by Jamie Knight
Chapter Two - Chris
I called it “The Zone”. The semi-Zen state that I got into when focused on work, every scrap of my attention dedicated to rendering the best images it was within my ability to create. I was pretty much self-taught out of books and later videos. Though I did seem to have some natural talent, which kept me from being completely frustrated, there were still times that I envied Aden for his raw ability — but to be fair, there were few people who were able to draw like our top graphics designer. He had a natural attention to detail that made his renderings, either in terms of illustration, cooking or music, almost impossible to match. Something that made even more sense when I found out his history in the army.
My interest in both art and commercial illustration went back years. I couldn't quite pinpoint when it started, probably around the time I discovered Andy Warhol, but it had always spoken to me. The art was usually quite beautiful, which appealed. Though something else that appealed a lot was the commercial side, particularly the fact that it was one of a few ways that an artist could make real money. The perfect balance of art and pragmatism. In part proven by the number of painters who started out their careers of commercial artists. Including the core members of the Group of Seven who met while working for the Eaton's catalog, literally painting images of the products for sale just after the First World War. All of it beautiful as well as functional.
I jumped with surprise at the tap on my shoulder, taking me out of my reverie.
“Oh, hey Aden,” I said, taking out my earbud and looking up at my coworker.
“Is that Swedish?” Aden asked.
“Yeah, I'm working on it.”
“Cool. May we talk?” Aden asked, dripping with gravitas. The former soldier looked stern.
“Sure,” I said, knowing better to contradict him when he was in one of his serious moods. I waved for him to take a chair, but he ignored the gesture, instead choosing to pace the confines of my office.
“I'm concern about Shae.”
I startled. She seemed fine when she was visiting earlier. Did I miss something?
“Why, what's happened?” I asked her cousin.
“You,” Aden said bluntly.
“Oh?” I dropped down into my chair, feeling a bit guilty.
“She is really into you, and you are torturing her.”
“I'm what?”
“How many times have you turned down her invitation for drinks?”
“I —”
“How many, Chris?”
“Three,” I said, with no small measure of shame.
“Is that fair?”
“No, not really, and I do like her, but you know me. We've been friends long enough for you to know that it is hard for me to open up to people. It is better to avoid entanglements at all rather than ending up with someone who might not understand me or might hurt me.”
He huffed a sigh. “Does Shae really seem like she would do that?”
No, she didn't. I had honestly felt more comfortable around Shae than any other woman in recent memory. She could even touch me without me flinching away. I wasn't quite ready to open up to her, at least not in a significant way, but it might be worth pursuing a relationship with her after all.
Aden ran a hand through his hair and relaxed with an exhalation of breath. “I'm not threatening you or anything, just bringing it to your attention. Either say yes to Shae, if that is what you really want. I know she does. Or do your best to let her down gently, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, already deciding on the first option. I just had to figure out what to do to make it up to her.
****
I had been serious about working that night and was still at my drafting table long after everyone else had gone home. I wanted to get the storyboards done so I could have the weekend off. It would be the first time in about a month that I'd had any days off. Which, as I understood it wasn't really healthy.
After nine PM, I left the office and headed to the hospital, keen on getting there as soon as possible. It would have been most logical to wait till the next day and call Shae when I was reasonably sure that we would both be awake. But I didn't have her phone number, so I had to come up with something else.
The hospital had pay parking, of course. What was a hospital that didn't try and make as much money as it possibly could in every way imaginable? Closed, that's what. I parked as close to the ticket machine as I could and paid for eight hours, hedging my bets. Getting back into the car, I got a spot as close to the door as I could before rushing in, leaving the ticket on the dash before taking off, making sure I had my phone with me before departing.
I figured Shae would be on a swing shift, so there was no way to tell when she would be leaving, but I was determined to be there when she did. My nickname in high school was The Badger. Because once I got a hold of a notion, I didn't let it go unless acted upon by an outside force. A law of physics Newton never quite got around to.
I was afraid I might be noticed, or someone would ask what I was doing there. Though apparently unless you actually go up to the triage counter and demand attention, no one really took much notice. Noticing an on-site coffee shop, I ensconced myself at a corner table with an MP3 file, a large cup of mediocre coffee that still did the job, and some of the best cinnamon buns I had ever tasted.
It was 3 a.m. by the time Shae came out front, looking very much the worse for wear. I hadn't seen her in her scrubs before — clean and bright blue, worn with an adorable pair of sneakers. The overall effect was surprisingly sexy.
Finishing off the last dregs of the cinnamon buns, the coffee distant memory, I pocketed the phone and went to meet her as she headed for the door.
“Hey!” I said, catching up to her before she reached the parking lot.
“Oh, Jesus!” Shae jumped, clutching at her chest.
“Sorry,” I said as she caught her breath.
