Jacob Michaels Is... The Omnibus Edition: A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Books 1 - 6

by Chase Connor

Chapter 14

  “NO!!!!” Andrew screamed and pushed off from the side of the house, still out of breath from his journey from Main Street to Esther Jean Wagner’s on foot—of which he now only had two.

  Andrew raced across the yard, limping and skipping, the crack in the ground slowly inching shut, closing off the space where Esther Jean, Lucas, and Rob had disappeared. The sun slowly rose in the east as he awkwardly leapt the garden fence and dove towards the narrow crack in the garden, landing over it just as the last bit of Earth sealed shut. For the briefest of moments, the ground shook underneath, and then all was silent and still.

  Rising to his knees, Andrew brought his hands to his head, a look of agony twisting his face as he gazed down at the Earth that was as smooth as it had been before this night. Bird song suddenly met his ears as the world came to life around him. A gentle, cold breeze blew in off of Lake Erie, over the trees, and greeted Andrew’s back. Andrew looked around frantically, wondering if anyone else was around, wondering if there was someone who could help him figure out what to do. Esther Jean was gone. Carlita was dead. Mr. Barkley was probably dead. Everyone he had been working towards this moment with was…no more.

  There was no one around to reach out to, to ask for help or guidance. Andrew didn’t even have a pack to run off to in order to be consoled. He was all alone in the backyard of a house that no longer had an owner and a garden that might never see planting again. With nothing more to do, Andrew pushed off of the ground in defeat and rose to his full height. Slowly, reaching up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand, Andrew turned on his heels. His feet began to move of his own accord as he walked towards the garden fence.

  Barely at the perimeter of the garden, about to open the gate so that he could once again leave, find somewhere to go, someone to speak with, to help him forget this night, the ground shook briefly for another moment. Shocked and afraid, Andrew whipped around, expecting Bloody Bones to suddenly pop out of the ground.

  But Bloody Bones did not suddenly appear out of the ground like he had on Main Street when the Earth had shaken. The ground didn’t even crack. Instead, Andrew’s eyes landed on a small green sprout that popped out of the ground like a thermometer on a roasted turkey. Andrew’s eyes stayed on the sprout as it ever so slowly grew into a seedling. With ever-widening eyes, Andrew continued to watch as the seedling, nearly knee-high grew into a sapling. Though he didn’t know why, Andrew began to smile as the sapling began to grow faster, picking up speed as its trunk widened, and its branches began to split and elongate, reaching towards the sky.

  Bit by bit, the tree grew taller and broader as Andrew stood there in awe, backing up to give it room to grow without knocking him over. The trunk became wide than four men bundled together and the branches continued to split and thicken and reach into the sky. Then the process was complete. In under a minute, Andrew had been walking towards the garden fence, wondering what to do, and then he had watched a tiny sprout grow into a fully mature tree. One that would have taken decades—if not centuries—to grow.

  Andrew looked up at the tree in wonder, examining its thick bark and gnarly roots that surely anchored it securely and deeply into the Earth. Hundreds of branches adorned the massive tree that towered over him in the garden, reaching out in an umbrella of brownish-black over Andrew’s head. He continued to stare in awe as his eyes were drawn to one of the lower branches that seemed to shiver against the cool breeze coming off of the lake. Before his very eyes, a single bud appeared from a knot in the tree branch, slowly unfurling to show that the tree was announcing the coming Spring.

  Smiling to himself, Andrew’s eyes closed languidly. He sniffed the air, hoping he would smell Esther Jean, Lucas, or Rob on the air…but all he smelled was fresh air and dirt. Frowning to himself, Andrew wondered why his keen senses from being a werewolf did not pick up anything else…just as they always had. His eyes grew wide as an idea struck him. As he had done, many thousands of times before, Andrew willed himself into wolf form.

  And nothing happened.

  He was still human-Andrew, standing before a tree that hadn’t existed just minutes before.

  There was nothing for Andrew to do but smile and say his thanks as the warm, golden light of the sun kissed his skin.

  It was the first time he’d ever had to thank a witch.

  “Thanks, Tom!” The field reporter spoke into her microphone as she looked into the camera.

