Ellery Mountain 3 - The Carpenter and the Actor (3 page)

When Jason got home, he was buying a hot tub. That much he had decided. Sitting in the hot, bubbling water with the view over the mountains from his cabin was fantastic. He’d not felt this relaxed in ages, but he needed to get out soon since his fingers were all pruny. It had been two days since he’d hiked to the peak. A few days of doing nothing except catching up on reading and using the hot tub. He’d even watched some re-runs of
Late Last Night
and found himself enjoying it, looking on as a viewer instead of watching rushes.

He hadn’t decided if he was going to be joining Finn yet, but it was only Monday, so he had time to decide. Ducking his head under the water, he ran his hands through his hair, then rising above the surface he pushed his hair back off his face. The shower was just as good as the hot tub, a steam shower with dual heads and a seat. He’d go from tub to shower then get dressed. No one could accuse him of slobbing around if he was actually finally dressed. So sue him if it was eleven a.m. already.

The sound of off-tune singing had him curious. He lazily floated the four feet to the other side of the tub and peered over the edge. Down below at the bottom of the stilts that levelled out the cabin against the mountain, Kieran was doing something with a toolbox on the generator at the next cabin. He was still some distance from Kieran and there was no one in that cabin. Nor was there anyone to see Jason peering over the side of the hot tub.

Kieran was naked from the waist up. That was enough to get Jason hard in zero to sixty. He was slim and lithe and his blond hair shone in the sunlight filtering through the trees. He was bent over with his ass up in the air again. Jason liked the man in that position, gave him more fuel for the fantasies that guided his right hand in his awesome steam shower. Of course, Jason couldn’t see Kieran’s face in detail from here or his baby blue eyes. Shame. He really was exceptionally pretty, if that was a term you could use for a guy. A little too soft in the face to be granite hard, with generous lips that curved into a ready smile, Kieran was Jason’s choice off the menu. He wondered what the younger man liked in a lover. Would he like older? Jason was thirty-four. Kieran couldn’t be any more than in his early twenties. Jason had been around the block, had some experience, not in relationships, but he prided himself on being a confident lover. Maybe Kieran would find that attractive?

As if sensing he was being watched, Kieran straightened and looked directly up at him. Surely he couldn’t see him from there? A head peeking through railings alongside a tub wasn’t a large target.

When Kieran waved, Jason knew he was busted. He waved back. Without hesitation he climbed out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his trunks, then disappeared into the cool interior of his cabin. Shower time. Showers were safe and hidden away.

As soon as the water was hot and on his back, he had his hand around his cock and images of Kieran in his head. Kieran bent over the nearest surface with his ass sticking out and his full lips swollen from kissing.

Kissing.
Not fucking. Jason wanted to kiss Kieran. Taste the other man and see if he was like the outdoors, whether he kissed with fierce passion or whether he was slow and steady. Jason slowed the strokes on his cock as new images replaced the old. Kieran cuddled up to him, embracing, hugging, laughing, then climbing him like a tree and pulling him down to deepen the kisses. With conditioner on his fingers, he explored his balls and behind, pressing inside as his other hand ghosted over the tip of his cock. The water cascaded over his back and down his front, and when he finally came, with his fingers in his ass and his cock tight in his grip, it was to the absolute certainty that he had to taste Kieran.
Soon.

The plan was simple and consisted of several steps. He texted Finn first thing Friday morning saying beers at his would be good, asking what he would need to bring. The return text gave an address, a time and the simple missive ‘
Beer
’.

The second step was all about appearance. Standing in front of the mirror when he got out of bed, he wasn’t surprised that passers-by would consider him a freaking hobo. But under the scruffy beard and baggy clothes was a man described as nice-looking by quite a few people. All Jason needed to do was find that person again. He needed a haircut and a shave, maybe a professional shave. He had a car—he could probably find a barber’s somewhere. Maybe in Ellery itself? He hadn’t been to the town since he’d got here. He needed to visit if only because he’d run out of books. There was bound to be a bookstore down there somewhere if he looked. Or a library, or something. Hell, he should just bite the bullet and buy a Kindle.

The car ride into town was much easier in the daylight than the drive in the dark going up the mountain when he’d arrived. The town of Ellery was sprawled this way and that. A building to his right was labelled as the mayor’s office and the police station. Across from that there was construction, and the main road appeared busy with people walking from shop to shop. Finding a space, he parked and more by luck than judgement found there was a beauty parlour two doors down.

There was nothing of a barber shop look to it. It was fuchsia on magenta and the sign, in cerise on pale petal pink, read ‘Norma-Jean’s Clip and Curl’. A sandwich board stood outside announcing that the special today was a free cut with any perm. The windows were small and he couldn’t really see inside.
There has to be a simple barber. Somewhere.

