His Work of Art (12 page)

“I'd like to finish our conversation. Please get in.”

She climbed into his car, and he ran around and got behind the wheel. He started the engine and turned up the heat. Reese slid her arms into her jacket while he shivered.

“I'm not trying to hurt you. I just want you to understand.”

“Well, I don't.” She crossed her arms again. “I think it would've been easier to keep believing you weren't attracted to me. That you liked me only when I was dressed up like Julie. Because at least then, I had some control. I could change if I really wanted to, not that I do. But you're holding something against me that I have zero control over.”

“It's not you.” She snorted and he stared out the windshield at the front of the shop. “I was born into an interracial family. I obviously get my skin color from my dad.”

“You never talk about him.”

“He's not a big part of my life. He lives in Ohio now. My parents loved each other. I remember that when I was little. They smiled and laughed and were happy. But I also remember the way people would stare at us, the comments they made. My dad couldn't handle it, so he left.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Reese lean closer and open her mouth and then snap it shut again.

“He's not a bad guy. He always supported me. He didn't move to Ohio until I graduated high school. He was around, but I never felt like I'd be really close to him because I'm a lot like my mom.” There. He said it. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it would be. He stole a peek at Reese.

Her eyes narrowed again. “So even though you like me and you're attracted to me, you won't date me because people might say mean shit?”

The incredulity in her voice irked him. She still didn't understand, just like he thought.

“No. People are going to say shit about me and I know that.”

“Are you worried I can't handle it?”

Was he? Sure. But he knew better than to say that. She'd finally calmed down enough that smoke stopped streaming from her ears. That kind of honesty would bring it all back. “I don't think I can handle people saying shit about us. And if I can't handle it, you'll end up getting hurt.”

She laid a hand on his arm, warming his chilled skin. He turned to face her. She licked her lips and all he could think about was kissing her.

“So, if I'm understanding right, you're afraid you're like your dad. That you'll run from happiness because outside forces make it hard.”

That was it in a nutshell. He gave her a stiff nod.

“I wish you could understand that you have choices too. By your way of thinking, I shouldn't date anyone because I might be like my mom and choose someone who'll beat me. We get to choose who we are, Adam. It's sad that you don't know that.” She gave his arm a little pat and opened the car door. “Shoot me a text when you have the sketches done and we'll talk.”

He watched her walk through the parking lot without a glance back. She wasn't running away or cutting him off. She still wanted to work with him.

What about when the comics were done? Then what? Would they just not see each other again?

She'd get over it. If she could continue to be friends and hang out with her ex-boyfriend, surely one night of sex wouldn't ruin everything for them. He turned the key in the ignition, but continued to stare at the store. His mom would ask questions. He wasn't sure he was ready to face her.

He shoved out of the car and ran back into the store. His mom stood behind the register and glanced behind him. “Where's Reese?”

“She left.”

“Are you two fighting?”

“Kind of.” He walked to his desk and gathered his papers. He glanced over the sketches he'd done of Alexis as Lyrid and Gunner watching her. Adam hadn't gotten the chance to tell Reese why he thought the story was going in the wrong direction.

“Business or personal?”

“Huh?”

“Your disagreement. Was it over the comic or was it personal?”

Although the question made sense, Adam had never thought about them being separate. “Personal.”
Very.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not much to say. I did something stupid and although I apologized, I don't know if we can go back.”

His mom came close and rubbed a hand across his shoulders. “Are you sure you want to go back?”

“We have to.”

“Why?”

He slid away from his mother's touch. “I don't want to end up like you and Dad.”

“What?”

“Reese got mad because I won't date her because she's white.”

His mother, usually calm and laid-back, hauled off and smacked the back of his head. He winced and rubbed at the spot.

“What was that for?”

“Talking stupid. I raised you better than that. You're going to walk away from a beautiful girl who really cares about you because of the color of her skin?”

