by R. R. Banks
I step inside and immediately feel right at home. There are rows and rows of shelves stretching toward the high ceilings, stacked with fabric to my left, and to my right there’s a wall of cubbies filled with yarn. Right in front of me, there’s a teenager sitting in front of a wall of thread spools and behind the register.
“Hi!” she grins, standing up. “Do you need help with anything?”
She’s probably about eighteen, tops, and has the exact same vibe I did when I was around that age — a little geeky, but creative, and filled with almost too much energy. She has her black hair up in two high buns, held up by scrunchies, and is wearing a big sweater with a yellow smiley face knitted into it. The outfit could look juvenile, but she pulls it off. She just looks fun. I like her immediately, and weirdly enough, the moment reminds me of when I met Gigi our freshman year of high school. I knew Gigi and I would get along from the second we met.
“I’d love to get a little tour, if it’s not too much trouble.” I look around. “Sometimes it takes me a long time to really get to know a fabric store, so I miss some good stuff sometimes.”
“Yeah, of course!” She comes around the front of the counter. “It’s always a little slow in the middle of the day, so I’m happy to do anything.”
She walks over to the fabric section, and I trail behind her.
“Are you curious about anything in particular?” the girl asks.
“Mm, not really. I’m working on a new collection, so it would be great to see everything.” I look up at the tall shelves.
“Oh, cool.” She stops. “Are you a fashion designer?”
“Mmhm. I’m just staying here for a while. I live in New York City most of the time.” I run my hand across some thick, dark green fabrics.
“That’s really cool.” I recognize the look on her face — one of barely-suppressed enthusiasm. “I’ve never met anyone who does real fashion design. Most people who come in here are making stuff for fun, or for their Etsy pages. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I mean, you do it for your job.”
She sounds completely amazed, like I’m Beyoncé, instead of just some random woman who walked into the store.
“It’s not all fun, but it’s what I’m good at, I think,” I smile.
“Well, I like your style, so you’re probably really good.” She picks at a thread on her sweater, her pale cheeks going pink. “Sorry, I need to actually show you around like I said I would.”
“Don’t worry about it. And thanks for the compliment.” I sense that she probably wants to get sucked into the floor to get out of this situation and try to break the ice. “I’m Simone, by the way.”
“I’m Maya.” She shakes my hand, nice and firm. “Okay, let’s actually get into the stuff we have.”
She takes me through each aisle, showing me the diverse fabrics and trims they have in stock. There’s a lot of fabric that’s suited for the people in the area, like flannel and denim, and some that surprise me, like some gorgeous linen and silks that almost have me drooling. She gives me a quick rundown of the trimmings and threads, then takes me to the yarn.
“This is where the magic happens. Or where it ends up, I guess,” Maya says, spreading her arms into the air. “Our yarn. My parents own an alpaca farm, too, and we make all of this yarn to the left. The other stuff isn’t ours but it’s pretty good.”
“Oh man.” I pick up some yarn that’s been dyed a speckled green color, almost like sea foam. “This is gorgeous. Your parents make this?”
“Mmhm. It’s been a trade in the family for a long time.”
It’s so soft that I want everything I own to be made of this. I love to knit and can see myself using this for projects for a long time. I’ve hardly started my research or my inspiration board beyond the loose instructions Katya gave me, so I shouldn’t start buying anything, but there’s nothing wrong with tooling around with some things for fun.
For the first time in a while, I’m truly excited and not stressed. I have so many open days, and so much quiet. No one’s going to drag me to a last-minute party or event that I’ll regret going to.
“I love this.” I pick up another skein, in an earthy green, and examine it closely. It’s really well-made. “This is seriously incredible, and I can’t wait to work with it. You said it’s from alpacas on your family’s farm?”
“Yep. I help out on weekends. Or all the time now, I guess, since I graduated high school early.” Her eyes are downcast, and the light in her eyes dips like a brownout. I shouldn’t pry, so I switch gears.
“Do you think I could see it? How you guys make it?” I ask. It’s the first thing that pops into my head, and it’s not a bad idea.
“Sure! I mean, I’d have to ask my parents first, but they’re really nice.” She’s bright again, her cute dimples popping in her cheeks. “They won’t be here until later tonight, though.”
“It’s cool. I’ll be around for sure, so just let me know.” I pick out another skein of yarn, this time in gray. I have some ideas percolating in my head for more serious designs, but I want to knit a sweater or a hat or something. Yeah, it’s basically spring, but I can always wear it later. “I’ll just take these today.”
Maya rings me up, bags my yarn, and hands it over.
“Thanks for coming in,” Maya says, folding her hands on the counter.
“Thanks for showing me around.” I tuck the receipt inside the bag.
“Do you think... Um, not to be super aggressive, but if you come to the farm, would you be up for teaching me some stuff about designing clothes?” she stammers in one breath. “I already know how to sew but I don’t know more advanced stuff.”
Her big brown eyes are so hopeful that no one could say no. And why not? I would have killed to have advice from an actual fashion designer back when I was her age. I can pay it forward.
