Creative Process

by Jodi Payne

  “Yep.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did she propose?” Owen didn’t see a ring on Carla’s finger, but….

  “No. God.” Carla combed her fingers through her short hair. “I think she’s waiting for me to make that gesture.”

  “Carla.” Owen spoke slowly, like he might speak to someone about to jump off a tall building. “You didn’t do anything… stupid?” He covered one of her hands with his.

  “We didn’t break up, I just… I needed a night out.”

  Owen nodded. “Let me get you that drink.” He hopped up and headed for the bar. When he got back with two more cosmos, Carla was texting. “Jess?”

  “She wanted to know if she could join us.”

  Owen raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What did you tell her?”

  “I told her we were walking down memory lane and not to wait up.” Carla tossed her phone on the table, exasperated.

  Owen sighed and nodded, then leaned back in his chair. “This is heavy, huh?”

  They sat there drinking silently for a minute or two, and Owen watched his friend carefully. To his eye, Carla didn’t look like a woman who was getting ready to run, but she didn’t look comfortable either. He decided to take the direct route. “So, where are you getting the ring?”

  Carla looked up sharply. “Oh God, Owen.”

  Owen grinned. “Tell me you don’t love her.”

  “Shit, you know I do, but—”

  “But you still think marriage is for breeders?” Owen teased.

  “Fuck you.” Carla sighed. “I don’t know. I… not really? I don’t know.”

  “Okaaay.” Owen drew out the word. Things were changing in Carla’s world. Wow. “I’ll go ring shopping with you if I can be your best man.” Owen grinned at her.

  Carla’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Yes. Will you? It’s a deal.” Owen would have hugged anyone else, but Carla was not a hugger. Carla stuck out her hand, and Owen shook it with a big grin.

  “Feel better?”

  “I guess?”

  “Are you going to wear a dress?”

  Carla leveled a look at Owen. “Yeah, right.”

  Chapter XV

  SEVEN THIRTY in the morning was a ridiculous hour for a flight at the tail end of a long conference. In fact, Reese felt it was so absurd that he’d made Chad change it to something more human. Like noon. Noon meant he could get up, pack his bag, eat some breakfast, and then head for the airport. No rush, no hassle.

  Wrong.

  “I did try to tell you, honey,” Chad said smugly as they forced their way through the hordes of conventioneers checking out, waiting for cabs, and socializing in the lobby.

  “Please tell me you knew that I was an idiot and you hired a private car.”

  “I knew you were an idiot and I hired a private car,” Chad repeated dutifully. And once they’d pushed their way through the lobby doors and muscled past all the people lined up at the bell stand, there was a driver holding up a sign. The sign said “Smith,” which might have been comical or clever except that it was actually Chad’s last name. What was clever was that Chad hadn’t used “Kelsey.” Reese thought he might have heard angels singing.

  “Oh, you are wise, my friend. Remind me of this the next time I question your travel plans.”

  “There’s going to be a next time?” Chad replied coolly. He nodded to the driver, and the driver led them past the covered entryway to the side alley where his car was parked.

  “Look, I said I was sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. You’re the boss, Boss.” Chad helped the driver pack the trunk. Reese let himself into the back seat.

  When Chad joined him, Reese asked, “Am I really that much of a pain in the ass to work for?” The car maneuvered out onto the street, and they headed for the airport.

  “Yes,” Chad said simply but then broke out in a wide grin. “But I like you, and you pay me well. I feel that these things compensate for the less palatable aspects of the position.”

  “Okay. Shut the hell up, then.” Reese laughed and punched Chad in the arm.

  “Ow! I’m pretty sure that’s unacceptable workplace behavior.” But Chad was giggling now. “I have just learned better than to argue with you, Reese. I know a few things, I’ve learned a few more. But you were adamant about not leaving early, and I wasn’t going to argue about it.”

  Reese scowled. “Well, at least I’m well rested.”

