Page 20 of Comfort Read

MAGGIE:

Too late now! It’s happening

MAGGIE:

And we’re all going to have a nice night

MAGGIE:

And everyone is going to be so chill about it

Sage arrives promptly at eight that evening to pick Kit up. Maggie and Mitch’s property is tricky to find, and Kit hadn’t wanted Sage to get lost alone in the woods. He realizes only as he sees the sleek black town car pull up that of course Sage would not have gotten lost alone in the woods, because Sage has a driver and probably an entire security protocol to follow if Kit turns out to be an axe murderer.

“Is it nice, being a cat?” he asks Throgmorten as he steps outside. “It seems like it would be. Looks restful.”

In response, Throgmorten pools into a self-satisfied puddle on the floor and shows Kit his impressive collection of belly fluff. Kit takes this as a yes, and leaves before he can be caught talking to a cat by a man whose poster once hung inside his high school locker.

Sage is just climbing out of the backseat as Kit finishes locking up, and he leans against the car door with a little wave. Kit pauses mid-stride, staring at him. Sage is dressed very differently today. A paint-stained green sweatshirt with peeled, illegible writing sits atop a pair of jeans so worn that Kit can see his thighs in a few places. His hair, too, is looser than usual, pushed back away from his eyes but sitting softly, instead of gelled stiffly in place.

“What?” Sage demands, glancing down self-consciously. “You said to wear clothes I didn’t care about!”

“I did,” Kit says. His mouth is dry; he swallows frantically and forces himself to start walking again. Who cares if he can see Sage’s thighs? Who cares if Sage looks like he just walked out of a budget porno, one where a plumber shows up to “lay some pipes,” and then turns out to be speaking figuratively? Kit is not thinking about Sage’s pipe! Kit is a sane, calm, professional adult in a perfectly reasonable fake relationship with an internationally famous movie star, and by God, he’s going to act like it, even if he does feel like the universe is laughing at him.

“You look great,” Kit says, managing somehow to strike a casual tone. “I just barely recognized you, that’s all. I was starting to think maybe you were allergic to color.”

Sage rolls his eyes, but steps aside to let Kit get in first. “So I like a dark neutral. Sue me. But on reflection, I did decide maybe you had a point about me looking like the only human in a Muppet movie.”

Kit grins as Sage shuts the door, and their driver, a dark-haired woman, snorts. Not sure what the protocol is, but unable to stomach the idea of spending even a few minutes in a car with someone he hasn’t acknowledged, he says, “Hi, I’m Kit. Thanks for coming to get me—I really should have offered to drive.”

“Nice to meet you, Kit. I’m Eleanor, and it’s no trouble,” the woman says, sounding amused. “Address?”

Kit gives it to her, and explains that the piece of land Mitch and Maggie are on is mostly wooded, and the turnoff is both difficult to see and marked incorrectly on most GPS. Eleanor whistles when she punches the address in and sees the pin appear in the middle of a forest, but then laughs and waves a hand when Kit apologizes again for not offering to do the driving himself.

“It’s cool, man. I’m working tonight either way, and Sage is a good client. He never makes me go anywhere sketchy, and if he’s ever used the backseat of one of my cars for sex, he’s been very quiet about it⁠—”

“That’ll be all, Eleanor, thank you,” Sage says loudly, and pushes a button. A partition rises between the front seat and the back one as Eleanor laughs, until it closes fully and the sound is cut off.

“Wow,” Kit says, blinking. “I thought they only had those in movies.”

Sage raises his eyebrows. “Actually, a lot of the time they don’t have them in movies. It’s not worth the money to install a lifting mechanism, or get a real car. Just cardboard and careful shot choices usually.”

“You’re kidding.” Widening his eyes in mock-horror, Kit adds, “What other cinematic lies have I been walking around believing?”

This proves to be a fruitful line of conversation. Sage is relaxed and even animated as he talks about the tricks of his trade, and Kit’s always liked learning from enthusiastic teachers. After all, they’re what made him want to become a teacher himself.

Also, it’s weirdly hot to listen to Sage talk about any subject with such passion and insight. Upsettingly, Kit thinks he’d probably be equally turned on if the subject were medicinal uses for toadstools, or the history of the color beige. It’s not just Sage’s obvious competence, or the grace of his long-fingered hands as they move through the air. It’s the joy in his eyes, in his voice; the delight he finds not just in practicing his craft, but in sharing it with someone else.

But Kit has to cut the conversation short as they approach the turnoff for Mitch and Maggie’s, to make Sage lower the partition again. “Okay,” he tells Eleanor, “so just after that big rock with the blue paint, on your right-hand side, there’s going to be a little road. You’re going to turn down it, and then you’re going to drive for like five more minutes and it’s going to feel like maybe I’ve given you directions to a murder site, but then, I promise, you will see a big sign that says ‘Rollins Rescue,’ and you can turn in there.”

“You got it, champ,” Eleanor says, although Kit doesn’t miss the way she glances back at them in the rearview mirror and waits for a minute nod from Sage before she says it. She turns at the appointed rock.

“I should explain, about the rescue,” Kit says as they proceed up the now-bumpier road. He gestures at the wooded expanse around them, trees bedecked in the warm vibrance of autumn. “Technically this is all their property, but it’s kind of a long story.”

Kit runs Sage through it as quickly as he can, starting with the way Mitch and Maggie had met by chance a few days after he finished veterinary school. They’d fallen in love quickly and completely, gotten married, and purchased the parcel of land the rescue now sits on with the help of several programs for land stewardship. It’s part of a nature reserve, so they’re not allowed to build anything new on the property, but renovating what was already there was allowed. Maggie fixed up the house first, filming herself in the process, and then the two of them turned the barn into an animal rescue. Both of them chafe at the boundaries these days, wanting more space at home to give their two children another sibling, and room to take on more animals in the barn, but they’ve done a lot of good with what they have. Also, Maggie’s renovation videos have done well enough on social media to bring them some income and sponsorships—she’s certainly not famous, especially by Sage’s standards, but every bit helps.

“They sound like cool people,” is Sage’s verdict. Kit smiles, agreeing, and hopes like hell that Sage will still think so once he’s met them.

The Mitch Rollins Friday Night Shitshow was so named by Mitch himself. Its title was more of a pun than a reflection of how much everyone tends to drink. It would be more accurate to call it The Mitch Rollins Friday Night Free Labor and Cheese Gathering or The Mitch Rollins Friday Night Volunteering Party. Everyone in their friend group who can make it comes by, does some chores together around the rescue, eats and catches up and has a few beers. It’s nice. They do usually end up mucking out some kind of stall, though, so the name Shitshow has stuck.