Unfinished Muse

by R. L. Naquin

  Maybe I was laying it on too thick, but I was desperate to get her back on track. My machine was done and so were hers, so we worked in silence as we moved our wet things into dryers and fed more quarters into the slots.

  While we waited for the clothes to dry, we switched to safer topics. If I hit the right note about her parents’ anniversary gift, it would sink in and take hold. If I hadn’t, well, poking it would drive her the wrong way.

  Instead, I asked about Gabe. She told me all about their long-distance relationship built solely through phone and Internet exchanges working for different branches of the same tech company. Eventually, Gabe transferred to Topeka, they married, and Missy quit her job as an account manager to be a full-time mom.

  That gave me a start. I’d viewed her as unambitious and unskilled, since finding her at home with a kid, messy house, and the television constantly on. I was ashamed to have judged her like that, even if it was an unconscious opinion. Stay-at-home moms came from all types of backgrounds.

  Hell, I wouldn’t be able to stay home by myself with a baby every day, and I didn’t have any real skills.

  Having actual conversations with people gave a lot more insight into their lives and their needs than skulking around invisible did. I’d learned that with Alex, and now I was learning it with Missy.

  When my clothes were dry—I had a much smaller load than she did—I thanked her for the laundry detergent, gathered my folded gym clothes, and left. If I’d done things right, Missy would be back to work on the scrapbook. If not, I’d think of something new tomorrow.

  Because I still had Mark left to badger. And he’d been the most difficult of the three from the beginning.

  ~*~

  By the time I was finished with Missy, the day was nearly over. Now that I knew I was supposed to have written permission to keep my stuff home over night, I figured it was best to drop it off before I tackled a heart-to-heart with Mark. The pass Polly had given me was only for the weekend.

  The lobby was kind of crowded, since most people were heading home, but I was going up, and most people were coming down, so the elevator was empty when I stepped in. As the doors closed, a blond head that looked familiar bobbed above the crowd out in the lobby. The man stopped and turned, and my breath caught in my throat. The doors closed before I got a good look.

  I rubbed my eyes as I rode to the fifth floor. I couldn’t have seen Freddy. That would be too weird. I’d never seen him here before. Was he related to a god, too? Could he have hit rock bottom on the loser scale? If so, was that my fault?

  The doors opened, and I headed into the office, still arguing with myself. It couldn’t have been Freddy. Surely I’d have seen him before, especially since, coming from Topeka, he’d be using the same portal into the building that I used. I hadn’t seen his car in front of the abandoned warehouse where I parked every day.

  I hung my belt under my name and placed the bottle of bubbles in the supply closet.

  Didn’t I have a moment in Maenads when I’d thought I saw Freddy at the other end of the bar? Was I losing my mind? Was I obsessed with my ex?

  Had I made a mistake breaking up with him?

  I didn’t see Freddy when I went out through the lobby, nor did I see a guy who looked like Freddy. Mine was the only car parked outside the building.

  When I got home, I was still mulling over the possibility that Freddy was working at Mt. Olympus. The problem had such a deep hold on me, I walked right past Mark and into my house. I didn’t even notice him.

  Phyllis, however, had seen us both. “Wynter, how could you not stop? He’s been sitting on his front step waiting for you for over an hour.”

  “What?” I peered out the window. Sure enough, Mark was sitting on his porch, looking a little forlorn, and holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. “What makes you think it was me he was waiting for?”

  She flapped a leaf at me. “He was looking right at you and tried to get your attention.”

  I frowned at her, but stuck my head out the door anyway. “Hey. I didn’t see you out there.” I stepped outside. “You okay?”

  His pout turned into a smile. He pulled himself up and held up the flowers and wine. “I owe you an apology.”

  I shook my head. “For what?”

  He crossed the courtyard and handed me a bouquet of purple irises and fat yellow tulips. “I was short with you last night, and I nearly flashed you my junk this morning before kicking you out.” He looked ashamed. “I haven’t been very neighborly.”

