The scene cut to a shot of Nana’s front yard. A tall, thin, fabric tube figure was bobbing on top of a fan that kept it upright. It was the type you always saw at auto dealerships, except that this one was shaped like a huge dick with a smiling face. It was nighttime, and there was a spotlight on it. A caption appeared under the undulating dick-man, which said, “The Bait.”
The scene cut to Nana’s neighbor, whose name wasn’t actually Humpington, but that was what she always called him. He was sneaking across the street in a three-piece suit, and he was angry and red-faced. The shot zoomed in on him with the caption, “The dick-hating homophobe.”
I grinned and observed, “This has excellent production values.”
Ash was grinning, too. “Film school is really paying off for Josh.”
The next scene showed Humpington stepping through the gate at the front of Nana’s yard. The shot froze with the caption: “Trespassing on our property AGAIN to steal our shit. This means war!” Then it cut away to stock footage of bombers flying in formation during World War Two.
The scene cut back to the yard. Just before Humpington reached the dick-man, the yard was flooded with lights. Then a hidden mechanism completely doused him with water, followed immediately by a battalion of catapults pelting him with colored powder. This played out again and again, the angle changing each time with footage from half a dozen hidden cameras. Some of it was in slow-motion, to really relish the moment.
The shot froze again, showing a slack-jawed Humpington totally coated in a rainbow of colors. The word “Karma” appeared on the screen in big letters. That was followed by the caption, “Taste the rainbow, bitch.” Then the video started up again and showed him running out of the yard.
The video cut back to Nana, who was laughing hysterically as she flipped off the camera with both hands and yelled, “Suck it, Humpington!”
As the end credits rolled, I handed Ash his laptop and said, “That was an epic serving of justice.”
When Wes picked up his glass from the coffee table and drank the last of his iced tea, Micah asked, “Can I get you a refill?”
“Thanks, but we should get going,” Wes said, as Ash started to pack his DJ equipment. “Dinner was delicious, thank you. Can we bring take-out next week? We feel guilty because you two keep going through so much effort.”
“Thanks for the offer, but cooking is fun for us,” Micah told him.
We started to get up, but Ash smiled at us and held up his hand. “You two stay there. You look cozy, and we can let ourselves out. See you both soon.”
After they left, Micah said, “I really like your friends.”
“It’s mutual. Ash raves about you, and not just because he’s a total fan-boy.”
He sounded wistful when he muttered, “I wish I could go to his pop-up dance party. Hell, I wish I could go anywhere.” I could only imagine how bad his cabin fever must be by this point, but he smiled at me and changed the subject by asking, “Want to move up to the roof?”
When I nodded, we made our way to the top floor and climbed out the window. There was now a ledge to step onto, sturdy steps to climb up and over, and a rope to hold onto. Micah had built all of that after I freaked out about his safety, and I was grateful for it.
Since this was Micah’s main outdoor space, we’d also made some improvements to it over the last few weeks. We’d added an air mattress, along with more blankets and pillows, and a wooden chest that held a few necessities.
As soon as we reached the bed, we both took all our clothes off. That had become our norm, because Micah loved to feel the sun and wind on his skin and we both enjoyed the sense of freedom that came with it. It was dark at the moment and the wind was definitely on the cold side, but we did it anyway and then curled up together under the covers.
Micah asked, “Can we spend the night up here? We’ve been lucky so far, but sooner or later our little love nest is going to get rained out. I want to make the most out of it before that happens.”
“That sounds fun. We can pretend we’re camping. I’ve never been, but I imagine it’d be a lot like this, especially the huddling together for warmth part.”
He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and held me close as he asked, “Are you cold? We can go inside if you want to.”
“No, I love this. You’re like my own personal heater.”
He kissed me, tenderly at first, but it heated up quickly. I reached for the lube we kept stashed under the pillows, which was followed by a passionate frenzy of kissing and stroking and working each other open.