Disclaimer: I do not know, nor do I claim to know Jake Gyllenhaal, nor do I know or claim to know any other celebrities that may wander through these pages, and I do not know, or therefore mean to imply, any knowledge of their personal lives and/or their sexual preferences. This story is a work of fiction. The character of Michael is my own creation, and therefore any use of him outside of this story cannot be done without first gaining my permission. If you are under 18 years of age, or you are bothered by the prospect of a homo-erotic relationship between two men, or it is illegal for you to be reading this where you live, then I highly recommend that you go and find something else to read on another web-site. I think that that takes care of the C.Y.A. part of things.....
I just wanted to say "Thank you" to Avy and Christopher. Your constant nagging/support/ cheerleading has been great, and I really don't think I'd have ever gotten this far if it weren't for the two of you. I also wanted to give a shout-out to Cassi. Thanks for taking the time to read and write back. If y'all haven't checked it out yet, you really should go check out Avy's site, The Gyllenhaal Chronicles at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/ Also check out http://iheartjake.com for lots of great Jake photo's. Okay, that being said, on with the story.....
Michael's POV
"Hi Nate," I said shaking his hand. "I'm Michael, and this is Peter," I said, making formal introductions. Peter and Nate shook hands. It was almost laughable to watch the two of them taking each others measure. Apparently they were both satisfied with what they saw.
"So, Nate, I really hope you weren't planning to ask me about the possibility of decorating my house? I've actually decided to turn it into a Co-op, so I'm not really in the market for an interior decorator."
"Actually that was what I wanted to talk to you about, the Co-op's. If you haven't sold them all yet, I'd be very interested in buying one."
"I think that could be arranged," I said. Before we could talk any more, we had reached the counter, and we quickly decided what we wanted and moved down to the 'Pick-Up' window to wait for our orders. After we got our food, we went in search of a relatively quiet table where we could sit and talk.
"Okay, so I guess my first question is, what's still available, and who are the tenants so far?" Nate asked.
"Well, you're looking at them. Peter and Maggie are taking the third floor space, I'm going to take the second floor, and I'm going to put four one-bedroom studios in the first floor space, so you'll have your pick. Oh, and there's a very strong possibility that we just might have a ghost," I replied. Nate looked momentarily nonplussed at the mention of a possible ghost.
"Who's the architect?" Nate wanted to know.
"My dad, and Jason Cameron is doing the work. And yes, it's THAT Jason Cameron. TLC is going to film everything for some series of specials or something. I really can't wait to get started on this project. It's been more than a year, and it's still only in the planning stages," I told Nate.
"Great, so, when can I come over and look at the space?" he wanted to know.
"How does Monday afternoon around four sound? Let me give you my number and you can give me a call if you're going to be late." I took out a pen and wrote my number down on a clean paper napkin and gave it to Nate. We chatted for a few more minutes before Nate excused himself, and Peter and I also left.
I ventured out to the house again on Mother's Day afternoon. I was going to meet with a Camera crew from TLC the following afternoon before meeting with Nate, and I wanted to take a quick look around at everything one last time before the re-model began in earnest. I decided to start with the attic space above the garage.
As I paid the cab driver, I thought to myself that I was going to have to get myself some kind of vehicle, and soon.
I had my sketch pad and some old photographs of the exterior of the house, from all sides, as well as the preliminary plans that my dad had done. I had just let myself in through the front gate and was walking toward the garage when it dawned on me that the entire front of the garage had a southern exposure, making it the perfect place for solar panels.
Letting myself into the garage, I flipped on the light switch and made my way over to the center where the disappearing stairs were, and using the hook-ended pole that Jake and I had used last time, I pulled the stairs down until I heard them lock open, and then made my way up into the attic space. This time I felt only the occasional fleeting cold pocket as I made my way among the many boxes, chests, and pieces of furniture that filled the space. I noticed that one of the chests was open, which I thought was strange, as I was almost positive that Jake and I had closed them all and covered everything back up. Maybe I really did have a ghost after all! I shook my head and began looking through the open chest before me. It turned out to be full of old photo albums! Maybe a couple dozen in all. I grabbed an armload and left the attic and made my way over to the house. After depositing the first bunch on the porch, I went back for the rest, and after gathering my things, I made absolutely sure to close and cover everything back up, and then went back down the stairs, and after a bit of cursing and swearing, I got them closed back up into the ceiling.
