THREE: HELP

“Dammit!” moaned Lars, thick arm lifted over his shoulder as he stretched for the center of his back. He took a deep breath, waited for the cramp in his ribs to subside, and reached around again, this time approaching from underneath the shoulder blade. He struggled in his self-induced hammerlock for several minutes, grunting like a constipated toddler but not making any headway. “Shit!”

He sighed, pulled the safety razor from behind his back, saw that there wasn’t a single hair on it, and threw it to the floor where it impacted the ceramic wood tile with the sound of cracking plastic. He pursed his lips and stared at it for several seconds before he slumped his shoulders in defeat. “Well, double shit.”

Like a lot of other big men, Lars was hairy. Very hairy. The Federation didn’t really mind the chest hair, or the belly hair, or the leg hair, or the big bushy beard he had worn since he was eleven, but the one thing they absolutely would not tolerate was back hair. Specifically, his patchy, thick, looks-like-a-permanent-holey-sweater back hair. They thought it looked funny on camera or something.

Lars blamed the whole thing on a certain children’s movie starring an uncharacteristically smooth version of an ogre. Ogres were big, brutish, ugly, and terrifying. They were baby eaters. And mean and smelly. Not fun and smooth. Mean and smelly was the reason everyone had called him ogre growing up. At least that’s why he thought everyone had always called him ogre.

Anyway, the Federation hated the back hair.

So much so that he was contractually obligated to remove it daily. But, being a big man, it was a task he simply could not do on his own. There were, of course, others. Without getting too specific, Lars couldn’t do anything by himself that required him to reach around behind him.

Bidets were a lifesaver, by the way.

With a sigh, he wiped away the sheen of sweat that had accumulated on his face, paused with his large hand rested on his beard, and frowned. He knew what he had to do, but he would have to get dressed to do it. So, he threw on a tan long-sleeved shirt so ancient the fibers hung off it in droves, pulled a brown puffy vest over his broad shoulders, slipped on a pair of his favorite comfy brown leggings, and made for the kitchen where his phone was charging.

On the way out of the bathroom, he glimpsed himself in the mirror, noticed the uncanny resemblance to his aforementioned cartoon contemporary, and muttered a single word. “Fuck.”

***

“Listen, Billy,” Lars grunted. “I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen. Shit, I don’t even care how much it costs, but I need you to get me another assistant.”

His agent raised an eyebrow. “You mean a back shaver?”

“I—I don’t just need a back shaver, Billy. I mean, yeah, I need a back shaver right now. I got a big promo shoot tomorrow for this year’s Ogremania and you know how the Fed gets about me being smooth.”

“I know, I know.” The man on the other end of the video call drew in a patient breath, then let it out. “Ogre, the Fed’s entire stable of personal assistants have you on their will not work for list. The Embalmer even tried to talk his guy into coming over and helping you out for a while but he refused. Jesus even offered the guy a paid week off. By the way, don’t forget to send him a Christmas card again. He always sends you one and he’d never say anything, but it tears him up when you don’t reciprocate.”

“How do you know that?”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re the only horse in my stable?”

“Fine, Billy. I’ll put it on my list. Back to the assistant. What are you doing about it?”

He sighed. “We’ve had the position posted to all the outside agencies for a month and nobody will bite. And both you and I know it isn’t the pay that’s keeping people away. A lot of people would let the Ogre eat one of their babies for that kind of money, but they won’t work for you. Bad gas travels fast in this business.”

Lars’ eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me this is my fault?”

Billy nodded and raised his hands. “Yeah, you know I always play it straight with you. Listen, Lars, I’m only saying this because it’s my job to watch out for you and—”

Lars let out a raging grunt.

“ —this is a remote meeting, but you know what you did.”

“I had to! I had no choice! My entry song was coming on and I was about to miss it! You know how important my entry song is! It literally sets the stage!”

“Lars, man. Ogre.” Billy paused. “You made that kid wipe your ass.”

Lars shot to his feet. “That’s what he got paid to do, Billy!”

“Technically true.” Billy placed his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. “But you made him do it with his bare hands, man. His fucking bare hands! That’s dehumanizing, and illegal or something. You’re lucky he didn’t file a complaint with the Federation and the police.”

“But—but—but they were all out of paper!”

“I get the predicament you were in. I do.” Billy shook his head. “We’ve all been there. But so wrong, Ogre. So… wrong. You made that boy literally dig all up in your smelly swamp until he ran out of mud.”

“Fine, you’re right,” Lars admitted as he hung his head. “It’s my fault, okay? It is my fault that nobody will work for me. But luckily for me”—he grinned—“somebody already does.”

Billy squinted. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m sending my jet for you. We’re gonna get this back shaved by morning, or my names not Lars ‘The Ogre’ Och—”

The agent threw his hands in the air. "Ogre! It’s a damn school night!”

“So?”

“I have kids!”

“So?”

Billy Burns ran a hand through his hair, stopped at his temple and yanked out one of a plethora of gray hairs. He examined it for a moment, almost as if considering the cause of the loss of pigment, then rolled his head back and licked his lips. “Here’s what I’m gonna do for you, old pal. My nephew—my sister’s kid—”

“The sister that died or the sister that I had that thing with after the first Ogremania in Austin?”

“The one that died, Lars. My other sister can’t have kids. That’s why you were interested in her, remember?” He shook his head. “Anyway, her boy—my nephew—came to live with us after she passed, and he’s home from college for the summer. Truth is, he’s been driving my wife nuts by playing some hot new video game at all hours of the night. Judging by the amount of energy drink cans I find in my recycling, I don’t even think the kid sleeps, anymore. I’ve talked to him about directing his time to more… productive things and, well, I think a summer job might just be the thing to get him back on track. You still keep a room for your assistant?”

Lars nodded.

“Good. Send your jet, Ogre. I’ll talk to him and make sure he has his things ready. He has to be back in Cambridge by the end of August, so this is a temporary thing. But I think it could be a win-win for both of us. At the very least, it’ll get one person off my back and on to yours for a couple of months.”

“Thanks, Billy. You’re the best.”

“I know, Ogre. I know.” Billy pursed his lips. “Just do me one favor, okay?”

Lars nodded. “Sure, Billy. Anything.”

“Don’t scare the kid off before you give him a chance. He’s a little… different from the people you normally hang around.”