by Lux Zakari
And he thought the topic of letting Amie into his studio was awkward. His casual comment was met with a startled pause, during which James begged some higher power to send a meteorite crashing into him. Where was a natural disaster when he needed one?
Greer cleared her throat, suddenly engrossed by whatever was on her computer screen. “Maybe. Maybe that’s the case.”
At a loss for what to do, James stood swiftly and looked out the backdoor, surveying the yard. There was that goldfish pond Noah had talked about. He turned to the left and peered into the kitchen, where everything was so sterile, impersonal, and not like Greer at all, with its white appliances and cabinetry. However, he could see Greer’s efforts where she’d attempted to make the place seem like home, like the alphabet magnets clinging to the fridge spelling Amie, which held up Noah’s drawing of a robot destroying a crayon metropolis.
He whirled around, raking a hand through his hair, to find her staring at him. It was too late to look away and pretend it was just a glance, so he continued to meet her gaze. The tension in the room escalated quickly, and for better or worse, he sensed they neared a confession of sort, and he was both terrified and looking forward to it.
Then the children thundered back into the room, dressed in clothes that didn’t match.
“Ready,” Amie announced.
Greer stood. “They’re ready, James,” she said, breaking eye contact at last. A dismissal.
James fought against waves of disappointment as Noah threw himself into his legs. There was a big problem here, one that grew bigger every day, and he had no idea how to fix it.
Later that night, while his children slumbered in their old rooms and he tossed and turned, Jamesfound himself thinking of the first time he’d ever had sex. It was with Greer, of course. It hadn’t been anything too spectacular or acrobatic, putting him on par with virtually everyone else he knew when it came to first times. In fact, it had been sort of boring, if not completely disastrous. They’d been watching Mulholland Drive on DVD at her parents’ house and not understanding a single minute of it. Eventually, one thing had led to another, and he wound up coming while putting on the condom. He couldn’t remember being so mortified in all his life, and thanks to Wade and E.Y., there was a record of all the embarrassing things he’d ever done, so he would know.
But Greer hadn’t seemed fazed. She’d just kissed him, snaking her tongue in his mouth as she sat naked in his lap, straddling him as she ran her hands over his body, coaxing him back to a state of arousal. This time she helped him roll the condom on, an act that left his throat tight and dry, and he watched her position the tip of his cock at her entrance. Even now, the memory of her sinking slowly onto him, taking him into her body inch by inch, never failed to turn him on. He could still recall the throb that swelled in his head at the feeling of how perfect she was.
So perfect that he came in approximately twenty seconds, thus making it the second most mortifying moment of his life. And still Greer hadn’t chastised him, looked miserable or unsatisfied, or told him how disappointing he was. Instead, she’d smoothed away his messy hair clinging to his flushed face.
“It’s cool,” she’d said. “I’m just really, really sexy. I understand.”
He’d stared at her for a moment until a smile broke out on her face. Then he had started laughing, his humiliation ebbing in favor of relief and a rush of affection for this girl, and he’d stabbed his fingertips in her ribs, wringing a shriek of laughter from her. They’d toppled off the couch and rolled around naked on a sea of carpet until they traded their laughs into languid kisses that increased in urgency.
Their third effort had proven to be the charm. It’d taken every last bit of his will power, but somehow he’d managed to not climax until she did. It’d been rough going for moment there, with Greer clawing his spine and her hot, choked moans in his ear, but somehow he’d seen it through.
Afterward, they’d wandered outside on the porch, him in his boxer-briefs and her in just an oversized T-shirt that was so flat-out unsexy it crossed the line and came back to sexy. He’d sat on the steps and drank a can of soda while watching her catch fireflies. She had let out an “eep” of glee every time she caught one and would run toward him periodically to show him her collection. At one point, her cupped palms had brimmed with the insects and their dimming yellow flickers. Before they went inside, she’d shaken them from her palms into the bushes. Then she and James had curled up on the couch and fallen asleep in front of a marathon of “Blind Date.”
