anyone who fits the position. You know what I mean?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ve tried dating, and early in my career, it wasn’t too bad.” I laid the brie between us and offered the knife to Lucas. He took it and cut us each a generous slice. “But as I got a little more recognizable…”
“Famous?” He smiled.
“Yeah.” I relented. “It just became apparent that some guys were trying to just hook up to say they had sex with me or date me to further their careers—or just because they could say they did. So…I don’t really date at all.”
“Well, casual sex isn’t necessarily a bad thing I guess.” He stated neutrally.
I laughed loudly.
“What?” Lucas looked at me blandly.
“There’s not a casual damn thing about me.” I laughed.
“You’re not into one-night stands then?” He smiled widely.
“No.” I shook my head as I peeled the rind off of my cheese, Lucas followed my lead. “I haven’t had sex in so long that I think I’ve forgotten how to do it, honestly.”
Lucas had just taken a bite of his cheese and cracker and almost choked in laughter.
I shrugged. “I’m sure you’re killing it with the ladies…I just, I don’t know, I guess people presume things because I’m a gay man and they have ideas about gay culture, but things aren’t always the way people think that they are, ya’ know?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, taking another bite of his cracker thoughtfully. “I definitely understand.”
“Maybe that’ll change.” I sighed.
“Yeah.” He smiled. “Maybe.”
He popped the rest of his cracker and cheese in his mouth. And we both took another big drink of our wine.
“So…why no wife and kids?” I started slicing us more cheese. “You’ve got the house. You seem to be doing well with work. I love your house, by the way. When are you going to start being a true Ohioan male and knock a gal up and settle down?”
He blushed. “Thank you. About the house and work stuff, I mean.”
“You’re welcome.” I smiled and dropped a couple of slices of brie on his plate for him.
“Your house is probably a lot, um, nicer.”
“I don’t have a house,” I said simply. “But don’t avoid the question.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and started de-rinding his cheese. “It’s kind of complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
He chuckled.
“I got a feeling the other morning that Jill wouldn’t be averse to sliding under the sheets with you.” I teased.
He blushed again.
Nah.” He shook his head and took a sip of his wine. “She’s a really good friend, that’s all.”
“Well, darn.” I sighed. “I was hoping I could be Oma and play matchmaker.”
He looked up at me and frowned.
“What? Did she…”
“She’s trying.” I waved him off. “I promised her I’d go out on a date.”
“How’s that going?” He grinned.
“Not too bad.” I shrugged. “I’m going on one tomorrow night. The first in probably two years, actually.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I nodded with a roll of my eyes. “She’s absolutely thrilled.”
“I bet.”
“Maybe she can set you up?” I grabbed a fig. “I mean, it’ll probably be horrible, but maybe it’ll kill your dry spell. Not that I’m implying that you don’t have game or anything…”
He laughed.
“Nah. That’s pretty accurate.” He agreed.
“Well, why not ask her?” I said, giddy from the wine. “I’m sure she knows every damn single woman in a twenty-mile radius. She loooooves being in everyone’s business. And I’m sure you have no trouble with the ladies.”
“I don’t know.” He was blushing again.
“Fine.” I chuckled. “I’ll let it go. But you just say the word, and I’ll mention it to her. I’d help you out, but the only women I know around here are two lesbians who are married to each other and a drag queen. They’re all lovely, but…”
Lucas laughed loudly as he opened the tin of cashews and shook a few out on the board with the cheese for us. Eating dinner with Lucas was comfortable and relaxed. I was smiling internally, glad that I hadn’t kept the opinion that he was just a quiet weirdo. Even without Oma around as a buffer, we got along great. And that gave me hope that I would be able to make some friends while I was back in Ohio. Which was good…because I was beginning to think that the length of time I’d be in town would be longer than I had initially thought when I headed out from L.A.
“You know, being an openly gay celebrity, the magazines are always pairing you up with someone or speculating about your…love life.” Lucas looked down with a grin, realizing what he was admitting to.
“You’ve mentioned seeing articles…if you want to call them that…in magazines twice now.” I grabbed my wine glass with a smirk. “How many gossip rags do you read?”
“Just the reputable ones, of course.” He teased back.
“Of course.” I drained the rest of my glass.
Lucas grabbed the bottle and refilled my glass without asking. I didn’t mind too much. At
least I was with someone amiable if I was going to catch a slight buzz for the first time in years.
“The two guys I’ve actually dated…well, they weren’t famous.” I shrugged. “I’ve never dated another celebrity. I mean, I’ve been flirted with, asked out, that kind of thing…but I always thought it’d be too much to handle.”
“How’s that?”
“I’m not, well, great at dating.” I shrugged, loading another cracker with brie. “I mean, I go on a date and I just get nervous and self-conscious and don’t know what to talk about and paranoid that the other person knows who I am and that’s the only reason that they’re there…and, well, I already explained about not being casual…so, it’s just odd. Dating, I mean.”
“I understand.” He smiled, picking up his wine glass.
I just made a vague gesture as I shoved the cracker in my mouth.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Lucas chewed at his lip.
“We’re like best friends now, right?” I chuckled.
He nodded with a smile.
“Yeah, ask away.” I chuckled.
“What do you want?” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Someone to travel the world with you and be there for you and your career? Do you want to settle down somewhere? Have kids? I mean…what’s the long-term plan for your romantic and sex life?”
I sighed and picked up my glass.
“That was pretty personal, huh?” He cringed.
“Well, yeah. But...” I took a sip of my wine. “We’ve established that we’re tight now. So, I’m going to answer that…but you have to promise me something.”
The wine was good…and it was making me feel open, honest, and…happy.
“Okay.” He smiled, taking a large drink of his wine.
“Promise it stays between us.”
“Of course.” He smiled wider.
“Well,” I tried to sit back, then remembered I was on a stool, corrected, and immediately hoped it didn’t look like I was as buzzed as I was, “I…I want to just be Rob Wagner. Now. I didn’t use to want to…but I’m tired of being Jacob Michaels. I was hoping that maybe Oma wouldn’t be averse to me sticking around for a while…at least until I can either figure out where I want to be permanently or find a place here. Hollywood, running all over the world for work and not really enjoying it…I just can’t see doing that anymore. It’s exhausting, man.”