“It's okay, you surprised me is all. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I felt bad about declining your invitation for a drink. I really did have to work tonight. I wasn't just putting you off or anything. The thing is, I really like you, maybe not the same way Aden says you like me, but I would definitely like to go for a drink and see where things go, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?”
“Ever heard of a run-on sentence?” Shae asked, with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile.
Her eyebrows were a golden blonde color, which I assumed was her natural hair color. At the moment, her locks were a delightful bubblegum pink color. She seemed to like to change it often.
“Sorry.”
“It's okay,” she said, putting her hand gently on my chest. “Just calm down, Chris. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
She looked down at her hand, which was still fixed on my chest. “Man, your heart is really racing.”
“I —”
“It's not me, is it?” she teased, lowering her long eyelashes some.
“A bit, yeah,” I agreed, feeling bashful.
“You charmer, you.” Her smile lit up her whole face.
“Would you like to go for a drink,” I asked when my heart had returned to a more regular rhythm.
“I'd prefer breakfast at this point,” she said.
“I know a diner,” I said, a bit too excitedly.
“Lead the way.”
I went back to my car, and Shae followed me to the all-night diner I knew about a few blocks away. I had discovered it during my insomniac phase. Though it was something of a matter of debate whether or not that phase ever actually ended.
“Swanky,” Shae said, getting out of her car.
“Not really, but the club sandwich is good.”
Inside, we slid into a booth near the front window. Las Vegas was flowing on beyond the blacked glass. The booth was so small that our knees occasionally touched. Something Shae didn't seem to mind at all. After a while, I didn't either. It was effortless to be around her. She put on a tough exterior but could al
so seem to nearly radiate calm, at least with those she liked. I had seen it with Aden and later Camilla when she joined their family.
Shae must have been really hungry because she loaded up with bacon, sausage, waffles, and scrambled eggs, going at the plate with enthusiasm rarely witnessed. I was more of a functionalist in most things, food was no exception. My own breakfast limited to toast and jam with orange juice. Though to be fair, I had technically eaten before we left and was mostly trying to fit in.
“Not hungry?” Shae asked, working on her third sausage.
“I just don't eat much. I'm working on a warrior diet.”
“A what?” she asked.
“Warrior diet. It's where you eat one meal a day that gives you everything you need with intermittent fasting in between.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Oh, probably, most things are these days. Hell, even carbs are becoming taboo. It will likely be meat next. I just figured it would be best to eat as little as possible.”
“Makes an odd sort of sense,” Shae said.
“Happens more than you'd think.”
“Is that how you got to be Art Director at Sure Thing?”
“Mostly. What about you, why'd you become a nurse?”
“I failed medical school. It was this or a dentist, and I hate dentists.”
“Seriously?”
She laughed. “No. I've always wanted to be a nurse. Most people don't realize how difficult the training is.”
“But, you hate dentists?”
“Oh hell yeah, shifty bastards. I can't think of another area of the medical system where it is not only okay but normal to charge 10 to 15% above the book price. They are also the only medical professionals to charge for parts. No better than mechanics, really.”
“Wow, that's a lot of hate,” I said.
“Sorry, it just makes me really mad. Particularly when they swan about in those white coats and call themselves 'doctor'. Most of them have doctorates, you know. 'Doctor' my sweet, achin' ass.”
“Well, that's not surprising.”
“What?”
“Your aching ass. I would imagine your feet and ankles would hurt pretty bad too after a fourteen-hour shift.”
“They do actually.”
“Would you like a foot rub?”
“What, now?” Shae asked, looking around us.
“Sure, there's no one around. Leave your socks on if you're worried about hygiene.”
I had no idea where it had come from. I usually didn't shake hands, let alone rub feet, but the concept of Shae being in pain was too much for me to take. I really was getting attached to her and wanted her to be happy.
After a moment's hesitation, Shae took off her sneakers and put one of her feet up on the bench I was sitting on, setting it right between my knees. Focusing my attention on her relief, I started massaging her foot. It looked pretty small in my hands. I never really noticed how petite Shae was.
I guess I was doing a good job. Shae leaned back on her bench, humming contentedly. Looking at her, I decided that I wanted to see more of her.
“I'm going to a book signing tomorrow, would you like to come?”
“Sure,” Shae said, sounding a bit surprised but also pleased.
I looked at her sweet grin, happy that Aden had pushed me to take this leap.
Chapter Three - Shae
I was buzzing when I got back to my apartment. I really hadn't expected that kind of fantastic treatment. Not only had Chris taken the ache out of my feet, but he had also insisted on paying for everything. I figured he had the money since Sure Thing Graphics was quite the big name, but I still resisted. At first, anyway. He was still running on the old fashioned idea that the person who instigated the outing pays for it. I didn't feel like disabusing him of this notion.
Though honestly, had we been alone, I wouldn't have minded if he'd tried to get some of the pain out of my ass as well. He really was quite handsome and beautifully soulful if a bit eccentric. Not that the ability to think outside the box was a bad thing.