A fruitless search up and down Main and into both small side roads revealed nothing more than an array of the normal kinds of shops but no barber. It didn’t escape his notice that at least five establishments had closed, their windows boarded up. A sad indictment of the decline happening in other towns across America and the world.

Finally, with no choice other than getting in his rental and driving to Knoxville, he summoned up the courage to walk through the pink door and find out what hell could be unleashed behind there.

The inside was brightly lit from natural daylight streaming through large skylights and the small reception desk had a young man behind it who smiled at him as he entered.
“Norma-Jean, we have company,” he called. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but his flamboyant style and his spiky red hair screamed fully out of the closet. Jeez, Jason wondered how that went down at school. He didn’t recall much in the way of tolerance at his school in the Hills. He’d been comfortable in his own skin, and it had helped that he’d done some modelling on the side, but being gay and so in your face had never been an option. And that was in LA where gay was a way of being introduced—‘
Hey, this is Jason, he’s out, you know…’
The young guy moved out from behind the counter and extended a hand in welcome.
“Mikey,” he said.
“Hi,” Jason replied, “Jason.”
“You want the works, gorgeous?”
Jason blinked at the question. Not just at the use of ‘gorgeous’ but at the gleam in the young guy’s eyes. Okay, so he liked his men young, but not teenaged. Anyway, a sudden fear hit him at the words ‘the works’ and he stepped back and away from Mikey.
Mikey just grinned and leant back against the counter, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest. From his impossibly tight red leather trousers to his cerise shirt, he was kind of startling on the eyes. He had the most stunning bone structure and eyes framed with lashes Jason would have given his right bollock to own. Well, not literally, but they were really nice lashes. He could be a model. And he knew it. Jason could see the confidence pouring off him.
“Stop scaring the customers, Mikey.” A woman bustled out from behind a curtain and crossed to Jason with her hand extended in welcome.
“I wasn’t scaring him,” Mikey said. He winked at Jason who couldn’t help widening his eyes at the blatant interest in Mikey’s.
“The works, sir?”
“What…um…is the works? What is included in it?” Jason concentrated on his words. His nerves and discomfort at the way that Mikey was staring at him were making speaking in rational sentences difficult.
“Hair—wash, cut and blow dry—and a shave,” she summarised.
“I have to have it cut a certain way,” Jason said immediately. Continuity would kill him if he changed his hair style radically before next season. Not to mention the writers, who would have to write in a haircut. There again, he should mention this cerise palace and Mikey and Norma-Jean to them. There was comedy in the look of this place and the staff inside.
“I understand,” she said. “I am sure we can find photos of your studio shots for
Late Last Night
. Sit down, young man,” Norma-Jean said brusquely before Jason could call her on the whole head shot thing. Clearly his disguise of scruffy hair, baggy clothes and weeks of beard wasn’t working at all well. Apart from on Kieran, of course, who hadn’t had a clue. Either that or he had a very good poker face.
Jason didn’t argue. He sat in the chair she indicated. Humming, she moved behind him and encouraged him to tip his head back. The water was warm, her humming was calming and he closed his eyes as she massaged his scalp.
“I really like your show,” she said between verses of
Amazing Grace
.
Jason’s eyes flew open. “You really do know the show?”
And me?
“Doll, of course we do. Everyone in town knows you’re up at the Skylar cabins.”
“They do?” he said weakly. He dipped his gaze so he could glance out of the door. No doubt there were going to be paparazzi getting photos of him before and after, and dumping copious images of him onto the Internet.
“No one will say anything. Nothing malicious, anyway,” she qualified. “You may not have been raised here, but your momma was a good girl. I remember her and your dad, sweet on each other then moving away just after you were born. Your dad’s work, I think?”
“He was a lighting engineer,” Jason found himself explaining. “Had a contract on a film set.” He recalled those times fondly, when his dad had taken him to work. It was then that he’d been bitten by the acting bug.
“Saw you took up modelling as well,” Norma-Jean pointed out. “Under all this fur is a good-looking guy.”
Jason didn’t answer. It would have been rude to thank her for the comment and make him look like a big-headed actor. She towelled off his hair and encouraged him to sit upright. A blood rush to the head had him closing his eyes and when he opened them again he was shocked to see Mikey literally inches from his face.
“Can I get you a coffee?” he asked solicitously.
“Black, one sugar,” Jason said in response. Mikey disappeared behind the curtain and Jason allowed himself to be led over to another seat in front of a huge mirror. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this mirror was no different to the one in the cabin. He looked tired and scruffy and at that single moment he’d had enough of himself. What was he doing? He was a successful enough actor, he had a good voice, some money saved, a nice apartment. Ben wouldn’t want him moping through life feeling like a failure.