  Behind her, the smoke and wreckage of Main Street created a harrowing scene with which to frame her story. Plumes of blackish, sooty smoke rose from Barkley’s Hardware Store. The firefighters were still putting out small clusters of fire that were still burning in the First National Bank of Point Worth. The Sunny Side-Up Café was nothing but rubble. Men—naked for some reason—lay in the middle of the street, badly battered and bruised. A crack ran down the center of Main Street, nothing but darkness and cold below. A woman, partially covered by a sheet, was lying in the street, her heels with red soles sticking out from the bottom. The reporter gestured towards the scene behind her.

  “As you can see behind me here, Tom, and our viewers at home,” She waved, shaking her head sadly, “the town of Point Worth, a small community within walking distance of the shores of Lake Erie, is in ruins. No one knows what caused these fires or many of these buildings to collapse, or what happened to these poor people behind me. The police are canvassing the town as we speak, looking for any citizen of Point Worth who might be able to shed some light on what happened in this little berg. The anonymous person who called the Toledo Police Department this morning merely said that there were problems in Point Worth, but failed to elaborate, give a name, or even stay on the line long enough for the dispatchers to thoroughly question him.

  “What we do know is that whatever happened here could possibly happen anywhere in this great state of ours. That is why the police are trying to put the pieces together and find anyone who might be able to let them know what happened. It’s in all Ohioans’ best interest to know if this was an isolated incident, or maybe even an act of terror. But—”

  Chapter 15

  “Did you see that?”

  Rolling my eyes, I paused, stopping my pitch to look across the table. Three faces were huddled over the scripts I had provided at the beginning of the meeting, pointing and jabbing at the pages before them. Of course, I could’ve ignored yet another irritating statement in the middle of my pitch, but I was about done being polite with these three morons. Placing my hands on top of the table, I laced my fingers and stared at the people across from me. Letting a smile form on my face, I waited for them to notice I had stopped speaking.

  “Did you see that?” The man on the right—Bob, I think—tapped his script again. “Right there. He wants to kill every damn character in this thing!”

  “Thanks for the spoiler alert.” The lady in the middle—Lucinda, I believe—rolled her eyes.

  I liked her.

  “Someone has to die, right?” The man on the other side of Lucinda shrugged.

  His name was Ron. I had worked with him before.

  “You can’t really have this type of story and expect it to have a fairytale ending,” Ron added.

  “Why not?” Bob snipped. “Everyone loves a happy ending.”

  “Do they?” Lucinda gave him a saccharine sweet smile. “Do they really, Bob? People bitched for weeks and weeks about each death on Game of Thrones, but they kept tuning in, didn’t they?”

  “That’s different!” Bob proclaimed.

  “How?” Ron backed Lucinda up.

  “They didn’t kill the whole goddamn cast in one episode!”

  “They killed a lot of the cast in single episodes. The Red Wedding, for example.” Lucinda gestured vaguely. “You have had an issue on nearly every damn page of this script.”

  “This isn’t Game of Thrones!” Bob added angrily.

  “Bob, just look at it this way.” Ron tried to play peacemaker. “If we—”

  Before either L
ucinda or Ron could stop him, Bob growled with frustration and pushed away from the table. My eyes tracked his movements as he jumped up from his chair and marched toward the door to the conference room, his chair still spinning lazily from the exertion. Once the door to the conference room had slammed shut behind him, I let my head turn back to Lucinda and Ron. They both looked apologetic—and frankly, embarrassed for their partner.

  “Sorry.” Lucinda winced.

  “Don’t apologize for a man.” I raised an eyebrow. “Especially one like Bob.”

  Ron laughed as Lucinda let a smile come back to her face—we were obviously going to be friends. “This ain’t your first rodeo with Bob, is it, Jacob?”

  I shrugged.

  “We have his opinion,” I said, gesturing at the three scripts still open on the other side of the table. “What do you think of Jacob Michaels Is…? Think we can send it to series? Get the green light to at least fund a pilot?”

  Lucinda chewed at her lip thoughtfully as Ron glanced over at her.

