Ok, so I've taken the plunge and written chapter 1 of a story. I intend it to be long, so it may seem slow to start, but I promise I have a long story arc planned, so if you like it, let me know and I'll continue writing. Feedback is welcome and wanted, good or bad, let me know :)
This story is entirely fictional, all characters, names and most places are figments of my imagination. Standard copyright applies. As always, if you are under the age of consent for your area and shouldn't be reading this, then don't :). Hope you guys enjoy, and remember, e-mail is one of my favourite things.
Chapter 1
Leaning over the draftsman table, Mike began to feel the slow, pulsating throb in his lower back. Every day now, it began to appear at the same time. It was never painful or excruciating, just vaguely uncomfortable. Born of months and years of leaning over that very same table, he viewed it as the product of dedication to his art, and while he would never admit it, was proud of this physical pain. It was a badge of honour to him.
Standing up, he began to stretch backward languorously, placing his palms in the small of his back to support himself as he extended his lumbar spine. Slowly, the skylight in the roof became visible, then, as his head descended behind his back, the doorway into his studio came into view. Out of nowhere, a head appeared.
The shock, combined with his ill-advised attempt to immediately stand straight up, ended up causing him to whack his head off his chair, followed by a less than graceful collapse into a ball on the floor.
Sitting up slowly, rubbing what was definitely going to be a whopper of a lump on his forehead, he heard soft giggling behind him that could only belong to one person.
"Jesus, Jeanie. You scared the crap out of me. You ever hear of knocking??" he grumbled. "Hahah, you should see yourself" she laughed, "that's probably the most uncoordinated thing I've ever seen you do. Who knew you could be such a klutz."
"Yeah, well I generally manage not to fall over when I'm alone, must be something to do with your unexpected presence" Mike glowered at her. Again, Jeanie laughed "Hey, don't try to pin this one on me bro. It's not my fault you were trying to bend over backwards and kiss the ground. What were you trying to do anyway?"
Mike stood slowly and finally looked straight at his sister. Of the two of them, Mike definitely was the more physically imposing. Not surprising, given his 6'2" frame and 220 pounds of mostly muscle. Jeanie, his darling older sister was 5'5" in stocking feet and Mike could have picked her up with one arm. Right now though, Jeanie looked like she could take down a colossus. Dressed in her Sheriff's uniform, there was an aura of authority about her which was undeniable. Some of this came from the uniform, but anyone who had known Jeanie through middle school and high school could attest to the fact that Jeanie was a force to reckon with all on her own. The fact that she was now the Sheriff just added a little to what had already been a strong personality.
Mike realised that he still hadn't answered Jeanie's question, and she was now peering at him quizzically. "Oh, I was just bending over to stretch my back" he mumbled almost inaudibly, preparing himself for the onslaught. Jeanie's face took on what Mike liked to call her scolding position; her eyes closed slightly, lips pursed and a solitary finger from her right hand came up to point at him. This was such a spot-on impression of their mother that she could have been standing in the room, albeit looking about 20 years younger. "How many times have I told you to get rid of that crappy draftsman's table" Jeanie began. "It's obviously terrible for your back, you're always hunched over it, and then you have to stretch yourself into these ridiculous positions to ease out the damage. I may as well just take a steam roller to your back right now and be done with it, because the way you're going, your spine will be..."
Mike started to tune her out. He could see she was building up a head of steam and nothing would stop what was obviously going to be a long tirade. He'd heard it all before, but still clung to his draftsman's table religiously. He liked the way that when he was hunched over it, it blocked out the outside world and he could concentrate purely on his drawing. When painting, he did use a more conventional easel that was admittedly a little kinder to his back; but for drawing, nothing could beat his draftsman's table.
Suddenly, Mike came out of his reverie and realised that Jeanie had stopped talking and was looking at him with a look that could only be described as infuriated. "Sorry," Mike uttered with a sly smirk on his face, "were you saying something?" Jeanie's scowl cracked, and she laughed raucously. "Jesus, what am I going to do with you? I can't even keep your attention for 10 seconds."
"Well," Mike replied, "if you stopped harping on about the table maybe I'd listen."
