Adam dropped his pizza back in the box and went to the drawing table. He flipped up his sketch pad. An intense expression took over his face and Reese stared. She couldn’t look away. His long fingers moved quickly with a pencil in his left hand. She knew that when he was finished, smudges would be smeared on the edge of his palm as well as on his fingertips.
It was like she was no longer in the room. The bell over the door jingled as a customer came in. Adam’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t look up. He definitely didn’t like to be interrupted. Reese quickly wiped her hands clean and walked around the counter. “Hi, can I help you find something today?”
Adam shot her a look like she’d lost her mind, but she continued.
The customer, a guy about her age, lifted a shoulder. He didn’t appear any more convinced than Adam was that she could take care of a customer. “Nah. Just looking.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need any help.” She hung back, still in the aisles to make herself available. She tried her best to ignore Adam’s presence.
The guy looked up from a bin of comics. “Do you have the latest Amazing Spider-Man?”
She wanted to glance back at Adam to check, but she also didn’t want to interrupt him. Seeing his new sketch of Lyrid was exciting. “I believe it came in today’s shipment. Let me check.”
She went to the bin where the comic should be located. Sure enough, there it was. “Did you need anything else?”
“Yeah, I need some more plastic covers for my collection.”
Reese wove around to the other side of the store and grabbed a packet of sleeves for him. “Just one pack?”
“That’ll do.”
She walked back to the counter to ring him up, but Adam was already standing behind the register. She laid the purchases on the glass and let Adam take over. She returned to the pizza, which was now cold.
When the customer left, Adam stood by her side and bumped her shoulder with his. This was the closest they’d been and she liked it. “Trying to steal my job? I told you my mom owns the shop. I doubt she’d choose you over me.”
“Funny. I was being helpful. I want to see the new Lyrid.”
He stretched across to the other side of the register, where he’d tossed his sketch pad. “Here.”
Before taking the pad from him, she wiped her hands on her pants and took a deep breath. If this was still wrong, their partnership might not work. How many times would they want to go back and forth? She held her breath and flipped the pad over.
The sketch was rough, with smudges and eraser marks, but it was better. Lyrid’s boobs were still a little on the big side and her waist too small, but she looked a little sturdier. Less like a model in a mask and more like a fighter.
“Let me guess—smaller chest?”
“No, well, yeah, if I had my choice, it might be, but you have a point. If I want everyone to be willing to buy, I have to appeal to all kinds of readers, including men.” She studied the drawing. “Can we make her costume not a bustier? But I like her arms showing. Great muscles.”
Adam took the pad back, swiftly erased some lines, and shaded in a vest.
“That’s good. I like it.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
Was she? This was so new. Why the hell didn’t she just decide to write a book or something for her project instead of this huge undertaking? Because this was what she wanted in life. She wanted to write comics. She wanted to represent the millions of girls like her who wanted heroes and heroines that were like them.
“I’m sure. I think.”
“Revisions are still possible. I have lots of erasers.”
Even if the sketch wasn’t the right one, she’d definitely chosen the right partner. She needed to take lessons from him on flexibility. “Tell me about your superhero guy. The one I saw last week.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s his story?”
“I’m an artist, not a writer. He doesn’t have a story.”
“Everyone has a story. You have one. I have one. It colors everything we do and see and say. There’s a piece of us in everything we create.” She handed him the pad back and began to clean up their dinner mess. “Tell me something about him.”
“He’s not white.”
Adam hated that the first comment he made was about race. Reese turned and leaned against the table she’d just cleared of their dinner. She pursed her lips before speaking. “So race is important.”
“Yeah. There aren’t enough people of color in comics.” The statement was true, but not the reason.
“Not enough, no. But we have Green Lantern and Cyborg.”
This was solid footing for them, arguing the merits of comics. “Marvel has Black Panther. And let’s not forget the new Ms. Marvel, who is a double whammy as a woman and a person of color.”
“If you think you’re going to convince me Marvel is better based on this argument, you’re out of luck. I get the importance of full representation. I am a woman. That’s why the portrayal of Lyrid is so important. So your guy, he’s black?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess what I’m really asking is if he’s black just because that’s how you envision him or if you made him black because it’s part of your character building.”
And there went the footing. “You can’t take race away from character. It’s part of who you are.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
He snorted. “Only naïve white people say shit like that.”
“Hey.” She stepped toe to toe with him, tilting her chin a notch. Irritation blazed from her blue-gray eyes. “I am not naïve. I believe race is only as important as you make it in your life.”
He wanted to cross his arms, needed to, but the action would make him come in contact with her. She was close enough that the movement would cause his forearms to brush her chest. That couldn’t lead to anything good. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. No one considers your race first because you’re white. Everyone considers my race first because I’m not.”
