Creative Process Read online

  “Okay, honey, step on in.” Chad settled Reese under the rainfall showerhead. “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me,” Chad said solemnly and turned on the water. Judging by Reese’s reaction, it was likely ice-cold.

  “Ahh! What the—? Motherfucker! What the hell, Chad? Jesus, you fucking asshole!”

  Reese was complaining loudly and cursing Chad out as colorfully as his obviously muddled mind could manage, but he was dutifully standing under the water. After a couple of minutes, his eyes were open, and he had visibly started to shiver. Chad, apparently satisfied, reached into the shower and turned on the hot water tap. “You take a nice long shower, put on some pants, and Owen and I will meet you in the kitchen. Oh.” Chad gestured to Owen, and Owen brought over the coffee. Chad took the mug and handed it to Reese around the shower door. “This will either help your head or make you hurl. Either way you’ll be better off,” Chad told Reese, and then he walked past Owen, apparently expecting him to follow.

  Chad went straight to the kitchen and opened the freezer, pulling out a bag of frozen blueberries. Then he opened up the refrigerator and grabbed a bag of fresh spinach. “I think he keeps some oatmeal in there,” Chad suggested. Owen looked at him. “Do you think you could find it?”

  “Oh.” Owen started to move. “Yeah. Sure.” In moments the blender was going. Owen was very concerned that the sound was going to cause his brain to explode.

  “Oh, right. You too, huh?” Chad asked kindly.

  Owen just nodded.

  “Right. Sit down.”

  Owen sank heavily onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Chad poured two glasses of his blueberry concoction and set one down in front of Owen. “Drink that. Plenty of antioxidants, fiber, and folic acid, and it’s not gross.”

  Owen looked at the glass skeptically, but he took a sip. Chad was right; it wasn’t gross. It was pretty good actually. He sat on his stool and sipped the smoothie slowly, watching Chad make oatmeal.

  “You are so fired,” Reese growled as he emerged from the bedroom. He took a seat next to Owen and put the half-empty coffee mug on the counter. “Morning, babe,” he mumbled grumpily. Owen smiled slightly at the notion that Reese was so hungover but still had the presence of mind to say good morning to him.

  “I do the firing around here, honey, and it is well after noon.” Chad slipped the other green smoothie over to Reese. “Drink that.”

  “No.” Reese picked it up and took a big gulp.

  Chad nodded. “Good boy. Feeling better?”

  “Why are you here, Chad?” Reese asked.

  Chad narrowed his eyes at Reese. “You’re welcome.”

  Owen listened to their banter quietly, paying attention as much as he could to their dynamic. Chad had obviously done this before and clearly had Reese’s best interests in mind, but Owen had to wonder the same thing. Why was he here?

  Reese made a disgusted sound and shifted in his seat.

  “Reese, you and I are going to Chicago tomorrow. We have details to work out, remember?”

  His brow furrowed. “You’re going to Chicago?”

  Reese looked between them. “Oh God. My head.”

  “He’s speaking at another fiction convention in Chicago Saturday night.” Chad slid them each a bowl of oatmeal. Reese tucked right into his, but Owen wasn’t all that hungry all of a sudden.

  “I guess he forgot to tell me.”

  Chad snorted. “Not surprising, he likely forgot about it entirely.”

  “Didn’t.” Reese sulked.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you, but this is pretty typical for him.”

  Owen nodded. “I’ve heard a couple of stories.”

  Reese groaned. “I’m right here.”

  “So how long will you be out of town?” he continued to ask Chad, since Reese clearly didn’t have the answers.

  “Just a long weekend. We’ll fly back Tuesday morning.”

  “Okay. And what does he do at these conventions?”

  “Oh, signings, a couple of panels, some interviews, and then his speech of course. Why don’t you come along?”

  “Still here,” Reese offered weakly.

