“Congratulations. Maybe you’re a hairy child.”
“I’m twenty-three. And this beard took months to get right, dude.”
“Yes, twenty-three, dude,” Gus mocked.
“You got nothing left, Grumpy Gus. May as well give up now.”
Well, fuck. Gus decided to play his trump card. “You have to be a resident of Abby, Oregon, or the surrounding area. I can’t rent to out-of-towners. They may leave the state with my movies and I would have to call the police and fill out paperwork and there’d be wanted posters, dude .”
“To get your movies back,” Casey said.
“Exactly. Not saying you would, but if I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for everyone.” And Gus felt good again. Because he’d won .
Casey leaned back against the counter, colorful arms crossing his chest, cool as you please. He said, “Hey, Gus.” He sounded amused.
“What,” Gus said warily. He did not sound amused.
Casey’s lips twitched. “It’s probably good then that we don’t have to worry about that. Though, I’m slightly hurt you’d be okay with having me arrested.”
No.
“But, no worries,” he continued, running a hand through his beard. “Because guess who just moved here?”
No, no, no.
“Yep,” Casey said, as if he could hear the running horror in Gus’s head. “This mountain air is just speaking to my muse, man. Settling in for the long haul. So, how about that application? Something tells me that I’m going to be in here quite a bit as I’ve decided that you and I are going to be friends.”
And then he winked.
That was the moment Gustavo Tiberius realized he was most certainly doomed.
Chapter 6
GUS DIDN’T know if he believed in God, but he certainly gave thanks as the next day was Sunday, the only day he didn’t open the Emporium. Since he didn’t have to open the Emporium, he didn’t have to go to Lottie’s Lattes and therefore did not have to run the risk of seeing a certain bearded hipster.
“Today is going to be an okay day,” he told the ceiling.
He rolled off the bed and tried to exercise.
Instead, he lay on the floor.
Harry S. Truman peered over the edge of the bed and chittered at him.
“I don’t even know,” Gus told him.
Eventually, he got up.
He ignored the inspirational calendar.
He left the room.
He came back into the room and frowned at the calendar. He didn’t want to know what today’s message said, because yesterday’s was the absolute worst. He’d said hello and everything had turned upside down.
Gus frowned, because he was good at it.
“Ugh,” he said. “Fine.”
We don’t meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason.
Gus stared at the inspirational calendar.
“Are you spying on me?” he eventually whispered.
The inspirational calendar did not reply.
Gus left the room.
HE DEBATED, quite seriously, not going to the grocery store that day. He thought it might be a better idea if he stayed in the house all day. Not to hide, mind you, but rather to not be seen by anyone else. There was a difference, he told himself. An absolute difference because Gustavo Tiberius didn’t hide . He avoided , sure, but he didn’t hide .
But then he realized he was short on TV dinners and apples, and for some reason, he got into his head that he needed string cheese, even though he hadn’t had it since he was twelve years old.
Needless to say, Gus couldn’t just stay at home. It wasn’t feasible . And it wasn’t like he’d actually run into any specific person (hipster) while grocery shopping. The market was in the next town over, a few miles down the road. He’d have to drive to get there, something he only did on Sundays, and there was no chance he’d meet anyone he didn’t want to see (hipster) so it would be fine .
“Yes,” Gus said. “I can do this.”
He showered and dressed.
His reflection looked slightly wide-eyed, so he scowled at it and everything was better.
He loaded up
“I’m twenty-three. And this beard took months to get right, dude.”
“Yes, twenty-three, dude,” Gus mocked.
“You got nothing left, Grumpy Gus. May as well give up now.”
Well, fuck. Gus decided to play his trump card. “You have to be a resident of Abby, Oregon, or the surrounding area. I can’t rent to out-of-towners. They may leave the state with my movies and I would have to call the police and fill out paperwork and there’d be wanted posters, dude .”
“To get your movies back,” Casey said.
“Exactly. Not saying you would, but if I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for everyone.” And Gus felt good again. Because he’d won .
Casey leaned back against the counter, colorful arms crossing his chest, cool as you please. He said, “Hey, Gus.” He sounded amused.
“What,” Gus said warily. He did not sound amused.
Casey’s lips twitched. “It’s probably good then that we don’t have to worry about that. Though, I’m slightly hurt you’d be okay with having me arrested.”
No.
“But, no worries,” he continued, running a hand through his beard. “Because guess who just moved here?”
No, no, no.
“Yep,” Casey said, as if he could hear the running horror in Gus’s head. “This mountain air is just speaking to my muse, man. Settling in for the long haul. So, how about that application? Something tells me that I’m going to be in here quite a bit as I’ve decided that you and I are going to be friends.”
And then he winked.
That was the moment Gustavo Tiberius realized he was most certainly doomed.
Chapter 6
GUS DIDN’T know if he believed in God, but he certainly gave thanks as the next day was Sunday, the only day he didn’t open the Emporium. Since he didn’t have to open the Emporium, he didn’t have to go to Lottie’s Lattes and therefore did not have to run the risk of seeing a certain bearded hipster.
“Today is going to be an okay day,” he told the ceiling.
He rolled off the bed and tried to exercise.
Instead, he lay on the floor.
Harry S. Truman peered over the edge of the bed and chittered at him.
“I don’t even know,” Gus told him.
Eventually, he got up.
He ignored the inspirational calendar.
He left the room.
He came back into the room and frowned at the calendar. He didn’t want to know what today’s message said, because yesterday’s was the absolute worst. He’d said hello and everything had turned upside down.
Gus frowned, because he was good at it.
“Ugh,” he said. “Fine.”
We don’t meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason.
Gus stared at the inspirational calendar.
“Are you spying on me?” he eventually whispered.
The inspirational calendar did not reply.
Gus left the room.
HE DEBATED, quite seriously, not going to the grocery store that day. He thought it might be a better idea if he stayed in the house all day. Not to hide, mind you, but rather to not be seen by anyone else. There was a difference, he told himself. An absolute difference because Gustavo Tiberius didn’t hide . He avoided , sure, but he didn’t hide .
But then he realized he was short on TV dinners and apples, and for some reason, he got into his head that he needed string cheese, even though he hadn’t had it since he was twelve years old.
Needless to say, Gus couldn’t just stay at home. It wasn’t feasible . And it wasn’t like he’d actually run into any specific person (hipster) while grocery shopping. The market was in the next town over, a few miles down the road. He’d have to drive to get there, something he only did on Sundays, and there was no chance he’d meet anyone he didn’t want to see (hipster) so it would be fine .
“Yes,” Gus said. “I can do this.”
He showered and dressed.
His reflection looked slightly wide-eyed, so he scowled at it and everything was better.
He loaded up
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