Creative Process Page 11

  It was maybe fifteen minutes before Owen showed up, looking drenched and dragging a dripping cello case behind him. Reese was deep into his paper by then and didn’t see him actually come in but caught sight of him as he headed for the little stage at one end of the room. He debated getting up and going over to say hello. He didn’t want to insert himself into Owen’s professional life, but then he decided that a late-night gig in a coffee shop didn’t constitute professional, and he dumped his paper on the chair and headed straight over.

  “Good evening,” he said smoothly, offering Owen a smile.

  Owen glanced up at him, damp hair falling in his eyes. “Damn this fucking rain! I couldn’t find a goddamn cab, so I had to take the subway, which felt like a rainforest and smelled like a latrine, and then of course the heavens opened up as soon as I arrived and I had to make a run for it.” Owen dumped his wet jacket on the floor. “Fuck.”

  Owen looked like a drowned rat, that was for sure. Reese considered his options and went for the distraction, sliding a hand along Owen’s jaw and pulling him into a deep kiss. Owen seemed aggravated and fought him for a brief moment but then relaxed into it, letting Reese sweep his tongue through his mouth before they parted. “You are beautiful,” Reese said softly.

  Owen blushed. Reese mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done.

  Joe and William applauded from the entryway.

  He rolled his eyes. “Go get cleaned up. You got this,” he said. “I got them.”

  Owen smiled tentatively and held Reese’s eyes for a long moment. “You,” Owen said, and then he turned and headed for the men’s room. Reese turned around and headed toward his friends, who must have arrived in a giant plastic bubble because all of them looked absolutely perfect.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” Reese gestured to the grouping of chairs he’d claimed earlier and made sure he got his comfy seat back. Carla and Lisa, also fairly damp, rushed through the door a moment later and started setting up.

  Joe and William went off to get drinks for everyone, and the others took seats. The hottest man on earth ended up sitting in a chair right next to him, and Reese was pleased to discover that Benjamin’s enchanting beauty had little hold on him any longer.

  “Sammy, I stopped by your exhibit on the way here.”

  Sammy looked genuinely pleased. “Oh, did you? I’m so glad! We really missed you at the opening.”

  “You know I was disappointed not to be there.”

  “I know, sweetie pie. So?” Sam practically squirmed in his seat.

  “You are so gifted, Sam,” Reese told him sincerely. “You know I love your work.”

  Sammy stood up and kissed Reese square on the mouth. “Oh, I do love you.”

  “Hold up, now. Why are you kissing my husband, and should I be concerned about this very public profession of love?” William said, grinning and handing Sammy his coffee.

  “Reese went to see my show today,” Sammy said enthusiastically. “He is very good for my ego.”

  “Ah.” William nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks, Reese. Happy wife, happy life.”

  Sam gasped and slapped William on the arm. Everyone burst into laughter.

  “Sammy, I don’t know if you’d consider it, but I’d like to discuss purchasing denouement.”

  “Really?” Sammy seemed pleased, but then his eyes narrowed and he nodded sagely. “Ohhh. Yes, I can see why you’d like that one.”

  He did not blush. At least he was pretty sure he didn’t. “Well. Let’s talk.”

  Sammy grinned and nodded, and Reese was happy to leave it there for now.

  Carla was warming up at the piano. He just loved her style; even her warm-up sounded amazing, little snips of this and that, scales that could easily have become melodies in their own right. Owen was warming up as well, and his mood seemed to have improved. Lisa did a once-over of everything in front of her and cracked her knuckles.

  Reese did a quick rundown for his friends, telling them about each of the ladies and how talented they were, and then he settled back in his chair to listen. They were talking, but he was watching Owen and waiting for the set to start.

  Carla glanced at Owen, who nodded back at her. They both turned their eyes on Lisa, who started off their set with a percussion solo that had a complicated and somewhat elusive rhythm at first, but when Owen joined in a few moments later, it resolved itself into the very recognizable first few bars of “Smooth Criminal.” Reese felt the goose bumps rise on his arms almost instantly, and he glanced over at his friends, whose conversation had come to a sudden and complete halt. They each looked frozen in place, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed too.

