Movie Devastation

"I'll take care of it," he nodded. "Do I need to worry about the fields, or..." he trailed off, his brow furrowed. "I mean, it's been a bit over a decade since I've driven a combine, but I'm pretty sure I could still..."

"No, your grandfather let my brother set up his robotic teams to work the fields as part of their graduate project. It's almost entirely automated, it just needs someone to go out once a week to shift the lines. I can show you how to do it if you want, but my brother and his team will be there."

"I just... I feel guilty about coming back and the mess that's following me and I want to help if I can...," he said softly.

She nodded, "I'd tell you to stop it, but you won't. They just need a new scandal or a new hotness," she rolled her eyes. "It'll be fine, I promise."

"I hope so. I hope it doesn't hurt anyone here...," he said, tucking back into his food.

"If it does, it's not your fault. They're grown-ass adults, they're making a choice, which means that anything they do is their fault." She reached into the pocket on her calf and pulled out a small train, pushing it across the table, "Choo, choo.... Here comes the logic train." When he looked at the train, it was indeed painted with the word 'Logic' on either side.

"You seriously... carry that around?" he asked in shock. "Just... to do this?"

"Yup," she grinned, then tilted her chin, "It drives Grandpa nuts." She paused, her head tilted, "And my brother, and my Grandmother... and it used to drive my teachers nuts. I made it in high school."

Phillip grumbled, "Don't encourage her."

"I'm not. She's using it against me," Dusty protested. "I'll encourage her when she's using it against you...," he added.

"That's what I mean," Phillip grunted, then pouted and stared at Clover who simply smirked and tucked it back into her pocket and zipped it back up.

The rest of the dinner passed smoothly and with encouragement by Clover, her calm ready nature and easy laugh eased something in Dusty's chest. He realized that even when he was with Kelly there was always this need to be 'on' that he didn't have with Clover.

He walked her back out to her motorcycle and helped get everything loaded. "Thanks for that," he murmured. "You're incredibly kind."

"You're welcome," she smiled up at him, then wrapped her arms around him in another hug. "Relax, you're with family. You're home, I promise. Everything is going to be just fine." She giggled, "Grandpa should have warned you that I'm a hugger, so unless you tell me to stop..."

"It's... OK," he murmured, returning the hug. "I mean... with... what happened, I would have imagined that I would feel... uncomfortable for a while, but...," he trailed off, looking at her strangely. "I don't. Not with you. And I don't understand why..."

Her nose crinkled, "Because I'm special?" She giggled, "Because you have no demands from me, no expectations, I'm not asking for anything in return outside of human decency. Plus your subconscious also knows me even if today is the first day of you officially meeting me because I know Grandpa told you about me and the fact that I take care of him. The fact that I'm not 'Oh-emm-gee, celebrity' is also probably helping," she winked playfully.

"I'll admit that the last one is rather nice," he confessed. "I guess intellectually I always understood that things would change when that happened, but it wasn't until it actually happened to me... that I realized how much I would hate it. In a lot of ways, I'm still just the kid that grew up here and worked Gramps' farm until mom passed..."

"One of the most valuable things I was taught in college when I was studying for the law was to remember: people are people. The only difference between a normal person and a celebrity is the job. Acting is still a job and that doesn't make them public property any more than it does a doctor or a nurse."

He pondered that a moment then nodded. "Yeah... it should be that way, but it's not. And I'm not exactly sure why." He shook his head. "No sense borrowing trouble that hasn't happened yet. Like Gramps used to say, 'It'll rain tomorrow if it rains'."

"Let you in on a little secret," she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "A single person might be smart, but as a group, people get pretty dumb." She winked up at him, "Now, I've got to get back to town, enjoy your visit, relax and Grandpa has my number if you need me." She turned and bounded to the bike, mounting up and driving away with a wave.

He waved back, watching her go, then sighed. She was right. They didn't own his time. He walked back into the house and helped to finish cleaning up before he helped his grandfather to bed and settled back into his own room. Mostly, everything was just as he'd left it a little over ten years ago when he went to try and make it in the big time. He'd loved acting in high school and he'd dreamed of doing it as a career. He didn't regret the decision, as he'd had some amazing opportunities, but he was no longer the naive teenager dreaming of moving the world with his acting. It was a job like any other, with some perks and a lot of disappointment.

