Rewriting Singularity Ch. 04

"Interior: Small closet. Dark. Flashlight beams up into two faces, heads together." I turned my own head as I read what we'd written of the script aloud to Hec. This was the second time from the beginning, and we'd been writing for a few hours now. I helped myself to a couple more cookies out of the bag, jamming more into my mouth and crunched, crunched. As I recited the stage directions, I watched Hector's reaction. His black Oreo cookie teeth smiled back at me.

Over the last few hours I'd noticed a curious parallel between our Oreo eating methods and our writing styles: Hec twists his cookie and savors the filling first like he savors words, while I just cram the whole cookie into my damn mouth like I cram phrases.

I chewed and read with my mouth full, sneaking looks at Mr. Grumbles, who no longer grumbled. I decided I needed a new name for him-- one that reflected his animated, excitable side. I had to think on this.

I continued reading through our brainchild without stopping, checking the flow. As the last line left my lips, the room became silent except for wet snow slapping the window.

"It's great so far," he said, "except--"

"Except what?" I reached into the bag. Empty.

"The name of the show..."

Maybe I was too quick to rename Mr. Grumbles-- I hesitated, the defensive artist rising up in my throat along with about twenty half-digested Oreo cookies. "What's wrong with the name of the show?" I choked.

"There's already a series with that name. It's on CBS's new lineup. Seems like being in the business you'd have known-- Barenaked Ladies does the theme song--"

My head fell to the table. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I must be slipping. I'd never heard of this new show. But then again, I wasn't into CBS anymore. Or ABC. Or NBC.

HBO was my calling. Yes, that bastion in the sky. That pinnacle. The name was inconsequential compared to the story, but I was disappointed.

I lifted my forehead off the table and sighed.

"That was such a great name, too." I sat back in the chair gazing over at Hec. He had frosting on his bottom lip.

I shoved another cookie in my mouth. "We can always come up with another. We're clever."

That frosting. Lick that frosting, come on, lick it off, I want to see some tongue.

"We can brainstorm ideas," Hec said. "I've got lots of books on astronomy in my room-- maybe we could get some items there."

I've got plenty of ideas of what I'd like to do in his room, and that's an invitation if ever I heard one... Hec. Bedroom. Tongue.

Ringgggg. Ringgggggg.

The phone. We both stared at it like the devil was in Salem. I turned back to Hec and the frosting was gone. I'd missed the tongue.

Damn.

Ringgggg. Ringgggggg.

I hesitated. Who could be calling? Maybe Kate looking for Hec? Somehow I didn't think so... My stomach turned to Jell-o.

Ringgggggg. Rin-- I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

Stomach turned to lime Jell-o, legs to strawberry and feet? To orange.

Bill Cosby was wrong-- not everything goes better with Jell-o. No, no, not everything because--

It was Austin.

"What do you want?" I snapped. My gelatinous manifestations were in sync with 1-800 psychic network.

"It's Pete."

That got my attention. My Jell-o legs wobbled down to the bed. Shit, he hadn't killed poor Pete my beloved canary, had he?

"What's wrong with Pete?" I hugged the phone to my ear.

"I think he misses you."

Of course he does, shit head-- I'm the only one who cared about him enough to feed him.

"I'm in the lobby downstairs."

"You're where?" I croaked.

"I'm downstairs, with Pete."

His voice echoed, bouncing off the bad memories in my brain. Downstairs?

"Fuck!" Serves me right for calling him on the phone from the bed and breakfast. Caller ID bites.

"Who's Pete?" Hec asked. I jumped. Somehow he'd managed to park himself next to me on the bed. I waved him back.

"I'll be right down." I hung up on Austin, turned around to Hec's questioning stare. "Do you allow pets?"

"Not usually, but we make exceptions sometimes. Why?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"My ex is downstairs with Pete and wants to pawn him off on me. More than likely he's here for other reasons..."

"Other reasons?"

I liked the way he said "other reasons"-- almost like he was jealous.

"This is that Austin fellow, your ex-partner," he said as he studied me, eyes still slits. "And Pete is that bird you were telling me about?"

I nodded. He was jealous, but maybe he was just jealous on a business level-- yeah, that's what it could be... after all he was working with me on this new script, and the invitation up to his room really was to brainstorm ideas. My old partner shows up, Hec might feel conflicted, you know, torn because he sees himself as part of the creative process on this new sitcom. A partner. Partner. Hec's brown eyes soaking into me had my stomach all in butterflies. Or maybe I was mistaken-- maybe that was just Jell-o jiggle from Austin's appearance downstairs. Nope, one more look at Mr. Grumble's intense peepers and my tummy flittered with quivering wings. No mistaking my diagnosis, this stomach malady was of the fluttering butterfly not jiggling jell-o variety.