He closed his eyes and inhaled, preparing to explain himself. Again. “I don't have a problem with the color of her skin. If I wasn't attracted to her, I wouldn't have slept with her.”

From the glare he received now, he realized that wasn't the right thing to say either. He took another step back in case another swat was headed his way.

“What does any of that have to do with me and your father?”

“What if I'm not strong enough?”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm afraid that I won't be able to handle the looks and comments, derisive remarks. That I'll run away like Dad did.” He hung his head. He knew his parents loved him and that should've been enough. He'd never felt the need to discuss these fears.

His mom cupped his cheek and forced him to look up. “Your father was far from a great husband. Things didn't work out between us, but it had nothing to do with race.”

“Don't lie to me, Mom. I remember him getting mad that people would look at us funny at the park. I remember you trying to talk him down.”

“And maybe that was my mistake. I didn't want him to make a scene because I didn't want to give anyone that kind of hold on my life. I'd hoped you were too young to understand. Your father is strong. He'd take on a whole army to protect you, so you could have whatever life you want.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Your dad and I split up because it wasn't working between us.”

He took a step back. “I get that. That's what you've said my whole life, but the undercurrent has always been there too.”

“It doesn't matter. Surround yourself with people who care about you. Do you get strange looks for being friends with Hunter? Or Free? Because let's face it, that boy is weird.”

He laughed and so did she. A few tears fell while she laughed. Free
was
weird, and no one ever gave a second thought to who his best friends were.

Their laughter stopped and his mom sobered. “People are going to be assholes. Nothing you can do about it. Just live your life. I do.” Then she smiled and walked to the back room.

Adam stared at the sketches for the comic. His mother offered good advice, as usual. He couldn't argue with it, but he didn't know how to do it either.

M
ore than two weeks flew by, and Adam still had no clue what he was doing. He and Reese worked mostly via e-mail. She sent him pieces of the story and he responded with comments and ideas. This comic had gone almost nowhere since she first e-mailed it to him and they fought in the shop. It was like they'd lost their mojo.

He was sure she felt it too. They didn't fight over the story direction; it just wasn't working. He sat in his room with pages spread across both desks. He stared at the images. No words appeared anywhere because the text kept changing.

The silence of his room pounded down on him. The one time he longed for Hunter to be here, making noise, playing music, he was nowhere to be found. He spun on his chair, trying to get comfortable, and he remembered his first kiss with Reese. They'd sat so close, the constant low-level hum of energy zapped between them.

There had been no way he could've
not
kissed her. But before the kiss, they were in sync. They worked seamlessly. More than anything, he missed having that with her. Business calls and texts and e-mails weren't cutting it.

And if he was being totally honest, he wanted more. More collaboration, more laughter, more kissing, more fucking. He missed everything about her, and he had no idea how the hell that happened.

Before he lost his nerve, he called her.

“What's up?” she answered, friendly enough.

“This isn't working.”

“What's not?”

“This story. Bouncing ideas back and forth via e-mail. We finished the first comic in one night of working together at your apartment. We raced through another in one night at mine. We've wasted two weeks not getting anything right with this one.” He held his breath and waited.

“What are you saying? You want out?”

“No.” He nearly yelled and dialed it back. “No. I think we need to work in person. It's a lot more productive.”

Silence met his suggestion.

“I also need your help with the stuff Julie wants. I'm not the writer. I have no idea what I'm doing. I can come to your place, or you can come here. Wherever you'd be more comfortable. This comic has the potential to be amazing and I don't want to fuck it up.”

“Neither do I.” Her sigh was quiet. “I'm free now. Is your apartment good, or are Hunter and company playing music?”

“I don't know where Hunter is, so here is fine. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you won't be comfortable here alone with me.”

She snickered. “We've already covered that. Since I'm still white, I have nothing to worry about. Be there soon.”

Her comment stung, but he had it coming. He raced through the apartment, flipping on lights and making sure it was clean.

