Say You'll Be Nine

All I needed was a job that paid me enough to keep my own place and splurge every now and then on new camera equipment and tools. I’d worked at Walt’s hardware store since I was sixteen, and after eight years there, I’d finally amassed a good collection of used tools and DIY supplies I used for my videos. My next goal was a place of my own in the woods. Even a little fixer-upper would suit me fine, something full of new challenges and projects with plenty of room for Nacho to roam and far enough away from others to give me the solitude I craved.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I’d headed northwest up toward where Sybille Creek split from the Laramie River. My favorite parcel of land wasn’t too far from my family’s farm which was how I’d found it all those years ago. The old place had finally been processed by the state after the old man who owned it had died, leaving no heirs.

Sure enough, there was finally a For Sale sign on it.

My heart thumped and my hands shook as I pulled up the real estate listing app. Fifty thousand dollars for thirty acres of gorgeous fertile land with creek frontage and plenty of hardwood trees and wildflowers that bloomed all summer. It didn’t sound like much, but I only had ten saved up. It was enough for the down payment, but then I wouldn’t be able to afford to put a house on it for a while.

I closed my eyes and took a breath before doing a U-turn and heading to family dinner. When I pulled into my parents’ driveway, I knew I needed to suck it up and call the Stallion guy back to get it over with and off my mind.

Unfortunately, he was still in the office.

“Nine, so glad to hear from you,” he said in his big businessman voice. “We stumbled onto your YouTube channel recently and are very impressed with the DIY content you’re providing. These simple how-to videos have clearly gone viral, and we see your subscribership is hitting impressive levels.”

My heart was already hammering before he mentioned subscribers. Now it was about to crack right out of my chest.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, grateful my voice sounded much more in control than I felt.

There was a pause. “You’re up in Wyoming, right?”

“Yes, sir. North of Cheyenne.”

“I don’t suppose you know many other YouTubers who do what you do?”

Movement out of the windshield caught my eye. My bossy sister Dee was tapping her nonexistent watch at me. “No, sir. Not really. I mostly just film the videos and upload them. I don’t really… engage in the community all that much.”

I knew this was probably the thing that would turn him off considering me for a sponsorship of any kind. Usually companies liked to partner with social media stars who worked their numbers hard, the ones who had Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, and whatever the hell else there was out there.

I didn’t do any of that.

“So… let me ask you something.” He sounded hesitant and weird all of a sudden.

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about gay rights and all that?”

What?

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand what you’re—”

“Our new focus for this sponsorship is reaching the LGBTQ community. We’ve been challenged by one of the professional athletes we sponsor to create a project dispelling some stereotypes about the kind of men who use tools.”

I thought about all of the women who used tools, but it wasn’t my place to correct him. If he was putting together a campaign to make power tools and DIY more accessible to any minority community, that was a good thing.

“That’s fine,” I said without thinking. I hadn’t meant it was fine and I’d do the project. I’d only meant to say LGBTQ stuff was fine with me. I didn’t have a problem with gay people. Despite my upbringing in a pretty conservative place and family, I’d spent more than my fair share of time on the internet and watching television. I wasn’t a complete hillbilly despite what some people thought.

“I don’t suppose you… nah, well, anyway, I can’t really ask you that. But I wonder if you might know of someone… someone LGBT or like that, who does what you do. We’re looking to sponsor content like yours that’s being done by someone in the LGBT community. So if you or anyone you know might be interested in something like that, say… fixing up a place and broadcasting it using Stallion Tools… please get in touch with us, alright?”

I didn’t say anything while my brain ping-ponged around wondering what exactly he was saying. This was certainly not the way I’d envisioned the conversation going.

He began speaking again. “Tell you what, Nine… why don’t you think about it, talk to your friends in the business, and get back to me. Does that sound good?”