Oz the Great and Powerful...sort of.

So, tonight my man and I went and saw Oz the Great and Powerful!!!! (the exclamation points are mine).  Warning: spoilers for the movie below.

Definitely a fun family movie.  It's got everything a kid could love: fairies (that bite), flying monkeys (the monkey is the cute one, it's the flying baboons you've gotta look out for), sentient china dolls (warning, she's so sweet your teeth might just rot) and the kind of obvious, dramatic, tongue-in-cheek acting that almost succeeds at making fun of itself enough that you don't notice it.  I mean, yeah, Oz is a con man, I get that the schtick has to stick, but I was a little underwhelmed by James Franco, and by the quality of the women who fall for him.  Although I've got to give props to the wickedest witch of them all: girl, when you go dark side you don't just go, you freakin' run.

The atmosphere was rich, the story was good, the visual effects were mostly incredible (although Sam Raimi, damn it, get animators who can actually animate people in motion realistically!  You did this crap in Spiderman too, it's jarring, stop it!) and I loved all the witches for different reasons.  Glinda pulls off goodness without being cloying, Theodora has an endearingly severe personality disorder, and Evanora makes pulling strings look like she's conducting a symphony.

That's right, ladies, I love you.  Loooove you.  Especially you, Rachel. ;)

 

 



Is this something you should go and see without the leverage small children can apply to you?  Yes...if you love fantasy, have read the books, or are really curious about the prequel to the fabled The Wizard of Oz.  I suggest a matinee.  Or in my case, a gift certificate that paid the way in.  :)

Love Letters Post #7

Notes: Building, building, building!  This story is heavy on the construction, I know, but every scene moves the whole shebang forward in some way.  A little history, a little conversation…I have a plan, sweethearts, never fear.

Also, because I offered and you accepted: picture!  Is Jeremy Renner the perfect model for Ben?  No, but he’s definitely in there.  This picture is the one I was thinking of when I described Ben’s author photo in the back of his book. 

 

Title: Love Letters

 

Part Seven: Two Very Different Conversations

 

***

 

 

The first full day he was back in Colorado, Ben didn’t do anything but sleep.  He was exhausted after the trip to North Carolina, in more than one way, and his body demanded its due as soon as he was in familiar surroundings again.  He got up once to drink water, eat peanut butter on toast and use the bathroom before falling back into bed again.  By the time he woke up properly, showered and dressed and decided to act like a normal person, Ben had missed eight text messages on his phone.  Four of them were from Linda, probably split between concern for his mental state and concern for his next book pitch, and four were from Ryan.  Ben read Ryan’s first.

One more had come while he was on the plane.  Tired but just cant sleep in my old bed. Considering moving to the treehouse.

The other three had been sent at random intervals throughout yesterday.

Cheryl yelled at mom for making pancakes for bkfst. App. theyre unhealthy. Today will be fun L

Three more days here. I may not make it.

And lastly, Pls let me know if this bothers you and Ill stop.

Shit, Ben didn’t want to give Ryan that impression.  He texted back, It’s not a bother, I just slept for twenty four hours when I got home and missed you.  Don’t stop.  How was the treehouse?

The response came almost immediately.  Cold but better than inside. You feel better now?

More rested, Ben replied.  Not necessarily better, but I’ll get there.  Three more days, huh?

Feels like forever L

Ben frowned down at the text.  For some reason, just writing out his condolences didn’t feel like it would cut it.  There was a bit of unease in his stomach, because Ben had never been one to call when the written word would to the trick, but…

This isn’t Brody, he reminded himself forcibly.  The same rules don’t apply here.  Ben wasn’t sure exactly what sort of rules were going to end up applying, but he couldn’t treat Ryan the same way he’d treated Brody.  He didn’t want to, either.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Ben called Ryan’s number.  Ryan picked up almost immediately.  “Hello?”

Jesus, that voice.  Just a little low and rough, like Ryan had just woken up or had just finished giving head…Ben bit the inside of his cheek hard and refocused.  “Hey, it’s Ben.”

“I know,” Ryan teased, and he sounded so pleased about it.  Ben could picture the smile on his face.  “Hang on, let me go somewhere else…”  His voice got fainter for a moment.  “It’s fine, Mom, it’s just Ben.  Yes, I’ll tell him.”  A few seconds later he was back on.  “My mother says hello.”

“Tell her hello back for me.”

“I will when I go back inside.”  Ryan sighed.  “Which will have to be soon, actually.  Cheryl and Mom are meeting with the lawyer today to get into estate stuff and Pam left this morning, so I’m going to be watching the kids.”

“I’m sure they love you.”