“Yeah, sure. I’d be happy to.” I look inside my purse and see that I have one business card left. “Just shoot me an email, and we can set something up.”
Maya takes the card and tucks it into her pocket. “I will. Thank you so much.”
“No problem.” I give her a nod and a smile, then step outside.
The day has warmed up a little, so I take off my jacket. I want to get home and start working, but I need to get actual food to keep in the house. I walk all the way back to the grocery store. Just as I go to grab a basket, I feel a person looming over me.
“If you told me you needed some stuff, I could have gotten it for you,” Jay says. He’s holding a paper bag filled with groceries in one hand, and his car keys in the other. I’m annoyed to say that he looks just as good as he did this morning, in black jeans and a dark flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He has his hair finger combed to the side, with some pieces that are falling around his face. I want to study his tattoos, so I don’t have to look him in the eye, but he’s moving around too much.
“It’s fine. I just need some, uh…” My brain just stops processing thoughts when I finally look up at him. I don’t even know what I’m here for now. Do I even know what grocery stores are for? “Some food.”
One side of Jay’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
I run my hands through my hair, tugging a little bit too hard in frustration. “Can we not chit-chat? Things are still so awkward.”
“The only way to make it not awkward is to start talking about other things, no? That way we’ll be free of our uncomfortable encounter.” He puts his bag down between his feet. “So, that’s what we’re doing. What have you been up to today?”
He’s not wrong. Ugh.
“I’ve just been walking around town. Had some breakfast.” I hold up my bag of yarn. “Went to that amazing fabric and yarn store. I can’t believe there’s such a hidden gem up here. They should do more marketing or something around the city. I bet people would come here if they’re already coming up to the mountains for a trip, especially for the alpaca yarn.”
His e
yes seem to darken a bit. “Uh-huh. So the town gets more touristy?”
“I mean, to some extent. This town is really nice. More people should come.” I shrug.
“I’m not keen on the idea.” He looks over my shoulder, his focus on something in the distance. “It’s a slippery slope from cute, quiet, peaceful town to a hellscape of chain restaurants and cheesy tourist traps.”
His tone bugs me. Why wouldn’t he want more people to spend money in the town? Isn’t that a good thing? He’s so confusing. It doesn’t mean that the town has to lose what makes it special. It doesn’t have to become the commercialized place he seems to think it would be.
Before I can bring all of that up, he picks up his bags, gives me a nod, and walks right past me. “I’ll see you around.”
I turn and watch him go, trying to stare at the back of his head instead of his butt. For someone who wants to diffuse the awkwardness, he doesn’t seem to be trying that hard.
Chapter Four
Jay
See, this is why I can’t handle people eighty percent of the time. Too many things have already gone wrong today.
First thing: Simone. It’s been one day, and already something embarrassing has happened. I usually walk around naked all the time without a single fuck given, so of course I didn’t remember to put clothes on when I went to the bathroom this morning. My brain doesn’t even turn on until at least ten minutes after my first cup of coffee for the day.
Simone’s utter shock at seeing me naked jolted me awake. Was it good shock or bad shock on her face? There’s no way she didn’t see my morning wood, which makes matters even worse. Maybe it was bad shock.
I think I played it cool when I told her the bathroom was free, even though I was still a little hard. Again, my sleep-addled brain didn’t process that even with my underwear on, I was still visibly aroused, even with my hands covering my junk.
God, I hope she doesn’t think I’m a fucking creep. I’m not helping my own case.
Either way, seeing her in my house in that fluffy, girly robe that hardly came past her ass, over some pajamas that were way too fancy and sexy for just a regular night, turned my reflexive morning wood into something that had to be taken care of soon. I hadn’t jerked off with such enthusiasm in a while. Or more than once in a row. I spent so much time in my bedroom that I hardly got any work done before I came out here.
And that leads to the second thing: I have to be in town for this stupid fucking meeting instead of working all day on the custom desk and decorative sword I’m building for some clients.
I grabbed a few non-essential food items from the grocery so I wouldn’t be the first one there, where I bumped into Simone. She looked upbeat, so different than she did this morning or yesterday. If she hadn’t brought up making Gray’s Point a tourist destination, then I would be in a better mood, just from seeing how hot she looked.
But nope, so now I’m feeling even crankier, like a six-foot-eight baby. I want to eat pizza, go back to sleep, and start the day over again.
I open the door to Main Street Tavern and Grill — or just The Tavern for short — which is one of the most popular hangout spots in the area. Since it’s the middle of the day, it’s pretty much empty besides Harry, the owner, working in the kitchen, and everyone who’s here for the meeting — two couples, a single older woman, and a younger man named Harrison. Edgar, the douche who’s been a thorn in my ass for over a year, is standing next to an easel with a covered poster on it, smiling. He looks so dead behind the eyes no matter what, so I wonder why he bothers trying to look happy.
I’ve gotten better at not truly hating people, but he tests my limits. I first had the misfortune of meeting him over the phone, when he called me on my landline. The only reason I have it is for emergencies, and I never give out the number, so I knew something was up. After attempting to make small talk with me, I asked him what the fuck he wanted. He flat out asked me if he could buy my land. I said no, hung up, and thought that was it.