"I know, I know" she sighed, "you love the table, it's part of your process, blah, blah, blah. Just don't come crying to me when you're 80 and need help climbing in and out of your wheelchair after destroying your back for the last fifty years".
"Don't worry," Mike grinned, "I'm sure I'll have convinced some willing stud to marry me by then. He can take over wheelchair duties." Jeanie smiled, and replied "You do realise that you're never going to meet this `willing stud' locked up in here all the time. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you need to get out there and work those God-given talents, little bro!"
Jeanie was the very first person Mike had come out to, at the tender age of 14 when she herself had been a 17 year old high school junior. It was one of those experiences that could only have brought them closer together, especially since the first words out of her mouth had been: "Well, duh! I was wondering when you'd get around to telling me!" After getting over the jaw-dropping shock, Mike and Jeanie had a deep heart-to-heart, during which he realised that no matter what, his relationship with his sister would never be anything less than completely honest, open and at times more than a little annoying! Just like right now...
"Jeanie, I told you, I'm on contract at the moment. If I don't get this ten picture sequence finished by June, the agreement will be null and void, and therefore no money for me. I can't live on love alone." Mike grinned, and added "Besides, I've yet to meet a guy that I think you'll approve of. I don't want to subject any guy to the Jeanie Inquisition unless I'm pretty sure it's going to go well".
"Hey, don't pin this one on me. I've never been nothing other than pleasant to the guys you've dated"
"Jeanie, you once threatened to get the sniffer dog from the station to search one of them because you thought he was a pothead!"
"Hey, he WAS a pothead. He was a bad seed, I could tell." Jeanie growled. Mike smiled "I know, but you still weren't very civil to him. Besides, he was a CPA who smoked a little on the weekends. I don't think he was the menace to society you make him out to be." "Whatever," Jeanie sniffed, "he still wasn't good enough for you".
Mike decided to let her off the hook, as well as conveniently move the conversation away from his love life, a topic Jeanie was honing in on with increasingly regularity recently. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Have you finally driven your deputies to mutiny?" Jeanie smirked "You know as well as I do that my deputies adore me. After all, I am the best boss anyone could wish for."
"Sure," Mike replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "anyone would be lucky to have you dictating their every move." Jeanie chose to ignore his barbs. "I came to take you out to lunch little brother; you need a square meal at least once a day you know."
Mike turned to look at the clock, his back catching slightly at the movement. "Crap, I didn't realise it's 1pm already, I've been working non-stop since 8." "No wonder you're in so much pain. If only you were as dedicated to your social life, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about you being all alone". "Jeanie, stop" Mike warned, "just because you're married to the most perfect guy in the world doesn't mean we all have to be coupled off." This was a masterstroke on Mike's part, as any mention of Jeanie's husband Ben was guaranteed to distract her for a good ten minutes. In fact, Mike could see her mind begin to drift even now.
"So where do you want to go?" asked Mike after a moment's pause. "Sorry, what?" said Jeanie confusedly. "Oh, for lunch you mean. Oh, I don't know, how about Joe's?"
"Sure, let me just lock up and we'll go" replied Mike, glad to finally have her thinking about lunch over other topics. Come to think of it, the thought of lunch was pretty appealing to him too, pangs of hunger that had been muted by his steadfast concentration suddenly coming to the fore.
After locking up his studio and store, the pair began their stroll down Main Street. Edgerton was a small town, one of those little places in New England that saw virtually no crime, where everyone knew at least one of your family members well. Jeanie and Mike had grown up here, and both loved the town deeply. It was a quiet little burg, except for the summer months, when the tourist trade filled the hotels and inns that lined Main Street and the few surrounding avenues. It was from this trade that Mike mostly built his business. Rural art was a big seller to day-trippers and longer term visitors from Boston and New York, and Mike did a good deal of sales during the summer and fall. He liked it this way, as it allowed him to spend the winter months concentrating on his own art, as well as some larger contracts that had started to crop up over the last few years.
His work was becoming better known to the rich and nouveau riche of the cities, and every now and again he would land a big corporate commission from a fan of his work who wanted his company to own some Michael Kelly's. He never sought out these commissions, but when they presented themselves he usually took them, both for the money and the increase in business that they brought. It had gotten to the stage where he was so busy with his work in the studio, that he was finding it difficult to work the shop floor on his own as well. Thankfully, at the moment, business was light, but once the passing trade started to pick up in the spring, he knew he would be snowed under again.
