by Remy Blake
“Beard oil? Who actually uses that shit?” Scowling in Cam’s direction, my gaze shifts back to the road in front of me. “Can you avoid making so many unnecessary appointments from now on? My schedule is too full and I’m neglecting my own business as a result.” The Battering Axe, my tree removal company was started by me five years ago and has grown into one of the largest and most successful ones in the state of West Virginia. Keeping it that way is important to me. I don’t want to see The Battering Axe take the back seat to all this other stuff.
“Mags, your business is great, but you can make more money in one day with a photo shoot than you can in a week.”
“Money isn’t everything, Cam.”
“I know, but it’s simple addition. Why shouldn’t I book you for something that requires so little time or work?”
Pressing my lips together, I sigh. He doesn’t understand and I know no matter how much I try to explain it to him, he never will. It’s not about the money for me. I may have plenty and live a lifestyle most can’t fathom, but that doesn’t mean I need it to be happy. Hell, I could give it up tomorrow with no qualms at all.
3
Lucy
Absentmindedly I lean back on the kitchen counter and dry all the pots and pans after dinner. While Avery gets Jeremiah ready for bed, I let my meticulously placed mask fall off and feel the tears run down my face. I had no expectations when it came to mom’s recovery; I only had prayers and pleas, because life without her wasn’t something I wanted to think about. And now that she’s on the road to recovery, I often find myself crying in gratitude.
“Mom, I’m ready for you to come tuck me in.” Jeremiah’s shout has me hastily wiping my face, hoping my observant little man doesn’t ask me too many questions.
“I’ll be there in a minute, honey.”
Walking through his bedroom door a smile spreads across my face at seeing him and Avery scanning his bookshelf together. Having my sister home is better than I expected. I became so used to our texting and Skype phone calls, I’d convinced myself our relationship hadn’t changed or suffered. But seeing the way she fits in so effortlessly has me more than thankful she decided not to move back to California. Seeing the way she is with Jeremiah, mom, and surprisingly Wes, emphasizes how much we would’ve missed her if things didn’t pan out this way.
“You two picked a book yet?” I ask interrupting their perusal. Jeremiah’s head whips around, and a smile reserved only for me lights up his whole face. Everytime I think I could never love my kid anymore than I do, my heart grows just a little bit more in size to accommodate the feeling.
“I told Aunty Ave she could pick, since I’ve already read them all.”
“That’s nice of you, bud.” I shift my eyes to Avery who is taking her selection duties very seriously. “The options that good, huh?”
“Shh, I’m concentrating,” she says.
Shaking my head, I walk over to the bed and pull the covers back, getting it ready for Jeremiah to jump in. “Okay little man, let me tuck you in bed and kiss you goodnight. Then you and aunt Ave can have reading time together.” He lifts himself up on the bed and centers his little body on the mattress. Stretching the blanket over his small frame, I fuss over him like only a mother can. Lowering my head, I kiss him on the tip of his little button nose. “How much do I love you, J?”
“More than life itself, mama,” he responds dutifully.
“And how long will I love you for?”
“Forever and a day.”
“Can you two be any cuter?” Avery interrupts. “I found the book I want to read, you ready?” she asks, looking at Jeremiah. Nodding enthusiastically he instinctively moves over making room for Avery to sit beside him.
“Alright you two, don’t stay up too late. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Heading straight for the shower, I let the water wash away the heaviness I seem to constantly be walking around with. Even though having mom home is all I’ve wanted, I can’t help but be emotionally overwhelmed with what it really means to have her here, in my home, walking and talking.
A knock followed by the sound of a door opening has me wiping down the steam of the glass shower screen and coming face to face with Avery.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I shriek.
“Oh, relax it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, and I’m not even looking I just want to talk.” Reaching for the toilet seat, she pushes the lid down, preparing to make herself comfortable.
“For fuck sake Ave,” I say in irritation. “Can you just give me five minutes to shower in peace?”
