Burning Muses

by J. R. Rogue

  I didn’t personally know any songwriters. I wondered how many others practiced this way. I had many writer friends and there seemed to be a million ways we went about our craft. Some mapped out their entire story, chapter by chapter, breaking everything down. Some simply wrote out their synopsis and went from there. I started with my first sex scene. If I couldn’t write my characters getting it on from the beginning, then there was no story to tell. I started there, with no names for my duo, just got right down to the nitty gritty.

  Considering the inspiration for my stories, I was not surprised by my method. The story was secondary to the sex. My readers didn’t buy my books because they were looking for a Nicholas Sparks’ romance. They were looking for something to light their fire, something to perhaps put a little pep back into their relationships.

  Chace lifted his guitar from his lap and set in on the deck, then reached for his phone. He propped his feet up on the small ottoman in front of him and began tapping out a text. When he was finished, he reached for his guitar again and began playing. Inside, I heard my phone ding. I slid up to my knees and walked on them over to my bed where my iPhone laid. It was from Chace.

  Chace: Did I wake you?

  Shit. How could I be so idiotic? Of course he was going to hear me up here like a big creeper. Okay. Act cool.

  Me: With the ‘did I wake you?’ text?

  Chace: Haha, no with the guitar.

  Me: I was already awake. You didn’t hear me come in about five min ago?

  Chace: No. Good. Sorry. It’s the best time for me to write.

  Me: Ditto

  Chace: Am I interrupting your writing then?

  Me: Not tonight. I’m in a slump.

  Chace: The block huh? Pretty bad?

  Me: So bad I moved to Missouri.

  Chace: Damn. Yes. That is bad.

  Me: I’m doomed.

  Chace: No, you’ll get it back. How long has it been?

  It was painful to say. Especially to another writer. Any kind of writer. I could see the pity on their faces. I was thankful he was a full floor below me.

  Me: I haven’t been able to write in over a year…

  Chace: Oh…

  Me: Yeah. Doomed. I hope I won’t interrupt your playing when I throw myself from this balcony.

  Chace: Dramatic, much? All that will get you is a broken arm and wounded pride.

  Me: Well, I already have one of those. Hey. You stopped playing.

  Chace: I am a man of many talents, Sera. But texting and playing the guitar simultaneously is one I have yet to master.

  Me: Smart ass.

  Chace: :)

  Me: Ok, I won’t text you anymore. Play on.

  Chace: As you wish.

  Did this kid just quote The Princess Bride to me? His personality was different in text. More confident. Although that was common in many people. I listened to him play for ten more minutes before deciding to head to bed. Sleep took me swiftly.

  The next morning, a call from the car dealership woke me up around eight. A salesman was on his way to drop off my new Mustang. I thanked him and rolled over, burying my face into the pillow. There was a warm breeze flowing through my open window. Perhaps spring was finally arriving. I sighed and whipped the comforter off my body and padded my way to the bathroom. I rushed through brushing my teeth and applied moisturizer to my face. I threw on a pair of black leggings, an oversized t-shirt, and slipped on my white converse.

  I half-jogged down the stairs to go outside but the scent of maple syrup stopped me in my tracks. Chace must have made something for breakfast. I sauntered over to the counter, my eyes catching a note on the island that read ‘Your food is in the microwave.’ He had used a typewriter to write it. I liked that. I opened the door to find pancakes, sausage, and eggs on a plate. My stomach grumbled. I ate quickly and then went outside.

  Chace, and a kid I didn’t recognize, were trading free throws back and forth at my old basketball hoop above the door of the detached garage. Chace sank the ball from the edge of the pavement and smiled at me.

  “Morning,” he greeted.

  “Morning.” I bent my elbow slightly and waved. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

  “No problem.” He shrugged, and then began dribbling the ball around the driveway. The kid turned to me and smiled. I gave another half wave. I never knew what to say to kids.

  “Hi,” he beamed.

  “Are you, uh, Chace’s brother?” I really didn’t know much about my new roommate.

  “No.”

  “Oh.” I looked up to see Chace’s shy grin again.

  “Are you Chace’s girlfriend?” The child returned.

  “No. I think I’m a little old for that.” I instantly regretted what I said. I glanced at Chace with my red face and was greeted with his grin again, along with a questioning eyebrow.

  “Well, you don’t look old,” the child responded.

  “Thanks. The gray hairs I’ve been finding would argue with you on that.” I reached up and ran my fingers through my long locks. I needed to look through them again to see if another evil gray bastard had emerged.

  “Do you live here?” This kid would be great at twenty questions.

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re not Chace’s girlfriend?”

  “No. I’m his roommate.”

  “Oh. Is that your car in the garage?”

  “No. That’s my mother’s old mustang.” And soon I would have my own.

  “I like it.”

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  “Are you going to play basketball with us?”

  “No, I don’t really play sports. At all. I’m very bad at them.”

  “Okay cool.” He turned to Chace. “Can I use the restroom?”

  “You know you don’t have to ask.” Chace sunk the ball again.

  “‘Kay.” With that, he took off towards the house. I took a seat on the bench next to the garage. Chace walked towards me with the ball under his arm.

