Mr. 365

by Clampett, Ruth

  He walks right up to Romeo’s window, reaches in, and rubs him under his chin.

  “How’s my little friend,” he says as Romeo leans into his hands appreciatively.

  “Hey, Will. I was hoping I’d see you.” He turns to me and smiles. “And good to see you again, Miss Sophia.”

  I wave. “Hi, Hank. It’s good to see you again too.”

  “Are you guys still okay for setup Wednesday? I’m sorry again about the rain delay.”

  Hank shakes his head. “Stupid rain. I shouldn’t complain. It doesn’t rain much here but when it does, it messes everything up.”

  I imagine that for all my complaining when it rains or we have a heat wave, I don’t have to endure anything like people who live on the street do.

  Will reaches for his wallet. “Let me give you some of your pay in advance.”

  Hank holds out his hand. “No need, but thanks anyway. Do you know those crazy people you said wanted to interview me just to talk about you?”

  Will and I smirk at the crazy reference.

  “They gave me a hundred bucks! That’s the easiest money I’ve ever learned. We didn’t even talk ten minutes.”

  “Was it okay? Were they polite and everything?” Will asks.

  “Sure, it was easy because they just wanted to talk about you. And don’t worry, I told ’em you weren’t an ass.” He chuckles.

  “Well, that’s a relief. Thanks.”

  “I’m joking. Actually I told ’em the truth—that you’re the best man I know.”

  “Sounds like I should give you a bonus for lying on my behalf.”

  “Oh, you stop now. I mean it.” Hank turns to me. “He is.”

  I take Will’s hand in mine. “I agree.”

  “Enough of the Will fan club,” Will says, putting the car into gear.

  “Are you taking the little man to the dog park?” Hank asks.

  “Yup, so we’re going to head out.”

  “Have fun. And nice to see you again, Miss Sophia.”

  “Likewise, Hank.”

  I hold Will’s right hand as he steers with his left and think about the contrast of Will the angry protector versus Will the kind friend to the homeless. I sense life will never be dull as long as I’m with him.

  At the dog park, Romeo gets busy checking out all the female dogs.

  “He has a favorite, but I don’t think she’s here today.”

  “Yeah? Please, please tell me her name is Juliet!”

  “Nope. Desdemona, but they call her Desi.”

  “Geez! Well they must make quite a pair.”

  “She’s a purebred Irish setter, easily twice the little guy’s size, but he pays no mind to that. You should see them try to go at it. We have to constantly pull them apart as they frown on that stuff at the dog park.”

  I laugh, imagining it. “Poor Romeo, never satisfied.”

  “Well, not for a lack of trying.”

  “Speaking of Irish things, I’ve been thinking of going to Ireland next summer,” I say, testing the waters.

  “Wow, Ireland? You’re quite a traveler. Have you always been that way?”

  “Oh no, my parents couldn’t afford big trips with a larger family and four kids to put through college, but I think I was born with wanderlust. As soon as I scraped the money together, I started traveling the world. It’s one of the reasons I work so hard… to fund my trips.”

  “Who are you going with? And it better not be that Marcos dude,” he says warily.

  “No. So far I’m going by myself, but I know this really handsome man that I may invite. I bet he’d be really fun to hang out in pubs with.”

  Romeo runs over to check in. Will throws his tennis ball half the length of the park, and the little guy takes off after it.

  “That’d be cool. I’d love to go to Ireland with you.”

  “Great.” I feel excited just thinking about it.

  “My tattoo has Irish origins.”

  “It does?”

  “Yeah, it’s a Celtic symbol called a Dara Knot from the Irish word for oak tree.” He lifts up his sleeve a little higher.

  “I’ve wanted to ask what it meant,” I say, running my fingers over it gently.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was afraid it was for an old girlfriend or something, and then I’d go from admiring it to resenting it.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “I still don’t believe you’re the jealous type.”

  “Oh, I am. And… I’m a bit possessive, too.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “So what does the symbol mean?”