When Reese arrived, he met her outside with a permit for her to park. She followed him into the apartment silently. They went straight to his room, where she took off her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair he'd brought in for her. She scooted to be in front of one desk, leaving his stool by the other.

Clearly, she planned to keep her distance. “Work your magic, Adam. Where did we go wrong?” As she spoke, she scanned the pages in front of her.

“Gunner made contact with Lyrid in the last book, but you have him pulling back here. I don't know how much readers will be willing to put up with if they aren't given a reason.”

Reese traced an image of Gunner with her finger. “He doesn't think he's good enough for her. Not as a friend, not as a mentor. So he pulls back.”

“But you don't have that on the page. He's just being an asshole to her, and she doesn't know how to handle that.”

Reese hopped in her seat, suddenly excited. “That's it. That's the problem. Gunner has already gotten her to accept her new powers. She needs to grow a pair. Push back at him for being an asshole. Fight for him.”

She reached into a pocket and came up with a pencil. Then she started pushing papers around, and he fought the cringe as she made a mess. Finally, she just flipped a page over and began scribbling.

Adam wheeled his stool closer to see what she wrote, but her arms covered the words. He handed her a printed-out copy of their latest revision. She flipped through it and went back to her scribbles. Mumbling to herself, she said, “If we scrap page two, and move three later . . .”

He sat quietly and watched. This was the Reese he missed. She became engrossed in her story—their story—and he realized he didn't want it to end. She filled the page in her hand and thrust it at him. “Get started. I think this is right.”

He read what she'd written. This was it. This was what had been missing for the last two weeks. He grabbed clean paper and started over, using the new text. He shifted some of the panels she had listed. When she saw, she poked at them and argued for her arrangement.

They argued, disagreed, and then compromised.

It all felt too simple.

For the next two hours, they went back and forth, creating story and images. As they worked, Reese relaxed and closed the distance between them, both the physical and the emotional. When they got to the last page, his hand was cramping, but a smile creased his face. Reese leaned over and drew a smiley face on the page where he worked.

“Some artistry.”

She was still leaning across his desk. Over her shoulder, she said, “I know. Maybe you should frame it. Might make you a millionaire.”

Her cocky grin completely undid him. He dropped his pencil and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her closer. Hesitation never crossed his mind when he captured her mouth. He sank into her, feeling the comfort she offered, hoping she felt the same.

A hard hand slapped his chest and she shoved away. “What are you doing?”

He stared at her and said the first thing that came to mind. “Living my life.”

“What the hell does that mean? Don't play games with me.” She stood and snatched her jacket off the chair.

“I'm not playing.”

“What do you expect?”

“How about you kiss me back?”

“Why? So that tomorrow you can come to the realization that I'm still white?”

“I don't care what color you are. I told you that before.” Fear and longing stole through him.

“No. You said you wouldn't date me because I'm white. I don't plan to be your dirty little secret booty call.”

He jumped back. “That's not what I'm looking for.”

“I'll talk to you later. I thought this was a good idea, and for a while there, it was.” She turned and walked away.

He chased after her and caught her at the front door. He slammed his palm against the wood to prevent her from opening it. Speaking to the back of her head, he said, “I've missed you over the last couple of weeks. I don't want this to stop. Maybe I should've said that before I kissed you again, but I couldn't help myself.”

She didn't turn to respond, but kept her hand on the doorknob. “You want me to believe that you're suddenly okay with being an interracial couple? That people staring or commenting isn't going to bother you?”

“Yes. No. It's going to bother me, but I don't care.”

“I wish I could believe you.” Then she pushed back against him and fled out the door.

Fuck. How was he supposed to fix this? In his head, it made sense. She was supposed to be in his arms, happy that he'd unfucked himself. Thrilled that he wanted to be with her.

But she hadn't said she didn't want to be with him, just that she didn't believe him. He'd have to figure out how to make her believe.

