Movie Devastation

Movie Devastation

~~ England and Hollywood, California, 2085 ~~

"That's a wrap, folks. Good work. Dusty?" he pointed at his lead actor. "Fantastic. I'm thinking Academy...," he offered.

Dusty Chamberlain shrugged. He didn't particularly care one way or the other. He just wanted to be able to say when it was all said and done that he hadn't left anything on the table. "We'll see, Frank. Pleasure working with you." He looked around at the now mostly-familiar faces of the crew and his fellow actors. "Pleasure working with all of you." He turned and walked to his trailer to begin peeling out of his costume. Rural England was sticky this time of year and the makeup wasn't helping.

Five days later, he landed at LAX and his agent had sent a car to pick him up and drive him home. Relaxing in the back, he sighed heavily. It was time to drop off his luggage, take a shower, and then maybe meet up with his girlfriend and get laid. It had been three months. The first two were quick, and he drove his motorcycle over to her apartment. Kelly Atkinson was also a Hollywood actress, not quite as big as Dusty was, but big enough that he was reasonably sure she wasn't interested in him for his money.

He greeted the doorman to her apartment building and took the elevator up, using the key she'd given him to open the door. He opened his mouth to surprise her but stopped short. There was noise coming from down the hall. In moments, it registered that someone was in the throes of passion and it sounded a lot like her. He walked down the hall slowly, steeling himself. As he slowly pushed the door open, he saw his girlfriend being plowed from behind by a tall black man and another laying on the bed in front of her getting his cock sucked by those lips he'd come to know so well. That one was his, now former, best friend Jerome.

Dusty stared in shock for a long moment until Jerome saw him. "Hey, hey, hey... Dusty...?" scrambling back away from her.

Kelly turned her head and her eyes widened. "Dusty...," she breathed.

"Three months. One movie, Kelly. Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked in shock.

The guy that had been behind her stopped, pulling out, and backed up, his hands up defensively. "Hey man, they said...,"

"Whatever. You can have the bitch," he said, tossing the key to the apartment at them. "And the traitor," he spat, his gaze cold on Jerome who at least managed to look remorseful. He turned and walked back out of the apartment, slamming the door hard as he went back down to his motorcycle. He sat on it for a long moment, and then started and revved it, peeling out to race down the street and get away from the scene that would not so easily leave his mind.

The tabloids of course grabbed it and ran with it hard. They made Dusty into a tragic figure, coming back after a successful shoot, with a potential academy nomination to find his girlfriend in a gangbang with a dozen men. After all the best lies had a bit of truth to them. Even Jerome had fallen for her teasing, charlatan ways. Dusty found himself unable to leave his house.

"I saw the news son," his grandfather said. "Why don't you come back out here, recharge for a bit?"

"I feel like a quitter, gramps... Like I'm running...," he said in a morose voice.

"You're not running," he said sternly, "You're retreating to gather your forces. Come home, son. Rest, relax, enjoy some of my terrible cooking," he paused, "Well you won't actually, Clover will feed you too."

"Who's Clover? You dating again finally?" Dusty asked. "You old hound dog..."

"Jesus no, her grandmother would skin me alive. No, Clover manages Serenity Cafe. Do you remember Rosemary, the hot little redhead that used to give me such shit? Yeah, her granddaughter moved out here to help her out. She comes out on the regular with coffee and food."

"Food delivered on the regular. Gramps, it sounds like you're livin' the high life. I wouldn't want to mess something like that up... Cramp your style...," he said with a smirk.

"I'll tell her to double the order," he grumbled back. "Get your ass out here, recharge, and relax." He paused, then hit with his weakness, "She makes those beignets you love, with the honey, cinnamon butter."

Dusty's stomach grumbled at the thought. "Damn it, Gramps. That's below the belt. Fine. I'm coming, OK. I'm bringing the bike, though. It'll be a couple of days."

"Alright," he chuckled, "and she makes the best coffee. Call me when you're close."

"I will Gramps. And thanks." He hung up the phone and sighed, staring out the window of his apartment before he dialed another number. When it picked up, he started with "Hey, Victor."

"How is my favorite actor holding up? Ignore all these tabloids for me. It will go away. I promise," the voice of his agent responded.

"Yeah, sure. Hey, I'm taking off. Heading back home for a bit. I need to clear my head," Dusty said.

"Heading home. What? To Nebraska? Dusty, if you're out there then you're not here reading for jobs..."

"Yeah. That's kind of the point, Victor. But I'll be in touch, OK?"