  “Jacob.” He sighed.

  “Yes?”

  “It is very dark. And everyone does die at the end.” He gave me an apologetic look. “And, I mean, the Oma character. Love her, don’t get me wrong. But this isn’t going on network. We’d have to change her whole personality if we pitched to network. You know that, right?”

  I laughed.

  “Andrew didn’t die,” I said. “And I was thinking premium or Netflix.”

  “No one’s going to give a shit about Andrew.” Lucinda chuckled, though I could tell she hated breaking that news. “I mean, he’s not a sympathetic character. He’s kind of like the Severus Snape.”

  “Without a really good backstory.” Ron helped her.

  “Oma and Lucas.” Lucinda brightened. “Those are your fan favorites. And you butchered one and sacrificed the other.”

  “Lucas and Oma?” I chuckled. I wasn’t offended. “Rob gets no love, huh?”

  They both laughed.

  “Carlita.” Ron performed a ‘chef’s kiss’ type motion. “People will die for her. But you killed her off as well. Hell, even Lucas’ grandfather got axed. In fact, it’s pretty clear that most everyone in the town died—even ones you’d never know about. You left the one character no one will feel all that sympathetic towards. I mean…we live in the age of the internet, Jacob. They’ll absolutely roast your ass on Twitter.”

  “I live to be dragged on Twitter.” I shrugged.

  Lucinda and Ron exchanged a look.

  “Ron,” I chuckled warmly, doing my best ‘Nice Jacob Michaels’ impersonation, “have I brought you anything that turned out to be bad before? Every movie we’ve worked on together has done well enough. Some have even done really well. Not a single stinker in the bunch.”

  Lucinda and Ron seemed to decide something telepathically, so Lucinda turned to me to speak whatever it was they had discussed subliminally.

  “Jacob,” She said, “this is very meta. It’s cool. I mean, you’re Jacob Michaels, your real name is Robert Wagner, and you’re from Ohio, and you want to make a series where an actor with the stage name ‘Jacob Michaels’ goes home to Ohio to get away from the toxicity of Hollywood. I love that. But…”

  “But what?”

  “People might start to think this is really your life story,” Ron explained.

  “They’ll think I really grew up in a house with a magical old lady and tiny little creatures that did household chores, and my hometown was full of people with magical abilities and werewolves? That I can shoot lasers and fire from my hands? That’s crazy.” I couldn’t help but let a laugh escape my mouth.

  Both Ron and Lucinda turned a pinkish color, but they laughed with me.

  “Well, okay.” Ron held his hands up. “Who do you see in the supporting roles? I mean…it sounds like…”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, stopping him. “Obviously Esther Jean Wagner for Oma. Lucas Barkley for Lucas Barkley…I found some new talent for Jason, Carlita, and Andrew, and—”

  “You want your real grandmother and boyfriend to play your grandmother and boyfriend—and you want the characters to have the same names as the real people?” Lucinda’s brow furrowed, thinking this over.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Jacob.” Ron gave a barking laugh. “Lucas has barely even managed to land supporting roles in the past…and now you want to give him a role in a project like this?”

  “Talk about nepotism,” Lucinda spoke out of the corner of her mouth to Ron.

  They both laughed, but it wasn’t at my expense.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “He can do it. You said meta is good, right?”

  “I just said it was cool. Not good.” Lucinda teased.

  “And your grandmother—God love her—” Ron began, “she’s an incredible actress. But how long has it been since she’s acted? The 70s?”

  “She did some T.V. and a few movies in the 80s and 90s.” I corrected him, though I knew he knew those things.

  “Pardon me.” He laughed.

  “Come on, guys.” I rolled my eyes with a smile, trying to be affable. “Jacob Michaels, his legendary actress grandmother—”

  ‘That’s pushing it.” Lucinda mumbled.