  “Sooo. That’s Aiden,” Chace explained.

  “Cute kid.”

  “Yeah. I used to tutor him. He doesn’t get much attention at home.”

  “That stinks.” Growing up, I always received attention from my family. Whether I wanted it or not.

  “Yeah. So I try to get him out of his house as much as I can.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  “I try. Did we wake you?”

  “No I just got a phone call. Dealership is on their way to drop off my new car. Otherwise I guess I wouldn’t be up. I don’t keep normal hours.”

  “True. So, do you have big plans for your first weekend back in the Ozarks?”

  “Ah, probably go over to my friend Kat’s and help her with her new place. I need to keep her as busy as I can.”

  “You should come out to Senor’s tonight. I’m working.”

  “That’s the new Mexican restaurant right? I think Kat might have mentioned it.”

  “Yeah. They have a deal on fajitas on Fridays. But come to the bar’s side. I work over there.”

  “I’ll run it by her.”

  When Friday night rolled around, I was able to convince Kat to leave her apartment for dinner and a movie. So far, she had been ordering in pizza and Chinese food. How she was managing to stay so thin living off such unhealthy food was beyond me.

  She ducked out of work a bit early so we could catch the 4:30 show of the new Hugh Jackman movie. Kat went to see every film he was in, so he had definitely helped in getting her out of the house. After the flick, we headed to Senor’s. Although she protested, I ordered two appetizers as soon as we sat down. I spotted Chace behind the small bar.

  “That’s way too much food. I won’t be able to eat my meal,” Kat groaned.

  “Tough. You need to fatten up a bit, Missy.” I crossed my arms, aiming a motherly look at her. For once, I was the one taking care of her.

  “I just never feel like eating.”

  I had been there for many friends durin
g bad breakups. I had seen them go weeks without many meals. I had never been that upset by a split. Not even Tristan. “I know. But I’m afraid a strong gust of wind is going to blow you away.”

  “Drama Queen.” She waved her napkin at me and laughed. “So, how are things out at the house? You like it there?”

  “Yeah it’s nice so far, hard to tell this early. I wish I didn’t have my iPhone or iPad. There’s no internet there now and I could just be off the grid.”

  “What? No, you’re in love with technology. I could live out there and do that. Not you.” She pointed to my huge iPhone that was face up on the table beside me.

  “Just because I know how to use Twitter and you don’t, doesn’t mean I am in love with technology.” It was a lie.

  “How’s the roommate?”

  I glanced over at Chace behind the bar. “He is a really nice kid.”

  “Do you know much about him?”

  “Just some of what Mom has told me over the years, and a little bit he mentioned when he dropped me at your shop Monday. He is going to school to be a teacher. Um, he graduated with Andrew. I guess they were close in high school. He writes music for Andrew’s band, which I did not know existed because I am a shitty sister.”

  “What does he look like?”

  I bit my lip and motioned with my thumb lowly for her to look behind me. “He looks like the bartender.”

  “Oh, reallllly?” She peeked around my shoulder. “That guy is hot.”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “Oh! He is the bartender! He’s…pretty.”

  “Nope,” I shook my head. “I don’t see it.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m not blind, Kat. I’m choosing to ignore the fact that he is appealing.” I had done the bartender story arc before. It wasn’t going to light any new fires under my ass. I wanted to write something fresh. I would never repeat an idea from within my own work. “Mr. Bartender is young. He has many years of breaking hearts ahead of him.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He is twenty-two. Fun Fact: I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, probably.” She shrugged, taking my cue. “How’s your mom?”

  “Good. I am supposed to go over for lunch on Sunday. It’ll be nice to see my brother. It feels like forever. I haven’t seen him in two years. He’s always too busy to fly out with Mom and his father. Which is strange considering how hard it is for him to keep a job apparently.”

  “I haven’t seen him since he was a little kid! I can’t believe he is an adult now.”

  “Well, you and I are old as dirt now, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “True. But isn’t 30 the new 20 these days?”

  I looked over at the loud table next to us, filled with kids around that age. “I wish.” The waitress returned, taking our entree order. Just as she was walking off, my phone dinged and I was staring at Chace’s name on the screen. I pulled his text up.

  Chace: Come up to the bar. I’ll buy you two a drink.

  “Do you want a margarita?” I asked my friend.

  “Sure. Frozen, strawberry.”

  “Okay.” I pushed off the table and turned for the bar. I found an opening next to an empty stool on the end. I wedged myself between it and the wall. The man on the stool next to it immediately turned to me and smiled. I smiled back. Chace was further down the bar taking an order. I saw his eyes quickly dart my direction then back to his customer.

  “Well, just who are you?” The guy asked, turning to me.

  “Sera.” He was tipsy. I could hear it in his voice. Ew. And smell it.

  “I’ve never seen you before.” His eyes were big, his tone creepy. Older men always caused knots to fill my stomach. Was this the town’s resident drunk? Old Larry had passed when I was in High School. He used to wander the streets on Commercial with a brown paper bag clutched in his right hand.

  “Just moved here.”

  “Why? Why would you want to move here?”

  “I grew up here.” Chace walked over, interrupting my conversation with my new friend.