But it wasn’t. A month later, he called again and asked if I would reconsider. Again, I said no, because it’s my fucking home. Then, I overheard someone mention that some guy kept calling, trying to offer them money for their land when I was out for a drink with my ex. I pumped him for more details and learned that Edgar wanted to put a fucking resort on the land he wanted to buy from people in town. We weren’t the only ones he was targeting.
Basically, he’d called everyone who lived on my side of the town, including Andrew and Holly. Some people had already sold their land to him, but it wasn’t enough space for what he and his company wanted to build. And that started this whole mess — Edgar’s been up our asses trying to make the case that the resort is a great opportunity for us and our town. Today he supposedly has something that could change our minds.
I doubt it, but I figure I should check it out to confirm that he’s still full of shit.
I did some Googling on him once I learned of his active pursuit of land in Gray’s Point, and immediately knew I had to stop him. His company’s other properties are sprinkled across the region, and every last one of them has been altered so much that the local wildlife and sometimes even the local resources can’t recover. Animal habitats that get smaller and smaller make wild animals come into towns, where people or animals are much more likely to get hurt. From what I’ve researched, he’s always just inside the law, but not by much. People depend on their land up here, and obviously, the ecosystem shouldn’t get fucked up because some guy wants to put some nonsense on the land.
The man has next to no taste. His company is behind a number of weird little hotels in the area, and all of them are sickeningly tacky, with random themes like “Jungle Excursion” or vague like “Romance Evening.” Not even “Romantic Evening.” Just “Romance Evening.”
They look like they could be fun for families or couples wanting a cheap trip that has a little something extra, which is good and all. Except the Yelp reviews say that they’re far from the inexpensive getaways that they’re advertised as. The hotels are total rip-offs, with added costs for basic things like bell service or whatever thrown in left and right. Normal people wanting to go on vacation shouldn’t come away completely shocked at the costs they weren’t expecting.
That alone isn’t what gets me. It’s his company’s reputation amongst workers that really pushes me over the edge. There are so many lawsuits over how terribly he treats his employees that I’m shocked that he’s still in business. The complaints range from management taking tips from cleaning staff to persistent sexual harassment. Edgar and his co-founders aren’t moving quickly to fix the problems.
So fuck Edgar and his shitty management, and fuck his plans for Gray’s Point.
Yeah, I know I don’t own the town, but I give a shit about it, more than any place I’ve lived. I can’t have this piece of shit screw up the peace that so many people love about the town and provide jobs that will only harm more than they help.
Edgar says hello to me, but I only grunt in response. I know he’s intimidated by me, so I sit right up front, crossing one ankle over my knee, looking up at him with a blank expression on my face. Being a big guy has its advantages sometimes. All I have to do is exist and people scramble to not get on my bad side
“Are we ready to start?” Edgar asks, slapping his hands together and looking at the little gathering.
“I guess,” someone replies.
“Great.” Edgar turns and pulls the cover off of the poster he put up. It has a mock-up of a building that looks like a cabin fucked a McMansion. It’s horrendous. “Here’s the mock-up of the resort, to start. I hope it gives you a good idea of what we’re going for.”
I look over my shoulder to see everyone’s reactions. Harrison’s mouth is set in a tense line, and the others seem… Not entirely put off by it.
“I know there’s been a little reluctance to sell, but I have some news that might sweeten the deal.” Edgar pulls a pen from his pocket and clicks the end rep
eatedly, which drives me insane. “We can up the payment for your properties by up to twenty percent, and…”
I zone out immediately after that, keeping a blank stare on my face as Edgar bullshits everyone. “Up to twenty percent” means that he’s off the hook if he only ups the payment by one percent. Of course he would phrase it this way.
He goes on and on about how good the resort will be for the area, and how it’ll bring more mainstream businesses in, which will also help the growing unemployment issue among young people in the area. It sounds like it’s a good idea, but I don’t trust his track record.
Finally he shuts up and asks, “Any questions?”
“Yeah, I have one,” I start. “So you’re saying that this will bring more people to town, but this looks like a cheap monstrosity. Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of having the resort in the town if it throws off what makes it appealing in the first place?”
Edgar’s eyes narrow briefly before he pulls it back together. “Gray’s Point will still have its charms. It’s a nice, safe area, and will continue to be that way after the resort is built.”
The way he says it as if it’s a done deal irritates me.
“And what about the natural wildlife and environment? How will that be affected?” I ask.
“Everything will be fine,” Edgar insists, dodging the real question at hand.
“But how do you know? What if it’s all different and the town basically dies?” Harrison asks, sounding way more intense than I am. It sends chills up my spine, to my surprise. I don’t scare easily. “Where am I supposed to live?”
Edgar gives that same urbane smile he always gives when he’s trying to smooth things over.
“I’m sure you can find more than adequate housing with the money from our deal.” Edgar looks away from Harrison, and toward something behind both of us.
“My family’s been here for generations,” Harrison mutters. “I’m not leaving.”