A Writer's Romance

Prologue-3

Ben scowled. “You haven’t been talking with my agent, have you?”

“Clark? No. I’ve heard you mention him, but I’ve never talked with him.”

“How about my publisher, Gavin Brooks?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even heard that name. Why would I be talking with either of them?”

“Because they’re both relentless. They want D.K. Witherspoon to emerge from his reclusive lifestyle and go on a national tour to plug the upcoming book. I thought for a minute one of them had called you and put you up to this visit.”

Chris looked hurt. “How could you think that?” He paused. “But worse things could happen, you know. Than that national tour, I mean.”

“Not so far as I’m concerned. Sitting in bookstores and making nice-nice with people who want to gush over the crap I write. Being on television, answering inane questions from small town talk show hosts? I’d rather pack it in, quit writing that damned schlock.”

“It’s a great cash cow. You may as well milk it while you can.”

Ben almost smiled. “Yeah, I’ll milk the cow, but I’m not going to be f****d by the bull.”

Grinning in appreciation of Ben’s attempt at humor, Chris asked, “Don’t bite my head off for asking, but do you ever hear from Trent?”

“Yeah.”

“Not very forthcoming.”

“Look, counselor, I’m not being cross examined, am I?”

“Of course not. Where is Trent and what’s he doing?”

“He’s still a surgical nurse. He must work somewhere around Sylvania, because that’s where he lives now.”

“Marcia and I always liked Trent, you know. We thought you two were, uh, really good together.”

“You think I didn’t? I’m gonna have a drink. You want something?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ben returned from the kitchen and handed his brother an old-fashioned glass with scotch on the rocks.

“Mmmmm. Single malt. I’m glad to see you aren’t totally depriving yourself.”

Ben sipped his scotch, which he took neat. “Yeah. So long as I’m prostituting myself I may as well enjoy some of the perks.”

Hal, wearing flannel boxers and a T-shirt from Cedar Point, wandered in. “Uncle Ben, got anything to eat?”

“Well, bud, that depends on what you have in mind. There are brownies from the supermarket in the can on top the fridge, and there’s plenty of milk.”

“Cool!” He went into the kitchen.

A moment later Mr. Tibbs walked into the living room, looked around, and headed for the kitchen.

“Uncle Ben, can I give Tibbs some milk?”

“No, he’s not supposed to have milk. Is there water in his dish?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he’s had his dinner, so he’s good for the night. He doesn’t get any exercise, and the vet says I have to watch that he doesn’t get fat.”

“Oh, okay.”

Then they heard Hal commiserating with Tibbs in a low voice.

“Chris, would it be breaking any of your rules for Hal if I asked him just to call me Ben? When he calls me Uncle Ben I feel like a box of rice.”

Chris chuckled. “I always think of that, too. I can understand how you feel.” He took a sip of his scotch, shut his eyes and smiled. “Nice.”

Noticing that the game was over and talking heads were mouthing at each other on the muted television, Ben grabbed the remote and shut it off.

“You’re not pissed with me, I hope,” Chris said.

“Of course not. I understand that you love me and worry about me. But you’ve got to let me live my own life. I know Trent says he’s sorry, but talk is cheap. And once burned, twice shy. I’m not about to let him back into my life, and I still don’t feel ready to even look for somebody new.”

“How long’s it been since you saw him?”

“Not since the day he moved out.”

“You’ve never even let him explain?”

“Oh, he tried to explain at the time, said it was a momentary lapse, that the guy was drop dead gorgeous and came on to him.”

“Was he?”

“Was who what?”

“Was the kid, the jock, uh, good looking?”

“Well, you have to remember that my first look at him was from behind. So I can say he had muscles and a little ass. But he grabbed his clothes, got dressed, and left while I was yelling at Trent. I can’t tell you what his face or his d**k was like.”

“I don’t need quite that much detail, thanks. Let’s say he was gorgeous. Weren’t you ever tempted when you and Trent were together?

“Depends on what you mean by tempted. A particularly sexy guy still gives me a hard-on. Like those guys from across the street you met this afternoon. The little Asian is a real stud, and the other one’s not bad. But while I was with Trent I never seriously considered having s*x with anybody else. Now, if you don’t mind, this is bringing back memories I’d sooner forget.”