Reese raced out of Adam's house so fast that she skidded on the frozen ground on the way to her car. Emotions boiled through her, and she didn't know what to do. She knew coming here would be a mistake, but she couldn't help herself. The fact that not only had Adam asked her, but also that he recognized how well they worked together, forced her to come. She also figured it would be a good test for herself. She needed to know if she was able to work productively with him without wanting to strip him.

As she waited for her car to warm up, she looked back at the apartment. The hours she'd just spent there were great. She loved everything about being with Adam, including his surprise kiss. When his lips met hers, she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him.

But his words of fear echoed through her head.

The heat rattled to life. She took one last look at the building. Did she just run away from something great? He said he wanted her. That was all she'd wanted from him two weeks ago. Maybe he'd just needed time to come to terms with how he felt. It wasn't like he was the first emotionally stunted guy she'd known.

Throwing the car into drive, she pulled away. She couldn't sit there all night playing guessing games. On her way home, she half-expected Adam to call or text. That's what a guy was supposed to do if he wanted a girl.

Her phone remained silent all night. The following morning, she lay awake in bed, dreading getting up for class. The last semester of college had to be the worst. But she needed to move because she had to meet with her adviser about her senior project. Everything was on target, and she had little to worry about for that.

Even if Adam backed out, she still had three completed comics. It was more than most people were producing. Of course, she'd still have to write a paper about the entire experience and whether she thought crowd funding was a viable way to publish comics, but that was a no-brainer. It all boiled down to developing a quality team.

Adam was part of her quality team. She really wanted them to figure this shit out. When she opened the apartment door to head to school, a paper was taped to the front. A page from her comic. She tore it off the door and read. No, not a page from her comic, but her characters. Definitely Adam's drawing.

She read the text. It was his writing too. A simple text box that said:

Behind the scenes with Lyrid and Gunner—For your eyes only.

 

She remembered the first time she'd handed him a story. Now the man was not only getting weird, but he was making fun of her.

Lyrid was different, though. She was smaller, not as busty, and her top was different. The neckline scooped low without showing cleavage, like a tank top. On her left shoulder the shooting star that Adam had drawn on Reese peeked out from under the collar and the strap of the shirt.

It was beautiful, but she had no idea what this was supposed to mean. She ran down to her car and when she got behind the wheel, she found another picture. Staring at the sketch of Lyrid and Gunner, standing side by side, she tried to figure out what was different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She laid the paper on the seat beside her and saw the note that read, “You really should lock your car.”

As if someone would want to steal this piece of crap. She drove to school trying to figure out what Adam was doing. She hoped he didn't want to change the entire look of the characters at this point. Lyrid was looking more like what she'd wanted early in the process, but the first three books were done. She didn't want to go back and redo them.

After she met with her adviser, who was duly impressed with both the campaign and the quality of the stories, Reese got a text from Adam.

Then he sent a photo of the drawing. Even without words on the page, she could tell that Gunner and Lyrid were arguing. Gunner was reaching for Lyrid's mask to pull it off. Just a hint of the mask was stretched away from her face.

She texted back, but got no response.

She went through her classes, and when she got back home, Adam was sitting on the steps waiting for her. “You didn't answer my text.”

“I'm not good with words. So I finished the rest of the panels.” He looked like hell, like he hadn't slept.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He handed her the last two pages.

In the first one, Gunner had removed Lyrid's mask and Reese's heart about stopped. She was staring at her own face. Only the back of Gunner's head was in the picture, but the hand that had torn away the mask still hovered near Lyrid's face. She'd know that hand anywhere. She looked up at Adam. Again, she asked, “What are you doing?”

He stood and slid the bottom page to the top. Gunner and Lyrid were in an embrace, lips almost touching, but it was Adam and Reese, not the characters they had created.

“You were right. I can't spend my life worrying about other people. Over the last couple of weeks, I realized that I don't want to live my life without you in it.”