Creative Process

by Jodi Payne

  He did regret that he hadn’t noticed Owen lying on the couch, however.

  He sighed and put the bottle away, then went to survey the damage in his office. He started off by righting the bookcase, and looked over the shattered glass front and mangled doors. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said softly, resolving to repair it as soon as possible. He then rescued whatever he could that hadn’t also been shattered with it. He set the awards on other shelves around his office and his laptop, its dark screen mocking him, on his desk. He’d just finished sweeping up the glass when his cell phone rang. Reese pounced on it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Reese,” Chad said cheerfully. “What’s up? Did I wake you?”

  Reese sighed. “No, no.”

  “Oh, good. Okay. So listen. I called you a couple of times, but Owen said you were having a long day?”

  “I was… writing.” His voice was hoarse, but he did his best to cover it.

  “He was worried.”

  Reese rubbed his eyes. He just wanted Chad to go away. “Yeah, I know.”

  “So you’re all good?”

  He swallowed. “Owen’s gone to rehearsal.” Or Owen was just gone, which seemed more likely given his track record. “Listen, I’m kind of busy, Chad. Can I do something for you?”

  “Wow. Okay, right to business, then. I’ve booked another signing for Sunday afternoon, okay? One o’clock.”

  He stared at his laptop, sitting lifeless on his desk. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Okay, good. I’ll call you to remind you. Also, we have an invitation to Terry Webb’s release party on Saturday night. We were only given two, but I managed to wrangle us one more so you can bring Owen.”

  Reese felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Uh. Owen might… I don’t know if he can come. He might have a… thing.”

  “Oh.” Chad sounded disappointed. “Okay, well that’s too bad. But I’ll come by about seven. Good?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, good. What time is it?”

  “Well, the party actually starts at seven, but I thought we’d be fashionably late.”

  “No, now. What time is it right now?”

  “It’s four-fifteen. Reese.” Chad paused and then added, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m… yeah. Fine. Just tired. Long day.” That was the understatement of the century.

  “Sorry, honey. Get some rest. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days.”

  “Right. Okay.” He ended the call and put his phone in his back pocket. Maybe he should have told Chad. Maybe he should have asked for Chad’s help. He just wasn’t ready for the disapproving look and Chad’s well-meaning but unsolicited advice. He went back to cleaning.

  Just at that moment, Reese cared a lot more about his mother’s bookcase than his laptop, so he spent the next hour making calls and finally found someone who could pick it up over the weekend and rebuild the doors and glass front. It was going to take a month and cost him an arm and a leg, but he’d sell his soul not to have smashed it in the first place. It was only money.

  He looked at his watch, then picked up his phone and dialed Owen again. He was more than willing to eat crow over this one: beg, crawl, follow Owen around on his knees, anything Owen wanted.

  But Owen didn’t pick up the phone.

  This time, he decided to leave a message.

  “Hey, this is Owen,” the recording told him. “Don’t bother leaving a message….”

  “Fuck.” Reese growled and fought back the urge to pitch his cell phone through the window. He’d done enough damage today. “Damn hippy needs to use voicemail like the rest of us dinosaurs do.” He waited for the beep but didn’t hear anything but dead air. Had he missed it? Shit, did Owen’s voicemail record that? He sighed. “Uh, hey Owen. It’s me. Yeah, you know it’s me. Um. So, short version for voicemail—I’m an asshole, and I’d really like to not be. I was thinking maybe you’d be interested in working on that with me? Yeah, okay, so. I’m really, really sorry and—”

  The voicemail beeped. He was out of time.

  “And I love you.” He sighed and put the phone in his pocket. “Maybe you’d be interested in what? Ugh. Idiot.” He made his way over to his desk and looked at the laptop. The screen was essentially shattered; there was a spider web radiating outward from one corner, which must have taken the brunt of the impact. Remarkably, however, it was still powered on. He pulled his phone back out and called the Apple store.

  Just keep busy, he told himself. Keep busy. Owen will come back.