  William looked over at him as soon as he recognized the song. “What?” he said just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Are you kidding me?”

  Reese just winked and smiled back.

  About halfway into the song, he felt a hand settle on his arm. It was Sammy, who gave him an approving grin and his arm a quick squeeze. “Wow,” Sam mouthed at him. Reese nodded back. Seemed like Owen hadn’t told any of them what he played at these evening gigs. Six Hands had an eclectic repertoire, and Reese enjoyed it all. Enthusiastic applause broke out at the end of the piece, and the boys in particular were all on their feet.

  “Oh my God!” William shouted at him. Joe gave him a sharp rap on the back and Benjamin nodded slowly, giving him a sly smile. Reese wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

  He felt a sudden surge of pride that he really didn’t think he had any business feeling about someone else’s work. Then again, maybe he should be proud of Owen and what they were starting to create together. It was new, and at times confusing or even terrifying, but it already felt more solid than any of his relationships that had started out more slowly. Had it really been such a short time?

  “He’s amazing,” Joe said as they all sat back down again.

  “He’s hot,” Benjamin added.

  Reese glanced over sharply, but Benjamin just winked at him.

  “Seems like our Mr. Mercado has himself a cheering section tonight,” Carla said in that wonderfully smooth, jazzy emcee voice of hers. The boys whooped and clapped. “So, for those of you who don’t already know, this is Mr. Owen Mercado, a genius on the bass violin, also known as the cello. I’m Carla James tickling your ivories tonight, and that ridiculously perfect arrangement was handed to the both of us last week by none other than our own creative director and manager, Lisa Stein, bringing you her percussive stylings one cowbell at a time.”

  Lisa looked at her oddly and laughed.

  “I don’t know, Lis, it just came out.” Carla laughed. “Oh, and over there in the appropriately stuffy wing chair is Owen’s new boyfriend. Everyone be nice to him. Owen says he’s a keeper.”

  Reese’s eyes went wide. Everyone in the place looked right at him, recognition obvious in some of their faces, though no one went fangirl on him. The boys all had a good laugh. He noted that Owen looked like he wanted to crawl into his cello, which would have been something to see.

  “Ah, new love.” Carla winked at Reese, and then he wanted to crawl into Owen’s cello too. “So this one is for all the new lovers out there.” With that she launched into a soulful piano intro for Hozier’s “Take Me to Church.”

  Well, that wasn’t subtle. At all. Owen was blushing as he closed his eyes and started to play the melody line. It was aggressive and powerful and, well, really hot. He would have to thank Carla later.

  The evening turned out to be fun. His friends were appreciative audience members, and Carla seemed to have a good time picking on each of them over the course of the evening. If nothing else, they drank a lot of coffee and helped to stuff Miranda’s tip jar. William and Sammy were sharing the other wing chair by the end, Sammy’s legs across William’s lap. Benjamin and Joe weren’t more than a breath away from each other, leaning across the café table and on their third cappuccino each. They were definitely not turning in any time soon. The final song ended, a crazy
rendition of One Direction’s “Drag Me Down,” and everyone in the place went nuts, applauding and whistling. The trio bowed and thanked everyone numerous times, and then finally Carla shook the tip jar on her piano and the place erupted in laughter. Numerous people showed their appreciation that way as well.

  Owen came over to the group. He was flushed and tousled and beautiful. “Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming.” The boys surrounded him then, talking about the set, the song choices, his talent, and his bandmates. It was at least ten minutes before Reese even bothered to try to get a word in.

  Finally, he stepped into the group. “It’s late, guys,” he said meaningfully, and they all got the hint.

  “Oh, yeah. We better run.” William nodded to Owen and then gave Reese a hug.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Right. Can’t keep a good dance floor waiting,” Joe said with a snicker.

  “Stay dry, boys,” he said, ushering them toward the door. He squinted through the windows. It was still bucketing down out there. He headed back over to his seat and waited for Owen to finish packing up. There was no rush. Owen was staying the night after all, and he was in no hurry to head out into the rain.