“Calm down drama queen, I just wanted to talk about mom.” The dejected tone of her voice reminds me that in some situations being an adult doesn’t matter. I’m always going to be her older sister. The one she turns to for support, for answers and for protection; and this thing with mom is no different.
“I’m sorry,” I say, regretfully. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be out. We can talk about it all then.”
Writing up a list of things we should ask the doctor tomorrow, Avery puts her organized self to good use. Mom’s recovery has been smooth sailing for the most part, but occasionally weakness overwhelms her and we need to ensure she isn’t at risk of a repeat stroke. At her age, having a second stroke has extremely low odds for recovery and survival.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” Avery asks for reassurance.
“Yes. She’s made it this far, and sometimes she insists on pushing herself harder than she needs to.” Leaning over, I give her knee a comforting squeeze. “Mom’s always going to be a fighter. She’s got this.”
With a loud sigh, Avery dramatically lets herself fall back onto the mattress.
“You and Wes seem like you’re in a good place.” I state, changing the subject.
“Is it horrible I’m so shocked at how good we are together?”
“You’ve hated him for a really long time, it’s understandable. But it makes me so happy that you’re finally seeing him for the great man he is.” After I had Jeremiah, Wes never missed an opportunity to be a great friend and help me out, no matter how many times I told him I was doing fine. He never voiced his reasons for reaching out, and eventually I didn’t care. His relationship with Jeremiah trumped every excuse I could come up with.
“What if it ends?” She asks. Her concerns are valid; relationships end all the time, even happening to the most solid couples. Avery may not be one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Wes is and there’s no way he’ll ever let her slip out of his grasp.
“Do you really believe that? You’re head over heels for one another, trust in that okay?” Looking over, I see her eyes are closed, an obvious indication there will be no more said on whatever’s going on between the two of them.
“You know, when I was on Timber there were a lot of eligible candidates,” she blurts out randomly.
“You make it sound like an episode of The Bachelor.”
“Well, it’s kind of like that with dick pics.”
Confused by the direction of the conversation, I wait patiently for Avery to explain herself, “and what does this have to do with anything?”
“I just think dick pics have their purpose, and you should sign up.”
“Not going to happen.” Laughing and shaking my head, I point directly at her, “I can’t even take a shower by myself, as you would know, let alone find the time to talk to someone on a dating app.”
“But think of all the dick pics you could get.”
“I’m perfectly satisfied with my life,” I say, defensively. “I don’t have time to worry about a dick and the person it’s attached to.”
“And when do you worry about you? Actually, when was the last time you had sex?”
“This isn’t a conversation about me. We’re talking about you and Wes and how he’s got your panties in a twist. It’s a bit hypocritical you’re worried about me, when you wont let yourself have the exact thing you want for me.”
“Nobody asked for your logic,” she scoffs.
Catching me by surprise, Avery reaches behind me and grabs my cell off the nightstand. “Let’s get back to your non existent sex life and set you up on Timber,” she suggests, while effectively changing the subject.
“Ah no. Not going to happen.” I snatch the phone from her.
“Wait. Did I just see the app on your phone already? Oh come on Luce, we can find you a hot Magnus look alike.”
I ignore her observation and don’t bother explaining how prominent the thought of hooking up with someone for sex has been lately. I downloaded the app on a whim and have refused to pay it any mind since. “Really a Magnus look alike?” I huff at the impossible.
“What? You don’t think Magnus is hot?”
“Oh, I do. But can you imagine Wes and Magnus in a room together?” We both chuckle at Wes’ expense. There’s nobody that ruffles his feathers more than Magnus Andersen.
“Besides the fact that finding a Magnus lookalike is impossible, I don’t need anyone. Not even someone as gorgeous as Magnus,” I say, forcefully. “Can we go to bed now?”
“Party pooper,” she mumbles under her breath.
“That’s me,” I quip. “It’s called responsibility.”
As she walks toward the door, I throw a pillow, aimed for her head, hoping it shuts her up.