Ryan laughed.  “Yeah, they do, but I think it’s mostly because my babysitting style involves letting them do whatever they want as long as it’s not going to physically damage anything.  Honestly though, Molly’s hit the age where she’s too cool to want to do anything with me and Joey prefers to just sit with his computer, so they’re pretty easy right now, even with their dad being gone.”

“They’re coping okay?” Ben asked before quietly smacking himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand.  It was none of his business, but Ryan went ahead and answered it anyway.

“Pretty well.  Molly’s more obvious about it, of course.  She spends half her time crying and the other half without talking at all, but her mom is good at drawing her out.  And Joey…”  Ryan made a soft, unhappy noise.  “It’s just hard to know.  You know he was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, right?”

“Right,” Ben said.  That was part of the reason Brody had gone into the police force; he’d wanted to be closer to home.

“Well, Joey’s never been very verbal about his feelings.  He hasn’t even mentioned his father’s death.  His behavioral therapist says to give it time, but I think it’s really worrying Cheryl.”

Of course it was.  Ben’s reluctant sympathy for Brody’s widow deepened.  “Complicated family,” was all he said, but Ryan seemed to get it.

“Yeah, it tears me in half, sometimes.”  And Ben knew exactly what he meant.  It was a catch-22, the desire to cut all ties and run from your past and only be limited by your own abilities and expectations, and at the same time knowing that the bonds that connected you to your family were so strong that you could never let go of them, not completely.  Not without hurting someone, quite possibly yourself.

Ben’s phone beeped.  He looked at the screen.  “Damn.”

“What?” Ryan asked.

“My agent is calling.  Probably because I haven’t talked to her since before I flew to Concord.”

“She’s kind of a mother hen, huh?” Ryan teased.  “Checking to see what her little chick is up to.”

“More like checking to see if her goose has laid another golden egg yet,” Ben said wryly.  His phone stopped beeping.  “Never mind, she’s gone now.  What are you going to do when—” The phone began to beep again.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“She’s persistent, I take it.”

“Like the plague.”

“Its’ fine, you should take it.  I’ve got to get back inside, anyway.”  Ryan paused for a second, then said, “I’d like to talk again.”

Ben shifted on his feet, unable to keep completely still, as though movement would give outlet to the things he didn’t want to say or even consider right now.  “I’d like that too.”  The beeping ended abruptly.

“Okay, good.”  Another brief pause, and then, “Bye, Ben.”

“Yeah, bye.”  Ryan hung up and Ben squeezed his eyes shut.  There was no reason to feel uneasy.  Certainly no reason to feel guilty, god, what was wrong with him?  Just because this was Brody’s little brother didn’t mean Ben couldn’t be friends with him.  In a different way than he was used to, maybe, but—

The theme song from Psycho began.  Linda’s ringtone had never felt more apt.  Ben took a deep breath and a moment to calm down before answering.  “What is it?”

“Ouch,” Linda complained.  Hmm, maybe Ben should have taken more than a moment.  “There’s no need to snap, Benjamin, I’m just calling to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, I don’t think you are.  ‘Fine’ would have been answering my texts—maybe a day late, but answering them nonetheless.  You’re always been very professional with me and I appreciate that, so why don’t you explain what’s really behind your sudden silence?  Is it the book?  Have you reconsidered your proposal?”

“I just got back from my best friend’s funeral,” Ben said flatly.  Linda was gratifyingly silent.  “So forgive my lapse in professionalism, but under the circumstances I thought silence was better than the alternative.”

“Oh.”  Linda took a moment to clear her throat.  “I’m very sorry about that, Benjamin.  Did you know him long?”

“For most of my life.”

“I see.”  Perhaps sensing that she was digging herself in even deeper, Linda changed the subject.  “You know, I can argue for an extension on the proposal with Chris at the publishing house.  Let me do that.  Instead of the end of January, let’s say…mid-March?  I might even be able to push it to the beginning of April.  It could cut down a bit on your actual writing time, but it’s okay to need a little more space at the beginning.  Just promise me you’ll come up with something besides Benedict Arnold, okay?  Because I’m sorry, but that’s just not going to sell right now and the publisher won’t take it.”

She’s just doing her job, Ben reminded himself, trying to be grateful and not resentful of that.  And honestly, the thought of an extension sounded really good right now.  “Okay,” he told her.  “Thank you, Linda, I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” she said.  Her tone was rather relieved.  “I’ll just copy you on the latest idea from the publicists, and oh, I forgot to mention, I’ve got the details on the foreword for your grandfather’s book.”  She hummed consideringly.  “In fact, I can use that as leverage when I argue for the extension…as long as you agree to write it.”

“I’ll write the foreword,” Ben conceded, and Linda shrieked with delight.