  “It’s a reminder that like a tree’s roots, we have vast inner resources under the surface that can lend wisdom and stability no matter what shit is going down around us. That idea has gotten me through some rough times.”

  I smile. “I bet it has. You’re amazing. And as for your tattoo, I like it even more.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tuesday in the production meeting at work, I learn that the one time I’d like my schedule to ease up, it’s jam-packed. “What do you mean I have to do a shoot over Thanksgiving in Massachusetts? What about my Thanksgiving?” I ask. My parents are going to have a fit, and I’d been thinking about asking Will come home with me.

  “You have to go during Thanksgiving as this subject, Dorothy, doesn’t want to recreate her major production another time.”

  “We’ll be filming her actual Thanksgiving?” I ask, not hiding the skepticism in my voice. “There’s no way that’s going to work.”

  “Sophia,” Rachel says in her calm, controlling voice. “She does an authentic Plymouth Rock recreation and meal for fifty-three people. There’ll be lots to work with.”

  “Fifty-three! She must be psychotic. When will this nightmare air anyway? Thanksgiving a year from now?”

  “George has this all figured out. He’s creating multiple uses for our footage,” says Rachel.

  “Always the economist,” Paul adds.

  “For example, Will’s Christmas segment will air the weekend of Thanksgiving, and a much shorter piece of it will be part of the mixed holiday celebration that comes out the week before Christmas.”

  “I really wanted to be home for Thanksgiving weekend.” I huff.

  Lindsey folds her arms and slumps in her seat. “Join the club. I have to be in fucking Toronto that weekend. My mom’s going to kill me for missing her favorite family holiday.”

  “That sucks,” I say to Lindsey.

  “We both have to be in Malcolm, Georgia, in early November for the Easter lady,” continues Lindsey.

  “Yes, she sounds especially colorful. Did you read her file? She’s bedazzled every Easter thing she could get her hands on.” I’m less than enthused.

  “Bedazzled like a rhinestone queen. And let us not forget the overweight husband who wears a fur bunny suit. But who am I kidding? Who could forget that? It’s burned in my memory like a bad dream,” says Lindsey.

  “Chubby hubby probably terrorizes the little kids,” Paul says.

  “I bet he’s one of those furry freaks who get off wearing fur costumes head to toe. Being the Easter Bunny lets him think his kinky obsession is legit,” says Lindsey.

  “Should I feel bad that we’re making fun of all of these people?” I ask.

  “Don’t feel too bad about it. The real TV production people sit around and make fun of us for having to produce this dreck, so it all comes full circle,” Paul says.

  “I feel worlds better now. Thanks, Paul,” I say.

  Rachel turns to me. “Listen. As long as we’re respectful at the shoot, and treat these people well, I think it’s fine for us to let off a little steam in the privacy of our home office.”

  “Yeah. For example I treated Mr. Christmas really well.” Lindsey chimes in.

  “Not as well as you wanted to.” Paul points out.

  “It’s just as well I didn’t go by the shoot like I’d planned,” Rachel says. “I don’t need any more guys
with weird tendencies for boyfriends. All the reports I got back indicated he was surprisingly smart and very easy on the eyes.”

  “He isn’t weird at all.” I try not to sound defensive, while pretending Rachel doesn’t consider Will a potential conquest.

  “Well, you would know,” Paul says, raising his eyebrows.

  “No, Rachel’s right… he was fine. So different than most of the yahoos we deal with. I still can’t figure out why he does all that crazy shit, but I’d plug in his Christmas lights any old time.” Lindsey fans herself dramatically.

  Rachel turns to me. “Speaking of Will. Have you talked to him about the shopping trip?”

  My mind fills with dread. “No, I haven’t. I’m sure he won’t want to do it, and I’m nervous to ask.”

  “Quit dragging your feet. I want him on board before the exterior shoot this Wednesday.”

  “Okay.” I agree glumly.

