“A job interview.”
“This whole day, I tell you. A cottage and employment. Incredible.”
Zach wrestled sheets onto his mattress, got ready for bed, climbed in. Twisted and turned. Through a gap in the curtains, he could see the light from the main house. He ought to . . .
Climb out of bed and snap the curtains tight.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The dresser, the armchair, the—
The fedora, on the hook behind the door.
Zach snagged it and snuck out of the cottage. Night-dampened grass kissed the soles of his feet as he jogged to Brandy’s. He knockity-knocked. “Brandy? Open up?”
Footsteps. The door opened slowly, dragging cool air over his goosebumped body. He probably should’ve chucked a jacket on. He had a pretty shitty immune system.
Brandy came into incredible view; Zach lifted the fedora and buried his groan into it. “What on Earth are you wearing?”
He peeked over the rim. Brandy just stared at him. “I could ask you the same. You’ll catch cold.”
“You couldn’t catch anything. Not a cold, definitely not an STD.”
“No one wants to catch an STD.”
“No. And you really don’t have to worry about that.”
Brandy looked down at himself. “They’re pyjamas.”
“They’re a onesie. A giant, weirdly reflective, floppy onesie.”
“It’s . . . look, I hadn’t planned on staying here tonight. The Tin Man was all I had.”
“Have you ever tried going to bed in your underwear?”
“I kick off the blankets when I sleep. This way I keep warm.”
“You know, I’d be tempted to spoon you warm if you took that thing off.”
Brandon blinked rapidly, then shook his head. “What did you want, Zach?”
“When do I start work?”
“I’ll need a couple of days to sort out your role. You can come in on Wednesday. Anything else?”
“I suppose you’ll be staying in town during the week?”
“That’s what I generally do.”
“Oh. Then I’ll see you again Wednesday, I guess.”
Brandy rubbed his nape and nodded. “I, ah, talked to John. At the pub. If you and your brother ever want to eat there, he’ll put it on my tab.”
“Brandy, you’re too kind for your own good.”
“I’m a well-off, elderly man, apparently, with no dependents. It’s nothing.”
“I have to do something.”
“Fine. Mow the grass once a fortnight and we’ll call it even.”
“Or . . . I could teach you to cartwheel?”
Brandy winced. Light bounced off his onesie and blinded Zach into ticklish laughter. He jumped onto the threshold, feet slotting either side of Brandy’s. “I’ll mow the grass too.”
He settled the fedora onto Brandy’s head, and those shadowed blues smiled at him. “Have fun tomorrow.”
Zach was used to whole days of doing nothing, but this . . .
Torturous. Even playing his guitar didn’t speed up the minutes. Noah had left for the sanctuary hours ago, and Brandy for work before that.
With a mix of self-pity and determination, he bussed into town, right to where his heart had shattered yesterday morning. He collected his phone off his last one-night stand ever, and left with a spring in his step, the world at his fingertips once again. Now if he could get Brandy’s number on here, he’d be set.
Set.
Brandy was on set today. He’d mentioned the location over dinner. What was it? Paua Bay?
One way to find out.
Three buses later, he was at the fringe of action. A half-dozen fedoraed boys danced in sync on sand surrounded by mobile lights, and cameras on tracks, and accompanying crew members. Amidst the fray, a familiar figure shook his dark head and beckoned someone over. After a second, the boys were asked to stop. Cameras were shifted, lighting adjusted, and the dance began again.
Zach found a flat rock on a bank overlooking the production and marvelled at how many times the scene was shot. Ten, fifteen times. The dancers even stopped for lunch while Brandy spoke with crewman after crewman, patting their shoulders when he was done.
Seeing him in action was, like, as illuminating as all those big white screens. He worked in harmony with everyone. He worked without pause. He worked with purpose.
Zach shivered at the passion radiating from him.
Hours fled, and suddenly everyone was packing up below. One by one they all loaded up their trucks and dispersed until only Brandy was left, chatting with a shorter, younger version of himself, if his younger self had worn glasses. His brother?
He approved of their long hug.
The younger one gestured Zach’s way as he headed off, and Brandy turned. Zach leaped off the rock and tumbled down the bank.
“How long have you been there?” Brandy asked, catching Zach around the hips and steadying him before they ate sand.
“Long enough to see just how . . . how . . .”
“Cool I am?” Brandy ventured, a hopeful twinkle in his eye.
“How mature you are. Like, you’re the boss.”
“Are you intimidated?”
A snort left him.
Brandy grumbled. “Some people are.”
