His Work of Art (2 page)

His hands moved in long, quick strokes, and intense focus filled his face. She hadn't wanted to interrupt him, so she crept close to peek at the drawings. She'd been only able to catch a glimpse, but she knew they were good.

Today was simply a confirmation.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A simple text:

The text made her smile and she thanked him before saving his contact information. Then she dialed Julie's number.

“Hello.”

“I did it. I talked to Adam and he's got the first book now.”

“Adam who?”

“Cute comic shop guy?”

“Oh.” Julie stretched the word into four syllables. “So what did he say?”

“He said he'd look at the story and get back to me.” She exhaled and could still see her breath. “But I think he's going to do it. I hope he does. He's good.”

“I'm glad. When do you think you'll be ready for me?”

“I don't know. It depends on how fast we get moving. After Adam decides and we start work, I'll have a better idea.”

“Okay. Meet you after work tonight?”

“Sure.” They disconnected and Reese shivered with anticipation. Her project was moving forward. She'd graduate on time.

The heater in her junky car finally rattled to life and the air blew warm. She shifted into reverse to pull out and tried to convince her stomach to settle.

Handing over a not-quite-final draft of her comic worried her. The last time she'd done that, her ideas had been stolen, and she felt so betrayed that she'd stopped writing. Her adviser pointed out repeatedly that part of being a writer meant putting her work out there. Overcoming her fear was a huge part of why she'd chosen this as her senior project.

Getting closer to Adam would be a definite perk.

Over the months, she'd dropped not-so-subtle hints that she'd like to go out with him, but he was either oblivious or uninterested.

She didn't get the impression that he was oblivious.

Trying not to let that last thought get her down, she drove home to change before going to work at the coffee shop. Adam had consented to at least look at her story, which meant that he was agreeable to the idea of working with her. So that was something.

At home, she raced up the stairs to grab her uniform shirt. The atmosphere of Grind was pretty laid-back, which was why she didn't mind working. She could wear jeans or her favorite cargo pants, but she was required to have her hair in a ponytail and wear the brown polo shirt with her name tag.

She'd been working at Grind for three years now, and some of her polos had seen better days. The one she slipped over her head was faded and the color suddenly struck her as the same shade as Adam's skin. Warm and soft, like a teddy bear. She ran her hand to smooth the shirt before pinning her name tag on.

“I thought you already left for work,” her mom said from the doorway.

“Uh, no. I had a quick errand to run after class and I forgot to pack my shirt.” She gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek and said, “I won't be too late.”

Her mom scanned the bedroom and shook her head.

Over her shoulder, Reese called, “I'll clean it later.”

But they both knew it was a lie. Ever since she and her mom had moved into their own place ten years ago, Reese hadn't cleaned her room. Well, she'd picked up her dirty laundry and occasionally vacuumed, but her room was never spotless. When they'd moved into that first rinky-dink basement one-bedroom apartment, Reese vowed she would live the way she'd wanted to, not how her father had expected.

She swallowed hard. She couldn't afford to give him any space in her head right now. Her life was heading exactly where she wanted.
Her
life. Independent from everyone.

Her comic book was the first real step. Stories never let her down.

T
wo days later, Reese had been almost able to put Adam and the fact he had her comic out of her mind. Almost. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket when she was leaving her last class. When she saw Adam's name pop up above the text, her heart crawled up her throat. She stopped and leaned against the wall for support.

Her heart did a weird wobbly thing. He liked it.

Just as her heart settled back into its normal location, her stomach tightened. Adam was not the story guy. He was the picture guy. She didn't need someone to tell her how to write. She knew how to tell a story.

Right after she hit send, her phone rang. She did a double take when it was Adam's name on the screen. “Hello?”

“I hate texting. I don't know why I started that. It's no good when you're trying to talk about a story.”

“Okay.”

“I see the pieces you've given us in the book. But it doesn't come across as mysterious or engaging. It feels like you're dodging the story. Like you don't want to tell us. Don't you know her story?”

She released a slow breath. “Of course I know her story.” And she
was
dodging it a little. It was too personal. Too close to home. “Her origin is too much to be an intro or prologue, but not quite enough for a full issue. I figured my best bet would be to reveal it slowly.”