"Okay, let's see what we've got here," I said as I picked up the top one and opened it up. The pictures in this one seemed to be fairly current, and seemed to be mostly several years worth of Christmas' and various family members' Birthdays.
"Hmmm, I wonder if my ghost is in any of these," I wondered aloud, and almost immediately felt momentarily surrounded by a cold pocket....Okay, that answers that, I thought to myself as I continued flipping through albums and stacks of loose photo's. Soon, I found myself looking at the very old, stiff backed, black and white Victorian Era photo's. Of course, there were the usual array of stiff, formally posed photo's, and as the years passed and advances were made in equipment, the facial expression's became more relaxed, and small smiles began to emerge.
Also, the faces from these pictures began to become more familiar in that some of the family members that had actually been nice to me after the will, bore quite a striking resemblance to their ancestors. One photograph in particular caught my eye. It was a group of six, three men, three women, playing croquet. Something about the way one of men was resting his forearm on the shoulder of the other.....It was so casual, and yet something in their eyes, something in their smiles, and the way they leaned into one another, spoke of much more than mere friendship and 'manly camaraderie. I turned over the photo to read the names, and then looked back through the stack of photographs for the wedding photo. In this photo, the shorter of the two was obviously the Groom, but his smile was obviously strained. The taller of the two was standing on the Bride's side of the group photo, and the look on his face was as if his heart was being torn apart. I turned the photograph over and read the names, and noted the date which had been written at the top of the reverse side of the photo, 31 December, 1899. I looked through a few more photo's and found a single, lone photograph of the man who I was now convinced was my ghost.
"It's you.....I know it is.....I can feel it....." I murmured as I sat gazing down at an old black and white photograph of one Alistair Hayes.....
I was wearing a snug fitting pair of Levi's, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and my cowboy boots, for my "debut" in front of the TLC camera's. They were having Doug Wilson do the series.
"So, what can we look forward to?" he asked.
"Well, starting bright and early tomorrow morning, there's going to be work crews here to shut off and disconnect the utilities in preparation for the re-model. While they're doing that, there's going to be all kinds of heavy equipment showing up," I replied.
"What for?" Doug wanted to know.
"Well, in order to fix the foundation, they're going to have to jack the whole house up a few feet. They'll fix up the basement walls and floor. After that's done, things will really begin to start moving!"
"So, what can you tell me about the plans for the house after the remodel?" Doug wanted to know.
"I'm planning to turn it into six co-op apartments. Four on this floor, one on the second and one up on three. The second and third floor units are already spoken for, and possibly one of the one-bedroom studio's down here. I'll know more about it later today. And of course, anyone that decides to buy in will have to deal with the fact that there's a ghost."
"A ghost?"
"Yup. I mean look at this place! It would be a miracle if it wasn't haunted!" I said making an all encompassing gesture.
"Okay, so, anything else planned for the house?" Doug wanted to know as we headed up stairs.
"Well, we'll just have to wait and see. It's really going to take a while to get things done. I can't wait to see the finished product. It's going to be really nice!"
I finished showing Doug around the house, and answered as many of his questions as possible, and then when he and everyone from TLC had departed, I went to sit out on the front steps to wait for Nate. Luckily, I didn't have long to wait. He was walking slowly up the sidewalk, looking up at the house through the heavy, tall, cast-iron security fence which surrounded the property, and so I got up and walked down to the front gate to meet him.
"Hi Nate, welcome to the Hayes Mansion," I said, extending my hand in welcome.
"Thanks...Um...Wow!" Nate replied, grasping my hand, all the while his gaze never once leaving the house.
"I think that that's been pretty much everyone's first reaction when they see this place up-close for the first time."
"What? Oh, sorry..." he apologized.
"Don't worry about it. So, would you like to go take a look around inside?" I offered.
"Um, sure," Nate replied, still looking up at the house, somewhat awestruck.
"Great, follow me," I said as I closed the gate, then ducked around him to lead the way up to the front porch. I lowered my head to hide a smile. Whenever I saw him on TV or in a magazine, Nate always appeared to be un-flappable, but at that exact moment, he looked, well, flapped.
