Astounding! (10 page)

“I will! Give me ten minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you in the RV.”

As soon as Carter stepped back into the vehicle, Keith practically leaped on him. “Who was
that
?” Freddy stood beside him, eyebrows high. Obviously they’d been watching him instead of power napping.

Several alternate explanations zoomed through Carter’s head, but none of them made sense even to him. “He’s… this guy,” he said lamely.

“We figured that much out ourselves,” Freddy responded.

“He’s an author. Sort of. I met him a few weeks ago and we kind of…. Look. He’s weird. But he’s sweet. I think you’ll like him. Which is good, because he’s going to come with us.”

Neither Keith nor Freddy threw an immediate tantrum. In fact, Keith grinned delightedly, and Freddy simply gave Carter a searching look. “Have you found a keeper, Car?”

“God, no. Don’t get all matchmaker on me either. Honestly, I hardly know him. But somebody recently told me to stop thinking and start doing, so I am.” Carter folded his arms. “I hope you’re happy.”

“I’d say it’s more important if
you’re
happy.”

Carter wasn’t happy. He never had been, not really, and he never expected he would be. He’d pictured himself as a modern-day American version of a character in
La Bohème
, poor and drunken and miserable in an entirely romantic sort of way. Except it had turned out that there was nothing at all romantic about being poor, drunken, and miserable, and nobody was going to write a goddamn opera about him. So at the moment, he wasn’t happy. He was… perplexed by his own actions. Overwhelmed by his uncertain future. Confused about what the hell he was doing with John. But his life had lately turned from bad opera to surreal tragicomic mystery, and he was curious about how things would turn out. If some omnipotent but twisted Author was writing Carter’s life, Carter was suddenly determined to see his story through to the end. And that outlook was an improvement.

It did not take John ten minutes to get ready. It barely took five before he jogged across the street with a black duffel bag in one hand and knocked hesitantly on the RV door.

“Come on in,” Carter ordered impatiently. He waited until John stood inside to make introductions. “Keith, Freddy, this is John Harper. John, Freddy and Keith.”

Carter had expected John to become tongue-tied over meeting a famous author. After all, John had seemed flabbergasted to meet Carter, and nobody fanboyed editors. But now John simply smiled shyly and shook Freddy’s hand. “It’s an honor, sir. I’m a big fan.” Then he turned to Keith. “I’m happy to meet you too, sir. Is it really all right if I tag along? Carter said you wouldn’t mind, but—”

“We don’t,” Freddy interrupted. “Glad to have you on board. But for Christ’s sake, don’t call us sir.”

Keith and Freddy looked as if they wanted to ask a million questions, which was fair enough. But Carter wasn’t in the mood to answer them, and he thought it might be better if they were farther down the road before John shared his delusions. “Let’s go,” he said, heading for the driver’s seat. He sat down and looked over his shoulder at them. “How about if you take shotgun, John? Freddy and Keith, you guys can catch a few winks.”

Freddy shot him a look that said explanations had better be forthcoming later, but then he nodded and took Keith’s hand. “Fine. Come get me if you get tired of driving.”

John set his duffel bag carefully in a corner before buckling himself into the passenger seat. But when Carter started the engine, John set a hand on his right forearm. “Are you sure you want me to come along?”

No, Carter was not sure. He smiled anyway. “Yeah. I’m glad you were free to join us on such short notice.”

“It’s good this way. It would have been hard to say good-bye to my home when my people…. Well, this was very quick. That’s good.”

Pulling carefully away from the curb, Carter didn’t look at him. “You don’t expect to come back here?”

“No. Once the magazine is printed, it won’t be long at all.”

Carter wondered what would happen when the days passed and none of John’s alien compatriots showed up. Would he give up his fantasy altogether, or just alter it to fit the new circumstances? Maybe it would be like those doomsday cults that had to regroup after the world didn’t end on schedule. Oddly, Carter worried about John feeling confused or disoriented when his expectations proved false. He was such a sweet guy; he didn’t deserve to be upset.