Pain swelled in James’ chest. He suddenly longed for Greer, missed her more than anything. He ached thinking of that night and remembered how he’d watched her with the fireflies, so childlike and full of wonder just moments after hissing his name as she came. The juxtaposition of the two events created an intoxicating, irresistible combination, one that had made him stupid with love at seventeen—and, admittedly, now.
Meanwhile, she wanted nothing more to do with him.
He wasn’t sure what pained him more: the knowledge that in spite of everything, he still craved her, or the fact that she didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t an answer he thought he wanted to know.
Blame James (blame_james) wrote,
@ 2012-08-19 17:05:22
E.Y.’s Hunt for the Perfect Fan Fic Idea Continues
CLAUDIA: So did you think of an idea for your James Venora fan fic yet?
E.Y.: No, no thanks to you. I did, however, write a letter to any unoccupied muses who are floating around out there, looking for something to do. It goes like this:
Dear muse,
E.Y. here. How are you? I’m fine. Actually, I’m not. I’m struggling to find a plot for a James Venora fan fic and I could really use the help. In turn for your aid and inspiration, I will:
• Decrease my weekly red meat intake.
• Ask people on the streets if they could spare a minute for Greenpeace.
• Be kinder when talking about Wade and stop calling him The Other Guy Who Was in Venora.
• Stop taking pee-and-beer breaks whenever James is whining his way through one of his sickening, boring piano ballads during one of his shows.
• Put an end to penning James psychotic love letters written in blood and female ejaculate.
• Offer a make-out session or two to The Other Guy Who Was in Venora. (I mean Wade. Wade, damn it!)
Oh, muse, hear my humble prayer. Thanks!
CLAUDIA: Actually, I got a plot for you. How about this—rewrite The Old Man and the Sea, only with James out on the boat. And, because you need a love interest to keep everyone entertained, have him bang a mermaid.
E.Y.: Now you’re talking. What other great classics can I tear a new one by turning it into fan fic? What about The Great Gatsby starring James as Gatsby, and Wade and Greer wind up running away together? Or a Tom-Huck buddy story featuring both James and Wade? Ooh! What about the guys as Balky and Larry from “Perfect Strangers”? James can be the zany, foreign one, and Wade can be uptight and Jewish. Leave it to me to go from literature to ‘80s TV sitcoms.
CLAUDIA: I actually can’t wait for your James Venora as a Confederate soldier historical fan fic, or James Venora as one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. And James is scoping out Betsy Ross’s sweet rack with B. Franklin.
E.Y.: I enjoy the concept of historical fan fic, where James is the first man on the moon, or JFK or a gladiator.
CLAUDIA: I think the moon man one works. You could turn it into groundbreaking erotica where James gets it on in zero gravity with a Mary Sue lady astronaut or moon alien.
E.Y.: Or I’ll write it like “Star Trek,” where James Venora is Captain Kirk and visits planets to have sex with lady aliens dressed in go-go boots. Oh, now the ideas just won’t stop coming. Here’s a list of other fan fics that need to be written, like, today:
• James Venora defending the Alamo
• James Venora as a brain-munching zombie who is in love with a human Mary Sue
/> • James Venora continuing the work of Jack the Ripper
• James Venora in the African diamond trade
• James Venora as Santa’s head elf
• James Venora as a coal miner
• James Venora as a chatty, musical stink bug
CLAUDIA: I think you should use all those ideas. At once.
E.Y.: They’re all so good, I may have to. Thanks, muse! Now just watch out for my imminent bestseller.
CLAUDIA: Like I do for falling rocks.
Chapter Nine
James read and reread Green Butterfly’s stories. Admittedly, he even took notes. It felt sneaky and wrong and pathetic, but all he wanted was to get Greer back by being the guy her teenage heart had always wanted him to be. Where was the harm in that? The ends would justify the means.