“Wonderful!  That’s loooovely, Benjamin!  And I’m sure you’ll come up with something good,” she said soothingly.  “Take a little time, relax, maybe go to a spa.  Do you get manicures?  Go have a manicure.”

Ben had never had a manicure in his life.  He seriously doubted he ever would, but he appreciated the thought.  “Thanks, Linda.  Let me know what the publisher says about an extension.”

“Don’t you worry about that.”  And the thing was, Ben didn’t worry about it; Linda was ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted, out of authors, editors or publishers.  “I’ll call again once I’ve got details, Benjamin.”

“Okay.”

“Ta-ta for now!”  She hung up.  Ben felt almost dizzy with relief, both that Linda was going to get him an extension on knowing what the hell to write next and that he was done talking to her for now.  He sat down at his computer and pulled up his notes.

It wasn’t that Ben was relentlessly driven to write about Benedict Arnold, it was more than he’d fallen in love with reading the man’s letters.  So much of the personal correspondence that was preserved from the time of the revolution was staid and abrupt, but Arnold wrote with real passion, even if that passion had been for a cause that ultimately failed.  Ben had researched Arnold for his first book, and his initial draft had included excerpts of the general’s famous Loyalist letter “To The Inhabitants of America.”  In the end all but the slimmest mention of that letter was cut to focus more on Noah Webster’s subsequent, ardently patriotic response to it.

Ben let his eyes wander over the text, scanning for words that popped out, for inspiration.  Some of Arnold’s best letters were the ones he’d written to the women he loved, most notably Peggy Shippen, his second wife.  Ben hadn’t paid much attention to them before, focusing more on the letters that referenced the war, but there was a certain charm to these as well.  They were florid, yes, but undeniably romantic.  (Pardon me, Dear Madam, for disclosing a passion I could no longer confine in my tortured bosom...)

Romance wasn’t something that Ben had much personal experience with.  His mother had never remarried, never even brought any boyfriends home.  Ben had never met any of his father’s new wives, and the longest romantic relationship he’d ever been in was his ill-fated college foray into heterosexuality.  Early boyfriends never stuck around, always wanting something he either wasn’t prepared to give, or didn’t know how to.  Eventually boyfriends became fuckbuddies and fuckbuddies became one night stands, and even those had been sparse lately.

Ben sighed and moved on to the next document.

               

Quick Update and Contest on TRR

Hi darlins

First off, I've got to say I am so, so pleased you're enjoying Love Letters.  When I write for the blog I'm more of a pantser than a plotter, and the fact that the story's coherent enough to keep you interested makes me happy:)  For the patiently or not so patiently waiting, another installment is ready to go tomorrow, and I'm considering adding snippets now and again of secondary information, maybe pics of people I could see being the guys, etc.  I don't know how people feel about that, whether you like to have your own vision or enjoy seeing other people's ideas, so let me know.

Second thing, it's The Romance Reviews' 2nd Anniversary party, and I signed up to contribute a prize!  Follow the link and answer a question about one of my stories (if you've read Opening Worlds or Changing Worlds, you're good) and you could win a copy of Cambion Ep. 1.  Episode 2 comes out on the 8th, so this is a good time to catch up if you're interested.  Here's the link: The Romance Reviews.  You have to scroll down to find my question, they have a lot of authors participating and a lot of chances for you to win things, so.  Just sayin'.

Let's see, anything else...both my serials (Love Letters and Cambion) are progressing.  I'm writing a story for the Forgotten Menagerie anthology at Storm Moon Press--it isn't done and hasn't been accepted yet, but I live in hope:)  I've got a novella planned for a submission call at Riptide, I'm working on another mainstream urban fantasy book, and my man just started grad school, so we're busy. 

More Love Letters tomorrow!

Love Letters Post #6

Notes: And on we go!  Not much to say, really, we’re building the basis for a whole new relationship.  Read on and enjoy.

 

Title: Love Letters

 

Part Six: Ties As Lifelines

 

***

 

One beer over lunch turned into two, then three.  Their plates were taken away but the waiter never brought the check, never hinted that they should go.  He just kept bringing them fresh, full glasses and, once Ben realized he was getting drunk, water as well.

Getting drunk hadn’t been the plan.  There hadn’t been much of a plan to begin with: find whoever invited him, figure out why, leave after the memorial.  This trip wasn’t supposed to be about having a good time, and answering a question was only a side note; the trip was supposed to be about Brody.  But here they were, with the sky gone dark outside, drinking and laughing.  Ryan looked so much better when he was laughing.  He looked real, not like a stiff plastic doll, not like something he so clearly couldn’t be.  His jacket and tie were on the seat beside him, and his shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbow.  His left arm was tattooed from the elbow to the wrist, a brilliant winding serpent with eyes like emeralds gleaming against dusky scales.  His hair was a perfect mess, and his pale cheeks were flushed from giggling.