  “—his actor boyfriend. All from Ohio. All playing themselves in a T.V. show that pretends to be about their real life. It’s like reality T.V. meets situational comedy meets dramedy. And it’s full of magic and fantasy in my hometown in Ohio. Don’t tell me people wouldn’t eat that shit up if we do it right. People are dying for LGBTQ plus representation in their media. They want to see meaty roles for older women. Everyone loves drag queens—even Republicans. We could easily show the juxtaposition between the glamour of Hollywood and regular working-class Americans. It would be easy to show social issues and discuss them visually. But in a heightened reality, fantasy way that appeals to a broader audience than those just looking for something real. It’s the best of both worlds. You could appeal to people out here and people in middle America. This is one of those shows that easily trends on social media every Sunday night and is discussed in workplaces across America on Monday. And the Kobolds? Ernst? Think of the action figures and stuffed dolls possibility. So…much…merch.”

  Again, Lucinda and Ron exchanged looks, seemed to have a telepathic discussion, and agreed on something quietly.

  “We’re not denying that it’s intriguing—” Ron began.

  “You, your grandmother, and Lucas are not getting paid well first season. Maybe the first two.” Lucinda interjected.

  “My feelings.” I held a hand to my heart with a smile. “So…are we going to work on developing this?”

  Another look between the two.

  “Fine.” Ron sighed.

  “Don’t sound too happy.” I teased as I rose from my seat.

  “I just don’t know where we’ll find little people to play the Kobolds.” Ron ruminated. “I mean, there’s always CGI, but that’s expensive. Maybe forced perspective will work…”

  “It’s going to be a tough sell,” Lucinda added a sigh and stood.

  “I have a very inexpensive solution.” I smiled warmly. “Don’t worry.”

  “I guess we’ll see what the studios say.” Ron shrugged with a laugh.

  “I have a feeling that when you take it to streaming, one of them will snatch it up. Easy three-seasons green light.” I held a hand out towards her. “And then you can apologize for that comment.”

  Lucinda and Ron laughed, but ultimately, we all shook hands.

  Then I was leaving the production office.

  The drive out to Calabasas is too long when there’s good news to be shared. It was a sunny day, though there is never a shortage of such a thing in southern California. For the first time in my life as a celebrity, I wished that I didn’t have a Lincoln MKZ but something sportier, something the roof could be lowered on. Maybe a BMW 4 Series or a Corvette…hell, even a Jeep Wrangler would have been ni
ce on such a wonderful day. To feel the sun on my face and neck and arms as I drove from the production office meeting back home, the wind whipping through my hair as Scissor Sisters blared from the radio would have made it the best day it possibly could have been.

  Lucinda and Ron had been skeptical—or, more accurately, they had pretended to be skeptical—but they were going to help develop Jacob Michaels Is… into something we could sell to Netflix or Hulu. Maybe even Amazon Prime. Then, Oma, Lucas, and I would find ourselves on a studio lot—maybe even on location—shooting our first ever project as a family and team. I couldn’t have been happier. Of course, I worked enough for all of us, there was no lack of money coming into our household, but I knew how desperately Oma wanted to get back to work on something substantial. Having a starring—or even co-starring—role in anything would make Lucas so happy. He had never been given a chance to show what a talented actor he was.

  When I pulled into the driveway at home, easing the car into the garage next to Lucas’ old pickup truck that had come with us from Point Worth a decade prior, I smiled. Oma’s old Cadillac was on the far end of the garage, nearly permanently parked there since she always had someone to drive her anywhere. It was almost like yesterday that Oma had convinced the two of us two travel out to Hollywood to “give this acting thing a shot.” Now…here we were…living in Calabasas, living the dream, and about to star in our first project as a family. Life couldn’t possibly get better.

  The garage closed quietly behind me as I entered the house. I didn’t bother hollering out, trying to figure out where everyone was. Oma and Lucas had to be in the same place they always were when they had the day off. They’d both been waiting for me to get home from my meeting to tell them the outcome. I walked through the house, all floor-to-ceiling windows, granite, and steel, making my way to the back patio. Just as I had suspected, as I looked out through the glass doors that looked out over the patio, I saw Lucas and Oma seated at the table. Lucas had his nose in a book with a glass of lemonade on the table before him. Oma was staring out at the hills, a flute of champagne in her hand, held grandly before her. It was a nice contrast to the house dress and slippers she hadn’t changed out of since breakfast.