  I cradled the gorgeous flowers in my arms and smiled at him, still shaking my head. “Totally my fault. I’ve been too nosy.” I eyed the bottle of wine he still had. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come inside with that and we can both be more neighborly.”

  I wasn’t even sure what that meant. I hoped he didn’t take it to mean I was inviting him in for sex—or worse—a date.

  “That would be perfect.” He held the door open and followed me inside.

  I handed him two glasses and a corkscrew so he could handle the wine while I put the flowers in water. With the flowers in a tall vase in the center of the table, we each grabbed a glass and sat in my kitchen like old friends and not awkward acquaintances.

  We talked about a lot of things during our first glass—Mrs. Terwilliger’s latest tirade about the volume of everyone’s televisions after 10 PM. Construction on the turnpike. And whether I actually had any friends.

  I hadn’t been expecting that one.

  “Seriously,” he said. “In all the time you’ve been here, I’ve never seen a single person, other than you, walk through that door.” He finished his last sip and refilled both our glasses. “You must have a boyfriend because…” He waved his hand at me. “Well, look at you. Yet, I’ve never seen you bring anyone home.”

  I chuckled at him and gave him a long look. “So, are you asking me if I have a boyfriend? Is that what this is about?”

  He shrugged. “That wasn’t my intention, but sure.”

  I twirled the stem of my glass between my fingers. “I’ve been single for, oh, about three weeks or so.”

  “Oh. Well.” He took a nervous swig. “I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t a tough breakup.”

  I sighed. “No. Not especially. Pretty typical. I’m not so good at the long-term thing. Probably tougher on him than it was on me, since I’m the one who pulled the plug.” I neglected to tell him I was having ex-boyfriend hallucinations.

  “Gotcha.” He sat in silence for a moment, running his fingers over the rim of his glass. “Want to get a pizza?”

  ~*~

  We were halfway through a large with pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese, and already into our second bottle of wine, when his project finally came up. We’d moved to the living room and sat on opposite ends of the couch.

  “I just feel like such a chump,” he said. “The guy gave me this huge sob story about his little girl having leukemia and wanting to do something special for her. I gave him a really cheap price for my design expertise and agreed to build it myself, too. That way, I could control costs and keep it super cheap for him.”

  I frowned. “Well, what’s wrong with that? I’m sure he’s got a lot of hospital bills to pay, right? And it’s a nice thing to do for a sick little girl. That doesn’t make you a chump.”

  He sat with his head hanging down, staring at an uneaten crust on his plate. When he looked up at me, his hair fell over one eye. The other eye looked so sad. “I just found out the guy scammed me.”

  I gasped. “Not uh.”

  He nodded. “Ya huh. I ran into this guy in the hardware store. We got to talking, and he said he’d been through the same exact thing with my client. Made-up daughter with leukemia, awesome playground for cheap, then, apparently, Pete turns around and sells the house for a profit. I’m not helping a little girl. I’m helping a scumbag flip a house.”

  My heart sank. “No. I can’t believe that.” The pizza I was chewing lost all its taste. “Did you call h
im? Double check?”

  He shook his head, and I wanted to push that hair out of his face.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Here.” He handed me a business card. “That’s the guy I met in the store.”

  The card felt thin and flimsy, as if it had been printed on a home computer. “Did you check him out?”

  “He’s got a business card.”

  I stared at him. Nobody was this sweet, gullible and naïve, were they? I let out a long sigh. “Let’s see what we can find out before you take a side, okay?”

  I ran into my room and grabbed my laptop. When I returned, he was refilling our glasses. I took a sip, then settled in to boot up and see what I could find out. If my client’s project was a scam, maybe somebody up in the Fates department was being a dick. Somebody should know about that. I suspected, however, that something else was going on.

  First I searched for the Dwight McDougal from the business card. I was not surprised to find nothing on him. Not even a Facebook page. Mark’s client, however, was easy to find. He and his adorable little girl were in the paper.