“Not everyone.” A flash of hurt crossed her face, quickly replaced by anger. “But people do look at my gender first. Mostly men, but it’s the same idea. They don’t consider whether I’m intelligent or kind. They want to see how big my boobs are, how thin my waist is, how shapely my ass is. The quality of the rest of me is shaded by that.” As she spoke, her hands waved out at the sides of her body emphasizing everything she said.
Those motions almost distracted him. She had a point, a valid one, but he didn’t want to have this discussion with her. He didn’t want to have it with anyone.
She stopped moving. “I don’t let that run my life. It mostly doesn’t even take up space in my head. Only when I’m faced with something like a guy in a comic shop who assumes I’m buying for my boyfriend.”
“I never did that.”
“No, not you, which is why I spend my money here. My point is, I don’t walk through life worrying about how other people view me. I just try to be the best I can for me.”
Adam tried to do the same, but it didn’t always work. He took a step back. “All I’m saying is that my guy is black. I picture him that way, but it’s also who he is. His race colors his perception of things.”
She inched closer again. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“That’s his story. That’s the part you’re telling me doesn’t exist, but it does. You know it, in here.” She poked his chest.
His heart thumped so hard he was sure he’d need CPR any minute. Why couldn’t she take a hint? As much as he wanted to step back again, he also wanted to step forward. But he knew better.
Reese took mercy on him and stepped away. She walked over to the table and flipped through his sketch pad. She found a picture of the character they were discussing. “I want his story. Even if we don’t make it a book, I want to know.”
The way she looked into his eyes stirred something in Adam, but he didn’t kn
ow quite what. It was like she was asking for much more than a character’s history. Adam tore away from the staring contest that pulled at him. “So, write it,” he mumbled.
“I can’t write his story. He’s not mine.”
Adam reached over, took the book from her hand, and ripped out the page. “Here. Now he’s yours.”
Although she accepted the paper, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll create a story for him, and then I’ll kill him off.” She smirked as she tucked the page into her bag in between books.
“You can’t kill my character.”
“He’s mine now. You gave him to me, so I can do whatever I want.”
“You sound like a little kid.”
“I need to get home. You have enough to start working on panels now? If we can get the pencil drawings done, that would be great. I should have the origin story finished this weekend. “ As she spoke, she put away the folder that she’d brought out. She faced her bag the whole time she talked. “Are you free at all this weekend?”
“Saturdays are pretty busy around here, so that probably won’t work.”
“How about Saturday night after you close?” She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned.
“Sure. Where do you want to meet? My roommate’s a musician, so my place is usually loud.”
“Noise doesn’t bother me.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
“My roommate’s my mom, but she works weird hours. Even if she is home, she’ll probably be asleep or whatever.” She hitched the bag higher on her shoulder. “We could meet at a library or something, but it’s always too quiet there.”
“If you don’t mind me coming to your place, I’m cool with that.”
“Sure.” Pulling a pen from a thigh pocket, she wrote her address on a napkin leftover from their dinner. “I’ll be home all night, so come by whenever. I have a paper to write, so I’ll be chained to my computer.”
“Paper on what?”
“Anything. It’s such a pain in the ass. This professor thinks she’s cool by leaving everything open-ended. The only direction we have is that we have to write a critical analysis of something.”
“So write about something you care about. Like why people got so upset last year when Marvel revealed a female Thor.”
“First, stop trying to sell me on Marvel. Second, no analysis needed there. People are dumb.”
“You want to talk about dumb, should we discuss some movies made about DC characters?”
She groaned. “No. Their movies are improving. I could do Batman.”
It was his turn to groan. “The idea of college is to broaden your horizons and learn something. If you write about Batman, you’ll get bored. You know it all.”
“At this point in my academic career, I’m looking for easy. I’m ready to be done.”
He was well acquainted with that feeling. “How about an analysis of the mythology of Thor? It would give you an excuse to sit and watch movies by calling it research.”
He knew she liked the idea because something lit in her eyes.
“I’ll even bring my copy on Saturday. You do your research between now and then and you can compare it to the movie. Still easy.” It’d be nice if someone came along with ideas for him whenever he faced a school project.
“We’ll see. But I’ll have your story done—your superhero’s story. You sure you don’t want to at least give this guy a name?” Her cocky smile returned and she had a scheming look in her eye.
“Nope. I trust you. As long as you don’t kill him.”
“Fine. But torture is totally still on the table.” She grabbed her jacket off the chair and headed for the door. “See you Saturday.”
Adam stared after her for a while, unsure of what he’d gotten himself into. Hanging out at her apartment, working, watching a movie. He hoped she didn’t get the impression this would be a date. He didn’t need that kind of complication as they headed into this partnership. Plus, as much as he liked Reese, she was all wrong for him.
Chapter 4
Reese was nervous about Adam coming over. She’d had plenty of friends at her apartment over the years, both guys and girls. She’d even had boyfriends spend the night. But having Adam in her home was strange. Their relationship was so undefined. Were they friends? Partners? He was right when he’d pointed out that they had a hard time getting along, but even their disagreements were fun.