They were back on the freeway and nearly out of town when John spoke again. “Why did you invite me?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. We were in the neighborhood and… and the impulse hit.” He stared at the back end of a semitrailer. “My life’s been weird lately. Unsettled. But I had a good time with you. Not just the sex. Um, you don’t owe me anything, of course. I can stay out of your pants.”

“I like you in my pants,” John replied, a smile in his voice. “But I enjoyed our evening too. I don’t really… I don’t have friends. And I’ve never told anyone the truth about what I am. It’s nice that you didn’t run away.”

Carter didn’t answer. And for a long time they sat silently, Carter concentrating on his driving and carefully not thinking about anything else. An hour south of Portland, he stopped to get gas. The tank took forever to fill, so he used the bathroom and bought a couple bottles of Coke and some candy bars. There was still no sign of Keith and Freddy, and Carter paid for the gas with his credit card, trying hard not to wince at the total. Broke was broke. He might as well spend until his card got rejected.

Back inside the RV, Carter handed John a bottle and a Snickers. “Hope you don’t mind some sugar. We can stop for a real dinner when the sleeping beauties wake up.”

“I like sugar,” John replied with a smile. He opened the bottle and took a long swig.

Carter realized he was staring at the way John’s lips caressed the bottle lip. He remembered what those lips felt like against his. He wanted them there right now. Which was probably not the best of ideas, while taking up an entire bay of gas pumps at a Chevron station somewhere near Albany.

With a sigh, Carter sat down and started the vehicle.

Freddy and Keith wandered out of the bedroom a while later. They greeted Carter and John sleepily before sitting behind them. “You shouldn’t have let us crash for so long,” Freddy said.

“No big deal. I like driving.”

“Where are we?” He likely couldn’t see many clues outside, where darkness had fallen.

“We drove through Eugene just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Freddy yawned noisily.

Keith chimed in. “That means we’re about 130 miles out of Grants Pass. There’s a campground there. Freddy and I thought that would be a good place to stop for the night, if that’s okay with you guys.” No doubt he’d done all the research on his phone.

“Fine with me,” said Carter, who didn’t really care where they slept.

“How about you, John?” Keith asked.

“I…. Oh.” John sounded startled to have been asked. “Anything is fine. It’s your vacation.”

“Yeah, except now it’s
our
vacation. Sorry to tell you, buddy, but now you’re one of us. Which is good, because you bring our average attractiveness up by several points.” Keith seemed as cheerful as usual. “But I guess if nobody’s gonna object, Grants Pass it is. Should we stop to eat along the way?”

Carter waved a hand at the wrappers scattered on the console between him and John. “We’ve been snacking.”

“Then I’m going to fix sandwiches for me and Freddy, to tide us over for a while. I’ve never played chef in a moving vehicle before.” He cackled.

“I could pull over.”

“Nah. This’ll be a challenge.”

It was a little odd to hear a fridge opening and closing, a bread wrapper rustling, plates clattering, all while rumbling down the road. Keith offered to make them sandwiches too, but Carter wasn’t hungry and John politely declined. Still, the four of them sitting together in the RV together was pleasant. Cozy. They lazily discussed their plans for the rest of the evening, finally deciding to eat in. Keith used his phone to steer them off the freeway to a supermarket. He and John went inside to shop—their contribution as nondrivers, Keith explained—leaving Carter and Freddy in the RV.

“He’s quiet,” Freddy observed when they were alone. “And gorgeous. And what do you two have together that he’s willing to take off with you on no notice at all?”

Carter sat in the driver’s seat, refusing to look at Freddy. “Nothing. We hardly know each other. He’s sort of… unconventional.”

“Hmm. Well, so far, I approve of him. He doesn’t seem like a dick.”

Freddy’s approval shouldn’t have mattered, but it made Carter smile. “He’s not.”

“Good. And Car, let me pay for the goddamn gas from now on, okay?”

“Because I am pathetic and destitute.”

“Because it makes me happy to spend money on my friends, asshole.”

Carter didn’t answer him, pretending that the view of the nearly empty supermarket parking lot was engrossing. He wondered what it would be like to live in a small town like this. He’d always lived in the city.