"Yeah," I said. "And I'm still not sure if I can look at Austin without punching him in the face. Would you mind coming down with me to make sure I don't do something that will get me arrested?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

He followed my heels out the door. I looked over the railing, down into the expansive lobby, and there he was, leather coat, faded Levi's with snow still clinging to his Hugo Boss boots. His hair was messy, making him look younger. The hook of Austin's gloved finger held Pete's cage, swinging slow with the cloth draped over it. Austin's head turned up. He saw me, then Hec. Blinked. I started down the stairs like a George Romero zombie, my eyes locking with his. I was struck how there was nothing really there behind his eyes for me. No want. No love. As Hec and I descended, the vacant stare let a hint of curiosity creep in as he watched Hec behind me.

I gave him the most wicked smile that I could conjure and licked my lips. That always got to him. I hoped he thought Hec and I were fucking. I hoped he thought he'd just interrupted us going at it like rabbits. I even did a fake adjustment session when we reached the last landing just to make Austin wonder.

He met us at the bottom. Hector stood directly behind me like a shadow, and Austin stood straight as a board, his countenance, holding not one iota of shame, regret or jealously, which pissed me off even more. I guess licking my lips didn't do it for him anymore.

"Well?" I said.

"Here he is." He held up the cage, then handed it to me. "You bought him for me. You love him, I don't."

"Not much you do love," I said, flatly. I lifted the cloth to check on Pete. He hopped up to my face, little feet hanging on to the bars of the cage, and gave my nose a love peck.

"That's not fair," Austin said.

"Not fair," I said, putting down the cover. "I'll tell you what's not fair, not fair is fucking over your partner of four years. That's what's not fair."

"I'm sorry, Jake."

Sorry? Please!

"And giving me Pete illustrates just how sorry you are?"

"I thought you'd want him."

Hec took Pete's cage from me. I heard the familiar twitters, must be Hec lifted the sheet to take a peek at Pete, too.

"I never meant to hurt you," Austin said.

I gave a strangled laugh. "So now you're quoting Boy George? What the hell! You did mean to hurt me. Leaving me on Thanksgiving, taking our sitcom and calling it yours! I think most people would say that's meaning to--"

"Listen, we aren't ever going to agree on how much was yours and how much was mine," he said. "You didn't want to sell it to ABC-- I did. End of story."

"It was mine," I shot back.

"See? That's what I mean. It was half mine. Half. Everything we wrote was half mine."

"According to what? That paper we signed? Your version of a prenuptial agreement for sitcom partners? You know that sitcom was mine. I wrote it all."

"We're never going to agree. The concept was ours. There was plenty of work we wrote together where I wrote most of it and we shared."

"You asshole!" I stood staring at him. "You sold the rights!"

"Yes, and I'm on the team too."

"A lot of good that will do. How long before the producers realize who really wrote that script?"

He pulled papers from his pocket. Then a pen.

"I need you to sign this." Austin held both out to me.

"I'm not signing anything."

"Come on, Jake. Sign the release."

"That's why you're here!" I started pacing back and forth between Austin and Hector. "This had nothing to do with Pete or seeing me or being sorry. This is all about you!"

"It gives you half. The check will go into your account. Our partnership will be dissolved and everything we write from this point on is our own. Sign it, Jake."

Over. All over. Isn't that what I want?

"Read it first," Hec said quietly from behind me.

"ABC's lawyers making you do this?" I asked. Austin just glared at me, holding out what was in front of him like it had a vile stench. I felt like punching him in the face. I was thankful Hec was there.

"Can you make him disappear?" I asked, turning briefly to Hec. I wished Hector was a genie who could blink Austin away into oblivion.

The papers gave a delicious crunch in my hand as I snatched them out of Austin's fingers. I ripped the pen out of his hand with the same gusto.

I read them fast with Hector reading over my shoulder. He nodded. They were exactly what he said they were.

"Sign em, Jake," Hec said.

I bent over and signed the papers, pressed against my leg. I thrust them back in Austin's face. I didn't care anymore.

I didn't care.

I... didn't... care...

He shoved them back in his pocket without a glance. Turned. And started away then stopped at the door.

"Didn't take long to find someone else, did it, Jake?"

"Fuck off!"

Austin laughed as he continued out the door.

It slammed shut. I thrust my hands in my pockets.

Pete twittered again behind me.

"He's cute," Hec said.

"Yeah, I thought so too-- at first."

I turned around and realized Hec was talking about Pete, not Austin. My face grew hot, but Hec didn't notice, or else he didn't let on.

"I can't believe the fucking nerve of that guy," I said, pacing an invisible line back and forth in front of Hec. "He didn't even bring Pete's birdseed and vitamins!"

"We can go into town later and get some at Petco," Hec offered.

"Do you think he looks alright? I mean, he seems alright to you, doesn't he?"

"You're talking about Pete, right?"

