He took a swig from a tall, thin white can labeled sparkling flavored water.Peppy Pineapple.The handle of my axe propped me up as I caught my breath, squinting at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Not what I had in mind when you said six-pack. Now I want zero percent of what you’re offering.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Also, I’m cutting back on the drinking,” he explained.
“Fair enough.” I shrugged and reached out to grab the proffered can. I popped the tab and took a deep drink. “Goddamn, that’s refreshing,” I said.
“I’m saying. Betsy started selling them at the general store. You should swing by and get one.”
I nodded, mildly impressed. Seemed like there were a lot of upgrades happening in Cozy Creek. None of them I was interested in. I drank my drink and kept my thoughts to myself.
Pace held up his hands and made a rectangle with his thumbs and pointer fingers, boxing me in his imaginary frame.
“You could be an advertisement,” he said, lowering his arms. “You know, if you recorded yourself chopping this wood and uploaded it, you could probably make thousands of dollars in a side hustle. Or at least sell a ton of this bougie water to the tourists.”
“What makes you think I don’t already?” I said before swinging through the next chop, pieces flying. My break was over.
“You’re right. You just scream social media influencer. The reclusive cabin in the woods really sells that. Do you even have a social media account?”
I blinked at him.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Social media is the downfall of humanity,” I said through huffs of breath. “We pay fake tribute to pretend lives that nobody has and then bully ourselves for not living up to those expectations.”
Pace sighed and tugged off his cap to scrub at his dark, reddish-blond waves. “You’re awfully sure for somebody who isn’t online. Don’t forget the cat videos and hours of disassociation. There is some fun to be had.”
I split the next log.
“Speaking of. How goes the Real-E-Space advert?” he asked.
“Stop trying to distract me. What is the news from town?” I asked.
“Ruth said that old Billy Mackenzie was finally retiring and looking to sell his space to a local before any ‘outsiders’ could snatch it up.”
“I can’t afford one of those Main Street storefronts.” Cozy Creek had managed to stay a hidden treasure for now, but the cost of the tourist trap shops still drove rent up on Main Street every year.
“He’s willing to take a hit before selling it to anybody whomight make it a chain. Also, you could afford much more if you rented out the guesthouse,” he said.
“Who says I even want a shop?” I rolled my shoulders. “Regular hours. Interacting with the tourists. Sounds like a nightmare.”Locals talking to me about things I didn’t want to talk about…
“I see we are still avoiding my question about the listing. And the shop would be worth it. You know your stuff would sell like hotcakes.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Hotcakes, huh?”
He shrugged sheepishly.
After swinging the axe to lodge it in the stump and stacking the last pieces in the pile, I sat next to Pace. We tinked our cans. “Thanks, man. I just don’t want the constraints that come with a brick-and-mortar storefront. Betsy sells plenty of my stuff at her shop.”
“Just think about it. A video of you working on your art and you could go viral,” he said with a sigh.
“I’m starting to feel objectified.”
“I’m just saying, if I had a fraction of your talent and looks, I would be a millionaire,” he said.
“Definitely objectified.” I took another sip, then had to burp the intense carbonation. “Excuse me. And don’t be so modest, Mr. Fireman. You’re not exactly an eyesore as you’re busy saving kittens and dousing fires for all the Cozy Creek ladies.”