Freddy plopped down in the passenger seat with a noisy
whoof
. “You haven’t gotten any less stubborn with age. In fact, I think you’re worse. If you clench that jaw any tighter you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Fred—”

“Listen.” Freddy poked Carter’s shoulder. “Remember back when we were kids sharing that shitty apartment and— Oh. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’ll be evicted soon from that shitty apartment.”

“
Car
ter,” Freddy scolded like a disappointed parent. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” This time he pulled insistently at Carter’s arm until he finally swiveled to face him.

“What?” Carter demanded.

“We used to sit there with our thrift store furniture and our ramen noodles and our cheap beer, and we used to talk about our dreams for the future. Do you remember mine?”

Carter answered promptly. “To quit the evil day jobs and write full-time.”

“Exactly!” Freddy beamed at him, a parent proud of his prodigy. “And I did that, didn’t I? I’ll never have to spend another day doing anything but what I want to do, and that’s an amazing gift. But you know me. I’m not lusting after a rock-star lifestyle. I have a fantastic house and a good car. I can keep Keith in the lifestyle to which he’s become accustomed. My parents have their nice little retirement place in Palm Springs. I’m no Bill Gates or anything, but I get to donate a pretty hefty chunk to my favorite causes each year. I get to write scenes in which sexy actors are bare-assed, and they all suck up to me in hopes I won’t kill them off. I have everything a guy could ask for.”

He sat back in his seat, looking chubby and rumpled and slightly astonished with his own success. A swell of affection rose in Carter’s chest, making him smile. “I’m truly happy for you,” Carter said.

“I know you are. ’Cause you’re that kind of man. But I want to tell you something. No, two things.” Freddy raised one finger. “I’ve got more money than I need, and doing for my friends makes me happy. Not because I have to, not because I want them to owe me anything. Not because I feel sorry for them. But because I am a generous son of a bitch and giving things away makes me feel good.”

“Yeah, okay, but—”

“Not finished.” A second finger rose. “I especially like giving to
you
, despite your obstinacy, because you made me the magnificent Famous Author I am today.”

Carter answered with a tilted head and raised eyebrows.

Freddy used both fingers to poke his bicep again. “You did. You convinced me that I could really write, and that my writing was decent enough for public consumption. You talked me out of becoming an English professor—God, I am thankful for that daily—and told me to aim for being an author instead. When I got rejected those first few times and was ready to give up, you kicked my ass and made me keep on trying. You founded the magazine that got me my first solid publications. And when you edited my stories those early years, you cured me of some of my sloppy writing habits and taught me to take an editor’s advice like a man. You did these things, Carter Evans. And if I want to pay for you to take a goddamn vacation, you’re fucking well going to let me, even if I have to tie you down and make you.”

Freddy had always given Carter credit for his success, so these claims were nothing new. But hearing them all together like that and seeing the expression of fierce determination on Freddy’s face—those things warmed Carter’s jaded old cockles. “I didn’t think you were into kink like that.”

“Try me, boy. I am
totally
into forced munificence.”

They laughed together at that, soft and nice in the darkened RV. Then Freddy patted Carter’s shoulder. “I won’t let you be homeless either. I do know a lot of writers and publishing types. They’d snap you up as a freelancer in a second.”

“Freelancing,” Carter sighed.

“You make it sound like a death sentence.”

“It’s….” Carter couldn’t help another noisy exhale. “I had dreams too. Remember?”

“You were going to publish a cutting-edge magazine that would print amazing works by up-and-coming writers. You did that, Car. You’ve been doing that for over a decade.
Astounding!
has a truly solid rep. Lots of authors are proud to say you published them. Including me.”

Carter nodded and then looked away. “Thanks. But….” He waved his hands a bit, unable to find the words for what he felt.

But of course Freddy had the words. “But you wanted more than that. Not for you my simple fantasies of best-seller lists, critical acclaim, and financial independence. No. Carter Evans wanted to change the world.” He said it fondly, without accusation or derision.

“Yes,” Carter whispered.

“You
did
change the world, dope. Not completely. But in the whole history of humankind, only a few people have radically changed the world—and most of them were villains. You’ve changed it one person, one story at a time. And that’s something.”

Carter was still chewing that over when Keith and John came staggering up, their arms loaded with paper grocery sacks.