Mikey took a close chair and, sitting on it, he wheeled it over to Jason’s side.
“Can I ask you something?” he said. Gone were the cockiness and the general exuding of sex. In its place was the teenager that Mikey actually was.
“Yeah.”
“When you got your TV stuff and your modelling… Can I talk about that?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want to be rude.” He glanced up at Norma-Jean, who met his gaze and smiled softly.
Jason smiled encouragingly. “It’s not rude—”
“I know you’re here because you want a holiday…”
If only Mikey knew. It wasn’t so much a holiday as a complete escape from everything that was chasing into his dreams.
“It’s cool,” Jason said.
“I got an email from an agency, one of the Internet ones that I sent to, and they’re interested in seeing my portfolio. I know what one of those is, but I don’t have the first clue of what to ask. Thing is, they’re asking for money and Nan says that’s wrong, and all the things I read on the Internet say that is wrong as well. But you’d know for sure.” Ah, so Norma-Jean was Mikey’s nan.
“Absolutely. You shouldn’t have to pay,” Jason said immediately. “If they’re a proper company, then they’ll either look at your portfolio and tell you yes or no, or some will even help you create a portfolio if they think you have a certain look about you that they like—”
“That’s what I said, Mikey,” Norma-Jean interrupted. “You should listen to one who knows and do what he says.”
“When they say portfolio, you could just send in some simple shots, in clear light, no liner on the eyes—front, back and sides, faces and full length.”
“Really? It doesn’t have to be an expensive professional thing?” Mikey had enthusiasm sparking in his eyes. Jason smiled. He liked that look and some part of him loved putting it there for the younger man.
“I can give you some names if you want them?”
“You don’t have to do that, Mr McInnery,” Norma-Jean interjected. “Mikey, you need to get to class now.”
“Nan—”
“Go now, young man, we’ll talk later.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mikey said to Jason. “I love
Late Last Night
.”
“Thank you.”
Mikey left and Norma-Jean tutted. “That boy will be the death of me,” she said quickly. “I apologise.” She rested a hand on Jason’s shoulder and the other on the back of the chair to his right. “It’s not easy for the boy to be brought up by his fuddy-duddy nan.”
Jason glanced around the pristine shop with its gleaming appliances and its modern posters. The outside screamed 1960s salon for women, while the inside was as fancy as one of his high-priced salons in the Hills. Norma-Jean, dressed simply in black pants and a white shirt, didn’t look old enough to be a nan and she clearly loved her grandson. There was a story in this shop and the woman who owned it that Jason was desperate to know.
“I think you’ll find you did a fine job, ma’am,” Jason began. “He’s happy, confident, knows what he wants. He’s himself. Someone who brings a boy up like that has got to be a good parent.”
She beamed down at him. He’d clearly said the right thing. Getting back to the cut, she continued smiling. “He’s eighteen in two months,” she said. “He’s got good grades and I made him promise he would stay in school until he passed everything, then I just want him to be happy. He has it in his head that he wants to be a model.”
“He could do worse. It’s hard work,” Jason explained. “But if he can get some solid work… I meant what I said about sending a few emails.”
“We couldn’t ask that,” Norma-Jean said immediately. “You’re not Jason McInnery, actor, here. You’re just Jason, a man on vacation.”
“It’s just a few emails. It will be fine.”
Norma-Jean finished his hair with a flourish and encouraged him to look directly into the mirror, something he had avoided by looking at anywhere other than his own reflection. She’d shaved him close and he saw a very tired-looking reflection staring back at him.
What a catch
. His skin looked a bit pasty, but with his hair back in its normal tamed style and his face clear of beard, he was finally looking like part of the world.
“Bye, Hobo,” he murmured.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. That looks really good. Thank you so much.”
She brushed him down and handed him his beaten up leather jacket and he stood at the counter.
“On the house,” she said firmly when he handed over what he expected to pay.
“No—”
“You’re doing Mikey a favour—this is on the house.”
Saying goodbye, Jason left the shop. The brilliant midday sun burnt into his eyes. The heat was building on the street and he didn’t bother shrugging his jacket back on. Which left him in his tatty jeans and another one of his cartoon tees, this time emblazoned with Daffy Duck. The smell of coffee from the diner wafted over the road and assaulted his nostrils. Then his stomach decided it needed food, and right about now a coffee and lunch sounded like a good thing.
“Hi.”
Jason turned to the owner of the voice, but before he’d even spun on his heel he knew exactly who it was. He’d know that voice anywhere. Kieran. Dressed in overalls that were off-white and a black wife-beater underneath, he epitomised every dirty fantasy Jason had ever had. All work and sweat and confident hands.
Shit
.