When we got up on the porch, I opened the double doors and stood back to allow Nate to enter. I mainly just let him look around wherever he wanted to and hung back to answer any questions he might have.
"Hey, what's this?" he asked, drawing my attention to the marble floor where it looked as if a small piece were missing, and a small, dark hole was plainly visible. We were up on the third floor.
"Don't tell me some jack-ass managed to nick up my floors and I'm just now finding out about it!" I complained.
"I don't think that's the case here," Nate said as he studied the floor. Sticking his finger into the hole, he pulled up, and an entire foot square section of the marble floor lifted up to reveal what looked like a small trap door. "Here, grab this," he said, gesturing to the slab of marble. Between the two of us, we managed to lay it down with no damage done.
I looked down at the little wooden door with a strange sense of fascination, almost as if I expected it to pop open at any moment and there be a jack-in-the-box like head grinning at us.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Nate said.
I started slightly, then took a deep breath and opened the hatch. The first thing I noticed was that the compartment was lined in copper. There were several items which were wrapped in newspaper, and I began to pull them out. Five minutes later, Nate and I found ourselves looking at twelve bottles, an entire case, of 1923 Le Fit Rothschild.
"Wow.....talk about your hidden treasures," I said. "My parents will positively flip out over this."
"So, tell me about the ghost," Nate suggested as he helped me carry the vintage Champagne back down to the kitchen on the first floor.
"There's not really that much to tell. Have you felt any cold spots since we got here?"
"A few times."
"Well then, he's checked you out. Since you haven't tripped and gone sprawling, I'm going to assume he likes you."
"Thanks, I think," Nate said, suddenly unsure.
"Listen Nate, don't worry. I knew as soon as we met that I would be selling to you. I simply wanted you to come over here today to.....experience the house first hand. Now, let's look over the plans and you can pick which space you want."
"Hey, great," he replied with a smile. "So are you keeping the marble floors?"
"No, actually, I'm not." I said. Nate looked momentarily nonplussed.
"What? Why not? I mean, they just don't make floors like this anymore!"
"I decided to donate a piece of New York History to help create a new piece of History," I explained.
"What? How?" Nate asked, genuinely interested.
"You are currently standing on what will be the lobby floors of the new Freedom Tower," I replied, referring to the new Tower that was being built down at Ground Zero to replace the fallen WTC.
"Wow....."
"Yeah. Okay, so which one do you want? Keep in mind, B and C won't have any windows except for at the back of the house," I said.
"Yeah, I noticed that," Nate commented.
"In order to have interior access, we ended up having to put hallways off of either side of the foyer, which means that your entry hallway has the bay window and the other one at the end of the hall, with the entries for A and D being angled, and B and C are just to the left and or right and across from the bay windows, so that they're on the flat wall," I said, trying my best to explain my dad's floor plans.
"Yeah, okay, I get it now. Okay, I think I'll take A."
"Cool, I'll contact my lawyer later this afternoon and get the ball rolling on the paperwork. Hopefully we'll be able to get everything signed and taken care of by this Friday, if that's okay with you?"
"That's fine with me. I'll look forward to this Friday then," Nate said with a smile.
"Here's my card with my cell phone number on it," I said, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket. I took out a small card and handed it over to Nate. "Call me if you have any questions."
"You too," Nate said as he also pulled out a card. "Now I guess the only thing left to talk about is numbers."
Cannes was rapidly approaching. The day after I met with Nate, I went over to the house to watch as things began to happen. I made one last walk-through to make sure I had gotten everything out that I needed, and as I was walking through one of the second floor bedrooms, I noticed another of those spots on the floor that Nate and I had found yesterday, and found yet another hidden compartment in the floor, this one containing what looked like a bunch of old letters. I felt Alistair's presence quite strongly as I pulled out several stacks of letters, all tied together with plain white ribbon.
"Somehow, I get the feeling that these belong to you, and if you don't want me reading them I won't," I said aloud to the room. About a minute later, I felt Alistair's presence once again, but this time, he seemed to be okay with me reading his personal correspondence. "You're probably going to want hang out back in the garage attic for the next few days.....There's going to be quite a bit of work going on in here, things getting moved around and what not.....It's just a thought," I said.
I ended up calling in my dad yesterday to help in getting the champagne home.
