“Thanks, but Ty already has this little study plan thing worked out. He’s turned into the GED Nazi.”
“He seems like a good guy.”
“My best friend, yeah.” He pushed his empty bowl to one side, glancing at his watch. “I still have fifteen minutes left of my break.” He nodded at the laptop. “Tell me why you’re having problems with your book, seeing as you already know what it is you want to write.”
Simon worried his lip, hesitant to respond. Mattie’s quiet laugh made him glance up.
“Why have you gone all shy?” Mattie asked softly.
Simon huffed, sitting up straighter. “I’m not. I just, um….” He pressed his lips together and then allowed himself to slouch back down, feeling himself flush as he spoke. “I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of… nerd, I guess.”
Mattie spluttered. “Oh, hardly. Come on, you’re no more a nerd than I am a super model.”
“That’s a bad example.”
Mattie rolled his eyes. “Come on. Talk to me about being ‘stuck’.”
Simon sighed. “Well, I guess I just… I’m not feeling it anymore. Usually I have this passion about the story, and discounting the days where the words just don’t want to come, I can usually sit down and get on with it.” He shook his head. “I think it’s taken too long. It’s gone stale.”
“Why do you think that is? What’s different with this one, compared to the other two?”
Simon knew the answer to that; he just didn’t want to say it. He tore off the corner of his baguette and chewed, buying some time, but apparently Mattie already knew him better than he originally thought.
“Oh, I see. When did you start this one?” he asked.
Simon winced. “I started it just over five years ago. It got put completely on hold when Carol-Ann died. Then being a new dad… and Jamie….” He hated to use Jamie as an excuse, even if it was the truth.
“That’s quite a gap to start a novel and then try and pick it up again.”
“You don’t understand. After the first book was published, I was offered a contract for my next two books, but they expect it to be within a certain time frame. They got their second hit out of me, but the third….” He removed his glasses to clean them on the edge of his sweater. “They’ve already granted an extension due to personal circumstances, but they’re getting impatient. You’ve met my editor, Andrew—” As soon as he said it he winced and noticed how Mattie glanced away quickly.
“Yeah, I know him,” was the quiet response.
“He’s constantly on my ass now, trying to suggest different things to get me motivated or inspired. What he doesn’t get is that… well, I’m not the same person I was when I started the novel.”
There. He’d finally admitted it out loud.
“Well no, your life’s been turned upside down in the last few years. You’re bound to feel different about a few things.”
“Try explaining that to my editor. He doesn’t show any outward disapproval of my home life. It’s more like he thinks I should just suck it up and get on with it. He doesn’t understand how much of my time is devoted to Jamie. And not only time, but thinking space: I’m always thinking ahead when it comes to him.”
“I think I get that. Like you said,” Mattie added softly, “Jamie has to tackle the things in life that come naturally to other children. He’s not less for it, but he needs more understanding and time. Simple stuff like, I don’t know, a trip to the movies. You’d have to plan that ahead; am I right?”
“You’re dead on,” Simon murmured, once again shoving away those fluttery feelings that were beginning to stir. “I could probably write this book, but my heart wouldn’t be in it. That’s why I’m having a problem committing to it. I can’t imagine having something published that doesn’t mean something to me. I’m trying to get that feeling back.”
“I think that just means that you have standards.”
“Even when I wrote the first two, they were both thrillers, but they were important to me. Each character was real and had an entire history of their own. Now… now this book just feels frivolous to me.”
“Can’t you just… you know, write something else?”
“And throw away a novel that I’ve—albeit intermittently—spent years working on?”
“Let me ask you this. You said you could probably write it despite feeling this way, correct?”
“Yes.”
“If you plowed through, finished it in that state of mind and had it published, would you be proud of it?”
That stumped him. It was a damn insightful question, and Simon was afraid he knew the answer without having to think about it. “Probably not.”
“Well, the way I see it, then, is that you have a simple choice to make. And I in no way mean to underplay the importance of this, or anything,” he was quick to point out.
“No, it’s okay. Go on.”
“I think it comes down to whether you’re comfortable with putting something out there that you don’t feel completely happy with. People who enjoyed your last two books are going to read it. Don’t you think they’d feel disappointed if it read as half-assed? And all for the sake of not wanting to have wasted the past few years on a failed novel.”
Simon slumped back in his seat with a sigh. “You make a damn good point.”
“Let me ask you this: is there anything else that you feel you would like to write about right now?”
He worried his lip. “Actually, I’ve been playing around with an idea, just brainstorming in my head, really. I haven’t put pen to paper yet, but it’s way out of my comfort zone.”
“Which is…?”
He sighed. “Well, with writing thrillers. Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve loved horror. I always wanted to be Stephen King or Richard Matheson.”
“I have to admit that, up until recently, I’ve never really had an affinity for horror.”
“Oh you should give these guys a go. They’re legendary. Ever seen Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile, or I Am Legend?”
“The last one, wasn’t that the one with Will Smith trying to cure a virus that turned people into zombies? That was awesome.”