“He never told me that story,” Ryan said between little gasps, still cracking up.  “Not that he would, I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you tell your little brother, but…really?”

“I swear to god,” Ben laughed, sitting back and crossing his long fingers over his heart.  “I have no idea why he thought I was the right person to bring that particular concern to, because I know next to nothing about being in relationships with women.  I had exactly one girlfriend for one semester my freshmen year of college before I figured out it wasn’t for me.  We never even had sex.  I certainly never had to deal with getting her any sort of present.”

“And so he settled on…”

“Yeah.”  Ben stretched out his legs and sighed, enjoying the quivering tension in his stomach muscles.  It felt like it had been forever since he’d really let loose.  A foot slipped around his ankle, and he smiled.  The Kuzniars, with one notable exception, were the touchy-feeliest family Ben had ever met.  Ryan had been at it all night, brushing their fingers together or playing footsie.  He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it most of the time, and the first few times, when Ben jerked with surprise, Ryan had apologized, equally surprised.  After a few hours, though, Ben had gotten used to it.  He even kind of liked it.  It was the sort of relaxed, casual touching that had never been a part of Ben’s life, and there was something comforting in the simple assumption of rightness, like there was never any question the contact would be okay.  “Cheryl was not happy, from what I gathered.”

“Cheryl doesn’t really do happy,” Ryan said, then looked a little guilty.  “Not that I’d know, again…”

“You’d probably know better than me,” Ben mused.  “I have to ask—what’s her problem with me?  It’s not the gay thing, is it?”

“Nah, she’s not that kind of bigot,” Ryan said earnestly.  Ben took a moment to wonder what kind of bigot she was before Ryan continued.  “She just likes to be number one in everything, you know?  When she and Brody got together it was like some sort of modern-day fairytale: he was the star quarterback, she was the head cheerleader.  As far as she was concerned, life was perfect.  Then she got pregnant at the end of junior year.”

“Yeah, I remember Brody freaking out about that.”  Maybe Ben was being too candid now, but Ryan looked intrigued and fuck it, he wasn’t hurting anyone.  “He actually called me up to tell me what was going on.  I’ve only ever talked on the phone with him twice, and that was the first time.  Except for when he drunk dialed me from Rome, but that didn’t really count because I couldn’t understand a word he said.”

Ryan was grinning again, his eyes shining with happiness and not tears now.  “He drunk dialed you from Rome?”

“Yeah, he was lost, I think.  It really freaked me out at the time; I thought he was in trouble.”  Ben had actually tried to contact the police there, but they hadn’t had time for a worried American who couldn’t even describe the man he was trying to tell them about.

“He drunk dialed me once, but that was just from the bathroom at his bachelor’s party.  He snuck me into the bar, but I was the only one too young to drink, so I got the job of keeping him functional,” Ryan said.

“He snuck you into his bachelor’s party?”

“Yeah.”  Ryan smiled nostalgically.  “I was only fourteen; it was a pretty big deal for me.  I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t as wild as I’d hoped for.  While there was a stripper she was female, of course, and the rest of the time the guys just did shots and shouted at whatever game was going on the television.  Brody was mostly sober for the wedding, at least.”

“That’s something,” Ben agreed.

“Yeah…but Cheryl!  We were talking about Cheryl.”  Ryan drained the last of his beer.  “She dropped out of college when she got pregnant.  She had all these expectations, right?  Brody was going to play for the NFL, they’d have a huge house, she could be a pretty sports wife and have perfect pretty children.  But Brody joined the army instead.  He was deployed a lot, and Cheryl pretty much raised Molly for the first two years by herself.  Then when they had Joey, Brody switched over to the police force, but it was mostly for the kids’ sake.  The two of them didn’t really get along all that well.  They didn’t have a lot in common except for the kids. 

“And she never liked you,” Ryan continued with an air of confession.  “She couldn’t resent her own kids, and she didn’t resent me or Pam or Mom because we’re family, but she could resent you, because you made Brody happy.  She wouldn’t let him text with you where she could see, and she returned the copy of your book that Brody bought for himself to the store.”

“Good thing I mailed him a signed copy,” Ben said, a little taken aback.

“You did?”  Ryan looked kind of wistful.  “That was nice of you.”

“But not very modest.”

“Brody liked to brag about you, when Cheryl wasn’t around.  You were his…” Ryan lost his momentum, waiving one hand aimlessly.  “His person.  His friend that was just for him, even though he still shared you with me sometimes.  He forwarded your ironic Zen Christmas card to me.”