Closing his eyes that night, though, he had a hard time falling asleep. The same image that had been playing in his mind for weeks was running on repeat and the silent tears came to his eyes once more. The pillow was wet long before he finally fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep feeling once again, worthless and betrayed.

The next morning he woke up to the smell of sausage and the soft sound of Clover singing in the kitchen in Gaelic. He could hear his grandfather joining in with a deep baritone in English, the song filling the house with hope. Clover for her part was making breakfast and trying not to show how concerned she was for the poor man who looked so broken and hurt yesterday. Something about him made her want to wrap him in her warmth and hide him away while he healed.

He slowly got out of bed, put on some fresh clothes, decided he would take a shower later, and padded downstairs to the kitchen. As Clover heard and turned to him, she winced. He looked like death warmed over. There were bags under his eyes and his eyes were red. He rubbed his face and put on a half-hearted smile. "Smells good," he observed. It did, after all.

"Sit, I'll fix you a plate," she instructed. She fixed plates for him, and Grandpa, then her own before she walked around the table. She wrapped him in a hug and rested her cheek on the top of his head. "I've got you."

Dusty nodded. "I don't suppose you've got a spare IV bag of coffee and know how to run a central line...," he mumbled, slowly sliding one arm around her waist.

"No, but I do have a lovely cup of coffee with a shot of espresso," she offered, pointing at the tall mug on the table in front of him. "It doesn't have cream or sugar, I figured I'd let you do that part."

He lifted his head and smiled up at her wanly, squeezing once again before he reached for the cream and sugar, preparing his coffee. He started drinking and there was a whole body sigh of relief that released from him. "That's good...," he breathed. "Starting to wonder if I don't need to find me some sleeping pills or something..."

"I'll hook you up," Clover offered, "I can bring out some chamomile mint tea and I've got CBD with Melatonin. It'll be less harsh on your system than straight sleeping pills. At least that's what my Doc said."

"CBD with Melatonin...," he murmured. His mind was not firing on all cylinders, but he vaguely remembered that there were people he had met that used such a combination. "That might be worth trying..."

"I'll bring you a bottle when I come out with dinner," she murmured, hugging him to her chest again. She quite liked hugging him and decided to do it as often as she could.

Devlin nodded. "I promise I'll look more like a human when you do," he grumbled.

"You look like a human now," she pointed out, "Maybe a little undead... please don't eat my brains. They wouldn't go well with breakfast tacos."

"If it's prepared well, it's not the worst flavor ever," he observed. "Cows, not humans."

"Meh," she shrugged, "I prefer the tongue."

"Tongue is OK. Tripe is not," he murmured.

"Unless it's haggis," she responded with a giggle. Then moved to sit in her chair to eat breakfast.

"I did a shoot in Mexico a couple of years ago as a supporting character. The street vendors were incredibly nice," he offered, hunching over his plate and starting to eat, sipping periodically at his coffee. He made some unconscious happy food noises.

She smiled happily, then when his cup was empty, she refilled it then fixed it the way he did before sitting it in front of him, "Now, on Saturday I won't be able to stay for dinner but I'll bring food by, I promised Master Mitchell and his wife help with their munch. She's the sweetest ever and nearly eight months pregnant."

"We can figure it out," Dusty replied. "In fact, if you need to, don't even worry about it. I can go into town and figure something out for us...," he murmured. "You already do so much..."

She held up a finger to his lips, "I do it because it makes me happy to serve," she smiled into his eyes. "I'm just keeping you updated on my obligations with communication. If you want to come into town, then you're welcome to. I'm just making sure that you know what I'm doing and where I'll be." Her nose crinkled, "And by bringing you food and letting you relax, it'll reduce the speed with which the paparazzi arrive."

He looked at her and returned her smile. It was infectious somehow. "You're too good to us," he murmured.

"Nope," she stated, "I'm as good to you as I feel you are worthy," she smiled into his eyes. Then, without shifting her gaze, she added, "And if you reach for that cookie again, Grandpa, we're going to have words, you can leave some for Dusty."

Phillip huffed, pulling his hand back. "Good cookies...," he muttered.

Dusty chuckled tiredly. The coffee was starting to take hold and slowly drag his mind kicking and screaming out of its sleep-coated stupor. "Listen to her, Gramps...," he muttered, having more of the breakfast.