"So," said Jeanie, "How is the work going? I feel like we barely see you". They were strolling arm-in-arm past the Sheriff's office, which was just two doors down from the studio. Annoying close at times, thought Mike. "I'm just a bit overworked. Although, it's better than being a penniless artist! And the new commission will bring a lot of new work my way too. It's for a law firm in Boston that specialises in corporate law, so hopefully a few of their clients will like the look of my pieces"
Jeanie smiled, "Everyone loves your work Mike, there's no hopefully about it!" "Awww, my biggest fan" Mike replied, "Good to know there's at least one person who'll still buy my work when I'm no longer flavour of the month."
"Hey, if you think I can afford to buy your work on a sheriff's salary, you're sorely mistaken mister. You'll have to find some other sucker." Jeanie was right, Mike's work had become progressively more expensive, to a level he was almost uncomfortable charging. His agent kept telling him that he was only charging what the market dictated he was worth, and that he should be happy about it. Mike still felt uncomfortable, despite the fact that most of the people he got commissions from seemed more than happy to pay through the nose for his work. At least in the small store he maintained at the front of the studio, he could still charge what he felt was an acceptable price for his work.
"I've been thinking about hiring someone to work the store so I can spend more time in the studio. What do you think?" Mike mused. Jeanie gasped, "Mike that's an excellent idea. At the very least, you might get out of there every now and again for a few minutes and be able to spend some time with your loving and adoring family!"
"I thought you might approve" Mike laughed. "It also means I can concentrate more on my work than on the sales. Although I think I'll still want to work in the store every now and again. I think I'd go stir crazy if I was cooped up in the studio with no-one to talk to all day."
"Of course, anyone would! I've always said that you spend way too much time on your own. You need to get out more and socialise, meet some new people." Jeanie said this with a sly look on her face. Mike knew exactly where she was headed, yet again. "I know, I know," he replied, "I need to meet a great guy, blah, blah, blah. You know, I could fill an encyclopaedia with these things you claim you've `always said'."
"Well," she snapped back, "if you actually, listened to me once in a while, I wouldn't have to keep repeating myself, would I!"
Jeanie snuggled in under his arm, the November cold working its way insistently through their heavy winter coats as they picked up their pace. "You know I love you Mike, I just want you to be as happy as you can be."
"I know you mean well Jeanie, I love you too, you know that. And I'm sure your insistent nagging will pay off eventually, but even you can't make the man of my dreams appear out of thin air." Mike wrapped his arm around his sister and pulled her in closer as they reached the front of Joe's. "Thanks for nagging though, I'll be worried if you were ever to stop, I'd think you'd stopped caring"
"Hahah," she laughed, "don't worry, I don't think I'll be easing up on you anytime soon. Somebody has to work to keep you in line!"
Mike grabbed the door handle and pulled open the door, allowing his sister to enter ahead of him into the welcoming warmth of the diner. The Main Street Diner was an Edgerton institution, having seemingly been in existence since the founding of the town. No-one could remember a time when its wholesome food hadn't been a staple of most of the resident's diets. It was laid out in an L-shape, with single bar stools at the central counter, and large booths arranged along the outer walls. As Mike entered behind Jeanie, he heard a high-pitched cry. "Sheriff Genevieve, Michael! It has been too long. Why don't you visit me more often? I feel ignored!"
Bess Daniels, wife of the owner and chef Joe, seemed never to leave the diner, being on hand to welcome all its patrons, day or night. Her personality was often described as bubbly, but no words could really describe the ball of sheer energy that was contained within the short, exuberant woman. She treated any lapse in attendance at the diner as an almost personal affront, not that she ever had much cause to be offended. Most residents of the town wouldn't go more than four or five days without a visit to Joe's, even if only for a cup of the best coffee in town. The fact that Michael had been an absent figure for the last ten days or so was almost more than she could bear.
"Bess, I'm so sorry," exuded Mike, "please forgive me, I've been so caught up in work, I hadn't even realised it had been so long."
