Village Fool
Synopsis
Owen is only confident in two places: at work, supporting clients through IT woes, and when he’s sitting around a gaming table in the role of a smooth and charming bard. He’s never acted on the crush he’s had on his physiotherapist—and total cubcake—Toma. Even though Owen’s no longer Toma’s patient, and his crush hasn’t dialed down in the slightest, Owen can’t figure out how to make a move.
When a friend decides to play a prank involving Owen’s contact list, Owen spends the morning of April Fools’ day inadvertently texting smooth and charming thoughts about Toma... to Toma himself.
By the time Owen discovers the prank, things are completely out of control. Discussions of thighs and awards for the World’s Best Chest have been handed out—not to mention they’ve set an accidental coffee date—and there’s no taking that sort of thing back. When this joke finally gets told, Owen’s convinced he’ll be the punchline, but with a little luck and some nudging from his friends, the last laugh might be the best of his life.
What Reviewers Say About ’Nathan Burgoine’s Work
Faux Ho Ho
“The setup is simple: fake boyfriends for the holidays, started as a lie to get someone out of a dreaded family event, but snowballs into a more elaborate ruse. A tried-and-true formula really. But, Faux Ho Ho, ’Nathan Burgoine’s new holiday release, is anything but formulaic or contrived. The execution is original, and the story is an utter delight. It’s charming, fun, and sweet, everything a Christmas romance should be. And, it’s also a little bit nerdy! Which, in my book, is a bonus.”—The Novel Approach
Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks
“Burgoine (Of Echoes Born, 2018, etc.) has created a gay teen protagonist who is a bit goofy at times but who is comfortable in his own skin....Overall, a feel-good, contemporary read with strong LGBTQIAP rep and an unusual fantasy subplot.”—Kirkus Reviews
“READ THE BOOK. NOW. IT IS AMAZING.”—Book Princess Reviews
Of Echoes Born
“Burgoine assembles 12 queer supernatural tales, several of which interlock...The best tales could easily stand alone; these include ‘The Finish,’ about an aging vintner whose erotic dalliance with a deaf young man named Dennis gets complicated, and ‘Struck,’ in which beleaguered bookstore clerk Chris meets Lightning Todd, who predicts his future wealth and romance. A pair of stories set in ‘the Village,’ a gay neighborhood, feature appealing characters and romances and could be components of a fine Tales of the City–like novel.”—Publishers Weekly
Village Fool
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Village Fool
© 2021 By ’Nathan Burgoine. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63555-982-8
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: March 2021
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Jerry L. Wheeler and stacia Seaman
Production Design: Bold Strokes Graphics
Cover Design by Inkspiral Design
eBook Design by Toni Whitaker
By the Author
Light
Triad Blood
Triad Soul
Handmade Holidays
Of Echoes Born
Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks
Faux Ho Ho
Village Fool
Acknowledgments
My husky Max gets the lion’s share of the acknowledgements this time, in that it’s his fault I blew my left arm. The tendons all around my elbow, wrist, and forearm were his (unintentional) target and that doggo scored a direct hit with some ice, a glimpsed squirrel, and poorly-timed yank on the leash. As a result, my original plans for Owen and the kind of physiotherapy I intended him to take took a bit of a left turn. As a writer, one of the cool things is how you can take anything you experience and learn about and put it into a book.
Whether or not the experience in question is a good one is moot.
I didn’t have a car accident, like Owen does in this novella, but I sure did get to go learn about TENS and dry needling and squeeze tennis balls and lift nearly zero weight. My physiotherapist and my doctor also get my thanks, both of whom are wonderful women who answered all my questions about just how seriously they meant it when they said I shouldn’t type (spoiler: they were very serious).
Another round of applause to Inkspiral for the cover art—I adore what they’ve done for these Village novellas and now that I’ve seen snow and rain I can’t help but think there needs to be a cover with maple leaves and that would probably mean Hallowe’en, so… Stay tuned?
Added to that list of wonderful people is—as always—my brilliant editor Jerry L. Wheeler, who takes what I scribble and transcribe and turns it into the best it can be, and who was there on multiple phone calls where I wailed about the arm, the tennis balls, and the general frustration of wanting to write and not being able to. Ditto Bold Strokes Books, including Sandy, Ruth, and Cindy, especially, who were, as always, kind in the face of my “so, it turns out I’m not allowed to type right now, and there’s no way I can write a novel” e-mails. Thank goodness for novellas, is all I’m saying. Novellas are my new normal, at least until I get back to where I was.
Which, on the good news side of things, seems to be where I’m headed; my arm is on the mend. I can handle short periods of typing at a time now, longer every week, and Max sometimes even appears mildly regretful.
Okay, that last part is a lie. He totally doesn’t care. But he’s cute, so he gets away with a lot.
Last, of course, I owe so much to my husband, Dan. 2020 would have been quite the ride even without blowing the tendons in my arm, but why not mix it up, eh? Love you, mister.