  On the drive to Will’s home, I call Lindsey using my Bluetooth.

  “I’m on my way over to Will’s to check up on their progress for tomorrow. You got things straightened out with Hoffmeyer, right?”

  “That guy’s such a psycho,” Lindsey says.

  “And that’s why it’s so important he’s taken care of before the shoot.”

  “We were able to make some cuts in other areas, so I could get more money. I feel like we’re being extorted.”

  “We are, but I truly feel like Will’s safety is at stake. This is important. Thanks for arranging it,” I say.

  “No problem. The only thing is that it’s taking extra time to get the check cut since it wasn’t in the original budget. If he says anything can you remind him that I promised I’d have it to him Friday at the latest?”

  “Friday?” That’s worrisome.

  “It’s the best we could do. I told him that.”

  “Yeah, but did he listen?” I say to myself after we disconnect. I sure as hell hope so. I’d want this shoot to end on a high note without creating any more problems for Will.

  Will is precariously balanced on the top of his slanted roof with a string of lights looped around his neck. He gives off an air like he’s the Paul Bunyan of Christmas. His confidence is appealingly macho as he yells directions to the guys in the yard while preparing to hang the lights. At one point he widens his stance, folds his arms over his chest, and surveys the progress, the confident command of which makes me all hot and bothered.

  “Sophia!” he bellows. All the guys stop their work and turn to see who he’s so excited about. He abandons his lights and works his way down the ladder.

  When he finally reaches me, he hugs me so enthusiastically he lifts me off the ground.

  “Wow! Now that’s a greeting!” I exclaim.

  “I’m just glad to see you.” He sighs before kissing me. A few of the crew let out a whoop and holler, and Will pulls back and laughs.

  “How’s it going?”

  “We’ve had a few issues, but overall okay. I’m doing the high-risk stuff and the trim along the rooftop. I don’t care what those inbreds next door think. I’m leaving it up after the shoot through Christmas. I just won’t turn it on until Thanksgiving.”

  I feel nervous and remember my conversation with Lindsey.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” I ask.

  “Let him sue me,” he says, sounding very cavalier.

  I take a step back and turn toward the front yard. “Hank came right up and said hello when I pulled up. Do you want to introduce me to everyone else?

  “Sure,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s do it.”

  After we make the rounds, Will takes me into his garage workshop where he’s making some repairs and adjustments to some of the animated figures. “I’m having trouble with this Santa’s workshop elf. He’s holding a hammer in his hand and his arm is supposed to move up and down, but it keeps getting stuck.” He gently lifts up the elf’s shirt to check the wiring.

  “So you fix this stuff yourself?” I ask as he works.

  “Yeah, being a scenic guy comes in very handy with this house. Between what Gramps taught me and what the guys show me at the studio with animated props and characters, I can pretty much fix anything.”

  “You said a while back that your Grandpa was always teaching you how to fix stuff. That’s so cool.”

  “Yeah, he was great—all self-taught. This was his workshop. Sometimes when I’m in here late at night I almost feel like he’s with me.” He stands and picks up a worn chisel.

  “Maybe he is.”

  “I’d like to think that’s true,” Will says. “He was my hero. I’d like to think he’s keeping an eye out for me. I don’t think that stuff is creepy at all.”

  While Will gets back to work, I wander through the room. I study the old-fashioned peg board mounted to the wall with brackets holding well-worn tools, burnished with age and use. I run my hand over on the gnarled yet polished work surfaces. Every scratch and groove in the wood is a sign of hands at work. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine Will as a boy, standing next to his grandfather as he teaches him his craft.

  “My dad’s not handy at all,” I say absentmindedly.

  “No?”

  “I mean he’s great and everything, but he has no clue how to fix something. When our stuff broke it ended up in the trash bin.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty common nowadays. It takes a certain mindset to hold onto things that, with some attention and pure elbow grease, can still have value.”

  Later when I get ready to run a few errands, Will invites me back at dusk to view the finished product in its full glory.