"Hmmm", she replied, with a dubious look, "well, make sure it doesn't happen again! I have to make sure you're eating well, or else you'll just waste away to skin and bone in that studio of yours!" Bess viewed herself as the sole saviour of the town against the evils of fad diets and fast food. Everything available in the diner was home cooked, and the mere sight of processed food would be enough to make Bess faint on the spot like the heroine of a cheesy romance novel.
"I promise to come visit more often." Mike replied, with no hint of insincerity. Eating at Joe's was more than just a simple meal. It was the centre of the town in every sense, functioning as a meeting point for all. Bess herself was the most reliable source of information in town, hearing every word of gossip repeated in the diner, and committing it to her incredibly sharp memory. Jeanie herself often said that were she so inclined, Bess could take over the Sheriff's office and run it better than anyone else in town, as she seemed to now everything that happened in the town almost before it occurred.
"Come, come," said Bess, as she directed them to a booth "you must sit and eat. The food will be going stale if we just stand here chattering all day like a trio of school girls." Mike and Jeanie laughed at this analogy, Bess looking as far-removed from a schoolgirl as was humanly possible. A plump, 60 year old mother of six, she epitomised the ideal fussy grandmother, one who would pinch your cheek and could serve cookies fresh from the oven at the drop of a hat.
As Jeanie and Mike slid into the booth, Bess pulled out a pad and poised a pencil over it. This was her classic pose, more from habit than anything else. She never actually used the pad, committing orders to memory instead and relaying them to her husband in the kitchen. For years he had tried to get her to write them down, in an attempt to keep track of his cooking. Her constant reply was "If you get confused, just ask and I'll tell you again." Her only concession to his pleas was to carry the pad with her and use it for the most part as a prop.
Bess turned to Mike and beamed, "So Michael, why don't you ever bring any nice boys here. You know I'm a good judge of character, you should run them past me, I could give you my opinion. You know that half the marriages in this town would never have happened if it weren't for me." Mike sighed. While this was undoubtedly true, he had hoped that this particular topic had been put to rest for at least the duration of his lunch break. Jeanie, seeing the opportunity arise, interjected "Well, Bess, he's been locked up in his studio so long he's a positive man-desert." Bess cackled at the image and then turned to scold Mike: "You're never going to meet anyone nice locked up in that studio Michael. Why just last week this darling young man came in..."
Again, Mike chose to tune out what the two new partners-in-crime were discussing. There was absolutely no point in defending himself, his protests would fall on two pairs of profoundly deaf ears. Instead he began to peruse the menu. After a few minutes, Bess and Jeanie seemed to have worn out that line of conversation, realising that their comments were not being listened to.
Bess, subjecting Mike to a particularly scolding stare, said "Well, Michael, I suppose I'll have to feed you. Although I'm sorely tempted to kick you out on your rear for not listening to the excellent advice your sister and I are imparting here." Mike snickered. The idea of Bess refusing anyone food, especially when she hadn't fed them in over a week, was totally laughable. "I'm sorry Bess, I know you're right. If you see fit to forgive me, I'd love one of your amazing club sandwiches." Bess grinned. The easiest way to appease her was always to compliment her food, a fact Mike knew well.
"And how about you, Sheriff Genevieve?" Bess continued. Jeanie visibly shuddered at the use of her full name; a name she had felt was far too girly since the age of 8, when she had beaten up their 10 year old neighbour Bobby Drake for using it. "Please Bess, it's just Jeanie. I'll have the club sandwich too."
Bess frowned and replied, "Young lady, your mother had the good sense to name you Genevieve, a beautiful name if I may say so. She brought you into this world and raised you, so far be it from me to go against her better judgement and call you Jeanie!" With this, Bess turned on her heels, and walked off to place their order. Mike laughed at this comment. Even though their own mother had long been calling her daughter Jeanie, Bess would never see this or anything else as good enough reason not to use Jeanie's full and proper name. Jeanie glared at Mike, growling "I don't know what you're laughing at Michael; I could call her back over right now and tell her you're ready to hear more about how to fix your love life." With this, Mike stopped laughing and dropped his jaw. "Don't you dare Jeanie, I'm warning you!"