Ben felt himself blush.  “That was just a joke.”  He had been up far too late, listening to Alan Watts while racking his brain over his next book, and something the man said had struck a chord.  So Ben had taken it and made it his Christmas card.  It wasn’t like he celebrated a traditional Christmas, anyway.  His few friends, his agent and his publisher all got this:

“To remain stable is to refrain from trying to separate yourself from a pain because you know that you cannot. Running away from fear is fear, fighting pain is pain, trying to be brave is being scared. If the mind is in pain, the mind is pain. The thinker has no other form than his thought.

There is no escape.”

Merry Christmas!!!

“I thought it was funny,” Ryan told him with a grin.

“Well, that makes one of you.”

“Brody thought it was funny too.”

“Oh.”  Ben had thought he would, but they hadn’t had time to talk much before Brody’s death.  “That’s good.”  The awful weariness that had been threatening to overwhelm him started to raise its head, and Ben searched for something else to talk about, something that would steer his own mind away from the pain.  “You know everything about me already, so tell me more about yourself.”

Ryan’s expression very clearly said that he didn’t know everything he wanted to know, but he rolled with the change.  “I live in Boston, I have since I graduated.  I love it there, and there’s actually a pretty substantial creative community, especially with regards to writing.”

Distantly, Ben could recall a few messages from Brody mentioning his baby brother’s talent for art and design.  Something about comics… “You draw for a living, right?”

“Draw and write.  I have my own graphic novel, Janie and the Phantom.  It’s not DC or Marvel-worthy or anything, but I love it,” Ryan enthused.  “I started putting it up online last year and it got some good press, enough that I get to focus on it now instead of splitting my time between that and my friend’s coffee shop.”  He paused and lowered his eyes.  “I mean, it’s not serious writing like you do, but I enjoy it.”

“At least you’re doing something creative,” Ben replied, and wondered how they’d suddenly slipped into the high school game of I-suck-more-than-you-do.  “I’d like to read it.”

“I’ll send you a copy,” Ryan promised him, smiling again.  “Signed, even.”

“Thank you.”  Ben glanced down at his watch and started in surprise.  It was seven o clock; god, how had the time passed so quickly?  He had a flight back to Denver at ten, and he still had to get his stuff from his hotel room.  “Ryan…”

“Oh no.”  Ryan sounded dismayed.  “You aren’t leaving tonight, are you?”

“I didn’t think I’d need to be here any longer,” Ben said apologetically.  He hadn’t thought he’d want to be here any longer either, but then he’d never figured on Ryan Kuzniar either.  He looked so young—Ben could barely remember being so young, even though they were only six years apart, and he was sure he’d never been so youthful.  This didn’t feel like the right time to leave, there were still things to learn here.  He wanted to see Ryan in clothes that suited him, or even better, with no clothes at all, so he could seek out and memorize every intricately tattooed plane of skin. 

Just then Ben’s subconscious perked up and kicked him in the head.  You’re picturing your best friend’s grieving younger brother naked.  Stop it, perv.  “I’m sorry,” he offered, trying to assuage the disappointment on Ryan’s face.

Ryan forced a smile.  “It’s okay.  I appreciate you spending as much time as you did with me.  You’re…you were important to him, you know?  And I wanted to make sure you knew that at least one of us knew that.”

Fuck, looking at Ryan made Ben’s heart ache.  He looked sad and lost and somehow grateful, and that was just wrong.  Ben hadn’t done anything worthy of that kind of gratitude, but he could try.  “I’ve got time to drive you back, if you want.”

Ryan’s fingers twitched toward Ben’s, but he didn’t reach out.  “I can just call a cab…”

“I’d like to drive you.”  Ben could do persuasive, and honestly Ryan didn’t need much of a push.

“Thank you.”  They stood up out of the booth and Ryan pushed his sleeves back down, buttoned his shirt back up and put his jacket on.  It was like watching an exotic bird molt, to go from brightly colored to dull and drab.  The transformation was kind of depressing. 

The drive was pretty quiet, Ryan providing directions and Ben following them.  All of the tension that they had been able to forget about built back up as they drew closer and closer to Ryan’s childhood home.  Apparently Cheryl was living there right now so that DeeDee could help with the kids, so there was no question of Ben taking a moment to go inside and say goodbye to the rest of the family.

Ben parked outside a large, two story Victorian style house flanked by enormous maple trees.  It was a beautiful, stately place, the kind of place he imagined not even a blade of grass would dare to do anything other than stand up perfectly straight.

“So…” Ryan drawled.  He tried to put on a smile, but his muscles seemed to be paralyzed.  “I guess that’s it.”

Ben stared at him for a long moment, wanting to soothe but not sure what to say.  After enough seconds passed for it to start to get awkward, he blurted, “Your tie is missing.”