"Stop ganging up on me," Phillip pouted at the two of them.

"How bout, no..." Clover said, giving Dusty time to relax and enjoy his meal while she ate hers. "Besides, what are you going to do, have Dusty spank me?"

"Of course not. You'd just enjoy it," Phillip said testily.

"True facts," Clover nodded with a smirk. "Now, finish your breakfast and take your pills." The three of them finished breakfast, Phillip took his pills, and Dusty started cleaning the table, doing the dishes as he tried to feel useful. Clover moved around helping him, then hugged him. "See you at dinner," she turned and bounded out, the sound of her motorcycle starting, and then she was gone again.

"She likes you, son," Phillip said.

"She's nice. Trying to be a good friend. Probably because her grandmother is sweet on you. Which... why are you not with her yet, Gramps?" he asked.

"We're..." Phillip started, then sighed, "It's complicated."

"What's complicated about it? You like her, don't you? She likes you? Grams has been gone for a long time now. I mean... I know you miss her, but..."

"It's a different kind of complicated," Gramps said, "She's a..." he trailed off then his face turned red, "She's a slave, son and I don't know anything about being a Master."

"Oh... well I can help you there. You still have that tablet I gave you, right?" Dusty asked.

"Yeah," Phillip said, his brow furrowed. "Clover set it up for me to watch my nature and fishing programs."

"Bring it here," he murmured.

Phillip went to his couch and pulled it out of the side pocket bringing it to him, at his look he flushed, "Clover comes by once a month and cleans everything. I can't stop her, it's like arguing with a twister."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I don't really miss those, though," he said, turning the tablet on and pointing it toward the Moorwind Industries site. He purchased the lifestyle videos that discussed being in a Master and slave relationship and put them on the main screen of his tablet, then turned it around to show him. "Take a look at these three videos. They're by a company up in Minnesota. They do a really good job explaining the subject. I'll warn you, they are... adult videos. But watch them anyway. It's not just... adult video. It's actual couples that are in that situation. Even the owner of the company and his slave."

"Alright, I'll give it a shot," he looked at the video, "and hopefully it covers what the hell a 'baby girl' is."

He turned the tablet back around and added a couple more videos. "I added two more that cover that aspect as well," he said helpfully.

"Good, then maybe I'll be able to understand Clover a bit better," he said, then flopped in his recliner and put his feet up to watch the videos.

"Going to take a shower. Have fun, Gramps." He went in and took a long, hot shower, letting the steam soak into his bones. About a half hour later, after he'd shaved, he got out and put clothes back on. Walking back out to the living room, he grinned as he stared at his grandfather, who was staring at the tablet in shock and was beet red, his jaw open. "You all right, old man?" he asked gamely.

Phillip made an inarticulate noise with a side of growl, "Fuck...ing hell. Of course, now I understand why Clover asked me not to call her baby girl..."

"Yep. Means something totally different to one of them," he murmured.

He sighed heavily, staring at the tablet, "There is a lot of information for me to take in but it helps me understand them a bit better."

Dusty flopped down on the couch nearest his chair and patted his knee. "Moorwind is as good as it comes. They make toys. I guess they've got a manufacturing facility up in Minneapolis, but they're really big on education and information. It's something the BDSM community needed." He paused, then continued explaining, "For a long time, stuff was scattered in pieces through a few articles here or there or at gatherings like munches, but the sources varied in reliability. As I understand it, he wanted to normalize that lifestyle, so in addition to their manufacturing, they invested in education and made it freely available. The thing is, they talk to people that are actually in the life and practice what they are teaching about."

"That explains a lot," Phillip said, turning back to watching the videos, his face still beet red.

"I'm going to go for a ride. I need some air. You need anything, Gramps?" he asked.

"No... no I'm good..." he gasped out, tilting his head, as he watched the woman demonstrate the use of a hanging spreader bar. "Jesus fuck..."

As he walked to the door, Dusty called back, "Just remember, if you're going to spank your monkey, go do it in the bedroom." He walked out before Phillip could register or respond.

He arrived in town and the main street was bustling, it was almost like traveling back in time. He saw a cafe with a massive spaceship above it. When he got closer the word Serenity was sprawled across the front nose of it. He saw Clover stepping out, wearing a cute fluffy apron and a pair of cat ears on a headband as she moved to wait on a table, when she turned to go back in he saw a tail hanging from her waist.