Hal, followed by Mr. Tibbs, came out of the kitchen. “I’m going to bed now.” He looked at Chris. “What time we getting up in the morning?”

“About nine o’clock, I suppose.”

“Man, that early?” His tone sounded as if he’d been told they were leaving at five A.M.

“Yeah, dood, ‘fraid so,” Chris said, grinning at him and standing up. “Gimme a hug.”

Hal and Chris exchanged hugs. Then Hal turned toward Ben. Happy to be included, Ben stood up and hugged his nephew. “It’s good to have you here, bud.”

“Thanks, Uncle Ben. The game was great.”

“Hal?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s drop the Uncle stuff, okay? I’d like it better if you’d just call me Ben.”

“Uh, okay. Goodnight, guys.”

Hal and his shadow went off toward the guest room.

“I wonder if Mr. Tibbs will sleep on Hal’s bed.”

“Tibbs sleeps wherever he wants to, I’m afraid. Would that bother Hal?”

Chris grinned. “What do you think? The boy loves that cat, obviously.”

“Well, it looks like Tibbs has adopted Hal. Do you have any problem with the cat in the room?”

“Nope.”

“I can grab him and put him in my room if you want. Then if you keep your door closed, he can’t get in.”

“No, I think Hal would enjoy the company.”

“Okay, then, no problem.” Ben continued to be surprised at Tibbs’ sudden devotion to Hal.

The two men finished their whisky in companionable silence.

“After that drive, the game, and everything, this old guy’s bushed. I think I’ll turn in.”

“Yell if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine.”

The two brothers hugged.

“Ben, you know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, big brother, I know that. You shouldn’t worry about me. My life is pretty quiet, but I think my writing’s improved since Trent left. Maybe a writer has to be something of a hermit. At least now I don’t have to explain to anyone why I spend an evening or a weekend at the computer. Besides, this way I’m not leaving myself open for a repeat of the kind of hurt Trent caused me.”

“You’re not leaving yourself open for the kind of love you need, either. Good night, Ben.”

“Night, Chris”

* * * *

Sunday morning Ben was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the paper with Mr. Tibbs draped over his feet when Hal padded in. Hal wore his hair in that long seventies style that was beginning to be popular again, and he had a case of bed head. He still had on the flannel boxers, though the T-shirt had been shed at some point.

“Morning, Hal.”

“Morning, unc, that is, Ben.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, but I can get it. And is it all right if I get some OJ first?”

“Sure, help yourself.”

Ben put down the paper. “You’re up early.”

The boy looked directly at him. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. It’s good, though, ‘cause Dad’s in the shower. He wants to start home after breakfast.”

Ben realized what it was about Hal that had looked familiar to him yesterday. It was like looking at a picture of himself when he was fourteen. Same hair, eyes, build. It was uncanny. Chris was a tad shorter than his younger brother but much more muscular. It wasn’t just that he’d taken more trouble with his body, he’d inherited his build from their mother’s side of the family. Ben and Hal, however, had inherited the Moss genes. Like Chris, they both had dirty blond hair and blue eyes, but they were both wirier, like Ben’s dad, Hal’s grandfather.

“I’d better start breakfast, then,” Ben said. “There’s cereal and Pop Tarts in the pantry.”

“What are you and Dad having?”

“I’m gonna make eggs and sausage and toast some English muffins.”

“That sounds cool. Can I have some, too?”

* * * *

After breakfast, Chris and Hal put their bags in their car. There were hugs all around. And then they left.

Back inside, Ben put the breakfast things in the dishwasher.

I was put out when Chris called and more or less invited himself and Hal for the weekend, but it was good having them here. The house really seems empty now.

He brushed his teeth and sat in front of his computer. He flipped it on and let it boot up. Then he brought up the chapter of This Petty Pace he’d been working on.

“Back to normal, huh, Mr. Tibbs?” he asked.

Then he realized Tibbs wasn’t there. He couldn’t remember seeing Tibbs since Hal and Chris left. It was surprising how the cat had taken to Hal, practically ignoring Ben. So much for owning a cat, he thought.

“Tibbs, where are you?” He got up and went into the living room to see if the feline had ensconced himself there. No Tibbs. Then he checked the guest room, thinking Tibbs had practically adopted Hal while he and his father were there. No cat there.

Puzzled, Ben looked in every room. Tibbs was gone!