  I turned the laptop around so Mark could see the screen. “Is that your client?”

  His eyes widened. “Yes. He does have a little girl.”

  I nodded and closed the laptop. “And she’s pretty sick, too.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say.” He looked horrified. “I screwed up.”

  “Why on Earth would you believe a random guy in the hardware store over your client, then not verify it?” I touched the back of his hand.

  He looked so intelligent. In fact, I knew he was intelligent. This made no sense.

  “I’m an idiot. I’ve been taken for a ride before.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to look stupid a second time, so I guess I jumped to conclusions.” He ran his hand through his hair, and his face looked pale. “Holy shit. I nearly screwed up that kid’s birthday.”

  I understood that he was focused on the client and trying to get things back on track. But I had a more important concern he didn’t seem to be worried about. “Who the hell was the guy in the hardware store, then?”

  The question seemed to startle him. “I have no idea. Why would he try to interfere like that? Why would anybody care?”

  I stared at the card in my hand, turning it over and over. “What did he look like?”

  Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. Like any guy. A little taller than me—maybe six-two. Blond hair, short on the sides, kind of spikey on top. Blue eyes, I think. Nothing really memorable about him.”

  My stomach dropped, and I tried to keep my face neutral. It had to be a coincidence. That description could apply to just about anybody. I was being paranoid.

  There was no way Freddy was hijacking my clients.

  Chapter 21

  I didn’t see Freddy at work the next morning, though I didn’t expect to. I still thought he had nothing to do with any of this and I was making connections where there weren’t any. That was the reasonable explanation.

  Rick, however, made damn sure I saw him. He sat in the lobby for me and hopped up as I walked by. “Hey. Thought I’d try to catch you on the way in so we could get some coffee.”

  I stopped and counted to five in my head. This was a problem I couldn’t put off. I would have to deal with it. But it was also a problem that smelled like an invitation to a sweaty, loud, life-changing night. It was a problem wearing a thick layer of guy-liner and a pirate costume. His eyes today were brown, as was his normally blond hair. The hopeful quiver of his lower lip made me want to press my mouth against it and see if it tasted like a cinnamon latte.

  This would take every bit of resolve I had in my body to set things right and not make them worse.

  I nodded. “Okay. Coffee. But I have to be quick. I’ve got a lot going on.”

  His worried face relaxed into a grin. “I’ll take it.”

  We rode the elevator to the second floor in silence. The presence of so many other people—and a small sphinx that smelled a little like a wet skunk—made it less awkward than it might have been. When the doors opened, we were the only ones who stepped out on that floor, so we were alone. The pressure and warmth of his hand against the small of my back was both familiar and troubling.

  He ordered a cinnamon latte for each of us again, and we took them to the table in the corner we’d used before.

  This time, the silence was definitely awkward. He looked incredible. He smelled fantastic. He looked at me like he really liked me. A lot. A guy who looks at a girl like that is likely to treat her like a princess.

  But I wasn’t ready. It was too much too fast.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “Look,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “I really like you. In fact, maybe I like you a little too much.”

  He touched my chin and raised it so I would make eye contact. “I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing.”

  I took a gulp of coffee and burned my mouth. “It wouldn’t be if I’d met you later. But I just got out of a relationship. I mean just got out.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You still have feelings for this guy?”

  I shook my head. “Well, no.” I couldn’t possibly tell him I kept seeing my ex pop up in unlikely placed. “But I’m not…” I trailed off, thinking about how ridiculous and impossible it would be for Freddy to have been the guy in the hardware store trying to sabotage Mark’s project.

  “You’re not ready?” Rick’s voice was gentle. “I didn’t mean to rush you into anything. I can back off until you’re more comfortable.”

  I gave him a weak, worried smile. “You’re not mad?”