“Oh.”  Ryan’s hand flew to his neck.  “Oh, shit, I must have left it at the restaurant.  Damn it.”  He looked unhappily at Ben.  “Don’t worry, we don’t have to go back for it, I’ll just—”

“Here.”  Before he could think about what he was doing, Ben loosened his own tie and pulled it off, then touched Ryan’s shoulder and drew him in closer.  Ryan sat silently, wide-eyed, as Ben looped the tie around Ryan’s neck and snugged the knot up into the hollow of his throat.  The bare skin there was tantalizing, pale and cool and just waiting to be warmed, but Ben forced his hands down the front of Ryan’s jacket instead, smoothing it uselessly.  “Now you’re a proper southern gentleman again,” Ben said softly.

A second later Ryan’s upper body was flush to Ben’s, both of them twisted around in their seats as Ryan tried to hug all the air out of Ben.  Ben returned the embrace, taking a moment to close his eyes and relish the contact, his second hug today and the most human contact he’d had in months.  They sat like that until the twist in his back forced Ben to ease off, but he didn’t let go entirely, just swiped his thumbs over Ryan’s cheekbones, wiping away the tears that had appeared.  Ryan shut his eyes and god, he looked so sad, so vulnerable.  Ben didn’t want to send him back into that house, that place where he didn’t belong, but he had to go.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan said around a sniff.  “I will be.”

“Here.”  Ben dropped one hand to his pocket and fished around until he found one of his cards.  He thought it was stupidly pretentious, a writer carrying business cards, but Linda had insisted.  “This has all my information on it.  Just…keep in touch, okay?”

Ben hadn’t been sure that this was the right move, but the blinding grin that came over Ryan’s face reassured him.  “I will,” he promised.

“Good.”  The urge to lean in and…and something was growing stronger, so Ben had to leave before he fucked things up.  He let go and sat back in the seat.  “It was good to meet you, Ryan.”

“You too.  Thank you so much for coming,” Ryan said.  He looked like he might say more, then thought better of it and got out of the car.  He straightened his sleeves, adjusted the tie slightly, then walked up the long walkway to the house.  Ben watched until Ryan disappeared, then started up the car with a sigh and pulled away from the curb.

He should have gone straight back to the hotel, he was going to be pushing it as it was, but he made a quick stop at The Roasting Company and ran in, looking for the tie.  The hostess handed it over before he could get two words out.

“I was hoping one of you would come back for that,” she said cheerfully.  “It would be a shame to lose it.”

It would, actually.  The silk tie was skinnier than Ben wore, dark but with faint blue accents in it that reminded Ben of Ryan’s eyes.  Ben thanked her for holding onto it and ran back out to the car, now really needing to push it if he was going to make his plane.

In the end he made it with fifteen minutes to spare.  As he settled into his seat, Ben checked his phone one last time before turning it off.  There was a text waiting for him that he hadn’t heard come in, from an unfamiliar number.  He opened it.

Im still wearing your tie. I like it-you may never get it back.

Ben smiled and typed out, Fair enough, I’m wearing yours. It’s a mutual hostage situation.

Negotiate tomorrow, tired now. Have a good flight.

Sleep well.

J

 

Love Letters Post #5

 

Notes: Oof, heavy.  Don’t worry, things will lighten up in the next part.  For now though, at least the boys are alone.  Thanks so much for reading, guys!  Your feedback is inspiringJ

 

Title: Love Letters

 

Part Five: The Lunch of Revelations

 

***

 

 

Ryan had carpooled to the church with his mother, so they took Ben’s car to the spot he had in mind.  It was closer to Charlotte than to Concord, and when Ryan parked out in front of the place, Ben was more than a little surprised. 

“The Roasting Company,” he read off the sign, which featured a chicken wearing a sombrero.  “Really?”

“It’s a great place,” Ryan assured him with a smile.  Ben was starting to think he’d believe almost anything if Ryan kept smiling, but his face must not have conveyed his trust.  “The food is delicious, and you can get a booth in the back and people will leave you alone.  I used to meet Brody here on the weekends before he shipped out after college.”

Something wasn’t adding up in Ben’s mind.  “How old are you?” he asked as they got out of the car and headed into the restaurant.  Ryan walked close to him, and held the door as they entered.

The interior was about what you’d expect from a diner.  Circular overhead lights shined too brightly on the scuffed laminate floor, and the hostess at the front could barely be heard over the Bob Marley track playing.  Several of the walls were brick, and lights from various neon signs gave the place a slightly funhouse feel.  Ryan seemed to relax almost instantly as the girl led them to a high-backed booth.  Despite the noise, it actually did feel kind of private.

“I’m twenty-six,” Ryan said after the hostess gave them a couple glasses of water and walked away.

Six years younger than Brody.  “So you were in high school while he was at Duke.”