"Dusty... what do you think you're doing, man? I can't keep stuff floating if you're not here...," Dusty sighed and hung up the phone, muting it and then tossing it on the couch next to him. He packed that night and would leave the following morning. He already had eighteen messages from Victor when he pulled out heading East toward Nebraska.

Clover bounded around the kitchen, dancing as she helped Rosemary make food, then she packed up the go box and slid it into her saddlebag. She mounted her bike and took off, headed up the street to the side path that would take her out to Phillip's barn. She pulled up and parked, dismounting easily. "Grandpa? The fun has arrived?" She bounded the stairs and went in through the front door, headed for the kitchen.

"Clover! Set it on the table, how's the old bat?"

"Good, she sends her greetings," Clover said with a laugh, rolling her eyes.

"Now, I should warn you, my grandson is coming back for a visit, he needs to recharge."

"Alright," she agreed easily. "You have my number, shoot me a text and I'll bring extra food."

"I could cook," he protested

"Food poisoning is not a good welcome home, Grandpa," she laughed and kissed his temple. "You just let me keep taking care of you, now take your pills, eat your breakfast, call me if you need me."

"Fine, fine, love you little one."

"Love you too," she saluted, then bounded out and back to her motorcycle to head back into town. She had work to do and so did Phillip.

It did not take long for the paparazzi to find out that Dusty had gone. What they didn't know, and to his credit, what Victor didn't tell them, was where he'd gone. The open road was a soothing balm to Dusty's soul, and as the miles increased between him and Hollywood, he felt a weight lifting off his shoulders. He hadn't forgotten what had happened, but it weighed on him less.

He made his first stop in St. George, Utah, checking into a small hotel. Blessedly, the desk clerk was an older man who must not have watched movies much because he wasn't recognized. He took the key and went up to his room. He had food delivered, set outside the door, and went to bed early, getting a full eight hours of sleep despite the bed not being very comfortable. In the morning, he quickly got a bagel from the continental breakfast at the hotel and was off once again, a few people thinking he may have been an actor or something after the fact.

His next stop was Denver. In such a big town, he was significantly less lucky. Several civilians took his picture at the hotel and by morning, he was seeing it on social media thanks to a text from Victor. He was unfailingly kind, but firm that he just wanted to be left alone. For the most part, he was, but he knew it wouldn't last. As he got on the road the next morning for the last leg of his trip home, he called his grandfather.

"Gramps... just a heads up... we will probably be getting visitors in town looking for me. Not by choice either...," he warned. "The vultures are starting to circle. Some 'well-meaning' fans decided to post their sightings last night on social media."

"Well... shit," Gramps responded with a sigh, "We'll try to keep them off. How far out are you?"

He glanced at the clock on his motorcycle. "Just under six hours. I don't know that they know where I'm headed yet, but when I get there and don't move on, you can bet they won't be far behind."

"Tch, I'll just let Clover loose," he grumbled, "That woman is feisty. Ow dammit, stop that," he could hear his grandfather arguing with someone.

"Put the phone on speaker, set it down, take your pills and start eating or so help me," the soft, low sultry voice with a slight twang to it came over the line.

"Fine, fine, see, this is why you Walsh women are nothing but trouble. Bossy little girls," Gramps grumbled, "Dusty, say hi to Clover."

"Hello, Dusty," the voice spoke, "I'm Clover and we look forward to your visit. I'll have your grandfather give you my number, if you shoot me a text when you hit town I'll bring out a fresh batch of beignets and coffee."

"You're the one that's been looking after Gramps?" Dusty asked.

"Yes," she answered with a laugh, "Well Grandma and I, but she doesn't like to admit. I think they're sweet on each other but are being stubborn about it."

"Thank you," he murmured. "I know it may not seem like it to him, but... I worry about him."

"Don't worry, Dusty. We've got you covered and when you get here, you'll get to take a breather and have some relaxation time. I promise." Clover said softly, "Finish your last pill."

"I hate those fucking water pills."

"I know I know, but you're taking it anyway. I didn't ask if you liked it, I told you to take it. Don't think I won't shove it down your throat like I did two weeks ago."

He heard his grandfather make an inarticulate growl and then the phone was picked up, "See you for dinner," Gramps grumbled.

"Dinner," came her voice back, "Bye Dusty, see you on arrival."