“You're putting together the anthology. Who says the first issue has to be the same length? Make it a mini-issue—
Origins of Lyrid
.”

It was food for thought and echoed what some of her teachers had said about her writing as of late. She didn't go deep enough. Deep was scary.

“You there?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“You're kind of light on description too. I don't really know how you see her, so if you could give me something, I can start some rough sketches.”

Reese looked around for a place to sit. This definitely wasn't a conversation to have via text. She was glad he'd called. Nerves still sat on edge, poking her as she sank to a bench near some vending machines. They were going to do this. She had an illustrator for her comics.

“Alexis, the girl, is small, mousy, underdeveloped. She's easily overlooked by everyone around her, like she's invisible.”

“That's her character. I get that. What about the obvious—hair color, eye color?”

“Dark hair, black like the night sky. Her eyes are light though. When she's Lyrid, those features stay the same, but she appears a little bigger, stronger. More kick-ass.” Reese took a breath. “But maybe not in that first issue. It's like the kick-assery comes from her acceptance of her powers. It takes a while for her to figure them out.”

“Maybe she needs a mentor.”

Reese had been thinking the same thing. She just hadn't quite figured out how to make one appear. “I know.” It seemed like the more she talked about the project, the more changes she wanted to make.

Adam didn't respond. She had no idea where to go from here. “So, uh, did you want me to come by the shop?”

“No. I don't have anything yet. I mean, unless you want to. I don't need you to make a special trip. Hold on a sec.”

She heard the cash register dinging in the background. He was working right now. He thanked someone and then to her said, “Sorry about that. Customers tend to come in at the most inopportune times.”

“Go figure. They show up when you're open so they can buy comics.”

“I know. They get in the way of my conversations.”

Reese could picture him sitting behind the counter, his wry smile giving little away. “They should really know better. Almost as bad as all the cranky people I deal with at work. Like I'm the only supplier of caffeine or something.”

“Where do you work?”

“A coffee shop called Grind.”

“Is it any good?”

“What?”

“The coffee. What else?”

She shrugged before thinking about it. “Maybe you wanted to know if the job was good.”

He chuckled, soft and low. The sound tumbled through her and did funny things to her stomach.

“I already have a job,” he said.

“I know.” She was feeling pretty dumb at the moment. She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut. “Well, I'll let you go.”

“Okay. I'll let you know when I have something to show you.”

“Thanks.” She disconnected and replayed the conversation in her head. Adam had called because he wanted to talk to her. That was a good thing, right? She groaned at herself. She needed to let it go. If the guy was interested, he would've acted already. She needed to focus on her book, her story.

She pushed off the bench and zipped up her jacket before going out in the cold. She jogged across the parking lot and got into her car. After starting the engine, she began to shiver. One day soon, she'd be able to afford a decent car, maybe even have a remote start. Being able to stand inside in the building and warm her car sounded dreamy.

When the heater finally clicked, she put the car in drive and went home. During the drive, all she could think about was what Adam had said about Lyrid's origin story. She knew the story, had it pictured, but could she write it? A huge part of her feared that it wouldn't be interesting enough for a comic.

Lyrid was a superhero—well, at least she was on her way to becoming one. Would readers feel cheated by not knowing where she came from? When she thought about Batman, would she like him less if she didn't know that his parents had been murdered?

She couldn't unknow it, though. The characters' backstory made them who they were. So she was back to square one. She had to decide how much of Alexis and Lyrid she wanted to share with her readers.

Reese ran into her apartment and called out, “Mom?”

No one answered. Strange. Mom wasn't scheduled to work. Maybe she'd picked up an extra shift. As she reached for the refrigerator door, she saw the note:

 

 

Reese sighed. Her mom had worked more double shifts than anyone she'd ever met. Every time her mom left her a note like this—and there had been many over the years—Reese felt guilty. Her mom kept pushing her to reach for her dreams. Being a writer was her biggest dream, but she could do something more lucrative. Each of these notes made her question the choice to stick with writing.

She grabbed a Coke from the fridge, ignoring the Tupperware container labeled with directions, and decided to write everything. Lyrid's story might be painful and personal, but she owed it to her mother to write the best damn story possible.