Jeanie broke into laughter, "Don't mess with me Mike, I know all your weak spots, good and bad!" Mike and Jeanie settled into comfortable small talk, chatting about her work at the office. She regaled him with a story of how an `out-of-towner', as anyone who was visiting was called, was found outside the Edgerton Arms Hotel at 3am the previous night trying to make a snow angel in just his underwear, while gripping firmly to a half-empty bottle of scotch.
Mike laughed heartily at the image, trying to imagine how drunk the man would have to be to ignore the blistering cold that was present in town each night during the winter. The previous night's light snow shower had by now cleared, and looking out the window Mike could see the beauty of downtown Edgerton framed by the white-topped mountains in the background. Mike felt that the town was picture-perfect on cold, crisp November days like these, despite the Chamber of Commerce's best attempts to sell the image of Edgerton as a warm, inviting summer destination.
Their food arrived with a pitcher of ice tea, delivered with a flourish by Bess, who was almost as proud of her beverages as of the food. "Now, you kids enjoy it. I don't want to see any leftovers on those plates, you hear?" Anyone more than 10 years younger than Bess was viewed by her as a kid. Even though Mike and Jeanie were 27 and 30 respectively, they made no comment, having come to expect this title from Bess. "Thanks Bess," Mike grinned, "we promise to eat it all, or no dessert for us!"
Bess looked shocked. "Now don't go saying that honey, my special pecan pie is on today, there's no way I could deny you a slice!" Mike grinned, "Alright Bess, I promise to keep room for it then."
Mike and Jeanie fell into silence as they munched their way through the substantial sandwiches. Eventually, Mike spoke up: "So, I think I'll put a sign in the store window this afternoon, see if I get any inquiries."
"For the job, you mean?" replied Jeanie, through a mouthful of food. "Sure, that sounds great. You should put an ad in the Courier on Thursday as well. There won't be much passing traffic to see your sign at the moment."
After finishing lunch, and a piece of pecan pie that could more accurately be termed a wedge than a slice, Mike and Jeanie paid their bill and thanked Bess for the wonderful food. "Now you two better not keep me waiting as long to see you next time!! I want to see both your behinds in here again before the weekend. Understand?"
"Yes, Bess" the siblings replied simultaneously, in a tone normally heard in schoolchildren. Bess had the ability to bring out the inner recalcitrant child in anyone, and then scold them appropriately. "Well then, wrap up warm! Don't want you catching your death out there."
Mike walked Jeanie back to the station, again wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. "Thanks for lunch Sis, it was great."
"Yes, it was! Now remember the next time you're in the studio who much fun it is to spend time with me." Jeanie was smiling goofily, and the sight made Mike laugh yet again. "Alright, I promise. More family time in the future. You can hold me to it." "You bet I will bro! Love you and see you later!" Jeanie shouted after her as she unhooked his arm and ran into the station to escape the cold.
Mike returned swiftly to the store, opening the door and changing the sign to `Open'. Taking off his coat and scarf, he went to the small bathroom off his studio to clean up. After washing hands and splashing water in his face, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Not bad, he thought, even if I do look way too tired. And the bump he had sustained an hour early didn't look bad, although he felt sure it would bruise nicely. With short brown hair and dark blue eyes, Mike had a classically handsome face. A broad grin and cute dimples along with his square jaw led many to view him as a bit of a stud, a view he didn't share, seeing himself as definitively average. His body was generally muscled, not from being a gym-fiend, but mostly from the carrying of materials he did in the store, along with his regular jogging and swimming regime. Broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist, the straight lines of his torso being interrupted only by his well-proportioned pectorals.
Finishing up in the bathroom, Mike moved back into the store. He set about looking for a piece of white cardboard, and on finding some, printed Sales staff wanted. Apply within' on its face. He then stuck this up on the door, just below the Open' sign, before returning to the rear of the store and his studio. Turning to the coffee maker, he set it to make a fresh pot. Settling back down into his chair, he contemplated the drawing before him. It was a preliminary sketch of a mountain scene, one which he planned to convert into a large painted piece as part of his latest commission. The early work had been done on a few visits to a nearby national park the previous week, and he was now rounding out some of the finer details in preparation for the larger work. Getting drawn back into the sketch, Mike was soon oblivious to anything but the table before him.