  Three hours and another dose of humiliation later, he was home with a new laptop. He hadn’t damaged the hard drive, and they were able to move everything from the old laptop to the new one. He booted it up and opened the last draft to see what had saved, relieved to discover everything but the last line he’d typed was there. That was not an issue; he remembered the last line well. It was practically haunting him. He rested his fingers on the keyboard with a sigh and started to type.

  “Gregory Harris,” a deep voice said from somewhere behind him as he was hustled outside to a waiting patrol car. “You have the right to remain silent….”

  But this time, after he retyped that line, he added, THE END

  Bloody fucking hell. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the last line again, trying to get his head around the idea that the line was not only the last line of this book, but would now inspire the first line of book five of what he’d firmly believed until this afternoon was a four-book series.

  “Okay, Harris. You win. You and me, round five.” But first, a reread, countless rounds of edits for book four, and another round of promotion for book three. It was a never-ending process that he loved to hate. “What am I going to title this thing?”

  Reese went through his saving ritual and then headed for the bedroom. He’d go out, get something to eat, then come home and feel sorry for himself. Make a milkshake. Or just go to bed. After he called Owen a fifth, sixth, and seventh time.

  He pulled on blue jeans and a sweater, then grabbed his wallet and his leather jacket. It was getting chilly out; winter was just one icy breath away. The cold air was jolting, but it felt good, giving Reese something else to swear at while he shivered. He walked past the pizza place; too greasy. He walked past the burger joint too, and after walking for a while was starting to realize that he just wasn’t hungry. The walk was doing him some good, though, clearing his head and bringing into very sharp focus the things he did need right now. He needed gloves for his frozen fingers, and he really needed to talk to Owen.

  Chapter XX

  REESE HEARD the knocking and ran for the front door, yanking it open. “Owen, thank God.”

  But it wasn’t Owen. It was Chad glaring back at him. “No, honey. It’s just Chad.” Chad slipped right past Reese and into the apartment. “Chad, your scapegoat. Chad, your doormat. Chad, the friend you fucking lied to on the phone yesterday. That Chad.”

  “Well, actually, Chad, I didn’t really lie—”

  Chad cut him off with a wave of his hand. “No, no. You shut it and listen to me.”

  Whoa. He shut his mouth and closed the front door.

  “Owen called me.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Yes, honey. I think praying is a perfectly appropriate pastime for you right now.”

  Reese sighed.

  “So, Owen called me, and he asked me to come here and pick up some of his things.”

  He felt a little panicked. “No. No, Chad. Please. You have to help me. Don’t do this to me.”

  Chad looked offended and drew a hand up to his chest. “Reese, honey, what kind of Judas do you think I am?”

  “Oh!” He threw his arms around Chad and kissed him. “Thank you!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t thank me yet.”

  “What?”

  “I am going to bring him some of his things, because there is no way I’m getting between the two of you. Not after the fiddler let me have it the last time.”

  “It’s a cel—” />
  Chad raised his hand again. “Shut it. I am also going to help you get him back.”

  “Jesus Christ, Chad.” Reese collapsed into a chair. A coronary would be less painful than this.

  “Honestly, the pair of you.” Chad disappeared into the bedroom. Reese hopped up and followed him. “Do you have a bag?”

  He went to his closet and handed Chad a backpack.

  “That will do. Did you sleep last night?” Chad asked him slyly.

  “I passed out for a few hours. But I’ve been up since four, and I can’t stop pacing. He’s not answering his phone, and I don’t know where he is or—”

  Chad held his hand up, again.

  Reese sighed, again.

  “His dresser?” Chad pointed. He nodded, and Chad started looking through the drawers and pulling out clothing. A pair of black jeans, a black T-shirt, underwear, sweats.

  “I happen to know that Owen did not sleep at all.”

  Reese looked at Chad. “No?”

  “No. And it wasn’t because Carla’s couch wasn’t comfy.” Chad winked at him.

  “He’s at Carla’s.”