  “Went to bed early?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Aw, no Owen?”

  “I didn’t get to talk with Owen for long. He was out with friends, if you must know, Chadwick.”

  Chad rolled his eyes. “It’s just Chad, actually.”

  “I know. I was just trying it out.” Reese smiled.

  They’d made it to the airport, checked in, and were headed for their gate when Reese suddenly remembered he wanted to pick something up for Owen. He told Chad he’d catch up, ducked into a souvenir shop, and bought Owen a black T-shirt with an outline of the Chicago skyline on it in white. Simple, but something he thought Owen might actually wear.

  He hadn’t forgotten his promise to Owen to have a conversation with Chad either; he’d just been procrastinating. He wasn’t entirely sure how to approach it without making it sound like he was telling Chad to back off—even if that was kind of what he needed say. Chad had been a good friend literally every time Reese really needed one. He didn’t want to appear unappreciative.

  Reese picked up a coffee and a hundred sugar packets for Chad and a latte for himself on the way to the gate.

  “Oh, thanks.” Chad took his coffee and added sugar. And more sugar. “So what did you get him?”

  Reese showed Chad the T-shirt. “You think he’ll like it?”

  “I would. But then I’m not Owen. You definitely know his tastes better than I do.”

  Well, well. Reese jumped into the opening. “Meow.”

  Chad looked at Reese. “I beg your pardon?”

  Reese raised an eyebrow at Chad. “I sense some hostility here.”

  “Well, honey, you have to admit he was rather short-tempered with me the other day. You know I was just trying to help.”

  Reese laughed. “Chad. For starters, he was almost as hungover as I was.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you did come barging in without calling first.”

  “Wrong. I did call, but you left me on speaker to go toss your cookies.”

  Reese snorted. “Okay. But I think Owen felt like you were stepping on his toes a bit.”

  Chad looked offended. “I would never! Much.”

  “But you did. A little.” Reese grinned at him.

  “Well. He doesn’t know you like I do.”

  Reese nodded. “Very true. But he doesn’t need to know everything you know. He doesn’t need a blow-by-blow of my past failures, for one thing.”

  “Oh, honestly. Was that his issue? I just thought some insight—”

  “Chad, he felt like you overstepped your boundaries.”

  Chad’s eyes narrowed. “Hm. I see. And what do you think? I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you for not coming to my rescue.”

  Reese sighed. “I think your heart was in the right place, and I appreciate that you were worried about me. You’re a very loyal friend, and I could not possibly do what I do without you. It’s true that in the past I’ve counted on you for a lot, including helping me deal with some of my… personal issues, so I get the confusion. But now…. Chad, I love him. He has every right to—”

  “Take care of you himself.”

  “Well, yeah. Basically.”

  Chad leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Well, of course he does.”

  Reese eyed Chad critically. He was the confused one now.

  Chad smiled. “He’s the real thing, honey. I can promise you that. That boy sized me up and tossed me out, and good for him. I assume he set you straight after I left too?”

  Reese was
starting to feel like he’d missed something. “Well, some. Maybe.”

  Chad nodded and patted Reese’s knee as they called for boarding over the loudspeaker. “That’s us.” Chad stood up. “Hang on to that one. Tight. I think he’s going to be good for you.”

  Reese was still confused, but the talk with Chad seemed to have gone much better than he’d expected. Owen would be pleased, and that was the point after all, wasn’t it? He followed Chad to the boarding line.

  HOME.

  Reese dropped his coat and his laptop bag on the table in the hall and rolled his suitcase into the living room. He was annoyed at having lost an hour with the time-zone change from Chicago, but he was glad the traveling was over. He looked around at his quiet apartment, noting that everything was in its place. Owen’s music stand was set up over by the window where it lived more or less permanently these days. Reese smiled; he couldn’t wait to get his hands on his lover.