An hour or two later, although in Mike's mind it seemed more like five minutes, he heard the shrill chime of the doorbell from the store, alerting him to the fact that a customer had entered. Picking up a nearby cloth, he wiped his hands thoroughly as he walked through the connecting doorway into the front of the building. Before him, he could see a tall man, facing away from him, examining some of the smaller sculptures on a table inside the shop front window.
Mike called out "Hi, how can I help you?" The man turned quickly on the spot, and smiled softly. Mike was transfixed, frozen to the spot, and gaping openly. This man, this vision, was incredible. Medium-length blond hair framed an exquisitely beautiful face, with deep, green eyes and strong, masculine cheekbones. His skin showed a light tan, clearly not acquired in Edgerton. His upper body, easily visible through the thin polo shirt he was wearing, was muscled perfectly. Mike could see the points of his nipples fighting against the fabric, obviously being heavily affected by the cold outside. His long legs were sheathed in skin tight blue jeans, which did little to hide the musculature in his thighs, of the substantial bulge in his crotch.
Staring at this beauty, Mike thought to himself that he had never before seen such an example of male virility. His entire being was infused with a seeming perfection, combining grace, good looks and a knowing intelligence visible in his eyes. Mike now realised that he was staring uncontrollably, and that this visitor had spoken to him.
"Uh, I'm sorry, what did you say?" Mike stammered. The man grinned again, "Hi, I'm uh, Sam, Sam Douglas." Mike heard the silky, deep tones of his voice, and was not surprised that they matched so perfectly with his visual beauty.
Recovering sufficiently from his initial dumbfoundedness, Mike replied "So, what can I do for you Sam? Are you looking to buy something in particular?"
"Actually, no," replied the stranger, "I saw the sign in the door and came in to ask about the job."
Mike took a second, and then remembered his placing of the sign only a few hours previously. "Oh right! Well, you're certainly quick off the mark. I only put up the sign today. I definitely wasn't expecting any applicants so soon."
Sam's face fell slightly. "Oh, ok. Well, if now's not a good time I can easily come back."
"No, not all" replied Mike, "now's perfect. Why don't you come in the back and we can talk."
Mike led the way back into the studio, turning around at his desk to see Sam frozen in the doorway. "Is everything ok?" Mike asked gently. "No, yeah, of course..." the young man replied, "It's just this is amazing. Your work is beautiful."
"Thank you" Mike beamed, "It's always nice to have a new fan." Sam laughed at this, a charming, resonant chuckle that seemed to arise deep in his chest. The sound of it immediately brought an uncontrolled smile to Mike's face.
"Well, why don't you take a seat" asked Mike. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, soda?" "A coffee would be great," replied Sam, "it's a little cold out; I could do with something to warm me up."
Mike moved toward the coffee machine in the corner and poured out two mugs from the pot he had prepared just after getting back from lunch. "You definitely aren't dressed for the weather" he quipped, "you're from out of town I take it?" Sam gave him a crooked grin. "Yeah, just moved here a few days ago. I really wasn't expecting it to be this cold, and foolishly didn't think ahead to bring any warmer clothes with me." Both men sipped the hot, strong coffee, relishing its restorative warmth.
"So you're interested in a job then?" asked Mike. Sam answered in the affirmative, and Mike started to describe the duties of the job and the pay. As he did so, he examined Sam more closely. He appeared to be in his late twenties, close enough in age to Mike. His clothes were a little more upmarket and cosmopolitan than commonly seen in Edgerton, and tallied more closely with a city-dweller. His diction implied a high level of education. All in all, he seemed like an unlikely candidate to be applying for a job that Mike would have been happy to give to a competent high school dropout.
After fully describing the post, Mike asked "So can you tell me a little about you?"