“The book is a little different, but you should give it a read. You know if you decide to pick up reading as just a hobby, I’m the guy to come to for a recommendation. You should see my library at home.” And there he went again. Saying something that was outside the parameters of what it was they had agreed they were. He didn’t have to backpedal, however, because Mattie was determined to turn the conversation back to his work. And rather than feeling merely relieved, he felt reluctantly pleased at discussing the problem that had been preying on his mind for some time. It felt good to have someone take an interest.
“Maybe, but back to what we were talking about. You were saying something about comfort zones….”
He nodded. “I’ve only ever written in the horror genre. I just fell into it. It always came naturally to me, and I’ve always enjoyed it.”
“But not anymore?”
“Not right now, I think, but I wouldn’t say I was done with it.”
“But this idea you said you’d been thinking about, what is it? Romance? Comedy?”
“No. I—” He bit his lip. “It’d be painful to write about, which is why I’ve only ever thought about it and not spoken about it. I’ve never taken the idea seriously before, but… I—I was thinking of writing about a single parent raising an autistic child. Fictional, of course. Not autobiographical.”
A soft smile slowly spread across Mattie’s face. “Now, I imagine that is something you could put your entire heart into.”
“There’s a lot of pressure with a book like that, Mattie.”
“But you know that life, and you’re a talented writer.”
“I may know that life, but there’s still the matter of making people understand it and doing the struggle justice without it sounding like some sort of burden. Jamie might read that book someday, and I couldn�
��t bear for him to think that I was either cashing in and playing on the reader’s sympathy, or that I felt entitled to some sort of recognition for raising an autistic child. God, if he ever—”
“Simon.” Mattie reached across the table and touched his hand. “At every instance when talking about Jamie, you’ve made it totally clear that you would be lost without that kid. He is your entire world, and if he ever read the book—if you ever write it—I think there’s a good chance that he may begin to understand just how loved and how special he is.”
“And if he didn’t see it that way? He may be high-functioning, but he struggles with empathy just like any other autistic individual.”
“Then you explain it to him, but I don’t think you should count your chickens before they’re hatched. You tell me all the time about how you push him, that you drum these social rules into him every day. With a father like you, there is no saying how Jamie will turn out. You have no idea.”
“It’s still… it’s frightening, Mattie.” He had never once admitted to being afraid of anything to anybody. When he was a teenager, he had protected himself when it came to his sexuality, never showing weakness even when he was made to feel immoral. As a young adult, he had faced his first editorial meeting head on, despite feeling like an amateur. When Jamie had come into his life, it had been a case of staying strong for the baby and honoring his sister’s memory when he had never felt so alone in all his life.
He’d never admitted to a soul that he was frightened. And here Mattie was, not looking at him like he’d hung the moon, but with a respect and understanding that resonated with him. There was a lending of strength and an offer of support that spoke of more than their casual arrangement.
“You really think I could do it? It would mean asking for another extension.”
A beaming smile split across Mattie’s face. “We may not have known each other all that long, and I’ve only read one of your books, but I can say with complete confidence that you could do such a story justice, simply because I know how dedicated you are to your son. You’ve made it clear how others sometimes look at Jamie, but hearing the things you say, the good and bad, and having seen how you are with him the few times he’s been here, I don’t think I’d ever be able to think of an autistic individual, child or adult, as anything less than equal to me. It would be a commendable message to try and get across, and you never know, it could be like… therapeutic for you or something.”
Simon was gritting his teeth. “Something you said there is actually probably what terrifies me the most.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s one thing when they’re children—people with special needs, that is—but when they grow into adults, society seems to lose what little patience it had for them as children.” He sipped at the orange juice he’d been nursing for the past hour. “Have you ever seen it? How uncomfortable and sometimes disgusted people become when around an adult who can’t help but jerk or slur their words? The polite ones hide it, but it’s there. I sometimes think about when Jamie’ll be in his twenties, or older, when I’m no longer around. I wonder if he’ll be alone, and if people will look at him in that horribly distant way, as—as if he were dangerous.”
“Then all the more reason for you to tell your story and try and change that perception. I’m serious, Simon. You are so passionate about this subject. You’ve actually spoken to me more about this story, which at the moment is just an idea, than you have the book you’ve been working on for more than five years. That should tell you something.”
It did tell him something. It told him that Mattie was right. It told him that a very awkward and potentially unpleasant conversation with his editor and publisher was long overdue. It told him that Mattie was possibly one of the most intuitive, compassionate people he had ever met, and that he was fast beginning to think of him as his closest friend—a friend he had feelings for that surpassed sexual.
He thought it was perhaps about time for him to stop hiding behind his failed novel and be brave enough to start anew in a genre in which he had no experience or credibility—yet. He also knew he had to shake these feelings for Mattie, because it would only lead to a broken heart for him, and he could not go through that twice in one lifetime.
“My break’s over. I’ve got to get back to work.” Mattie huffed and stood with his empty bowl in hand, and took Simon by surprise by casting a quick glance around before stealing a quick peck on Simon’s cheek.