  He pulled his suitcase into the bedroom and tossed it up on the bed to unpack. The room smelled like Owen, that woodsy cologne soap he liked to use and the familiar scent of his deep conditioner. There was no real sign of him otherwise; however, the bed was neatly made, he’d left nothing personal on the nightstand, and there wasn’t even a pair of shoes lying around.

  Reese unpacked, putting most of what was in his suitcase in the laundry hamper. He put the suitcase away in the closet and took the suit he’d brought for his presentation out into the living room and hung it in the hall so he’d remember to take it to be dry-cleaned. Then he hung up the coat he’d left on the table and shuffled into the kitchen.

  The kitchen was neat as a pin too. Everything put away, not even so much as a water glass in the sink. Owen was a very good houseguest.

  Maybe too good.

  He looked around his apartment. It sure was quiet. Possibly he’d gotten used to the noisy din of the crowds of people at the convention. His apartment was very still in comparison. But if Reese was honest, it was more likely because Owen wasn’t there. Reese enjoyed the sound of Owen’s feet on the hardwood floors, the gentle sound of whatever he was singing in the shower, the soulful sound of his cello.

  The grunts, moans, and filthy words that filled the bedroom at night.

  He knew Owen was just at rehearsal, but Reese missed the man, and he wanted Owen home.

  Home.

  Reese thought about his bedroom and the big bed they shared more often than not these days. It felt so odd that the scent of Owen was everywhere but almost no sign of Owen himself, not so much as a watch next to the bed or a robe on the back of the bedroom door. There was a toothbrush and some personal items in the bathroom, but even those Owen kept in a case discreetly under the sink.

  The empty music stand in the living room was almost symbolic in its solitude.

  Reese blinked, exhaled heavily, and headed for his liquor cabinet. So. That was something to think about, wasn’t it?

  He didn’t want to write, not with Owen coming home soon, but maybe since he’d been away from it for a couple of days he should give the novel a read through. It was about time for a continuity check. Maybe he could get a feel for the flow. He hadn’t come up with a title yet either, and possibly a read could help him out. He hated titles.

  That decided, he poured himself a small glass of red wine, scooped up the laptop bag he’d left in the hall, and headed into his office. As he unpacked his work bag, he was reminded of the time he’d written thirty or forty-thousand words and then gone away on vacation, and when he got home he read through the draft and ended up hating it and shelving the entire thing. Whatever was left of that novel was on one of those flash drives on the bookshelf, long forgotten at the bottom of the pile.

  He opened the most recent file, leaned back in his chair, and sipped his wine.

  “REESE. REESE? Wake up, babe.”

  “Huh?” Reese sat up abruptly and looked around. “What? Am I late? Let me get my shoes.” He started to get up, but a firm hand pressed him back into his chair.

  “You fell asleep, babe. In your office.”

  “Oh, it’s you.” Reese rubbed his eyes. “I fell asleep?”

  “Oh, it’s me?” Owen stood up. “Really?”

  Oh shit. “Wait. Hang on. I’m not awake yet.”

  “Not awake?” Owen asked lifting Reese’s empty wine glass off the desk. “Or drunk?”

  “What? I only had one glass.” This was not how he’d meant this reunion to go at all. He’d opted not to get his head into his writing for just this reason, and yet somehow Reese wasn’t at all surprised he’d managed to screw this up anyway. He sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. Just… I’m awake now, okay? Can I have a do-over?”

  Owen eyed him.

  “Please?”

  “Oh, I guess so,” Owen said playfully, sitting on Reese’s knees.

  “Hello, lover. I missed you.” Reese pulled Owen into a long kiss.

  “Mmm.” Owen smiled at him. “Okay, that’s better. I missed you too. The convention went well?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Lots of face time, as Chad calls it—signings and panels—I was busy. And tired too, because it seemed like every night someone would call.”

  “Oh, poor pookie. That must have been miserable.”

  “It was hard, but I dealt with it.”

  Owen rolled his eyes. “Good lord, in my next life, please don’t let me fall for an author. The puns are excruciating.”