Wringing advice from Greer’s fan fiction, though, was all but impossible. Thanks to her writing, he deduced that she had a thing for his hair circa 2000 and was attracted to the romantic doom of loving someone famous. Otherwise, there wasn’t too much to work with, and even if there was, he doubted it would be helpful. So she’d liked certain traits in guys—in him—when she was sixteen. Who cared? He couldn’t remember what he liked and was passionate about when he was sixteen, but he was sure it was stupid. Obviously her tastes had changed; she was living with Pierce, after all, the complete opposite of himself. Was that the kind of guy Greer was into now: responsible, clean-cut, and mature, running his own successful graphic design business with lots of time and attention to give to her and the kids? Put like that, who could blame her? James had never felt like a bigger loser.
He looked in the mirror and told the blond-haired, blue-eyed mess staring back at him to get a grip. There wasn’t a need to panic. There was still a chance he could be the right man for Greer. To change—that’s why tomorrows existed, after all.
The following weekend, James arrived at Pierce’s townhouse to pick up Amie and Noah and steeled his nerve. He reminded himself that, like other women, Greer apparently wasn’t immune to the powers of his fan fiction self either—at least the basic themes. It was time to see about that.
The door swung open and Amie stood on the other side. Her gleeful grin melted into a look of total confusion. “Dad, why are you dressed so weird?”
Not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for, but then again, the girl was seven. Still, his face burned anyway. He’d dressed up today—plaid knee-length cotton shorts and a white button-down shirt paired with loafers, all purchased new that morning. How was that weird? Was he so strange that he couldn’t attempt normalcy because it would be even stranger? What an endless loop.
“I’m not weird.” He reached down to squeeze his daughter’s sides. “You’re the weird one.”
“It takes one to know one!” She squirmed out of his grasp and up the stairs.
He shook his head. The kid was too smart for her own good. She’d be the first to tell the emperor his new clothes were bullshit. In fact, she pretty much just did.
“Amie, don’t open the door if you don’t ask who it is first,” Greer called up the stairs as she entered the room, and a rush of nervousness flooded his veins.
He straightened as her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hey, Greer,” he said softly.
“Hi.” She gestured to his get-up. “What are you—”
“Just thought I’d try something new. People can change, you know.” Damn it, he’d never been good at subtlety. He inhaled a deep breath for bravery and met her gaze. “You look really pretty today.”
Her already bewildered expression increased tenfold as she glanced down at her outfit—faded yoga pants and a shirt so big her shoulder peeped out of the giant collar. Inwardly he winced. He wished she was wearing something else, something that would make her believe what he’d just said. The thing was, she did look beautiful. All he wanted to do was put his hands on her.
She regarded him with suspicion. “I—”
“James.” Pierce strolled into the room, much to James’ annoyance. His voice was thick with overblown friendliness peppered with mistrust. “Glad to see you again.”
Sure he was, but James shook the guy’s hand, anyway. Greer wouldn’t like him behaving like a spoiled, bratty celebrity. This was a new James Venora, a version Greer would want. “You too.”
Pierce looked between James and Greer, the latter who still stared at the former like he was up to something. “Should I get the kids ready?” he asked, albeit reluctantly.
Her brow creased, Greer turned to Pierce as though just registering his presence. “Oh, yeah. Please. They’re all packed. They just need their shoes on.”
“I’ll go help them out.” He gave James the worst jovial smile James had ever seen. “Then you can be on your way.”
James was sure Pierce hoped that last sentence didn’t come across like it had, but the intent was hard to miss. Still, he gave Pierce the fan-friendly smile he’d mastered over the years and waited until the man had trudged up the stairs and out of sight. Then he turned back to Greer, and he couldn’t help but revert to the previous lessons derived from the fan fiction. He could almost hear E.Y.’s voice now: Show deep, unwavering interest in her life. Coupled with Green Butterfly’s “Base,” it seemed like sound advice.
“How’s goes the world of graphic design?” he asked.
“Fine.” Her tone held more than a note of disbelief.
“Did you finish your e-cards?”
