Page 22 of Dreams and Reptiles

We tested out the speakers, playing with the volume until our ears were ringing, and then we watched three episodes of Boots while we cursed Netflix for canceling the brilliant show.

“At least we have Heated Rivalry,” Derek said. “And don’t forget, The Vampire Lestat is starting soon.”

“True. But what are we talking about? We have our own queer romances going on.”

We laughed and carried on about our hot fire boys until we were both yawning.

“Why don’t you crash here?” I asked Derek. “Do you have any showings tomorrow?”

“Not first thing. I think maybe I will, if you don’t mind. I love coming to Foggy Basin, but that forty-five minute drive home at night can be a drag. It’s not like the Bay where it takes you that long to drive five miles. You feel every one of those fifty miles on I-5. I’ve been doing more business up this way lately, and I’m spending less time in the Woodland office. I love my place, don’t get me wrong, but yeah. I’ll stay, thanks.”

Was it too much to hope that he’d move here, and that my aunt and mom would, too? As much as I wanted my family with me, I couldn’t expect them to uproot their lives because I had. I already missed Max and Mei. I’d have to set up a visit, maybe meet them in the middle. I hadn’t even driven since I’d been here. I had so much work to do to set this place up, but my talk with Derek tonight reminded me that I had a lot of work to do on myself, as well.

I showed him to my second guest room, and we hugged outside the sliding barn door.

“This is so awesome,” he said. “I’ve missed nights like this. Francis, I know this move is going to be great for you, but please remember you don’t have to do all of it on your own. I want to be here for you, too.”

“Thanks, man. Get some sleep. I’ll make you breakfast before you hit the road in the morning.”

He rubbed his belly. “Shoot, I’d be satisfied with leftover pizza, but I miss your cooking.”

That made me smile. “Happy to do it.”

The next morning, Derek was late leaving because he was enjoying my view. Rog had arrived next door, and he and Kendall were hard at work moving cinder blocks. Shirtless.

“Jesus.” Derek ran a hand down his face. “How the hell are you going to get anything done with that going on next door?”

I leaned my chin into my hand. “How indeed.”

Kendall wasn’t big like Roger, who was built, like, sportsball big. He and Arnie were both muscly guys who assuredly never missed chest and back day. Or leg day. Or…

Kendall was lean and strong with just enough definition to make one’s mouth water. He reminded me more of an outdoorsy sports guy. He filled out a t-shirt nicely, though his current use of said clothing item was for wiping the sweat off his forehead, and I approved of its absence. I could see him modeling a nice pair of khaki pants for REI’s latest hiking fashions, the moisture-wicking material clinging rigorously to his body. Even shants would look hot on him.

The likely source of his muscles, however, was hefting materials around his yard for his beloved tortoises. In the light of day, I saw past the grass and janky fence to the boulders and slate he’d used to create barriers that kept the place looking natural. Too bad John Wayne was determined to bust through them all.

Too bad for Kendall, anyway. I, for one, enjoyed watching the industriousness going on, especially the way his shorts stretched obscenely over his thick thighs when he squatted to pick up yet another block.

“Glorious.”

I managed to get work done, though. After Derek left, I worked in my office while I listened to Doechii, and then I started gathering the supplies I’d need to do the mural. I was still thinking about it when lunchtime came around, and I thought maybe the guys would like some refreshments, but when I looked across the property, both of their trucks were gone.

“You can wait until tomorrow,” I scolded myself. Without further ado, I went back to work sketching out the mural on the wall and didn’t stop until I couldn’t ignore the growling in my stomach any longer. I ate leftover pizza standing at my kitchen counter as the sun went down, listening to Kali Uchis through the new sound system in my massive house that was about to welcome its first guests in ten days.

The dream was happening, and though I was still terrified, I felt more alive than I had maybe ever. I’d still had dreams of being an artist or, like Derek pushed for, a stand-up comic when I was in college, but by the time I started my MBA, they were tucked away, most likely never to see the light of day again. I was laser-focused on nailing a lucrative position with a finance company in Silicon Valley. I believed there would be time for dreams later. After I’d made my first million.

Life had other plans for me, ones that had crippled my creativity for almost a year. That was over now, and as I looked at the start of my inaugural art piece in the new house, my soul felt lighter.

Until I went to use one of the three individual bathrooms by the kitchen, and the toilet decided I needed a challenge.

“I got this. It’s just a busted toilet. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

I had no tools.

And the toilet water was about to overflow.

Thankfully, the bathrooms were equipped with a drain in the floor. The bottom floor of the house had originally been the public-facing part of a winery, so the bathrooms had been necessary for hosting events. Whatever, I was about to have a mess on my hands.