  Reese laughed. “So how was rehearsal?”

  “Long but productive. There are some really tough passages. It’s probably good you weren’t around to distract me the last few days. I’ve been practicing pretty much all the time.”

  “I’m sure you’re up for the challenge.”

  “I am. I better be. It opens on Friday.”

  “You’ll be great.”

  “Well, the orchestra sounds fabulous, anyway. We’d just gotten tired of being called out for timing. I think we’ve got it now.”

  “Good.” Reese shifted Owen on his knees. “So, I want you to know that I did talk to Chad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “He tried to sound offended, but he likes you. I think you’re good.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  Reese rolled his eyes, giving up. He guessed they would.

  “Hey.” Owen turned to look at Reese. “Will you come? I get two free tickets for opening night. You could bring Chad I guess, or… whoever.”

  Reese smiled. “Of course, I’ll come. I’d love to.” And Chad would be so excited about more free orchestra music and tuxedos.

  “Great! I’ll make sure your tickets are at Will Call for you.” Owen stood up. “Are you hungry? I brought home sushi.”

  Reese stood up and followed him, his stomach growling as if on cue. “Hell, yes.” He looked in the refrigerator for beer. Couldn’t have sushi without beer. “So… do you think it’s a bad thing that I fell asleep reading my own book?”

  INTERMEZZO

  HARRIS PARKED around the block from the house and made his way toward the property on foot, hoping to ensure that he would not be followed. Come alone, the note said. Only a fool would be doing what Harris was doing, following the demands of a serial killer, but what choice did he have? He consoled himself with the promise the subject had made—that he wouldn’t kill today if Harris did as he required—and just had to hope that promise extended to his own life as well.

  He made his way up the front walk, figuring there was little point in trying to sneak inside. The front steps creaked and groaned under his weight, and he noticed that the front door was ajar.

  Harris pulled his gun and his flashlight and cautiously made his way inside.

  “I’m here,” Harris called out. “But I’m guessing you know that.” He lingered for a moment in the foyer.

  ***

  OWEN WAS surprised at how nervous he was. He always got a little rush before a performance, but he hadn’t felt quite like this in a long time. He paced the back hall of the theater slow
ly, measuring each step, trying to distract himself, but it was no use. He wasn’t going to be able to relax until he knew Reese and Chad were seated and the curtain went up. He tried to recall the last time he’d specifically invited anyone to an opening night, but it was so long ago that he honestly couldn’t remember. Having Reese there was so meaningful to him, to know he had someone who cared about him in the audience that appreciated his work. He was excited to have someone there to meet him at the stage door at the end of the show, someone who had come expressly to hear him play.

  ***

  CHAD PAID the driver and stepped out of his cab in front of Symphony Hall. He straightened his tie, buttoned up his tuxedo jacket, and made his way over to the Will Call window. He was feeling pretty confident at his second black-tie event in less than six months. He’d been working with a trainer recently and his tuxedo fit him better than ever. He waited in line and had a look around at the grand lobby, still impressed with all the richness and color. He pulled out his phone and texted Reese.

  I’m here. I don’t see you. Want me to pick up both tickets so you don’t have to wait in line?

  ***

  “I’M ARMED. I will fire if I have to.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Harris whirled at the sound of the voice behind him. His flashlight illuminated a man in a mask that, although clear, obscured all the detail in his face. He was light-skinned, probably white, shorter than Harris, and he was otherwise wearing all black.

  “Caught me,” the voice behind the mask sang. “What are you going to do with me now?”

  “Why am I here?” Harris demanded.

  “Oh, I know the answer to that question, but I want you to tell me.”

  Reese blinked, and his fingers paused over the keys. I want you to tell me…. He stood up and paced away from the keyboard. Fuck.

  ***

  AS THE time went by, Owen found himself pacing a little faster. He was going over the rhythm of one particularly difficult section of the score in his head when the stage manager put a hand on his shoulder.