Page 1 of Tommy

1. TOMMY

Whose bright idea was it to fly out to Montana in the middle of high seasonal snow? Since the trip was free, I guess that was my idea.

After two months of skating around deadlines and putting myself through so much stress that I was sometimes sticking to little space where adult responsibilities happened to the adults, and definitely not me. Nuh-uh, my only responsibility was to squish teddies, nap, and use my expensive pens in coloring books.

When my publisher and agent teamed up to get me back on schedule, they’d decided I needed a vacation to reset my creative muscles. My mind went to somewhere warm, drinking something from a coconut husk on a beach, and where my only worry would be whether I wanted to nap in the hammock perfectly placed between two palm trees. Obviously, that was not where they had in mind.

They booked me on a one-way flight out to a snowy cabin in the middle of Montana. I didn’t even know what they had in Montana, except for this singular cabin, an airport, and apparently snow. It wasn’t like I could complain either. This was afreetrip. Absolute magic to my ears. But I knew it came with a catch, I had to start work on my next comic book. I’d already released four volumes of the popularTeddy Warsseries, selling over a million copies world wide. I wished I had the capacity to feel good about that brag, but thinking on it made me sigh and roll my eyes.

What if I never created another comic panel again? What if I was creative done? I was twenty-eight and I’d used up all of my I’d never had any intention on doing anything but stress in my apartment about finishing the comic book pages for mypublisher. After almost two months without a single sketch or word on the page, I was being forced out of the state. Force was probably a rough word, since it was sold as a vacation, all paid to a scenic little ranch where I’d be undisturbed and get to help tend to animals.

My friend, Cristian, who worked in the digital marketing sphere and was also a talented artist practically forced me to get on the flight. I half-wondered if he was only doing that so he could try and poach my agent and get himself a book deal. Telling my best friend those words was the sign that I was not doing well at all. My childhood bestie, and roommate, Farrah, told me I was being paranoid and locking myself in the apartment was not good for anyone. She’d even helped me pack and drive me to the airport.

I had a lot of time to think and reflect on the flight. There was no mind-numbing internet doomscrolling, and the in-flight entertainment had me bawling in tears, not from lack of choice, but from the sappiest of romances I’d never heard in my entire life, seemingly only made to be shown flights. Thankfully, I’d been booked into business class and the seat beside me remained unoccupied.

The snow topped pines and view of the national park as we descended into the airport was a relief. I’d gone through all several stages of denial by the time we landed, finally on acceptance about my situation and agreement that I actually needed this break from the city.

Immediately off the plane, the chill in the air hit me. I was not prepared for snow, or winter. I wore a fleece jacket, thin t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. I was begging to get frostbite.

Through to baggage claim, it wasn’t as cold. I waited on my bag, a hardshell black suitcase, freshly covered in stickers. Farrah’s idea of making my suitcase stand out. And it did, for all the wrong reasons. Half of them were merchandise stickersfrom theTeddy Warsbooks, and the other half were NYC tourist stickers. There weren’t many people around to see me collect the suitcase, it looked like it belonged to a child, at least it contained all the things my little side required to feel safe.

My phone buzzed with text after text, making sure I’d landed safe and then instructions on where I had to go. I assumed I was going to be heading to the car rental desk, but apparently someone was waiting for me out in the arrivals zone.

A woman with bright pink hair stood in a large brown jacket with a fur hood. She held a sign with ‘Mr. De Vecchi’ written on it. It made me sound old. I stopped in my tracks, right in front of her. A matching neon lipstick and dimple piercing on her cheek. “Hey, doll,” she said. “Now, I didn’t get a picture of you, but I’m going to safely guess you’re who I’m here to pick up.”

“Hi,” I said, glancing her over. “I’m Tommy De Vecchi, here for a mandated stay while I get some work done without any internet or distractions.”

She laughed. “You are a hoot,” she said. “The ranch doesn’t get many out of towners during the winter season.Oh, shucks. I’m June. I work up at the ranch half of the week, just helping out with things. Anywho, we should get going before it really starts up out there. And good lord, you are sure to catch your death. Please tell me there’s a nice winter coat in that suitcase.”

I offered back a nervous laugh. “This was all last minute. I do have a coat, but it’s back in New York. I know, not ideal.”

June clicked her tongue. “You’re lucky, I have a spare in the car. It’s my sons.”

“Won’t he need it?”

“Oh lord no,” she snort-laughed. “He’s living out in Arizona, and has been for the last five years. Anyway, we’ll have time to get to know each other on the drive. You need a handwith that?” She took the suitcase from me. “I can handle this. You know, since my divorce, I’ve developed quite the set of muscles.”

I followed June from the airport out into the short stay parking bays where she continued to confuse me. She was volunteering all this information about herself, like an ex-husband, a grown son who’d moved states, and I still couldn’t pinpoint her age. Maybe it was the garish pink hair and piercing that aged her down.

She drove a silver Chevy Suburban, which most of the people around here seemed to have. There must’ve been a deal on at the local car depot. June continued to surprise me, lifting the suitcase with one hand into the trunk, all while offering me that motherly hospitality of sitting in the car and telling me about the heated seats.

“How long have you worked at the ranch?” I asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“On and off now for going near thirty years,” she said. “My ma and pa worked there way back too, she would tend to the feedings and he would break horses in. It’s a different beast to the place they were at though.”

“A beast,” I said, picking at the word. “I don’t think I’ve ever been close to a horse.”

“Well, you’ll get close and personal with them there,” she said. “It’s now owned by this semi-retired couple living out in California, they use it for their summer retreats and hire it out to companies. So, yeah, it’s changed a lot. Not really a large emphasis on cattle farming anymore.”

It hit me that this was going to be wildly different from the idea I’d cooked in my mind. The idea that I was going to be staying in a cabin as if this was somewhere in Upstate New York by a lake.

“Do you live at the ranch then?”

“Oh no, it’ll just be you and Hardin,” she said. “He’s an acquired taste, I’ll preface with that. He’s a man of few words. A real cowboy of a man. So, don’t come at him sideways with anything.” She laughed again. “How long are you staying?”

“Three weeks.” I really had no clue what I was getting myself into with this. I knew there were going to be other people at the ranch, but I didn’t think the description of them would be so hostile. “I’m actually hoping to get out of a creative rut by a change of scenery.”

As June drove, she had anecdotes about everything. It was nice to hear her talk so excited about everything, and then she hit me with it. “You don’t get to my age without finding an appreciation for the world around us. I turned fifty-one a couple months back, not in June, mind you, just in case you were thinking.”

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