Page 19 of Lakeside Little
Jack gestured with a fork to his doll house in the center of the cabin, residue of whipped cream flung off. “Oops. But you see what we were able to do,” he said. “We fixed mine. And that’s only my travel one. The one I have at home.” He puffed out his cheeks. “That one cost a lot. It’s huge. All custom.”
“And you think I could do that?” It was the first time I’d ever taken part in creating a doll house before, and even then, I was fixing what was already supposed to be there.
“I know you could,” he said, gesturing once again. “And there are so many people who would buy them.”
There was an intoxicating wave of inspiration every time Jack suggested something, like he was able to speak down to a part of me that was so easily convinced and talked into things. But this one, this made sense to me. I could make them, I could sell them, and I would be my own boss technically, except taking orders from littles and people who wanted them.
“It’s a big market,” he said. “And you don’t have to decide what you’re going to do for the rest of your life right now.”
“I should be telling you that. I’m the Daddy.”
He pouted. “Yes, Daddy, I’ll support whatever you want to do. As long as it means you’re able to keep seeing me, and not like, move a million miles away.”
The truth was, I lived in Philadelphia, and he lived in New York City. It wasn’t that crazy, but it probably meant we wouldn’t be living in each other’s pockets. Although, I was very much excited to see how he lived, and this so-called mega house he had in a specific room.
“I’ll give it a go,” I told him. “It sounds like a lot of fun, actually. And I know just who to speak to about it.”
“Oh. Who?”
“You, silly. You’re the target audience.”
He giggled. “Well, in that case, I have a lot of ideas because I would love to get some nice houses built, especially for Nory so she can have her alone time with the guys that are courting her.”
I would do anything for him. All he had to do was ask, I was already on board, in fact, I was the number one fan of the Jack supporter group. I was about to get the t-shirt and the mug, bigger than this one because I was desperate for more coffee.
We finished out our morning routine together before getting dressed and ready for the day in town. I’d looked for places to rent here online and there was a real housing crisis because there was not a lot for sale, and even fewer to rent unless.
Pineberry Falls boasted being the proudest city on the east coast, self-titled, but I couldn’t only see that they were full of pride, I could feel it. They had all number of pride flags flying as we headed into town, but everyone was so friendly, waving at us and smiling.
Parking in a designated community lot, I grabbed sunscreen from my glovebox and took Jack’s arm, spreading it over him. “You need it more than me,” I told him, as we playfully transferred the sunscreen from him to me and back again.
“Just because you’ve got Latin heritage, it doesn’t mean you can’t burn,” he said, which was very fair, and I had burned once in the past, but never again. He giggled. “But I already put some on my face with my moisturizer, it has SPF.”
“I believe you,” I said, giving him a kiss. “And the—” I licked my lips. “Chapstick.”
“Mhm, yep. Strawberry,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I know you want some. It’s made with beeswax, ethically sourced too.” He immediately began pressing the ChapStick to my mouth coating my lips and then some.
Holding Jack’s hand in public gave me anxiety for a split second, and then I saw other gay couples holding hands, and nobody was even bothering to look at us. It was strange, oddly surreal not to be stared at, or even harassed, but that added to Pineberry’s charm, and I would even support their bid for safest town too.
At the town square, tables were lined up across from each other with the large center free for people to walk around. Small gazebo shelters and awnings shaded over the stands and brought people to each of them to stay out of the direct sunlight. I knew that, because it was one of the reasons we rushed from stand to stand.
Mason had a stall with whittled animals for sale. Some of them were intricately detailed like the deer with its antlers. I didn’t know how long it took him to create them all, but they were incredible to look at. He also had a catalogue of things he could create with prices.
“I told you,” he said as I scanned his catalogue. “You could do something like this back home. I’ve always got business. People buy the staying power of real handmade stuff. Trust me on that.”
And Jack nodded at my side as if I wasn’t already convinced of the direction going forward.
We passed by another stall; a guy stood in full cowboy get up. At first, I thought it was a costume, but he was a cowboy, at least.
“I’m Jace, my family own the ranch just outside of town,” he said, tipping his hat. “All this is grown on the ranch, we collect the alpaca fibers, get them all cleaned up, and then we spin it, and create these skeins. We mostly offer them free of dyes, but if you’re into crochet or knitting, we can dye them specific colors.”
Jack stroked a hand over the socks and other clothing items made from the alpaca fur. “And you made this?”
“No, my mom crochets and knits, I’ve tried but my fingers and thumbs just do not work like that,” he laughed.
“What else do you have on the ranch?”
“Goats, plenty of goats, an old mare of a horse, plenty of chickens, and alpacas. It’s open as a petting zoo on occasion, and we’re growing again after a period where our livestock was cut in half because of the economy,” he tutted, shaking his head. He spoke like he was in his forties, but the lack of wrinkles told me he was probably around Jack’s age.