“Yeah.”

“Why meet him here?”  There had to be decent restaurants in Concord, closer to their parent’s house.  If Brody was driving the two-plus hours it would take to get from Durham, where Duke University was, to this part of the state then surely it was to see the whole family.

“Um.”  It was hard to tell in this lighting, but Ben thought Ryan might have been blushing.  “I wasn’t living at home at the time.  Whenever Brody would go home for weekends, he’d make a detour to come and see me.  I wasn’t old enough to drive, but this place is within walking distance of my school.”

“What kind of school?” Ben asked.

“A private boarding school, for challenging children.”  Ryan dropped his eyes and fiddled with his water glass, pushing it back and forth across the slick bed of condensation that appeared beneath it.  Ben drank a little from his own glass to give Ryan a reprieve, and give himself time to figure out what he actually wanted to know.

The problem was, Ben wanted to know too much.  “I don’t want it to seem as though I’m interrogating you…”

“No!” Ryan looked up again, his blue eyes wide and his expression earnest.  “I want to talk.  I don’t mind telling you things.  That was years ago, anyway.”

Their waiter came over and interrupted the moment, which was fine with Ben.  He needed to think.  He ordered one of the beers on tap, a quarter of a rotisserie chicken and the sides that Ryan recommended, then sat back and gathered his thoughts.  So far, they weren’t very happy ones.

It was clear that there was some kind of rift between Ryan and his family.  Ben wasn’t here to pry; he didn’t need or want to know the details of the Kuzniar clan’s private life, but now that he was alone with Ryan, Ben couldn’t deny that he was curious.  Curious as to how this man could be so different from the rest of his family.  Ben noticed the thin lines of blue polish down at Ryan’s cuticles, where he hadn’t been able to completely remove it.  The empty piercing holes were just begging to be filled, and his hair…that couldn’t be the way he normally kept it.  Ben wanted to see the real Ryan, not this sad, dutiful version that seemed so uncomfortable in his own skin.

“So you didn’t go to the same high school as Pam and Brody?” Ben asked after the waiter left.

Ryan shook his head.  “No.  My parents thought it would be better for everyone if I was removed from their immediate vicinity.”  He shrugged listlessly.  “They may have been right.  I wasn’t doing a very good job of fitting in at home.”

“Why not?”

Ryan heaved a big sigh and sat back, running his hand through his slicked-down hair.  It actually looked much better once it was a little messier.  “Okay, before I explain about this, promise me you won’t get mad.”

Ben was completely confused.  “Why would I get mad?”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably.  “Well, you might think it’s a violation of your privacy, and I get that, but really, you have no idea what it meant to me, and even Brody came around eventually, and—”

Ben reached out and put a hand over Ryan’s before he could stop himself.  It was just to focus the younger man.  It had nothing to do with his fingertips wanting to linger against the soft, cool skin.  “Ryan.  What are you talking about?”

Ryan shut his eyes and took a deep breath, but didn’t pull his hand away.  “I read your letters!” he blurted after a moment.  “When Brody went away to college he left a lot of stuff in his room, and I was being a brat one day and snooping around and I found a stack of your letters in a box in his closet.  A huge stack.  And I read them all.”  Ryan twitched under Ben’s hand like he wanted to move, to gesture, and he looked anxious.

“Oh.”  Wow, that wasn’t the revelation that Ben had been expecting.  He pulled back, much to Ryan’s evident discontent, and took a moment to consider that.

If Ryan had read every letter from the time Ben and Brody started writing to the time Brody left for college, that was…eight years’ worth of correspondence.  Two letters a month, not quite as many once they started emailing, then that still had to be almost two hundred and fifty letters.  Letters that had, very definitely, been private; letters Ben had written about his father and mother, letters from abroad.  Letters in which he had bared his soul, because it was safe for him to do so.  That was the deal.  Ryan reading through those letters had definitely not been part of the deal.

Ryan seemed to feel compelled to fill the silence, and what he had to say almost broke Ben’s heart.  “I’m so sorry, I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I—I kind of didn’t have a lot of friends back then, and so I was home a lot, and alone, and when I found them and started reading I just had to continue, because you were so interesting.  It was like I’d found this amazing treasure, this special secret person that I could relate to, that made me feel better when nothing else could.  I was twelve when I found them.  Almost thirteen, I was just starting the eighth grade, and I was pretty much a loner.  I didn’t have anyone at home or at school I could relate to, but somehow I felt like I connected to a lot of what you wrote about.