  Owen was surprised by the invitation. He probably could fly out Sunday and fly back with them on Tuesday. “I’ll let you know.” He took a few bites of oatmeal and watched Reese carefully. “So, why didn’t you tell me you had a history with absinthe?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  Reese pushed back from the counter and slid off his stool. “I need some aspirin.”

  Owen and Chad watched him go.

  Chad broke the silence after Reese disappeared into the bedroom. “He’s bad off, huh?”

  Owen shrugged. “He’s got a hangover,” he replied, but he didn’t like the way Chad looked at him when he said it. “What?”

  “Did you two argue?”

  “Argue?”

  “You know, angry words, sore subjects, argue?”

  “What, are you a relationship counselor now?” Owen didn’t quite mean to take that tone, but his own hangover wasn’t helping him any.

  Chad snorted. “Listen, honey. My job, what Reese pays me to do for him, is to get his books out there, his face out there. To sell his product. He pays me to get him where he needs to be when he needs to be there, and because of that, I’ve been privy to more of his hangovers and his failed relationships than I really care to remember.”

  “I don’t really need to hear about—”

  Chad raised a hand, cutting Owen off. “Hang on. You are different, Owen.”

  Owen blinked at him.

  “While I certainly was there to pick him back up and cheer him on when things fell apart in the past, I didn’t bother to meddle in those other affairs because I could tell they weren’t working. It wasn’t worth it. Reese is a very good friend, but he has never been one to listen to me when it comes to the men he—” Chad made a vague gesture with a swoop of his hand. “—involves himself with.”

  “You seem to have a lot to say right now,” Owen snapped. Oh God. His inner asshole always got the better of him when he was hungover. “Sorry,” he sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. Chad didn’t seem to react.

  “Well, he speaks very highly of you, honey.” Chad poured himself a cup of coffee. “He’s told me about your music, about the women in your band. He actually told me how good he thinks you are for him.”

  Owen lifted his head. That was a little more interesting. He watched Chad put four spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee. That was interesting too.

  “He also thinks you’re as hot as the sun, and, heavens, he’s right about that for sure.” Chad winked at Owen, and Owen staunchly refused to blush. He wasn’t sure it worked. “But for once in his life ‘hot’ wasn’t the first and only thing Reese had to say about someone he was sleeping with. He was nervous, you know. I think he wanted me to talk him out of this thing with you. I didn’t.”

  “Well, that was kind.” Owen snorted.

  “Owen.” Chad emphasized his name in a way that demanded Owen’s attention. “You are the first man in as long as I have known Reese who actually seems to respect what he needs. I’m trying to tell you that I’m really happy for you both. But he’s got issues, and they will come up. I thought maybe something might have happened that he’s in this state this morning. I am just trying to help.”

  Well that was… a lot to think about. “We didn’t argue at all. We had an amazing night, if you must know.” In Owen’s book, it had been a perfect night. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

  Chad nodded. “Ohhhh. Congratulations. That explains things.”

  “He didn’t overdo it because of that.” Did he? Owen looked at Chad.

  “Okaaay,” Chad said slowly. He didn’t seem convinced. “Then I’ll just say that Reese… isn’t great with strong emotions.”

  “He’s got abandonment issues,” Owen said out loud, though he hadn’t meant to.

  Chad nodded. “He told you about his dad?”


  “You mean the guy he calls his sperm donor? Just last night. And about his mom too.” Oh. “Oh, wow.” That was a lot of emotion for one night for someone that had trouble with that kind of thing.

  “Paul left him, and then his mom passed away, and he hasn’t dated anyone since. But you didn’t have an argument, honey, which is what would typically have happened to put him in this state. And he usually runs his lovers off before he has to confide in them about anything. Especially his parents.”

  Owen’s brow furrowed. “Runs them off?”

  “Well, as you’ve obviously put together on your own, Reese doesn’t handle people leaving him very well. He gets it. He talked to someone for a while after his break with Paul. At my insistence at first, but he stuck with it on his own. Between his issues and how he obsesses over his writing, I don’t think he thought he was capable of a relationship. I think it was just too much risk, emotionally. Personally, I think he ended things before they got too serious on purpose. Some of it really is his writing, but some of it is just that the blank page isn’t judgmental.”