Dedication
This one’s for everyone who heard about my injury and thought, ‘I wonder if he tried voice-to-text?’ but realized of course I would have tried that and didn’t suggest it.
You’re the freaking best.
One
April
The rest of the Bittersweets Club were already assembled when Owen arrived. They’d managed to snag their usual table and four chairs—not always an easy feat for the busy mornings in the shop—and Owen paused there with his umbrella and coat and phone.
“You look like you’re having a bad morning,” Silas said. Trim, blond, and already holding his own mug, Silas had the ability to be both awake and aware in the morning before coffee. It was bizarre. “You okay?”
“There were some issues last night, and I was on call. It’s been one of those,” Owen said, tapping his phone and dodging the real question he knew Silas was asking. He finished updating the case notes and fired off a text, officially passing the baton to the next client support group, and glanced at the line for the register. “I need coffee.”
“Yeah, you do,” Haruto said. “You look like shit.”
“Gosh, thanks. Anyone ever tell you there’s such a thing as too much honesty?”
Haruto smiled over the rim of his mug. “Often.” He’d changed his hair again, adding a near
ly shaved undercut to either side but leaving the top a bit wild. If it was possible for a hairstyle to be sly, it was happening for Haruto. It suited him.
“Ignore Ru. Dump your stuff. Get coffee,” Felix said. In a black T-shirt and comfortable jeans, alongside his Ottawa Valley accent and tendency to skip shaving every other day, Felix had an unfortunate tendency to look a bit like a peaked-in-high-school former jock. He wasn’t. He just looked like one.
Owen put his bag on the chair they’d kept for him, tossed his coat over the back, and left his phone on the table between their three mugs and plates. “If anyone from work texts, tell them whatever you want. I so don’t care.”
Felix grinned, picking up the phone. “Will do. I’ll spin PokéStops for you after I tell them you’re quitting because they overwork and underpay you.”
“He’s kidding,” Silas said. “He won’t do that.” Silas glared at Felix, then turned back to Owen. “And you’re kidding, right? You care.”
“I want to care. But I’m not caffeinated,” he said and went to stand in line.
Once there, Owen exhaled and dropped his shoulders. His left shoulder ached, and he spent a few seconds being mindful of how he was standing, rotating the joint slowly and carefully, the way he’d been working on it since the accident.
The line shuffled forward person by person. Once again, Owen was impressed. Bittersweets hired kick-ass baristas. He swore they could bend time. It was the only way they could possibly get everything done as fast as they did, especially when the person in front of him ordered a set of four coffees to go using at least eleven syllables.
When it was his turn, he didn’t even have to order. Kira smiled at him. “The usual, Owen?”
“Please,” Owen said. Kira was his favorite. She had an amazing memory for people’s orders, and the owner let her have free rein. He paid, got his card stamped on both sides—one for Bitter, one for Sweet—and stepped to the side.
While she worked on his drink, she eyed him. “Rough night?”
“A late one. There was a problem with some overseas customers, so I didn’t get to go to bed until after midnight. How about you?”
“Last night was great. This morning, on the other hand, my fiancée filled the fridge with ping-pong balls. I opened the door and…” She raised both hands for a second, miming an explosion. “Total chaos.” She grabbed a plate and started cutting a slice of the lemon poppy seed for him, his usual indulgence of choice. “It’s possible I screamed. Though the cats enjoyed it.”
Owen didn’t follow. “Why would she do that?”
“It’s April Fools’ Day.”
“Oh. Right.” Owen shook his head. “An upside to being single I hadn’t considered.”
Kira held out his mug and the plate. “One slice of lemon poppy seed and one dark roast with cream. I think you’ll like what Pete did with the roaster this week. It’s pretty much a miracle.”
“You all are,” Owen said, taking the cup and plate as Kira returned to the next person in line. He went back to the table, rejoining the Bittersweets Club. When he finally sat and took a sip of the coffee, he decided Kira wasn’t kidding. This latest dark roast was nothing short of miraculous. Bold, with a hint of smoky.
“Okay, he’s had a swallow,” Felix said in a stage whisper. “We can talk now.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “You know, I was cranky one time. Ru is cranky every morning.”
“Hey!” Haruto said, then tilted his head. “Wait. No. That’s fair.”
“Felix is just being silly,” Silas said.
“Does today end in y?” Haruto said.
“Oh, I see how it is. I see who your favorite is,” Felix said, crossing his arms.
“It’s him,” Silas said, pointing at Owen.
“Seconded,” Haruto said.
Owen grinned. How was it possible he’d only known these people four months?
“So, did you get any sleep?” Silas said. For a little guy—not that any of them were large—he had one heck of a big heart. If Felix was often the annoying older brother of the group, Silas was the mom. You could always tell when Silas went into mom mode because his eyes did this soft, approachable thing. Which was happening.