  “Shall I get some takeout?”

  “That’s a good idea. I’m probably not going to be up for cooking tonight.”

  “Hey, there’s something I forgot to ask you earlier,” I say nervously.

  “What’s that?”

  “Since they’ve expanded the holiday thing into a series, they’ve decided to add something.”

  “Add something?” Will asks, making a face. “Like what? Are they going to lock me in a dungeon and torture me, because that’s what any more of this would feel like.”

  I scowl. “I can’t tell you how awesome you make me feel about my job.”

  He shrugs. “Sorry, but I’ve got to call this like I see it.”

  I crumble a bit with defeat. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to tell them no. But don’t you even want to hear what it was?”

  He studies my face. “Okay, okay… what is it?”

  “Going shopping in a holiday superstore.” I smile as if it’s a great idea.

  He starts laughing uproariously. “Shopping! Are you serious? Why would anyone want to watch that?”

  I feel the sting of his comment. “You haven’t watched a lot of reality TV, have you? Viewers really like to see how experts like you put ideas together.”

  “This was Paul’s idea, wasn’t it?” Will asks.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Just a feeling,” Will grumbles. “So where does this stop? Are they just going to keep coming up with things? We’ll never be done, it will go on and on, forever and ever.”

  “Yeah, and that would be awful. Imagine… we’d have to keep working with each other.”

  “Like I said, torture, pure torture.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me.

  “Okay, I’m telling them you said no. Absolutely not, under no conditions, will you go shopping, no matter how much I beg you to.”

  He kisses the top of my head and rubs my “back. “Well, if it’s that important to you, of course I’ll do it.

  I grin. “You will? Why would you do it, if you hate the idea so much?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet, woman? I’d do anything for you.”

  When I pull up just before six, Will and Hank are leaning over some type of electrical panel. It looks as if the rest of the crew is gone.

  “You think that’s okay? I followed what you told me, but I wasn’t sure if I put that last plug w
here you meant,” Hank says, biting his thumbnail.

  “This looks good. I couldn’t have done this without you and the guys’ help.” Will pats him on the shoulder.

  “Anytime, you know that. I appreciate the work.”

  “Looks like you guys are done,” I say as I approach them.

  Will smiles and loops his arm around my waist. “Yeah, you ready to be amazed?”

  Hank’s eyes get big. “You haven’t seen it before, miss?”

  “No, this will be my first time. I saw a little picture of it, but I suspect that’s nothing compared to being here.”

  “Oh yeah, you’ve got to see it! It’s the best Christmas house around… in the whole world, I bet,” Hank says enthusiastically.

  “Well, let’s see it then!”

  “Okay, go stand over on the side walk, front and center,” Will instructs.

  “Yes, sir,” I grin as I walk away.

  “Ready?” he yells when I’m in position.

  I give him a thumbs up.

  Will turns to Hank. “Give us the countdown, man.”

  Hank rubs his hands together. “Five, four, three, two, one… Merry Christmas!”

  Will quickly flips circuits two at a time as each area of the yard and house snap on. With each pop, the glow from the yard gets brighter and brighter.

  I blink several times and realize I’ve been holding my breath until the scene is completely lit and animated.

  “Wow!” I cry and clap my hands happily. “This is unbelievable.”

  The gingerbread house, which was in dusty pieces in the storeroom last week, is assembled and proudly glowing with lights while animated gingerbread men wave from the windows.

  Across the path is a Ferris wheel at least ten feet high, and each seat holds elves and Christmas characters as the large wheel slowly rotates. There’s a family of snowmen near the front door, shimmering with tiny white lights.

  An animated Santa is on the roof, waving from his sleigh. Attached to the sleigh is an entire team of reindeer who are aglow and ready for flight. Even the trees surrounding the yard are full of little lights.

  The more my gaze wanders, the more I discover. I finally glance at Will. He’s staring at me intently. When our eyes meet he turns and looks over at the displays, then back at me and grins.