  Well, that was a lot to wrap his foggy mind around, and Owen wasn’t sure what to say to any of it, so he didn’t say anything and picked at his cooling oatmeal instead.

  Reese came out of the bedroom. Owen seriously hoped he hadn’t overheard their conversation. “What time is the fucking car coming tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Well, look who is speaking in full sentences.”

  “Asshole. Give me coffee.”

  Chad laughed gently and retrieved the coffee pot. “Six thirty in the morning.”

  “Christ. That’s an ugly hour.”

  “I’m getting in the shower,” Owen said, not really ready to talk. He was fine with everything—nothing had really changed—but it bothered him for some reason that Reese’s publicist knew more about Reese than he did. It bothered him that Reese’s publicist was so comfortable in Reese’s kitchen. And also that Reese’s publicist seemed so at home stepping into the middle of their relationship. Even if Reese’s publicist was a “friend.”

  If Owen were honest, it was possible that Chad’s familiarity was pinging Owen’s own issues. He needed some space to think.

  Chad nodded. “We’ll get the business talk over with before you get back,” he promised.

  Good. Maybe Chad would be gone before he was out of the shower. Owen made his way through the bedroom to the bathroom, dumped Reese’s robe on the floor, and started the water. He was going to take a long hot shower and figure out why he had such a bad attitude all of a sudden.

  Actually, he knew why. But he was still hungover and didn’t quite have a handle on it yet. Owen would have been perfectly happy to nurse Reese’s hangover himself today, without the help of Mr. Fixit. He also could have gone the rest of his life without hearing another word about Reese’s other lovers and how they had all gone down in flames. Particularly when, if Chad were to be believed, it seemed Reese had fired the missiles himself.

  Chad’s attempt at reassurances didn’t help at all. Telling Owen, if it was even true, that Reese hadn’t said this or done that before. That Owen was different. That Reese had tried to get Chad to talk him out of it? How the fuck was that supposed to be comforting?

  His intention in getting into the shower and removing himself from that conversation was to spend some time readjusting his attitude, but the longer he stood in the shower, the more frustrated he got. Fuck Chad and his Florence Nightingale act anyway. Reese had spent the night not only telling Owen that he was in love but showing him. Reese had shed real tears over the intensity of it all. As far as Owen was concerned, that was the most honest moment they’d ever shared, the most raw. It was something Owen hadn’t ever shared with anyone else; no one had ever been that open to him. Ever. It was definitely not the actions of a man who intended to torpedo the houseboat.

  No way.

  Owen rinsed off and grabbed a towel. He dried off hastily, pulled on Reese’s robe again, and belted it loosely before marching himself through the living room and back into the kitchen. Chad and Reese were sipping coffee, and Reese was starting to look more human.

  “So, Chad, thanks for stopping by. I’ve got this,” Owen said coolly, laying a hand on Reese’s back. “I’ll make sure he’s packed for tomorrow and get him into his car. Six thirty?”

  Chad blinked at Owen and raised an eyebrow. “Yes. We were just—”

  “Wrapping up, right? Reese can call you later. Sound good?”

  Chad looked at Reese and then back at Owen. “Well, sure. I suppose.”

  Reese wisely didn’t say a single word. He just looked at Chad and shrugged.

  “Well, okay then, honey. I’ve got an appointment, so try me around six,” Chad suggested, heading for the door.

  “Have a nice day.” Owen’s tone was more than a little sarcastic.

  “Right. Feel better, Reese.” The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

  “What the hell was that about?” Reese asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

  “He needed to go home.”

  “He was just trying to help, Owen.” Reese sighed, and Owen could hear in his voice that he was still hurting.

  “We need to talk, Reese.”

  Reese inhaled sharply through his teeth and shook his head.