Dusty shook his head with a smile. "Poor guy," he murmured. "His ass hasn't felt the sting of leather like that since he was a boy, I'm guessing. Girl's got him whipped," he chuckled, returning his focus purely to the road. Eastern Colorado and Western Nebraska were mostly empty. Towns were far apart, and it was flat. Smooth driving and so he turned on some music and settled in.

~~ Elgin, Nebraska ~~

It was nearly four o'clock when his motorcycle found its way into Elgin, Nebraska, passed through town, and headed for the far side on County Road 839. A couple of miles past town, he turned down a dirt driveway and headed for a small, two-story house with a massive barn behind it. As he pulled up out front and was sliding off his bike, his grandfather hobbled down the front porch steps and walked quickly over to him. He took off his helmet and set it on the seat just as the old man's arms wrapped around him. "Welcome home, son. Welcome home..."

Dusty returned the hug and smiled. "Thanks, Gramps. It's good to be back. Though... I have to say, it's just as flat as ever. You could use some trees. Maybe a mountain or two...," he teased.

"Blasphemy," he grunted poking his side. "Did you text Clover?" When he shook his head, he grumbled, "Phone, text Clover. Dusty is here, bring extra please." His phone chirped, then a few seconds later another chirp came then a soft mechanical voice spoke, "Will be there with two plates and two coffees. Welcome home, Dusty."

"Look at you, all... technology and stuff," Dusty said with a smirk. "Next you'll be telling me you've got robots running your harvesters..."

"I do," he grumbled, "Clover set it all up for me with her kid brother. You'll meet him this summer when he comes out to check on things. Come on, let's get you inside and set up, Clover will be here for dinner. You'll like her, she's all ferocious kitten."

"Ferocious... kitten...," he murmured, trying to imagine it. It wasn't happening. He kissed his grandfather on the forehead, then turned and opened the lid of his small motorcycle trailer and pulled out his large duffel along with a wrapped bundle, which he handed to his grandfather. "This is for you. From my last film," he murmured. When his grandfather unrolled the bundle, he found a beautifully ornate dagger in a leather sheath that had what was supposed to look like ancient runes burned down the leather. "A little something they let me keep..."

"Thank you, son," he hugged him, "Come on, let's get you inside." He led Dusty in, letting him get settled, then headed for the kitchen. He grumped and grumbled as he got down a box and set it on the table. He lifted his head as the sound of an engine caught their attention. "Fuck, she's early."

"Want me to try and stall her?" Dusty asked.

"Won't do any good," he grumbled, "Besides, she's early so she can't be too pissed."

"Grandpa!" Was a call from outside, "I'm early so you've got ten minutes," Clover pulled the saddlebags from the back of the bike and put them on one shoulder, then walked around to the sidecar to grab the cooler and carry it in. She bounded easily up the stairs and opened the screen door, she paused, then opened the door and walked in, "Five minutes," she called teasingly.

Dusty watched a five-and-a-half-foot tall bundle of red hair and spunk walked past him with the cooler and the saddlebags of a motorcycle over her shoulder and he blinked in amazement. "Oh, this is good... The old man never stood a chance."

She set the cooler on the counter, then pulled the saddlebags off her shoulder and laid them out beside it. She pulled out dishes, then thermoses of coffee. She set one in front of Phillip, then one in front of the other chair, flipped open the cooler, and pulled out two plates along with food that she promptly started putting away. "I picked up some groceries for you while I was in town. I doubt anyone else want's to live on three-day-old pinto pot and ketchup." Her nose crinkled, "Plus you gave me the doc's orders and you're supposed to be eating what food eats, so you're screwed now, Grandpa."

"Fuck, I knew I should have worn my reading glasses," he grumped then before her eyes took the pills and drank the entire glass of water. "Clover, Dusty, Dusty this pain-in-the-ass is Clover Walsh, she manages Serenity Cafe and the theater in town."

Dusty smiled and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Let me know how I can help wrangle the old man and I'll be happy to do it."

"Hey! I didn't invite you out here so that you could gang up on me!" he protested.

She rolled her eyes at his fussing, taking his hand with a bright smile, "Welcome home, Dusty. And you're appreciated. If you could make sure that he takes his midday pills that'd be awesome. Normally he comes into town but someone decided to be pissy at Grandma again."

"Not a problem. What happened? I can give him the riot act for that too," Dusty offered.

"I'm standing... right... here!" Phillip stomped his foot in irritation. "I can handle my own social business, thank you very much...," he trailed off. Both of them were ignoring him.