Now, as I stood outside my house watching as the professionals did what they did best, I mentally began to go through the things I would need to get ready to fly overseas.....
With Alistair's letters tucked safely in my book-bag, I left the house, and hailed a cab, giving my favorite grocery address to the driver. I was absolutely going to go shopping for a vehicle this coming weekend! After getting out and paying the driver, I went in and pulled out my phone, hitting Maggie's number on speed-dial.
"Hey, Michael! What's up?" Peter said by way of a greeting.
"Would you guys mind my dropping by? I'll bring food!"
"He says he'll bring food," I heard him telling Maggie. I could hear her enthusiastic reply in the background, and then Peter was back saying, "come on over, we'll be waitin for ya."
"Great, I'll be there in an hour, bye-bye" I replied, and then closed my phone. slipping my phone into my pocket, I grabbed a hand-basket, and began my shopping.
An hour later, I was being buzzed into Peter and Maggie's building, and then taking the elevator up to the tenth floor. I barely had a chance to knock before the door was opened, and Maggie was ushering me into the kitchen.
"So, what are we having?" she asked, giddy as a child on Christmas morning.
"Bruschetta," I said as I began taking my ingredients out of the bag. "I cheated on the bread and got the already sliced, but they're the large slices, so I can cut them in half and make more."
"Mmmm! What can I do to help?" Maggie asked.
"Um, grab a couple cookie sheets, and a mixing bowl," I said as I looked over the knives. "Oh, and a cheese grater."
"Okay, so, how are things going?" Maggie asked as she leaned back against the counter.
"Pretty good actually. Happy belated Mother's Day, by the way." I replied.
"Thanks," Maggie said. Peter ambled into the kitchen with a yawn. I was busy cutting the bread slices in half.
"They came today to start on getting the house jacked up in order to repair the foundation. Oh! You will not believe in a million years what we found yesterday!"
"What?" Maggie asked, curiosity piqued.
"Twelve bottles of 1923 Rothschild Champagne!"
"What!" Maggie exclaimed.
"Good God!" Peter muttered.
"Where?" Maggie wanted to know.
"In a secret compartment in the floor up on three. Nate actually found the compartment. He's taking One-A, by the way. Oh, I need to call him and set up a meeting so the three of you can get together. When is good for you two?" I asked, looking back and forth between them.
"Tomorrow?" Peter suggested.
"Works for me," Maggie agreed.
"Great, I'll give him a call later and set things up. Tomorrow afternoon after I'm done for the day?"
"Sounds like a plan," Peter said. "So, what else has been going on?"
"Well, I had no idea that there was so much that goes into getting ready for Cannes!" Maggie and Peter both laughed at that.
"Hasn't Jake told you anything about it?" Maggie asked.
I chewed on my lower lip, and set the knife down. "I haven't seen or spoken to him since the shoot for People magazine. He's not returning any of my calls or answering any of my emails....You guys, I'm afraid to say it let alone think it, but I think that all the magazines just might be right....I think he might be having an affair with Reese....."
Before either Maggie or Peter could respond, the buzzer for the door went off at the same time as the oven. Peter got the door, letting in whoever was there, and Maggie handed me a couple oven mitts and I pulled out the first pan of bread, and stuck the second one in, and then went back to finishing up the topping. Several minutes later, the front door opened and my spine went rigid when I heard a familiar voice say, "we're home! Hey what smells so good?"
My back was to the doorway, but I could clearly hear two sets of footsteps approaching before Peter muttered an almost inaudible "Sonofabitch!" and I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.....
I braced myself, and turned. There, in the doorway, with his arm around Reese's shoulder, stood Jake, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. The first thought that went through my head was, she's such a tiny little thing! My next thought was, how the hell am I supposed to compete with her? At the same time all this was going through my head, I had been twisting the diamond eternity ring that Jake had given me while I was still in the hospital around my finger, and slipped it off, laying it on the counter.
"Excuse me, I need some air," I said as I walked around Peter and out through the other kitchen door.
Uh-oh! There's a storm brewing! You can reach me at my email, dnsphelps@mcsi.net, on yahoo messenger at twains_fan_03@yahoo.com, on msn messenger at twains_fan_03@hotmail.com, on AIM at GuyOregon8, or on myspace at myspace.com/dnsphelps. Be sure to include the story title in any subject line.