  Chad nodded. “He is. And tonight, he will be at the Grey Moon.”

  “Oh! Of course, it’s Thursday!” Of course. God, he wasn’t thinking at all.

  Chad smiled at him. “You’re catching on, honey.”

  “So, I’ll go to his gig. But… what if he won’t talk to me?”

  “You don’t need him to talk. You’re going to do all the talking.”

  “Right.” Reese nodded. “What am I going to say?”

  Chad zipped up the bag he’d packed for Owen and then looked at Reese. “Really?”

  “Chad, I lost it. You have no idea.”

  Chad looked at Reese. “You screamed at Owen to get out of your office, and then after he left, you knocked over something that sounded like a bookcase,” Chad recited dryly.

  “Fuck.” Reese rubbed his forehead. “You two talked.”

  “Well of course, honey, what did you expect? I wasn’t coming over here to expose myself to further lies and disrespect without knowing why.”

  Reese wilted, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “It wasn’t like that, I just… couldn’t.” He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m sorry, okay?” He felt the bed sink next to him, and then Chad put an arm around his back. That gesture set him off, and hot tears slid down his cheeks. It wasn’t the first time Chad had seen him that emotional, and Chad patiently rubbed his back and waited him out.

  Reese pulled himself together finally, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He leaned over and rested his head on Chad’s shoulder. “I can’t lose him.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “I need him. I love him.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “That’s what I’m going to tell him.”

  “It’s a good start.”

  “Tell him I was wrong, apologize.” Reese shrugged. “And if that doesn’t work then I’ll—”

  “Beg?” Chad offered.

  “Damn right. Make a complete and very public ass of myself and beg him to come home.” On his knees if he had to.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “Whatever it takes.” He agreed. Anything. Everything.

  “He loves you too, Reese. He’s really broken up about this. He’s… sad.”

  Reese nodded. “Me too.”

  “So,” Chad said, standing up and shouldering the backpack. “I’m going to take this to Owen, and I’m going to tell him that you were a complete basket case. The good news is that’s not a lie.”

  “Chad.”

  Chad waved his hand. “Oh, you know what I mean, honey.”

  “Tell him I love him. Tell him I asked you to tell him that.”

  Chad smiled. “Okay.”

  They made their way to the foyer together, and Chad stopped just inside the front door. He gave Reese a kiss on the cheek. “You can do this.”

  Reese smiled. “Thanks, Chad.”

  “You better anyway, my little heart can’t take all this drama. My lord.” Chad turned on his heel, and Reese let the door swing closed behind him.

  REESE BUNDLED up with a scarf and gloves before he went out. It was another chilly night, and that was just as well. Reese needed it; it was helping him keep his focus. Looking again at his watch, he confirmed that it was well past nine. His feet started moving faster and with more purpose. It was a terrible idea, ambushing Owen like this, but he was the poster boy for terrible right now, so no one would be surprised by his bad choices. Least of all Owen. Some things he was able to let go, let some time go by, put some distance into the equation. Owen wasn’t that something. This he needed to show he was willing to fix right away. That he intended to fix it. Take the very well-deserved hit, own up, and apologize. Be truthful. All those things his mother had taught him about integrity. Show Owen that it mattered to him.

  Not that he had any right to it, but he was feeling better having decided to take the chance. He stopped outside the Grey Moon and took a deep breath. You’ve got this, he told himself.

  Six Hands’ first set of the evening was already underway when he walked into the café. He didn’t look at Owen right away, instead heading to the counter for his usual. Miranda’s hair was hot pink today, with a streak of electric blue that swept across her forehead and was tucked behind one ear. She smiled at him. “The usual?”

  “You are too good to me, Miranda.” Reese winked at her, and she put his blondie on a plate and disappeared to make his latte.

  He thought he felt eyes on him, but he wasn’t ready to turn and look. He waited as patiently and as still as he could manage until Miranda brought his latte to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “Your friend is over there. He said to make sure you join him.”

  “My….” Reese followed her pointing finger to where Chad was sitting, in one of two wingback chairs. Chad gave him a friendly wave.

