Page 22 of Riding Pine
“Taking it off would be safer. I was told I had free rein to do what I wanted with adjustments. Let’s do that.” I can work it into the show somehow when I lose the tail, so kids don’t freak out.
“Okay.” He grabs a pen and paper, making his notes. “What else?”
“This one is a lot harder. But you said you’re the best, and I’m asking if this can happen.” Pulling out the giant beaver head, I thrust it at him. “Is it possible to make a new head?”
“I suppose it depends on what you need.”
“Okay, so…I’m a former circus performer. There’s a level of expectation for me to do some kind of acrobatic routine, and this head is…well, it’s too big.”
We both stare at the giant set of vacant eyes on the head with big buck teeth just hanging there, and honestly, if I were a kid, it would scare the fuck out of me.
“Could you make something more like a mask? Maybe it covers my face like Spiderman or something? I’d need mesh over the mouth, of course, to breathe. I just don’t know how they expect me to do anything with a head that big other than walk around in it.”
George nods and rubs his hands over the costume beaver head.
“Most mascots, that’s all they do—walk around the crowd. You have other plans then?”
“Oh yeah. Lots of them, and if they want a show for families, I can’t do it with that. Trust me, I tried.”
And I hit the wall multiple times. Fell over, and once my head even hit the floor before my hands did. So it wasn’t good.
“So you need more of a hood, maybe?”
“Or a pull on? I know I’m supposed to hide my identity, but anyone can walk around with a beaver head like that and schmooze the crowd. I’m supposed to wow them.”
George nods as he rubs the beaver head again while his bushy brows furrow in thought.
“I have an idea, but it will take me a few days. Leave it with me and I’ll call you?”
“Of course. But I need it for an appearance at a rally this weekend. So that’s only a few days.”
“I’m not the best for nothing, son.” He winks at me with a gruff laugh. “I’ll have it ready.”
And what else can I do other than trust him he’ll do as he says?
After finding my way back out of the basement and into the darkness of the night, I pull out my phone and hover over Lukas’s contact. We exchanged numbers and have yet to even text each other.
Instead, he shows up at my studio twice unannounced.
Biting my lip, I take the plunge and text him, not for sex but for food first, with the hope of sex to come after.
Ben:I know this is short notice, but I’m hoping to stop by that hot dog cart we never got to try tonight. You really should try it.
I get in my car, hoping the cart is still open this late, and my phone chimes with a message.
Lukas:I could eat. Meet you at the studio?
Ben:Sounds good. I’ll be there in aboutthirty mins.
Lukas responds with a simple ‘K,’ and I point my car towards downtown and my studio. I should think about what type of hotdog I want to eat and not if I should change into another pair of skimpy underwear before he arrives.
But that’s what I’m doing. Mentally going through the clean clothes at the studio and wondering if I have the leopard print jockstrap there or not. Rarely do I think about sex over food. Okay, no, that’s a lie I’m telling myself.
Sex is always what I think about. It’s only moved down the list when hunger shouts at me to eat first, then fuck. I’m pretty sure there’s a model of basic needs where sex shouldn’t rank over food, but I’ve never been one to follow rules and expectations.
Even the rules surrounding basic survival, apparently.
After parking in my space at the studio, I’m jogging to the door, intent on going commando if the leopard print isn’t here when I almost run into Lukas standing there.