He slowed to a stop and parked, pulling off his helmet and walking across the street toward the cafe. He didn't see people already stopping and starting to follow him, talking excitedly to each other. He walked in and looked around. It was a quaint little cafe and looked to be decorated like the galley of a spaceship. He walked over to her and smiled. "Nice place. I like the themed decorations..."

"Dusty?!" She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, "I'm glad to see you, come in, have a seat, take a load off." She looked around, then beamed up at him with a wink, "Grandma loves the show, I enjoy it too. Come, sit. Coffee? Cake? Cookie?"

"Just coffee is fine. I won't stay long, I just... needed to get out. Get some air. And I wanted to see the old town... It's been... a few years since I've been back." He didn't want to admit that it had been nearly eight years now, already feeling guilty that he hadn't come back to see his grandfather.

"Alright," she took his arm and led him towards a stool by the bar, "Sit, I'll fix you a cup. And stop that," she frowned at him. At his shocked look, "You kept in contact by calling him, so quit feeling guilty or I'll get the train out."

"You stop that. Reading my mind isn't fair," he replied with a pout.

"I'm not reading your mind," she rolled her eyes, "I'm reading your body," she guided him to sit, then fixed him a cup of coffee with cream and sugar just the way he liked it that morning. "If I was reading your mind, then I'd know what you wanted for dinner and what your favorite motorcycle rides were..." She winked and wiggled her brows, "And your favorite positions in bed."

He ducked his head. "Why would you ever want to know all that?" he murmured.

"Well, for dinner, because I'm cooking for you and I like feeding you. Motorcycle so we could go riding together sometime if you'd like. And positions in bed because I'm a nosy Kitten."

"I like the Kitten ears and tail by the way," he murmured. "I'd be happy to go riding with you, whenever you'd like. As far as dinner? I'm actually pretty open. Pretty much anything I don't cook, because I suck at cooking."

"So does Grandpa," she giggled, resting her hand on his arm. "I've got a lamb slow roasting with rosemary potatoes and green beans. I'll bring three plates of that out." She smiled up at him, her head tilted slightly ignoring the way the other customers were looking in their direction. "Don't worry, you can keep the last for a surprise when we're alone." She wiggled her brows playfully, then refilled his cup. "Be back to check on you shortly, Dusty."

He nodded, sipping at his coffee. People started filtering into the cafe, looking his way in an obvious sort of way. Most of them were taking pictures with their phones and talking to each other. She put her pinkie fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. Everyone froze and snapped their heads in her direction. "I KNOW you're not up in here being obnoxious. I KNOW you're not completely ignoring the sign... who wants to get banished from the cafe for a week?" The phones immediately vanished and they looked embarrassed for long moments.

"But he's Dusty Chamberlain," one of the women said with a dreamy sigh.

"And? This is his HOME, Natalie. He's home to visit and if we're nice to him and don't treat him like he's center exhibit in a circus act, he'll stick around for a bit. Now, if you're not here for coffee or one of my pastries, get the fuck outta my CAFE!" She shooed the bulk of them out. "Not you Martha, you're fine, keep drinking your hot chocolate," a little girl of about seven or eight stared in Dusty's direction, slowly drinking a cup of hot chocolate.

He sighed, getting up and walking over to her. "I wasn't trying to cause any trouble. I can go...," he said with a small, sad smile.

"Sit down and drink your coffee," Clover said turning towards him. "You're safe in my shop," she reached up and cupped his cheek, "You're home, Dusty. You didn't do shit. If they want to act like a bunch of jackals that's on them, not on you. Now go sit. Drink your coffee." She smiled up at him, her eyes warm and completely ignoring the way a couple of people snapped pictures of the two of them from outside.

"Are you sure, Clover? I didn't come here to make your life harder...," he murmured, looking into her eyes. She could see the concern, the guilt he had so much trouble shedding, and the worry that she'd get sick of him and the baggage he had.

"I'm quite sure," she stated firmly. She reached up and tugged him down, hugged him, and tucked his forehead against her neck. "I got you. Besides, any pictures of me appearing anywhere on social media will promptly vanish. My bestie has mad skills with a computer."