  “Did I thoroughly embarrass you?”

  Reese looked up from the newspaper he’d gone back to while he was waiting for Owen and smiled at Carla. “Yes, you did. Have a seat.” Carla joined him, choosing the other large wing chair. “I hope my friends weren’t too distracting.”

  “Are you kidding? I loved them. They seemed to be having a good time.”

  “They were. What the three of you do is so unique. How could they not?”

  Carla smiled. “Well, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but we’ve been doing this a long time, and we have a bit of a loyal following.”

  “Owen told me. Since college?”

  “Yep. It’s amazing to me sometimes that the three of us have hung together that long.”

  “I’m not surprised. You all seem to really care about each other.”

  Carla nodded slowly. “We do. We do.” She leaned forward a bit. “Lisa and I care a lot about Owen.”

  “That’s… great?” Reese felt on the defensive all of a sudden. “Me too.”

  “Hey, you.” Owen sat down next to Reese. “Can I get you a refill on that coffee?”

  “I’m good,” Reese said, but he and Carla were still holding a meaningful stare. “I get you.”

  “Good,” Carla said, smiling.

  Owen sighed. “Oh, Carla. Cut it out.”

  Carla sank back into her chair. “Okay, baby.” She winked at Reese. “The last guy couldn’t hold that stare. Congratulations.”

  “Ugh, put your shotgun away, Daddy. He’ll have me home by supper.”

  Reese nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I surely will.”

  Everyone laughed, though he still felt a little intimidated. Damn.

  Lisa passed by them on her way out the door and handed them each a folder. “For rehearsal on Friday. I gotta run, but thanks for bringing the party, Reese. It was fun. You coming Friday?”

  “Oh, I can’t. I have to go out of town.”

  Owen glanced at Reese. “You do? I thought that was Saturday.”

  “Yeah, Chad called this afternoon—they want me a day early to speak.”

  Owen looked disappointed, but Lisa smiled. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. Have a great weekend. Night, you guys.” She headed for the door.

  “I’ve got a car,” Reese offered.

  “Can we give Carla a ride?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Ooh. Maybe he is a keeper,” Carla joked. They took off to get their gear.

  Chapter XI

  HE KNEW better. Everything in him knew better, and yet when he received the message, he knew he was going to go. The note had been neatly sitting in his mailbox, written in something that could have been blood, and read, “Come alone and I won’t kill anyone today,” followed by an address. Harris knew the address well enough; it was a crime scene, and the home of one of the subject’s earliest victims. The place had been abandoned since the day she had been discovered in the backyard.

  Reese sat back in his chair and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He’d spent the morning making sure he knew how he wanted this scene to go. He’d scribbled down more notes, gone over it in his head, and reread a couple of previous scenes to make sure he had the tone right. He still felt uneasy. God, he wasn’t sure he was ready to write this scene. It was pivotal. It was the scene that, if he wrote it right (and he’d hammer at it until it was right), would set the reader on a binge, careening through the final chapters toward the ending in which Harris would finally come face-to-face with his nemesis—and kill him in cold blood. That was the plan. End the bad guy, end the relentless trail of gore, end the series. He’d be free of Harris’s obsessions finally, and then, however much Reese protested he wanted to move on to new pastures, Reese assumed someone else’s horrific nightmare would begin. Welcome to his mind.

  This particular psychopath had been living in Reese’s head for a very long while. He didn’t scare Reese anymore, but sometimes he’d keep Reese awake at night. Sometimes he’d interrupt whatever Reese was doing and make him take notes about his next victim. And sometimes he got ahold of Reese entirely and kept him at the keyboard for days at a time. An obsession like that was hard to let go, and Reese knew well why these final scenes were going to be so hard for him to write.

  So, he procrastinated.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and sipped his coffee. He stood up and paced around his office. He picked up a Rubik’s Cube and had no luck solving it, again.