  Owen looked Reese over for a long moment, then reached for Reese’s chin and lifted it so their eyes met. “Last night was the most incredible night I have ever spent with anyone. Ever,” he told Reese earnestly. “I have never been with a man more honest.”

  Reese slid off his stool. “Yeah, it was amazing.” He set his coffee mug down. “Are you all done in the bathroom?”

  Owen felt for a moment like Reese had stabbed him in the chest with his contrived indifference. It left him a little breathless, even if he had been prepared for it. “Sit.”

  Reese turned his head sharply.

  Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Reese Kelsey, sit your ass down.”

  Reese sighed and sat heavily. “Look, I know where you are going with this. It was great, but….” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “No. I’m very sure you have no idea where I’m going with this. It’s not but, Reese, it’s and. Last night was fucking mind-blowing and I love you too.” Owen watched as Reese lifted his head and turned slowly on his stool. “Oh, you heard that all right, did you, Mr. Send Them Packing? Well, I want you to know it’s going to take more than your cold feet and your disastrous former love life to scare me off. Got it?”

  “Owen—”

  “I said, got it?”

  Reese nodded slowly. “I got it.” His lover sounded tired. Owen relented and moved in, pulling Reese close and cradling Reese’s head against his chest. “Jesus Christ, you scare the hell out of me.”

  Owen nodded. He could relate to that. “Yeah. I scare the hell out of me too.” He laughed and Reese chuckled softly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m no good to anybody today, Owen.”

  “Nonsense, you gave Chad an excuse to come here, attempt to intimidate me with how much you trust him and how much he knows about you that I don’t, and then regale me with uninspiring tales of former lovers. I actually think he enjoyed himself.”

  Reese made a disgusted sound. “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. I think he knows where we stand now.”

  “I’ll talk to him on the plane tomorrow.”

  Owen considered apologizing but thought better of it. Why not let Reese stick up for him? “Thank you.” He let Reese go and looked into his eyes. They were pretty bloodshot. “You need to brush your teeth. I’m going to clean up, and then I’ll help you pack.”

  “And then a nap? Please?”

  Owen smiled. “And then a nap.” They both could use a little more rest, for sure.

  Chapter XIII

  “SO HOW did you get into writing?”

  It was a reasonable question, but of everything people asked authors at conventions, it was the one Reese dreaded the most. Fortunate
ly, this time it was directed at one of his fellow authors and not to him.

  “Well, that’s a good question,” she began, looking like she was thinking very hard about the answer. “I think I was probably about four and my mom sent me to preschool.” The crowd laughed, but Reese was pretty sure the panel laughed harder. “Look,” she said more seriously. “I’m sorry to make fun of your question. Really. I don’t think you get into writing. Writing gets into you. I can’t tell you how because I didn’t conjure it up. It just happened to me.”

  Reese nodded and grinned, pretty damn impressed with that answer.

  It had been a long hour, but it was almost over. This was his third and final panel for the day. Just a few more questions and he could hit the bar. He was starving.

  The moderator pointed into the crowd and someone with a microphone made their way over to a young man wearing an AC/DC T-shirt. “Mr. Kelsey, where do you get your ideas?”

  Oh, that was a bad one too. Especially for someone who wrote the kinds of things he did. “Well,” Reese said, leaning toward his mic. He cleared his throat. “Honestly, I kind of have horrible, evil, bloodthirsty people living in my head all the time. Sometimes I worry that if I weren’t a writer, I’d be a serial killer.” That got a very uncomfortable laugh. The truth frequently did. “No, seriously, I get a lot of ideas from the newspapers, and I research cold cases and that sort of thing.” That was a lie. Mostly. “It helps to focus on the good guys when I write—people that I base my characters on, Harris, and his colleagues—they are the ones who really move the story along, not the psychos. I try to focus on their humanity. Their reasons for hunting down the scum of the earth.” That part was true, but Reese always thought it sounded lame.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kelsey. Well, ladies and gentleman, that’s the end of our time today. Let’s have a round of applause for our panel. Thank you for coming.”