“Not much,” Owen said. “Troubleshooting went way past midnight. Plus side? It turned out to be the client’s problem. Bad backup, which they promised us multiple times couldn’t be the issue. They made me run through everything else first, but eventually I got them to check.”
“Ooh, win.” Silas held out his mug, and they clinked in satisfaction.
“I have no idea why that’s a win,” Felix said, still fiddling with Owen’s phone.
“It means it wasn’t his fault,” Haruto said. “And the client had to eat crow. It’s basically the best result ever in the case of something going wrong while it’s your turn to be on call.”
“That,” Owen said. He took another sip of coffee, feeling more human by the moment. If it had only been the client issue, maybe he’d have recovered somewhat, but by the time he’d crawled into bed, his shoulder was in a full-on burn, and he hadn’t been able to find a way to get comfortable. He hadn’t thought the pain was enough to warrant his pain meds, which in retrospect was untrue. Too stubborn. He needed to learn to use them when he couldn’t sleep. It was what they were for. When he’d finally managed to drift off, he’d woken up gasping for breath, jarred out of an all-too-familiar nightmare of crunching metal and shattering glass.
“Earth to Owen,” Silas said.
They were all looking at him. Shit. Had someone asked him a question?
“Pardon?” Owen said, snapping out of it.
“Wow, you are wrecked, aren’t you?” Felix said, eyeing him closer now. Felix was a nurse practitioner, and Owen could practically feel him shifting into diagnosis mode. “When did you get to bed?”
Owen sighed, giving in and admitting the truth. “I didn’t end up sleeping.” He didn’t have to spell it out for them. They knew.
Felix pursed his lips, but in a rare show of self-restraint didn’t say anything, which seemed more ominous than his usual lack of impulse control.
“It’ll get better,” Silas said.
“I know,” Owen said. It was true enough. The nightmares were rare now, and only tended to happen when his shoulder ached. “Besides, I’ve got painkillers. And coffee.”
“I miss living upstairs,” Haruto said. “I want to move back.”
“No, you don’t. You’re in love and happier than you’ve ever been,” Silas said. Silas and Ru had been roommates in one of the apartments above Bittersweets until recently, when Haruto had moved in with his boyfriend, Nick. Things seemed to be going great for Nick and Ru. Now Silas was flying solo. Owen knew he’d been looking for a new roommate, and he got the impression Silas wasn’t exactly flush. A roommate wasn’t an option so much as a necessity.
“How’s the roommate hunt going?” he said, mostly to change the subject.
“I’m meeting with a potential later today,” Silas said. “Ru knows someone through Fiona who’s looking for a place.”
“I’m sure Constantino will be great,” Haruto said. “But there’s no replacing perfection.”
“This is true.”
Felix paused playing with Owen’s phone just long enough to snort, but Haruto and Silas paid him no mind.
“Well, the plus side to last night is I’m not going in to work today,” Owen said. “But I’ll totally make gaming tonight.” He eyed Silas. “Though if you’re the betrayer again, I’m calling hijinks.”
“I swear it’s random.” Silas raised a hand. “It’s not like I enjoy turning out to be the betrayer who leads you all into eternal damnation.”
“Does anyone believe him? Because I don’t believe him,” Felix said, not even bothering to look up.
“If you’re not going to work today, why are you even here?” Haruto said. Silas elbowed him. “I mean, Bittersweets Club is important, but…dude. You could have skipped.”
“I�
�ve got the gym today. I shouldn’t skip.” He tried to sound casual but failed by miles.
The other three all leaned forward as one.
“Ah. The gym,” Haruto said. “Any progress on the trainer hunk front?”
“Former trainer,” Owen said. “Toma was my hunk. My trainer. Past tense. Well, he’s still a hunk.” God, even talking about him switched off his brain-to-tongue connection. “You know what I mean. Since I finished my program with him for the rehab, we don’t even talk most of the time. He’s usually with someone else.”
“Fine, any progress with your former trainer, current hunk?” Haruto said.
“Your former trainer who you’ve had dreams about,” Felix said.
“Sexy dreams,” Silas said.
“I never should have told you guys.” Owen forked off a large bit of his lemon poppy seed slice and chewed it. His cheeks were burning.
“You never should have told him,” Silas said, pointing his cup vaguely in Felix’s direction. “Haruto and I, on the other hand, are totally here for any and all dream details you wish to share.”
“It’s true,” Haruto said. “Coffee and hot dreams are basically what keep Silas alive.”
“Hey,” Silas said. “Mean true things are still mean.”
“I love you people.” Owen eyed Felix and took another bite. “Even you.”
Felix blew him a kiss.
“But seriously,” Silas said. “Any news?”
Owen laughed. “You’re kidding, right? He’s this thick, burly, yummy gym guy. I’m sure everyone hits on him. And I’m…” He waved his free hand in front of himself, drinking another swallow of coffee to avoid finishing the sentence.
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