  He let himself listen to the soft sounds of Owen’s cello in the living room, and that made him smile. Owen had been practicing almost exclusively at Reese’s apartment for the last month, and Reese was perfectly fine with that. He’d been spending nearly every night in Reese’s bed as well, and Reese was more than fine with that too. They seemed to fit together well, working when they needed to and respecting each other’s space.

  Just yesterday, Reese had given Owen a key. Owen had accepted it with a kiss and a thank you, and without a lot of fuss. This morning, Owen had made Reese a big breakfast, given him a kiss, and then lots of uninterrupted writing time. Reese was actually starting to wonder when their relationship was going to become difficult. Weren’t relationships always difficult?

  He lifted his mug to his lips for another sip and discovered he was out of coffee.

  Procrastination!

  Now, while he was already distracted, was as good a time as any for a refill. He opened the office door, and the sound of Owen’s cello grew exponentially louder. He made his way, barefoot and still in nothing but sweatpants, across the hall to the kitchen. The open floor plan gave him a very good view from the kitchen of Owen as he played, and Reese grinned when he noticed that Owen was wearing nothing but sweatpants himself. He enjoyed discovering the little accidental similarities between them. Reese poured himself some coffee, indulged in one more long look at his lover, and then headed back to his office.

  He didn’t make it that far.

  “Hey, Reese? Did I see you walking around?”

  “Yep. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Oh, no worries. You didn’t. But as long as you’re up, could you grab me a bottle of water?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” He retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and brought it to Owen.

  “Ah, thanks. Thirsty.” Owen opened the bottle and upended it, drinking half of it in one gulp. Reese watched Owen’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

  He whistled. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Yeah.” Owen set the bottle down. Reese peered over his shoulder to look at the music. It may as well have been Chinese; Reese knew nothing about reading music. “What are you working on?”

  “Oh, this is for the next symphony opening—Debussy, Mendelssohn, a bunch of other stuff. Oh! But!” Owen shuffled some pa
ges around on his music stand. “This is an arrangement I’ve been working on for Six Hands. You want to hear it?”

  Reese read the title and smiled. “Oh, I love John Legend.”

  “I know, right? And this song is so sexy.” Owen sang some of the lyrics. It seemed like Reese learned something new about Owen every day. He didn’t know the man could sing; Owen had a little R&B in his soul. Nice.

  “So let’s hear it.” Reese stood behind Owen, looking over his shoulder to see if he could follow along with the music.

  “Yeah? Okay.” Owen shifted in his seat. “So, there’s a piano intro, here. And then I come in here.” Owen straightened up and started to play.

  Reese listened intently. He really hadn’t had any experience with the cello until he’d met Owen, and he was pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed it. The sound was so rich and romantic, and picked up Legend’s lyrical line so smoothly it was almost better than a voice. He set his coffee down and laid his hands on Owen’s bare shoulders. Owen was rocking slightly with the effort of playing, and his warm skin slid under Reese’s fingers. Reese shifted his gaze to Owen, watching the muscles in his lover’s back tense and release as he played. He leaned down and kissed Owen on the neck.

  “Oh.” Owen gasped and his fingers stuttered for a moment, but he kept on playing. Reese smiled and slid his hands lightly down Owen’s arms until his fingers rested on Owen’s elbows, careful not to add weight or hinder Owen’s movement. He pressed closer, laying soft kisses on Owen’s bare shoulders and neck. Owen sighed and his rhythm faltered.

  “Keep playing.”

  Owen nodded.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Owen shook his head and continued, picking up intensity as the song hit a crescendo. His eyes slid closed, and Reese felt him let go, just letting the music happen, his breath coming in soft pants.

  “That’s it,” Reese said softly between kisses. “Gorgeous. Breathtaking.”

  Owen part-sang, part-moaned a bit of the tune; Reese could just make out the words.

  “Oh, babe.”

  Reese stayed there, listening and just breathing Owen in until Owen came slowly to the end of the piece, plucking out the last several notes. They both stayed still and motionless until the last note disappeared into the room. Owen was panting, and his skin had broken out in light sweat.