“I’m glad he passed my name on.I’m looking forward to it.”
We ended the call, and I texted Mr.Marsland my private email address.
*
I FOUND MYSELFunable to stop thinking about my summer contract.Time couldn’t pass quickly enough, and when my planned assignment was a week away, I could hardly believe it.
“What do you mean?”My friend, Grif, said, when I explained that I’d be out of town for six weeks at an undisclosed location.“You’re not going to one of these new-age monastic retreats, are you?You know they’re all money-grabs, right?”
“Uh, no.That’s not where I’m going.And I’m being paid well for my time.”
He side-eyed me and sipped his beer.“Well, I just hope I eventually get the inside story.Seeing as I’m your best friend, I really do deserve to know where you’re going.I assume you’ll be reachable by cell?”
I hesitated.“Well…”
“Okay, come on.Where the fuck are you going and why is it a big secret?”
“Fine.But I need you to keep quiet because I’m doing this assignment under the radar since it’s a little out of the mainstream.”
Grif’s eyebrows flew up.He was older than me by a couple of years but still looked like he was twenty-five.He didn't have any trouble getting laid, and he thought I was overplaying my concern at turning thirty.But I didn't have the genes to look boyish my entire life like Grif apparently did.I was starting to get lines beside my mouth and eyes—barely visible so far but they were there—and I'd already found a couple of grey hairs
I thought for second.“Actually, it’s wayout of the mainstream.And I don’t know if I want my professional name associated with this.”
Grif sat up straighter.“Now I’m going to die if you don’t tell me.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“But you’re going to tell me, right?”
I tapped my fingers on the wood of the tabletop and smiled, staring at the varnished surface and wondering if telling Grif was a good idea or a bad one.I knew he’d keep it a secret if it killed him, but knowing Grif, this secret might just kill him.
“I’m going to be photographing men at a kinky pony play ranch in the Muskokas,” I said.
Grif stared at my profile silently for a few seconds.Then he slammed his beer down so hard, the liquid sloshed over the sides.
“What?”
“Shh,Jesus, this is supposed to be a secret.”
“Did you just say—”
“Kinky ponyboys at a ranch in Northern Ontario.Yeah.That’s what I said.”
“Ponyboys?”He whispered, grey eyes glinting dangerously, breaths becoming ragged.“Ponyboys!”
“Griffin, are you having an asthma attack?”
“Maybe?I can’t breathe all of a sudden.Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I'm completely serious.You know I'm a photographer.”
“How?How did you finagle this?And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.“You can’t come with me.”
“Even just to visit?”
“I won’t have my phone most of the time.”