"Well, I don't give a shit about Austin's health." I didn't really mean that I didn't care. Well, maybe I did. It wasn't like I wanted to send a pox on him or something; I was just pissed. Um, maybe a pox wasn't a bad idea-- maybe Hec could make him contract something non-life threatening like priapism or beaver fever.

Hec lifted the cover and checked Pete. "I don't know much about parakeets."

"That's obvious," I laughed. "Pete's a canary, not a parakeet."

"He seems fine to me."

I knelt down next to the cage and rubbed his little head. Um, Pete's head, that is. I'm sure Hec's wasn't little-- at least from what I could tell in this position, it looked impressive.

"I bought him for Austin's birthday," I said, eyes flitting between Pete and Hec's face. "I went to the pet store to buy lovebirds, but they were $120 each and the cage and supplies were expense. Pete was $47, and he didn't fly away like the other birds when I looked into his cage. He got his little body up as close as he could and sang to me."

"Sounds like love at first sight."

I chuckled and stood up. "Guess Pete was always more mine than his." I frowned. "Damn Austin, he never appreciated anything I gave him."

"Sounds like he appreciated that pilot."

That was the wrong thing to say-- his words got me pacing again.

"That fuck head!" I swore, waving my arms above my head. "He knew that sitcom was my child! He knew it, and he snatched it away in the night like the Lindbergh baby. Hell! I don't know why I signed that release! What was I thinking?!"

I stopped, my chest heaved, my fists clenched. My whole body hummed. Yeah, Jake, you know actually what you were thinking...

And so did Hec. His words came quiet and slow. "You wanted out of the partnership."

He was right. But more important Hec wanted me out of the partnership. That quiet exterior, that calm smile spread with a glint in his brown eyes. Yes, that was why I signed. I opened my hands. Took deep breaths. And there was the other part of that reason, the reason standing right in front of me.

"Let's take Pete up to your room and get him acclimated," he suggested. "You need to relax. Take a bath. I'll bring up something from the kitchen-- comfort food-- maybe a hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes with loads of gravy? Kate makes the best. Come on." He waved me to follow, and I obeyed like a little lost puppy.

I was right on his heels like he'd been on mine just minutes earlier. We got to my room. It seemed different to me. Maybe it was my mood, maybe my imagination. The room felt magical. Hec set Pete down on the table against the far wall next to the bathroom door, then he continued into the bathroom. I stepped around, curious as to what he was up to. He was bent over drawing my bath, sprinkling in Mr. Bubbles. Water splashed in the tub as he tested the temperature with his open hand under the spray.

I felt a little creepy watching his ass. I mean, his ass was great, but I didn't want him to find out how much I yearned to be a card-carrying member of the Mr. Grumbles Ass Appreciation Society. So I scratched my own ass and went back in the bedroom where I relaxed on the bed. I spread my legs and arms out and plopped my head in the mass of pillows. Felt good. I began my new fantasy-- the one where Hec steals into my bedroom but instead of messing with my laptop he's on top of me messing with my lap.

I sighed.

Pete groomed himself and admired his reflection in his mirror, then hit his little dangling toy ball with his beak. It was like he never left home.

I closed my eyes. Drifted off for a bit, lazing in my little perverted world. The water stopped. I opened my eyes to Hec standing in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, grinning at me.

"Take off your clothes and jump in."

Take off your clothes. My jaw went slack. My fantasy come true. I sat up mechanically. Pulled my blue sweater over my head like a robot, then I rolled my t-shirt up over my abs. Hec watched. With interest.

I stood up. Unzipped my jeans. Kicked out of them. When my fingers began to slide my underwear down, I suddenly felt sheepish. Doubt reared its ugly head in the back of my brain. What am I doing? I felt pink climbing up my neck into my cheeks. He had to notice, my neck, my face, my... Oh, my! He clutched the door frame, his eyes trained on my body like a hawk. He was waiting, waiting. My heart hammered with enough force to cause structural damage to my chest. Then my nervous twitch began. My eye. Christ. Not now.

I kept my underwear on, walked across the room with my eye twitch, twitch, twitching relentlessly. I brushed by him as casually as possible for a man in a half-aroused state. He politely stepped out of the doorway away from the tent in my Calvin Klines but not without his hand brushing over me first. Shit. He slipped into the bedroom, and I shut the bathroom door between us.

I still felt the tingle where his hand touched my dick. I stumbled and grabbed hold of the sink, steadied myself. My eye winked back at me in the mirror.

I was losing it. I was acting like a bird with a broken wing, flopping around helplessly.

Only one thing to do.

Get into the tub.

Bubbles. Mr. Bubbles poured over the top. I leaned back, legs stretched out. I took myself in hand. More bubbles spilled over, just like I did. The water sloshed around. The bubbles pop, pop, popping. The water slop, slop, slopping. Then me. God, sweet release. I couldn't stop myself from bursting and flowing over.

I stepped in that tub tense and stepped out-- relaxed. Maybe. Christ.

He wanted me. I wanted him. What was the problem?