Page 2 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
As for the booths, I’ve worked them many times since Mack became my sponsor. He’s told me ever since I first relocated to Rough and Ready Country a little over a year and a half ago that I should live off the land, settle into a simpler life, and truly find myself rather than pursue trivial pleasures. I can’t help but think this deal of his is a way to shove my feet into the fire.
“What else?” I frown, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I need you to entertain guests who come to visit and let them know that I’ve moved on with the love of my life.”
Sounds simple enough, but what I think he’s really getting at is something altogether different. “In other words, you want me to break it to your harem?”
Mack hisses, “Shh. We can discuss this later.”
Trixie must be nearby.
Whatever. The deal doesn’t sound half bad, and he and I both know I could use a new place to hang my hat instead of the apartment I rent in Ophir City.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Yes, and this is the most important part, boy. I need you to go through my personal papers and transcribe them.”
“No way!” I reach for the end call button again. But the old man growls into the phone.
“Don’t you dare, McGregor.”
“Your personal papers? That’s got to be hundreds upon hundreds of notebooks worth of stuff. And you and I both know your handwriting’s shit.”
“Yes, but there are computer programs that help with transcribing handwritten documents of historical significance.”
Historical significance? I want to beat my head against a wall as I think about bookshelf after bookshelf of illegible journals in no particular order.
“Sorry, man. But you need to find somebody else. Somebody who’s into book learning and writing and all that shit. I don’t even read books.”
“McGregor, McGregor, McGregor,” Mack scolds. I see him in my mind’s eye, somber-faced and shaking his head. He’s got a grizzled, unkempt, salt-and-pepper beard that hangs to his navel, and a wiry, lean body that’s more muscle than wrinkle from years of homesteading, hiking, and his Eastern meditations and exercises. “Remember the discussion we had less than a month ago about being open to the opportunities the Universe delivers?”
I grind my teeth together to keep from laughing. One thing’s for sure, when this guy gets a bee in his bonnet, there’s nothing that’ll talk him out of it.
“The cabin will be yours free and clear for next to no labor and expense.”
“I beg to differ,” I mutter, finally awake enough that I won’t be able to get back to sleep after this call ends. “Just clearing all the junk out of your cabin?—”
“Clearing? What in the hell do you mean? I need you to sort through it, inventory it, and then put the items I’d like to keep in storage.”
There it is.“You do know I have a full-time job, right?”
“You mean, the shady undercover stuff you do on call?”
“Yes, and working security at the museum, too.” He and I both know that the security detail is light and informal, intended to maintain appearances. What I really do with Wolfe’s team of former Army Rangers is deadly and intermittent. It makes me perfect for Mack’s job, except I don’t want it.
“Think about it.”
“Yeah. Will do,” I answer begrudgingly. If he hadn’t been such a loyal and dependable sponsor, I wouldn’t waste another moment on this hare-brained idea. But it’s no exaggeration to say I owe my life, sobriety, and job to this man. Not so long ago, I was an epic mess. Mack went well beyond the extra mile to aid and support my recovery.
Tired of talking to myself, I ask, “So, what’s your story, and where are you headed with Trixie?” He’s talked about the fifty-something artist and self-proclaimed gypsy a lot lately. But I have my concerns about how serious this relationship can be.
After all, from the pictures he’s shown me of the Bohemian woman, she’s hot as they come. Not my type, of course. Never been into fire-breathing belly dancers who make the Black Rock Desert their home each summer. But still, I don’t want the old man getting scammed in the name of love. It would break my heart to see him onDateline.
“We’re getting married in Black Rock City, and then we’re heading out on the road.”
“Shit. Aren’t you too old for that kind of life?”
He scolds, “I keep telling you, man. That’s why you’re aging so quickly. Because you’ve got the mindset of an old man, and your thinking is limited by how society has brainwashed you andevery other motherfucker in this commercialized, capitalistic society. You need to get back to the basics. What matters.”