“Ouch. What was that for?”
“It didn’t even hurt you.”
“You never know,” she says thrusting her hips in the air, “some ‘Lumberjack Love’ could be exactly what you need.”
“What are you a sixteen year old boy?”
“Just think about it,” she insists.
“Ok,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll think about it. Can you leave me to go to sleep now?”
“Promise?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “I promise.”
4
Magnus
Logging into my email account I look through my inbox. The subject line check out these possible matches catches my eye. Clicking the email purely out of curiosity, I’m surprised when I see a list of women Timber is suggesting as possible matches for me.
Why would this be coming to my email?
I had to sign up for an account when they made me the spokesman for the app, but I have no intention of utilizing it. The first four don’t interest me at all and the fifth one is a maybe.
Who is that beautiful creature?
My eyes lock onto the profile picture of number six, LadyLuc, and slowly trace the delicate features of her face, before moving over her long, brown hair. The close up image shows off the symmetrical sprinkle of freckles across the narrow bridge of her nose. As wholesome and all American as she looks, the twinkle in her green eyes makes me suspect she likes to have fun. She looks honest. I could be completely off base, but that’s what my gut is telling me. Of course that same gut also told me Talia was loyal and look how that worked out for me.
I click on the Timber link included in the email. Logging into my account, I type out a string of awkward, rambling texts. Shit. I’m no good at this stuff.
“Dude, how much longer are you going to be? You told me to be here at seven and it’s twenty after now.” Chase, my best friend strolls into my home office clearly annoyed with me.
Glancing at the oversized round clock on the wall, I confirm I am indeed tardy for our workout. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” Running a hand through my newly shorn hair, I grimace.
“What the hell happened to you?” Chase barks out a laugh, staring at my hair.
Shaking my head I release a deep groan. “Cam booked me for a haircut at this upscale salon. They paid me a lot of money to get this done.” I say, pointing at my blonde strands.
“Not enough,” he jests. “I can’t tell if you’re a throwback to the fifties pompadour or the eighties punk look.”
Running my fingers across both sides of my head and around to the back, there’s barely even a hint of hair. Peach fuzz is all that remains. I sat in the stylist’s chair and didn’t say a word even though I was shouting ‘what the fuck’ inside my head. After seeing the damage that could be done with scissors and a razor, I refused to let them near my beard.
Resting on my elbows I drop my head into my hands. The heels of my palms press into the sockets as I try to dispel the migraine that’s settled deep behind my eyes. I’m getting them more often these days. I need a vacation.
“What’s the matter with you?” Chase inquires.
Raising my head, I press my lips together and glance in his direction. A long lock of hair falls down to dangle in my face, adding insult to injury. It’s not bad enough they made me almost bald on the sides and back, but they left the top too long. If I’m not constantly running my fingers through my hair, it continually descends on my face. At least before the haircut I could pull it back into a small ponytail. Now, it’s a constant nuisance. “Nothing man, I’m just annoyed and overwhelmed with all I have to do.”
“What are you working on now? Maybe I can help you.”
I quickly close out the messages I sent to Lady Luc. I don’t need him knowing I’m taking an interest in someone on Timber. I’ll never hear the end of it.
Chase leans over the edge of the desk, glancing at my laptop screen. “Are you on Timber right now? That’s the pressing matter that couldn’t wait?” he scoffs.
“Yes, it is. This shit is like a full time job. I can’t stay on top of all the messages I get.”
“You need to weed out the ones that are a waste of time. Only keep the ones you’d consider dating.”
“I’m not planning on dating any of them. I don’t even want to be on there. If it wasn’t for the seven figure contract they gave me, I wouldn’t be doing this at all.”
“Dude, you might as well have some fun with it while you’re working. Find a hottie or two to get you over the Talia hump.”
“I’m not hung up on Talia.”
“You’re not over what happened either.”