Having him here would change who they were. He would know more about her than she knew about him. She didn’t like that. He texted that he’d be there around eight and offered to bring dinner. He’d supply the burgers and she had the beer. She also had plenty of junk food to fuel their creativity for the night.
She had roughly five weeks before she launched her campaign. By that time, she needed to have at least part of the anthology done; illustrations would make the sales. Take out a few days for the holidays, and they would have maybe a month of work time and both she and Adam still had classes.
Depending on how well tonight went, they might just be able to pull some late nights to get things moving. She tossed a blanket over the couch to cover the worst of its age. When the doorbell rang, she took one last look around to make sure she hadn’t left her underwear on the floor, or anything equally embarrassing, then ran down the stairs to let Adam in.
She swung the door open and said, “Sorry. The buzzer’s broken. I’m upstairs.” She turned and led the way back into her apartment.
Adam followed her through and set the bag of food on the coffee table. She locked up and asked, “You want a beer or pop?”
“Whatever you’re having.” He shucked his jacket and hung it on the overloaded coatrack. “You want me to take my shoes off?”
“Doesn’t matter. I like to be barefoot, but it’s not a requirement.” She snagged two bottles of beer from the fridge and joined him at the couch.
Adam unpacked the food and asked, “How much did you get done this week?”
“Story?”
He nodded. “Or paper.”
“Lyrid’s origin is done, but not broken into panels. I’m finding that’s hard to do. Trying to find the right place to break things, how much to fit in each panel, deciding which panels should be bigger because they’re more involved.” She sat on the floor and crossed her legs. “Your story is done too.”
“My story?”
“Your superhero. I still don’t have a name, but I’m working on it. You’d be surprised how many names are already used in comics. Everything I came up with I had to toss because Marvel or DC had already used it. That doesn’t even touch the smaller pubs like Dark Horse. Google was not kind to me this week.”
Adam settled back on the couch with a burger in his lap and said nothing. So she continued, “His is a story of redemption. He’s badass, a felon, always in trouble. Then, one night, he does the unthinkable. He gets his girlfriend killed.” She bit into her burger and let Adam digest that part of the story.
“Ouch.” Adam narrowed his eyes as he took another bite. “But I like an anti-hero.”
“Totally!” She took another hasty bite and continued, “So while he’s in prison, he saves some dude’s ass—literally and figuratively. And he likes it. He starts to think that if he does enough acts like that, he can make up for all the bad he’s done. When he gets out, he takes a menial job, because how many choices does a guy like him have? Whatever that job is, it puts him on the streets where he can help people.”
“That sounds way more superhero than anti-hero.”
“It’s a work in progress. The anti-hero part is that he’s not doing this for other people, he’s all about saving himself, which means he spends a lot of time being an asshole to everyone.” She took a pull on her beer to wash down the food.
Adam laughed. “You sound like you’re getting off on him being an asshole.”
She snorted and beer bubbled up her nose. Crap. Real sexy, Reese. She coughed to cover how much that hurt as she wiped a napkin over her face.
Adam stood. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and waved him off. He returned to his seat and finished his food while she attempted to regain her composure. When she was able to breathe normally and her nose burned only a little, she went back to her dinner. “I don’t get off on him being an asshole. I just think it makes for a deep and intriguing character.”
He laughed. At her. “It’s okay, Reese. Call it whatever you want. You like bad boys. You wouldn’t be the first girl.”
She whipped a French fry at him. He picked it up and ate it.
“On that note, I want to use him. Don’t you think he’d make a great mentor for Lyrid?”
“What?”
“Think about it. They’re both reluctant heroes. He thinks he has to be one to clean the slate. She’s afraid to be one.”
“He’ll feel the need to protect her like he couldn’t his girlfriend.”
Reese stood. “See, you are good at story. You just need a little prompting.” She gathered all their trash and tossed it in the kitchen.
By the time she returned to the living room, Adam had the table wiped off and their bottles moved to the side table. He had pages spread out, but they were all blank.
“I thought you were going to have drawings.”
“I will. I’m fast. At least the first sketches. I need to see the story, to know the layout. That’s stuff we need to do together. Unless you’re leaving all of that to my judgment.”
Hell no. She grabbed the notebook that contained her stories and knelt next to him at the table. “Here’s her origin.”
She laid the notebook down and then scooted back to sit on the couch while he read.
“You actually write on paper? I thought everyone used computers.”
“Paper doesn’t lose battery power. It doesn’t crash or accidentally erase. You work on paper.”
“I like the feel of it.”
“So do I. If my writing’s too hard to decipher, I can type it up. It wouldn’t take long.”
“You’re fine.” He spoke softly because he was already reading.
This was harder than just handing over a folder of her work. This was even harder than having to read a sample aloud in class. She gulped the rest of her beer and went to the kitchen to grab another. She came back and Adam had abandoned the notebook and was already scribbling on his sheets.
His Work of Art Page 3