"She invited him to come to have tea with her at the evening social, and he decided he'd ignore the request and pretend he didn't hear it, then he mumbled that he had guests coming." Clover turned her gaze on Grandpa, "And upset Grandma because instead of being a proper gentleman he was sneaking out of her boudoir like a scoundrel." She raised a finger and poked Phillip, "You will do right by my grandma or so help me." The accent thickened as she talked, Irish if Dusty didn't miss his guess, then she spat some Gaelic at Phillip and he slumped.

"Fine, I'll talk to her, I just... fuck I wanted to take care of Dusty," he grumbled.

"I will take care of Dusty, I will take Dusty to the social, you will take my grandmother and you will court her like a proper gentleman."

"Yes, Clover," Phillip grumbled, "See, she's like a ferocious kitten."

"I like her already. Fire and snark," he smirked, looking at Clover approvingly and winking.

"I'm the full package, just pint-sized," she giggled as she elbowed Dusty, "Now, let's sit and enjoy the meal," she ordered, pointing at Phillip. He glowered at her and when she raised a brow, he sighed and stomped over to his chair sitting down. She bounded around finishing setting up, then flicked the covers off and the decadent smell of roast with potatoes and gravy filled the air. She had set up three places and plopped into the third, smiling up at Dusty.

The meal was simple, but filling, and he found himself chatting amiably with the two of them. "When is this... social," he finally asked.

"Friday," she smiled, ignoring Phillip as he tried to grumble. "It's something we started to encourage the community to come together again. It takes a village," she gave him a bright, smile. "Plus it lets the kids play. There's a carnival during the day, but at night is the Social. We're providing the food, Peabody's is going to provide the alcohol, and Franklin is going to bring his band."

"All right. I'll plan on Friday, then. You sure you want to hang around with a worn-out Hollywood actor, though?" he asked honestly.

Her nose crinkled slightly, "But I'm not hanging out with a worn-out Hollywood actor. I'm hanging out with my friend Dusty."

He smiled at that. "All right," he murmured. "We'll give that a go," he inclined his head.

"Good man," she grinned, impishly patting his hand, "Now, your grandfather already gave us a heads up about the vultures. I don't want you to worry, we'll take care of you and them." Her nose crinkled, "Besides, you're home, and I'm a bitch." She nodded firmly.

He looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're not a bitch," he said softly. "If you haven't left Elgin... somehow I doubt you've actually ever met a real... bitch," he said. His eyes were distant for a moment, miles and hours away, and when he blinked and they were back, he shuddered at what he'd seen there.

"Oh honey," she left her plate and rose to walk around the table. She enfolded him in her arms and rested her cheek on his head. "I got you. I got you," she rumbled softly. "And yeah, I have. I went to this thing called college, got a fancy spanky degree, and everything. Then I came home to help Grandma with Serenity. I met plenty of bitches in my time. But I'll protect you. I promise. You're home, you're safe."

He sat there, frozen for several long moments, then wrapped his arms around her waist. "I didn't mean to bring trouble back with me," he said softly. "This town is going to be a mess before they're done."

"You're home," she repeated, "And no it's not, because we have rules and this isn't California." She leaned back and cupped his face, looking down at him. "You're home, you're safe, now enjoy your dinner and stop fretting." She kissed his forehead then released him and bounded back to her chair to eat her own dinner.

"And if they come out here," Phillip said, "this is Nebraska and I'm still pretty good with a shotgun."

"You're not shooting them," Clover said tiredly, "Not unless they actually get in the house and you make sure Dusty is behind you. You've got me and I've got this shiny thing called a degree." At his look, "I dualed, I have a JD for California and Nebraska and an MBA."

"You're a lawyer?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "And you manage a cafe and a... theater?"

"Yup," she stated, "I liked the learning, not so much the whole courtroom shenanigans... and the stupid people. Plus, Grandma needed me, so I came."

He smiled, reached out, and patted her hand. "You're a good egg," he said softly. "She's lucky to have you."

A blush dusted her cheeks and smiled up at him, "I'm lucky to have her, now I have Grandpa and you. It's a wonderful thing." She beamed at him brightly, then dug in and listened as Phillip started talking and fussing. "My brother will be here on Thursday, he can take a look at the fields for you. You're supposed to be resting your leg." She turned to look at Dusty, "He fell and scrapped his leg up pretty good. We got him to the doctor, but he's supposed to be taking it easy. If you could keep an eye on that, that'd be great. Otherwise, I'm going to hog-tie him and put him in the back room with Grandma."