“Yes.”
That was it? She wasn’t giving him much to work with. “I’d love to see some of the other stuff you’ve been working on.”
“You would?” Greer couldn’t have sounded more surprised.
“Yeah, of course.” It disturbed him that she doubted his sincerity on this. It couldn’t be denied that his methods were formulaic and calculated, but he still meant them. “I really would. Maybe on Sunday, when I drop the kids off, you could show me.”
She didn’t respond, just continued to stare. Panic and discomfort blazed through him, compelling him to keep talking. What other advice had E.Y. had? Unfortunately, the only tip coming to mind was Value the weird. He gave her a quick onceover and couldn’t spy anything truly strange about her to comment on, aside from a small hole forming in the top of her slipper.
“Your foot…” was all that managed to come out of his mouth, and he gestured to it to help make his point, feeling stupider by the minute. “Your toe… The hole…”
Amazingly, Greer managed to look even more stunned. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just…” He swallowed hard, embarrassment and worry stinging his eyes. He didn’t know what to say or what to do, but suddenly remembered something his mother had told him a long time ago, when he’d first started giving interviews and fretted about not knowing what to say or how to be.
Her response had been, “Sweetie, when in doubt, just be honest.”
At the time it’d saved him a lot of stress over pretending to be something he wasn’t, but it meant the world got to see how strange and awkward the real James Venora was. Maybe the advice wasn’t so good after all, but it was all he had then, and it was all he had now.
James looked Greer in the eye, pausing to muster up courage, then said, “I miss you.”
Her eyes widened. “You miss me?” she whispered.
“I know you don’t believe me, but with everything that’s happened…” He shrugged and looked helplessly at the ceiling, feeling more stricken by the minute. Where were some eloquent sentences when he most needed them? Nothing sounded right, everything was turning out wrong, and he was afraid he was going to lose it any second.
Finally, he gave up and rubbed his forehead with a sigh, feeling a panic-induced migraine coming on. “I love you, Greer. More than anything, I do. I’m sorry about everything that’s happened and that it’s taken me to so long to realize things weren’t working between us. But now that I know, just give me a chance to make it right. I don’t want to sign the papers, I
don’t want to get a divorce, and I don’t want to be without you anymore. Please. Don’t give up on me.”
Greer stared at him like he’d just told her the most devastating news in the world. That’s when Pierce chose to return with Amie and Noah, who pranced out the front door like reindeer after pausing to give their shell-shocked mother a brief hug and kiss goodbye.
James watched the children race toward his vehicle and turned back to Greer, hoping he didn’t look as tortured as he felt. “I guess I’ll see you,” he said softly, ignoring the daggers shooting from Pierce’s eyes.
She said nothing, her lips set in a thin, bloodless line, and he felt her staring at him as he buckled the kids in the car and drove away, believing himself to be the world’s biggest fool.
After spending the day with his children and inwardly cursing his stupidity, James put the kids to bed and had finally managed to drift off on the living room couch when an urgent pounding at the door startled him awake. He willed himself to action as he shuffled to the front door and peered through the peephole.
Greer stood on his porch, her jaw set like a warrior princess done wrong. This couldn’t be good.
He unlocked the door and she pushed past him into the hall. “What the hell was that today?” she demanded, kicking off her shoes by the welcome mat, where she’d always taken them off.
“I don’t know?” His response sounded more like a guess as he closed the door and leaned against it, struggling to process the situation through a lingering sleep-thick fog.
“Right.” In a classic move, she clasped her hands behind her back and paced the length of the hallway. “One minute, we’re unhappily married, the next we’re unhappily divorcing, and suddenly…” She pursed her lips. “Have you completely flipped?”
He swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, you do. You show up today, dressed like Pierce’s twin, complimenting me, shooting me all sorts of looks, and then you tell me you love and miss me. That’s not like you.”
“It’s not like me to be nice to you?” His voice was thick with hurt and disgust. “It isn’t like me to love you?”