Simon couldn’t help but smile; there really was something naively sweet about this guy. “I got a sitter tonight. Will I see you later?” He wasn’t expecting a break from their little routine, but some small, insecure part of him always needed to double check. He felt something inside him shrivel when an uncomfortable and apologetic look passed through those gorgeous hazel eyes. He knew that look.
“Ah, I’d love to, but I can’t tonight. What about tomorrow? And hey, I’ll even cook for you.”
He could feel something bitter curling in his gut. Some subconscious part of his mind knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t help but feel like an afterthought. “Studying with Ty?” He knew it was a low shot. His voice alone conveyed disapproval, even though his words were innocent enough. He knew good and well Mattie wouldn’t be studying.
His jab took a direct hit, and he felt ashamed when Mattie looked down at the bowl he carried, then back up with small, forced smile. Those eyes of his had dimmed considerably, and Simon suddenly felt like a total bastard.
“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mattie murmured and then headed on back through the “Employees Only” marked door.
“Simon Castle,” he murmured to himself. “You’re an asshole.”
Mattie hadn’t deserved that. He knew the effect his words—or the insinuation behind them—would have on Mattie, and he didn’t deserve that. What the hell was wrong with him? They had agreed from the start: casual. Mattie had never hidden what it was he sometimes had to do to pay the bills, not after the night at the gallery, anyhow. He had no right to throw it in his face, even if he was jealous.
He’d thought time and time again of just offering Mattie some cash to help him along, or just leaving it in his apartment so that he wouldn’t have to hook. But that smacked too much of a payoff for their time together, and that was not the relationship they had. Such a well-intentioned solution would only destroy their friendship and hurt Mattie and was, therefore, not an option.
There were no options. This was the way things would have to be between them, and he would just have to get over his feelings toward Mattie’s moonlighting and his feelings toward Mattie, period. He was too young, too gorgeous, and had too many issues to become a permanent fixture in Simon’s life. Because, when he was being completely honest with himself, what it boiled down to was that his life was also Jamie’s life, and Mattie just did not fit into that equation.
He was having fun. The sex was fantastic (even if they had wordlessly ruled out anything oral for now) and zapped some of the tension out of him. He genuinely enjoyed his time with Mattie, but perhaps he should put a stop to what it was they had going on before he became any further involved. If he was already taking cheap shots and getting jealous, then that told him he had allowed things to develop too far already. It was just a matter of finding the words, of finding the will to break things off.
The very thought filled him with unhappiness, and rather than think it through further or discuss it with Mattie like an adult, his instincts were to pack up his things as quickly as possible and leave the diner before Mattie returned. He couldn’t work right now, not after what they’d discussed about his writing. And he certainly couldn’t watch Mattie, all handsome and sweet, smiling at him every now and then from the sandwich bar while he contemplated a way of breaking off their arrangement. It was too much, and he fled like a coward, completely missing the suspicious glance Ty shot him as he looped his bag over his head and headed out the door.
MATTIE stood outside, staring at the i
ntercom a good ten minutes before actually buzzing. After composing himself in the cloakroom of the diner—his conversation with Simon having rattled him—he convinced himself he was imagining things and returned back to the restaurant floor, only to stop dead in his tracks when seeing Simon’s booth empty. He thought for a moment that perhaps he was in the customer restroom, but then all of his things were gone, save for his barely touched tuna baguette.
He tried texting Simon to ask if everything was all right, but only grew further disheartened as the hours ticked by and no response was forthcoming. He had a feeling he knew what was going on, and he was kicking himself for being unprepared and so hurt by it. They’d had their moments where he’d been unable to meet with Simon in the evenings, and this had been mostly due to Ty being over to help him study, but occasionally, it had been something else completely.
He was broke. He’d found himself flat out of painting supplies a week ago, but now he was even a few dollars shy of his rent, and he’d already borrowed from Ty twice that month, so there was no choice. He’d avoided hooking as much as possible because, where before he had been able to distance himself when with a john, he now found it difficult to zone out. Now that he had something that felt natural and real to him, something romantic that regular people had, the idea of giving head for money made him feel fucking sick.
As far as he knew, Simon was under the impression it was still a frequent occurrence. He’d actually been naive enough to think Simon understood the situation and accepted it. Not today. For the first time in the past several weeks during the pleasant haze he’d been in, he’d felt ashamed. And Simon had been the one to make him feel that way. Whether it had been intentional or not, for the first time in a long while he’d felt like his old self. He’d felt dirty.
He tried to tell himself that it was encouraging, that this meant Simon wanted more from him. Perhaps he’d even ask him to quit the hooking. That was really what it came down to, wasn’t it? He was waiting for that request. And as difficult as that would make his life financially, he would do it for Simon if it meant something more permanent for the both of them. If it meant actually going somewhere other than his apartment, or being able to call him his boyfriend, meeting his friends, seeing Simon’s home, and meeting Jamie officially… then he’d do it. Lord knows he hadn’t brought the little guy to the diner since they’d first got together, and he tried his best not to think about why that might be.
The Coil Page 12