  Really? He should have known.

  “Thank you again, Miranda.” He left her a nice tip.

  “Enjoy.” She smiled at him.

  Reese walked stoically over to Chad. He sat, set his food down on the table, and then looked at his friend. “Good evening,” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Here for the fireworks?”

  “Hello, honey. Do you know I have never heard Owen and his band play before? It seemed like a perfect night for it.”

  “Did it?”

  “Yes. And you didn’t really believe I was going to throw you to the lions alone, did you?”

  He had to chuckle. “Thanks, Chad.”

  “They sound great. I love it.”

  “Mmhm.” Reese allowed himself to raise his eyes to the stage.

  Owen was playing beautifully, but he was staring right at Reese, one graceful eyebrow raised and his brown eyes burning deep into Reese’s soul.

  Mother. Of. God.

  Owen was fucking hot when he was pissed off.

  Wrong. Wrong thing to be thinking right now. True, but so wrong.

  He held Owen’s gaze for another moment but couldn’t stand it any longer and finally dropped his eyes to the floor. Without a single word, Owen had achieved the psychological equivalent of locking Reese’s wrists into a pair of padded cuffs. Damn. Reese wasn’t exactly sure what all of that meant, but Owen didn’t whip a cello bow at his head, so he figured he didn’t need a safe word. Yet.

  He sank deeper into his chair and dared to raise his eyes again, tentatively, only to discover that Owen had looked away and was concentrating on his music again. When the song ended, he applauded politely with the crowd despite the fact that he hadn’t really heard a single note. He’d been too busy watching.

  “Thank you, everyone. Thanks, all of you, for coming out tonight.” Carla looked right at Reese. “Well, almost all of you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him before looking back at the keys.

  Owen laughed. He actually laughed, damn him, and half the café laughed with him. Reese to
ok a deep breath and accepted it gracefully. He did feel like he wanted to pick up his latte and hide behind it, though.

  “Oh snap,” Chad whispered.

  “Whatever Owen needs,” Reese replied softly.

  Chad reached over and gave his knee a pat.

  As far as the tension between them, that was the end of it for the remainder of the set. During their break, Reese stayed put and stayed quiet. He spent the time looking through an abandoned newspaper he’d picked up off a nearby table. It must have been the right move, because Chad did the same and said nothing about it.

  “Got your message.” Owen’s voice only barely preceded the shadow that fell across his newspaper. “You’re right. You are an asshole.”

  “I’m sorry,” Reese replied, looking up from his newspaper at Owen, who was partially silhouetted by an overhead light fixture. He quickly followed that up with what he hadn’t managed to get onto Owen’s voicemail earlier. “I love you.” That was about all he had to offer while sitting in the fishbowl that was the café.

  “You can’t follow directions either. The message clearly says to fucking text me.” Owen turned on his heel and walked back toward the stage.

  Reese blinked. Chad snorted.

  “Was that… was that a joke?”

  “I believe it may have been, honey.”

  “Did Owen just forgive me with a joke?”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it was definitely an overture.”

  Butterflies erupted in Reese’s stomach and leapt into his throat. “Okay. Right. I can work with that.” He allowed himself to smile, just a little. Owen had thrown him a bone, and he was going to make damn sure to chew on it. Or something. Something less X-rated sounding. Part of him wanted to fly out of his seat and kiss Owen’s face off, and the other part of him wanted to sit quietly in his chair and have a good cry.

  He had no intention of letting himself do either at that moment.

  He found the second set far more enjoyable, and he was even able to eat some of the blondie he’d bought. He recognized most of the songs the trio played but if tested wouldn’t have been able to remember any of them. He was too distracted by Owen. He watched intently, admiring how much Owen loved what he was doing and the way Owen moved with the music. He reminded himself how lucky he was. He told himself he wasn’t going to take any of it for granted. He would figure out how to make sure this didn’t happen again and try not to feel cynical about how many times he had promised himself that in the past.