  “What would you like?”

  “I’ll take a margarita on the rocks. Salt. Kat will take a frozen strawberry margarita.” I could feel the drunk man next to me still ogling me. Chace’s eyes had darted over to him a couple times as I was ordering. He left to make our drinks. Shit. Drunky wasted no time.

  “So, will I see you around here now that you’re settled in?”

  “Ah, maybe. It seems like an alright place.”

  “Well, I will have to buy you a drink some time. Watch my seat. I gotta piss.” Chace came back with our drinks as he hopped off. I glared.

  “Okay, I didn’t know if you needed help there or not.” He laughed.

  “I needed help! Couldn’t you see the look on my face? And he smells like an ashtray.”

  “He always does, and I thought so, but I didn’t want to interrupt if you were into the guy.”

  “Very funny. No, I am not into older men. Thanks. Next time help me.”

  “Okay, just give me the look and I’ll get the dude gone.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bartender. And thank you for these drinks.” I raised them and smiled. “I owe you one.”

  “Yes, you do, and I’m collecting tonight.” That was hot; wait, what did he say? I scrunched up my face at him, causing him to chuckle. “I won’t be home tonight. Can you make sure my dog, Artax, has food? I would really appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, no problem. Anytime. Well I’m going to head back to my table before Smokey the Bear gets back. Thanks.”

  “Any time.” He smiled that small smile again, and turned. I was really beginning to enjoy that smile.

  The next couple of weeks in Missouri flew by. Each day I woke around 11:00 to get ready for lunch with Kat. We tried a new restaurant each day. Some of the old ones from years ago were still here, but many new ones had replaced failed establishments. After lunch, I would drop my pal off and head home to check for any of the million packages I ordered. My mother’s old closet filled up more each day.

  I spent a couple hours on my author Facebook and Twitter pages interacting with fans. I tried my best to ignore the angry comments over not having news about a new novella. After that was taken care of, I changed clothes and headed back into town to meet Kat at her new place.

  She decided to be the one to move out of the house she shared with her husband. Her downtown store had a living space above it, a roomy two-bedroom loft apartment. It had been vacant for years and needed a lot of sprucing up. First thing we set our minds to was painting the walls. Kat was sleeping on the couch in the living room, surrounded by boxes. I knew she was glad to have so much work ahead of her. It kept her mind off things. I enjoyed helping her; it kept my mind off the blank screen I still had sitting at home. At least I could pretend it wasn’t there for a while.

  I knew I was finding new excuses to not write each week, just as I had been doing for over a year, but I wasn’t sure how to stop. When I wasn’t with Kat, I kept busy in other ways.

  I binge watched the entire series of Game of Thrones on DVD. My car got washed every other day. I walked the woods three times. I downloaded 15 audio books. I even did manual labor. I pulled weeds and tulips from the flowerbeds after noticing it on a to-do list Chace had left pinned to the fridge. He thanked me numerous times.

  I cleaned the house every other day. I hated cleaning. Although he wasn’t there often enough to dirty it, I pitied Chace having to care for large house. Dust settles no matter what. Floors needed sweeping and mopping. Rugs needed vacuuming. The large front porch needed care; dust and dirt were always landing on it. The massive yard was exhausting to upkeep. Having spent so many years in the City, I wouldn’t know where to start on any of it. So I kept an eye on Chace’s list and phoned my mother when I finished those tasks. Chace asked me not to worry about any of it, that it was his way of paying for room and board, to which I reminded him that I lived there
too.

  To my shame, after a week and half of all this house upkeep torture, I found someone in the paper to come clean the house. I had a housekeeper in the City. That was more my style.

  I saw very little of Chace. I normally woke about an hour before I got out of bed. Mornings were not my favorite, one of the many reasons I didn’t emerge until nearly mid-day. I would hear him moving around at 10:00 and then he would leave the house. I wouldn’t hear the sound of his jeep making its way back down the drive until nearly midnight.

  I wondered when he had free time. I remembered my college days of juggling school and full-time employment.

  It had even been quite some time since the last time I heard him play his guitar. A couple of the nights I heard him outside my window playing with his dog before they both came in for the night. He must have felt remorse for leaving him alone for so long. The dog was always on the porch. When I left for lunch, he was there. When I returned, he was there. When I came home at night, he was there, always staring at the driveway.

  I found myself staying up until around three in the morning. It was my usual. The later I stayed up, the better I wrote, not that it had helped for a long time. Now I spent the quiet hours simultaneously switching between Facebook, Twitter, my blog, Instagram, and Google. It was a complete waste of time but I couldn’t break the cycle. Google was the most depressing. Never Google yourself. There were many articles circulating about me. None of them could stay away from the Tristan topic. Two articles mentioned my exodus from New York. They described how heartbroken I was, and that I left New York to avoid running into my ex.

  Tristan was filming in New York, so kudos to the press on that one. I tried not to let it get to me, but being painted the sad, heartbroken woman was not sitting well with me. Not one magazine or newspaper had contacted me to get my side of the story, probably because I changed my number immediately after the breakup. I couldn’t control what was written about me but I could control what I said about it, and that had always been nothing.