The Hunter Boys

The Hunter Boys “I got us a couple of drinks each.” Leo picked his drink up from the tray.
“Another of those days, huh?” Rafe looked over at the bartender and made a private bet with himself as to how long it would be before she came over to chat with them. “Dreadful. I really hate this job – it’s changed so much since we both started out.”
“We’ve changed too. We’ve got really good at our jobs. Too good, I sometimes think. It’s like everyone wants a piece of us.” Rafe picked up his drink, restless and unhappy. “Why are we doing it?” Leo asked his brother. “Remember when we first started out, and we enjoyed it.”
“We had a goal – to pay our parents back, give them the chance of a good retirement after all they’d given to us.”
“And we’ve done it. They’re in New Zealand, with Susie and her husband and the grandchildren, mortgage all paid off, loving helping on Jack’s farm. But we can never find the time to go over there to see them. There’s always one more thing to do.” Leo’s voice was bitter. He was right, Rafe thought. One more thing…and a lot of pressure to do it. They had plenty of money now, but no time to use it, and no real inclination to waste it. And too often the one more thing had no joy in it, no sense of achievement any more. “You were going to be a sculptor, remember? Heck, your gear is still taking up all of the other bedroom. And I was going to be an amazing chef, open my own bistro, grow the veg for it myself…And now look at us. And I’ve got some even worse news for you.”
“What?”
But then the bartender came over and started ‘chatting’ with Leo. Rafe could read his brother’s annoyance in the set of his shoulders, though he was as polite as ever. Leo was an old-fashioned romantic at heart, but his good looks and quiet air of wealth attracted too many of the wrong type of women.
He checked his watch – yes, he’d won his bet with himself – and rescued Leo.
“We have to go – remember we changed what time we said we’d get there?”
Wherever there was going to be. But they were leaving here. ‘There’ turned out to be back where they used to go when they were students, bright-eyed and optimistic about their futures. The place looked smaller, grubbier, but the drinks looked the same. Though Leo didn’t remember them tasting quite so rough back then! “You want the bad news?” Leo asked his brother. “Quercus Rowbottom wants us to work for him again.”
“What? I’m not working for that jerk ever again!”
“He’s wangled it with my boss. I got the ‘if you want us to extend your contract’ speech. Not speech, threat. And he’s talking to yours tomorrow. Bet you get the same treatment.” Leo ordered another drink. Rafe thought for a moment about the next day and followed suit. “But what can we do? We can’t gun him down. They’ve got us over a barrel with these short-term contracts we keep getting tied into – great pay, yeah, but no security.”
“We could quit.” Suddenly Rafe felt really clear-headed. “Let’s just quit.”
“He’d be on our doorstep, chasing us down, pestering us. Hounding us, like he did with poor Wilson until he caved in. You know what Rowbottom’s like.” Rafe did. He watched his unhappy brother gunning down pixelated images, and though hard.
“Suppose he couldn’t find us,” Rafe said slowly. “Let’s quit. And move. To somewhere miles away and really unlikely for a pair of supposed city boys…Let’s go home and see what we can find on line.” “Let’s see what we can find.” Sometimes 2 am brings its own wisdom.
“Here we are. The House on the Green. Available from the first of December for a one year or two year let. Fully furnished. We both quit tomorrow. They can stuff their short term contracts where the sun doesn’t shine. We go to New Zealand to see the parents, Susie and the kids, help Jack on the farm for a couple of months – and then come back and do something new with our lives. We’ve got the savings – let’s take a chance. How about it?” And now it was December. Spring on Jack's farm had been hard work but great fun. And seeing the family again had been good - and they wouldn't leave it so long next time. Here they were, in their new house, with enough room at last. This was what he’d been dreaming of: a chance to sculpt again. Rafe’s fingers itched to pick up the tools and begin. The Hunter boys were re-writing the script for their lives!