"I have a resume if you'd like to see it" Sam replied. Mike took the resume from him, and read through it swiftly. A bachelor's degree in biochemistry from Northwestern, and a 5 year stint with the Peace Corps straight after college, which made him 27 years old. Other than these accomplishments, the resume was surprising light on details. However, that said, it also made him far over-qualified for the post. Mike frowned slightly "It seems like someone with your background would be wasted doing this job. It's going to be pretty straightforward work. Are you sure you wouldn't want something more challenging?" Sam was quiet for a moment and then replied "Well, I really enjoyed my time with the Peace Corps, but my time there and in college made me realise that I'm a small-town boy at heart. There really aren't that many opportunities for biochemists in towns of this size. Trust me; I'll be just as happy doing this job and getting to stay in this beautiful town as I would ever be in a city working in a job that required my degree." For Mike, this was exactly the right thing to say. He loved Edgerton dearly, and hearing someone like Sam say that he'd be willing to work in a simple job just for the opportunity to live there was music to his ears. "Well then, sounds like you've thought this out. I'd love to hire you, I think you're more than capable for the job and you seem like a genuinely nice guy too. Let me just check out your references and then we'll go from there." Sam smiled warmly in response to this.
As Mike moved to the store, he realised that despite their brief conversation so far, he really did see Sam as a genuinely nice guy. He seemed open and engaging, and came across as immensely pleasant. Mike could see that he would be a hit with customers. That said, something about him raised the tiniest flag at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his unusual resume, or maybe that Mike felt he was holding something back. He couldn't put his finger on it. However, he knew that he was an excellent judge of character normally, and right away he could tell that Sam was one of the good ones. In fact, there was an air of such goodness to him that it far outweighed any minor concerns Mike may have had. A quick call to Jose Manuela, Sam's Peace Corps supervisor, and Mike had all he needed to know. The reference was not so much glowing as incandescent. Jose had described Sam as a model volunteer, a hard worker and all-round great guy.
Returning to the studio, Mike found Sam standing in front of his desk, sipping his coffee and examining the sketch he had been working on. "Well, that's done. If you're willing, I'd love for you to take the job." Sam turned and grinned widely. "Excellent," he said, "in that case I'd love to take it!" Mike strode forward and extended his hand, which Sam grasped firmly.
As they touched, Mike realised that this was their first skin-to-skin contact. Its effect on him was totally unexpected. He felt the warmth of Sam's skin, the tensing of the sinews, and the firm pressure of his muscles. A warmth suffused his body as he stared into this hunk's deep green eyes. He felt like he'd been electrocuted, and was left grasping a live cable with no hope of releasing. Sam, too, made no effort to realise his grip or avert his eyes. They remained there for close to a minute before Mike regained control of his motor and speech functions. "Well, uh," he stuttered, "I guess you can start in the morning... if that's alright with you of course!" Sam smiled, and replied "Sure, sounds good." It was only then that Mike realised he was still gripping Sam's hand. Releasing his hold quickly, he stammered again "Well, I really look forward to working with you." Mike groaned inwardly, hoping that this didn't sound as much of a common to Sam as it did in his own head.
Sam merely nodded, and softly replied "Me too." Turning towards the door, Sam began to move into the store. "I'll see you at 8am tomorrow then. Once I haven't succumbed to this cold first" he laughed. Mike paused, grabbed his coat from the coat rack and said "Here, take this. Wouldn't want to lose my only employee before I'd gotten any work out of him!" Sam frowned, "Are you sure?? I wouldn't want you going home in the cold." Mike laughed this off, "Don't worry, I've got a spare." This strictly wasn't a lie; he just neglected to mention that all his spare coats were at home, not in the studio. It would be a brisk walk to his car later that evening. Luckily he'd found a parking spot only 100 ft away that morning.
Sam donned the heavy wool coat, a grateful look on his face. Turning again at the front door, he said "Thank you so much for this opportunity Mike. I really hope that it'll be as good as I think it'll be." Mike had no reply for this, and could only nod. Walking out into the cold, Sam shot a quick `see you later' grin over his shoulder, and strode off down Main Street. Mike slowly closed the door behind him. He really didn't know what to make of this rather rapid turn of events. All he knew was that the next few weeks promised to be interesting ones. _____________________________________________________________________
Ok, so that's it for Chapter 1 of Discovering Sam. Hope you guys liked it. All feedback, good, bad or indifferent is welcome. That said, this is my first story so be gentle if possible! Continuation of this story is semi-dependent on there being at least a small audience, so let me know if you want to hear more. E-mail me at matthew.pearson121@gmail.com