After putting more food into Jeepers’ bowl — the kitty vocalizing his objections to the late feeding in no uncertain terms — I stripped down to my panties. My bra found its way across the room in short order, as I crawled into bed, hoping to settle my mind enough to get some sleep before my date with Chris in a few hours.
I woke up with Jeepers on my head, curled up and sleeping, cute as you please. So dedicated to this activity was the little black and white kitten that he didn't even wake up when I placed him down on the bed. He just stretched out all four legs in different directions, rolled onto his back, and continued to snooze.
Stepping out of yesterday's panties, I got into the shower for a quick scrub down before trying to figure out what to wear on the date. I really wanted to strike the right note. It was only then I realized how long it had been since I went on a date. Chris was the first guy to show any real interest in me since my divorce. That marriage had taking up a good five years of my life.
I was contemplating this when the buzzer rang. Chris was meeting me at my place because I lived closer to the bookstore.
Throwing on whatever was handy, jeans and a cute T-shirt, I put my feet into my sneakers without socks and headed out, putting more food in Jeepers’ bowl before leaving, and deciding going commando was better than keeping Chris waiting. My eagerness surprised me a bit. I was usually a lot more mature, but there was something about him that brought out the wonder in me. I felt almost like a wide-eyed kid.
I could see that Chris had made a lot more of an effort. Wearing one of the suits that he usually wore to the office. There was actually a bet as to whether suits were all he owned. I was beginning to wonder myself. Though in a way it would make sense. If you wore basically the same thing every day, it would leave a lot more brain-space for other things.
“You look great,” he said when he saw me.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” I said, unable to keep from smiling.
“Shall we?”
“Indeed.”
We set off down the street, Chris very much in the lead. He seemed to know the city really well. As we strolled, the bright, clear day around us, it felt natural to hold Chris's hand. I half expected him to pull away, but he didn't, which was a relief. I squeezed his hand, and he pressed back.
I hadn't known Chris very long, but he seemed to have a defensiveness I wasn't sure I would be able to get past. I was trying to be gentle with him. I feared he might have a horrible history like an abusive childhood but didn't want to pry.
The bookstore was indeed close to my house, and all too soon we were there, but to my surprise, Chris didn't let go of my hand. If anything, he seemed to squeeze it harder. Like he was uncomfortable with the crowd or something. It was the most physical contact I'd had with a man since Chris's delicious foot rub the night before.
We got in the very long line that snaked all the way around the sizeable store and out the door down the sidewalk halfway to the next corner.
“Popular guy,” I quipped.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Chris said.
I didn't actually. I had never heard of the author, but Chris had wanted to go, so I agreed. It was mostly an excuse to spend time with him, but if I got a cool new author out of the deal more the better.
“Tell me about him,” I promoted.
“Who?”
“Wolf Birch,” I said.
“Oh, I see. Well, the current series is a bit different than his usual stuff. Usually, he does gothic mystery. Not really horror, but it can have a lot of creepy elements. Like an Urban Gothic meets Noir kind of thing.”
“Sounds neat.”
“Oh, it is. Very much so. Though, like I said, this is a bit different.”
“How so?
“Well, it's more of an Urban Fantasy but in a more grounded way.”
“How so?” I asked again, intrigued.
“The magic is real.�
��
“What?”
“The magical system used. It is based on the grounded, natural magic used by neo-pagans. Only in the books, there is no question as to whether or not it works. It definitely does.”
Like so many things Chris said, it made sense in a weird sort of way. I had grown up thinking of magic as the stuff of Walt Disney and role-playing games, but when I became an adult, I discovered a whole new aspect I'd never considered. A world of intention and combination and will making a difference to at least one's personal reality.
I had actually tried an attraction spell in college. I know it sounds crazy, but the whole thing came off more like chemistry than anything else. Basically, I combined a bunch of natural ingredients into a compound that I wore on my neck like perfume. And dammit if I didn't get an A on a midterm from a professor who had taken to hating me on sight and refused to grade me fairly. It got me through my undergraduate career with a high enough GPA to go into nursing.
“That's neat,” I said.
“This is the third book in the series he's signing today. I have the first two if you'd like to read them.”
“I think I would.”
“Cool, always nice to have a new covert.”
“That's a joke, right?” I asked, making sure.
“Intentional hyperbole.”
“Just checking,” I said.
“Very wise.”
As we wove through the store, there were displays of the author’s books placed in strategic places. I picked one up and started reading the description. The book was called June Awakening, and it quickly made sense as to why.
“Wow,” I whispered when I was done.
“I know, right?”
“How is it I've never heard of this guy?”
“Most people haven't, except for those who have. It's one of those examples of being popular in with a cult following. Kind of like Heavy Metal or so I hear. You'll find a lot of people who say they hate it, yet the Wacken Festival in Germany attracts 80,000 people. At least that was the crowd when my brother's band played there.”