“You walk in on your girlfriend getting plowed by some dude, his hairy ass in plain sight and balls swinging to and fro and see how you feel. I’m still scarred from that shit.”
“The fastest way to forget is to distract yourself with someone new. It’s been two years now. You’re way overdue to find a new girlfriend.”
“I’m not sure I have time for one. Lately, I barely have room in my schedule for sleep.” I logout of my Timber account and shutdown my laptop. Sliding my chair back, I rise to my feet. “Come on, let’s get started.” Chase follows me down the long, wide hallway to the next room after my office. We step inside the massive custom gym I designed when I had this house built. It has everything I need to maintain and even increase my level of fitness.
“Can I pick some tunes?” Chase asks.
“Sure, go for it. Pick something decent though. None of that pop shit you like.”
“I don’t listen to pop.”
“Bieber is pop.”
“Fine. But his last album was decent, man.”
Heading straight for the treadmill, I step onto the sides and enter in the appropriate information. Fat Bottomed Girls comes on just as it starts moving and I settle into an easy jog for the first mile before bumping it up to a higher speed for another two miles. Once that’s complete I settle back into a fast walk for the final mile. Next up is the elliptical. I have a love-hate relationship with this machine. I appreciate what it does for my cardio, but I dislike the actual act of using it. I know people assume I love everything about working out because I keep myself in peak physical condition, but that would be untrue. Just like with any job, there are parts I enjoy and others I do out of a sense of responsibility. My body has become the tool of all my trades, whether it’s for my tree removal service or being a fitness model. Every way I earn a living hinges on keeping myself in the best shape possible.
An hour later we both pause in our workouts, sweat pouring down our faces. Grabbing two clean towels from th
e shelf on the back wall, I throw one to Chase. We both wipe our faces and necks down before grabbing our water bottles to rehydrate. Gulping down the ice cold water as fast as I can, I know that I pushed myself harder than usual tonight. After all the talk about finding a girlfriend and getting over what happened with Talia, I was more than a little frustrated and also annoyed. I know Chase means well, but I’m happy with the way my life is right now. My business is thriving in every way and I only have to worry about myself.
“Dude, I’m gonna get going. I have some work to do once I get home. There’s a big presentation tomorrow I need to nail,” Chase informs me.
“What’s it for? A new client?”
“Yeah and it’s a big one. This one could be life altering for me. Cross your fingers it works out.”
“You know it bro. I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. You always do.”
He bumps my fist with his. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It means a lot. Think about what I said. You might as well take advantage of this golden opportunity. You’ve got pussy being thrown at you.”
“Yeah I hear ya, man,” I reply, automatically. I have no intention of doing what he suggested.
“I’ll see myself out.” He gives me a wave and walks out of the gym. Drinking down the rest of the water, I throw the empty bottle in the recycling bin and the dirty towels in the laundry basket. Tiffany, my housekeeper, comes in once a week to wash them all for me. She also cleans the rooms I use on a regular basis. I try not to make her job too difficult. Part of that involves keeping the whites and colors separate. She goes bat shit crazy when I mix the two. It sends her over the edge for some reason. The last time I made the mistake of throwing a few dark towels in with the whites she scolded me and I ended up buying her a gift card to apologize.
I head into the master bedroom and continue on to my en suite bathroom. A hot shower to wash away all the toxins I sweated out is the perfect way to cap off a cardio session. An ice cold rinse that has my teeth chattering is the finale to my shower. Drying off quickly, I stand at the sink brushing my teeth. Staring at my face in the mirror, I look at myself objectively. My nose is narrow and straight; not bad for a guy who lives a physically active life. Running a finger over the bridge, the slight bump I can feel is unnoticeable to look at. My bluish-gray eyes narrow as I study myself. My eyebrows are a shade darker than my sandy blonde hair and my lips are masculine in shape and framed by a beard. All in all, I’m not a bad looking guy, but I know that I don’t have the confidence it takes to pursue a woman. I’m just not there, right now. I hope to get back to that point, someday.