  He leaned forward and tapped his paper cup against mine. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Rick agreed to give me time, then said something about being out of time himself and ran out the door. One of his eyes had turned blue, and blond streaks had appeared on the top of his head.

  As I watched him go, I wondered for the first time what would happen if his costume ran out in front of me. Would he be naked? Was he really that good looking?

  In the end, I was more confused and distressed than I’d been before I’d had coffee with Rick. But I did know I’d done the right thing. Somehow, I wasn’t done with Freddy yet. A new boyfriend wasn’t in the cards until I sorted myself out first. In fact, most of the trouble I’d had with men in my life was because I jumped into relationships too fast.

  I needed to figure out how to handle Wynter before I could take another stab at having a boyfriend.

  Having figured out this deep, spiritual truth, I waltzed into the office with a little more confidence than I’d had before. Dave’s leer and Jeremy’s ugly smirk barely touched me as I squeezed past them in the hallway. I grabbed my gear, dropped a framed picture of my mom on my desk, and squeezed past the Ass-clown Brothers on my way out.

  I had more important problems on my plate than a couple of mouth breathers who resented their inability to get laid.

  My nerves were pinging all the way down the elevator, expecting Freddy to step in from a different floor or be walking away in the lobby when the doors opened. Since I’d stopped for a little while to have coffee, it was already late enough that, when I left the elevator, traffic in the lobby had died down.

  Patrice glanced up at me as I passed her reception area. She raised a dark green eyebrow from behind her glasses. I lifted a hand to give her a half wave. She didn’t wave back, but one side of her hot-pink-painted lips lifted in a tiny smile.

  I hid my own smile as I ducked out the door. I was betting underneath all the grumpy attitude was a much gentler soul than she wanted to show.

  Who knew? Maybe in my quest to learn how to be a good friend, I’d acquire a gorgon as well as some humans. Stranger things had already happened to me in the last week or so.

  I headed straight to Alex’s house to see if yesterday’s pep talk had stuck or if I’d have to build the damn thing for him. To my relief, he was hard at
work in the basement. The detached garage had taken shape, and he was working on the garage door. He whistled as he glued, a weird, perky song I couldn’t identify until the third time through.

  “Dude.” I blew bubbles at him and crossed my fingers. “The theme song to Gilligan’s Island? Really? How about a different song?”

  The bubbles must’ve taken hold because he switched in the middle of the song. I grinned until I realized he was whistling the Brady Bunch theme now.

  I groaned and rose from the box I’d been perched on. “Well, at least you’re working.” I screwed the cap on my bubbles and reattached them to my belt.

  I endured his whistling for a few hours, relieved that he was finally back in the zone. Around noon, he climbed off his stool and stretched, and I did the same. I wandered over to see how he was doing. The garage door was drying, but it looked as if he’d made it functional, so that when he finally attached it to the rest of the building, it would actually roll up and down.

  Without thinking, I patted him on the back. He must have felt it, because he startled and looked around.

  I took a step back embarrassed. “Sorry! Sorry! Nobody’s here. We’re fine.” I backed into the table. Now that I remember what I was doing, though, I walked right through it without affecting the surface. I glanced down and found the pamphlet for Alex’s big toothpick architect competition.

  It was a glossy page covered in photos of toothpick bridges, castles, and ships. Happy people held up trophies with golden toothpicks on them. At the bottom of the page, it gave information about the convention space in a moderate-quality hotel, ticket prices, and the dates.

  I turned to follow Alex up the stairs and stopped. It felt as if all the blood had left my head and gone to fuel the quicker pace of my heart. I returned to the table, afraid to look, but I did anyway. What I’d seen was crazy.

  I still had two-and-a-half weeks until my deadline was up. But the competition was in a week and a half. Somehow, I’d lost a week. Or the Fates had screwed up.

  Alex had made it upstairs already and had Oscar’s leash in his hand to take him for a walk. That was great, since I really needed to talk to him in person, but I was seriously freaked out about the deadline.