Adam stacked Reese's comics and slid them into a bag. She'd be by today to pick them up, just like every week. He'd had sketches for her comic ready for her days ago, but he couldn't make himself call. Something about needing her approval stopped him. He'd never drawn for anyone but himself, so he was irritated. The questions pounded at his brain for hours on end. What if she didn't like them? What if she laughed? What if she decided this was a huge mistake? The last question was the toughest because he felt invested in this already.

He'd only done the first page of the story in panels because he had to convince Reese to write the origin story. That story would define everything else they did together.

To take his mind off Reese and their comic—when the hell had it become
their
comic?—he unpacked and shelved the rest of the delivery they'd received. Some of his regular customers came in to pick up their orders and he had some other browsers stroll through, but no matter how many people entered the store, all he could do was watch the clock.

Reese always came in after her last class, so depending on traffic, she was normally there by five. In his downtime, he usually sketched, but today he was too antsy. He looked over the drawings he'd made of Alexis and Lyrid. He would need more information in order to complete the book. Reese had been vague about setting and other character descriptions. Getting all of that would probably mean hours more of invested time.

It was a huge undertaking on a possibility of making money.

He reminded himself it wasn't about the money. It was practical experience working with a writer. The project would give him complete panels for his portfolio when he hit the conventions in the spring.

It was all very practical. Spending time with Reese had nothing to do with it. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

When she finally came barreling through the door, he'd almost convinced himself of all of his rationalizations. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and she wore a bright smile. “Hey.”

“Hi. I've got your stuff all bagged up already.” He slid the plastic bag onto the counter.

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” he answered too quickly and then realized he probably sounded like an idiot. “I have some drawings for you.”

Her face lit with excitement, which added more pressure to what he already felt.

“Let me see. Let me see.” She reached out with grabby hands.

He walked to his drawing table and picked up the sheets. “Before you get too excited, they're only pencil. I haven't inked anything since we didn't talk about colors and stuff.”

Her hand snapped up to cut him off. “Wait. You can color too?”

“Yeah, but I didn't because I didn't want to impose my ideas onto you.”

“Really?” She crossed her arms. “Like telling me that I
had
to write a full origin story wasn't imposing your ideas?”

He gripped the pages tighter and then forced his fingers to relax. He had to get used to working with other people if this was the career he wanted. “Okay, yeah, I was, but you know I'm right.”

She dropped her arms. “You totally are. I'm almost done with it.”

“Yeah?”

“I thought about what you said and thought about Alexis, and when I sat down to write, it just came to me.” She reached out again. “Now show me.”

He handed her the pages and curled his fingers into fists to prevent himself from snatching them back.

“Oh my God.”

He had no idea how to interpret that, so he waited for more to go on. She hadn't even gotten past the top page.

She looked up at him with teary eyes.

Crap. He'd never made a girl cry before. “I'm sorry?”

She took a swipe at his shoulder. “What are you apologizing for?”

“You look like you're about to cry.”

“First, happy tears. This is exactly how I pictured Alexis. You completely nailed it. Second, if that was supposed to be a real apology, it sucked. You asked. It's not a question.”

He shrugged. “I didn't know if I was supposed to be sorry for something. This is the first time I've worked with someone else's ideas.”

“I never would've guessed. She's perfect.” She traced a finger over the drawing before flipping to the next page. She snickered. “You're kidding, right?”

“What?”

“Now you do owe me an apology.”

“For what?”

She spun the drawing of Lyrid around to face him as though he didn't know what he'd drawn.

“Seriously?”

“What's wrong?” he asked cautiously.

“Look at her.” Then she held the page of Alexis beside the one of Lyrid.

“You said that you wanted Lyrid to be bigger and stronger.”

“I meant muscular. Not titty heaven. She's nothing but boobs. And they're popping out everywhere.”

Adam opened his mouth, stopped, closed it, and waited. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He thought Lyrid looked pretty kick-ass, which was what Reese had requested.

Reese's eyes about popped from her skull as she grunted and slapped the pages on his desk. Then she spun and headed for the door. She seemed really pissed.

“Wait!”