“Brody found out, when he came home for Christmas break,” Ryan said after a moment’s pause.  His eyes were glinting again, damp around the edges.  “I didn’t even think about putting them back in his room.  I’d already read them all, but I couldn’t bear to part with them.  He found them under my bed.”  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear rolled down his face.  “He lost it and started yelling at me and I yelled back, because I didn’t want him to take them.  We shouted back and forth and he called me gay—just as an insult, I don’t think he actually thought I was, but when he said it it was almost a relief, like him saying it kind of gave me permission to agree.  And I did.  Loudly.  And then my parents got involved.

“My dad told me I wasn’t gay.  I insisted I was.  He grounded me for all of break, and when school started again…”  Ryan tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing.  “I decided not to hide anymore.  I came out very, very visibly.  I flirted with boys, I wore makeup, I got beaten up a few times.  I was arrested once.  My dad was running for mayor at the time and he didn’t want me making a scene, so naturally that made me even more determined to make one.”  Ryan looked down and started to worry at the edge of his paper napkin.

“Dad lost the election and I barely passed the eighth grade.  My parents sent me to a re-education camp in Utah over the summer, and when that didn’t work they sent me away for high school.  Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ben murmured.  Ryan looked like he wanted to melt into the booth, like he expected Ben to start yelling, or get up and walk out.  Ben leaned toward him, taking his hand again.  Shit, Ryan’s fingers were freezing.  “I’m not mad,” he assured Ryan, and he really wasn’t.  The letters had been intended for Brody’s eyes only, but Ben of all people knew how important that sort of personal connection could be for someone.  He had inherited a priceless collection of Benjamin Franklin’s own letters from his grandfather, and those words, which had never been intended for sharing, had become inspiration to thousands of people.  If Ryan had gotten the tiniest bit of comfort from whatever Ben had written, then it wasn’t a violation; it was a gift.  “I’m glad you got to read them, if they meant so much to you.”

“So much,” Ryan agreed, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes.  His smile had resurfaced, at least.  “I meant it back at the church when I said that Brody was my role model.  He was the perfect person in so many ways, you know?  He was smart and athletic and my parents loved him.  Everybody loved him.  But Brody and me, we didn’t have a close relationship.  We basically didn’t have any relationship until after our fight; I was always too young for him to want to do things with me.  But things changed after we both left home.

“Brody was in his sophomore year at Duke when I started high school.  I didn’t expect to hear from him, ever.  I didn’t even go home on the weekends when he was around.  But one Sunday, when he was supposed to be heading back to Durham, Brody stopped by my dorm and brought me here, to have lunch.” 

Ryan pointed behind himself and to the left.  “We sat at the last booth next to the door over there.  He bought me lunch and handed me a stack of letters.  They were everything you’d sent him since he’d started college.

“He said that just because I was gay didn’t mean I should be treated like a leper, and he was sorry he’d gotten me into so much trouble, and that if it meant so much to me, I could read your letters.  He told me you wouldn’t mind.”  Ryan turned his hand around and threaded his fingers through Ben’s with a grateful grin.  “And look.  He was right.”

“Jesus, Ryan.”  Ben shook his head incredulously.  “I didn’t know any of this. Brody never really talked about you.  He talked about Cheryl, he talked about your parents, the kids, but almost never you.”

“Well, like I said, we weren’t close.”  That fact was clearly an open wound for Ryan, but one he’d done his best to get over.  “But every week that he came down to visit, he’d always come and have lunch with me, and he’d bring me your newest letter to read.  You were the only thing he and I had in common, and I was so grateful to him for sharing you with me.”

“I’m grateful that he did too,” Ben said with complete honesty.  “I’ve never thought…”  Really, he’d never thought of himself as anything close to interesting.  Ben wrote about interesting people, he was descended from interesting people, but not so much himself.  He didn’t know what Ryan saw in him, but he was glad to have helped, however inadvertently.

He might have continued, but just then, their food arrived.  Ben let go of Ryan’s hand and pulled his arm back to make room, not missing Ryan’s quick pout when they separated.  He was starving, though, and it smelled so good.

Ryan picked up his beer and held it out.  “To Brody.  One of the best people I’ve ever known.”

Ben clinked their glasses together gently.  “To Brody.”  It was nowhere near remembrance enough, but for right now, it would do.

 

 

The Super Short Notice V-Day Contest!-(is over:)

Aww, it's Valentine's Day!  And it's my anniversary! (For the paperwork--we ended up having to have a ceremony anyway because my mother threatened to cry/dismember me).  Feel the love!

It's been a good week so far, the first episode of my serial story has gotten some great reviews.

At The Armchair Reader:  I’m really excited about what is to come this first season of the serial. Devon seems like he can easily get into all kinds of trouble and Rio can always get him out. And the chemistry they have together is explosive. What I really loved was how funny I found this to be, mostly in tone. The point of view comes from both Devon and Rio, so we get a different variation on the scene depending on who is narrating, but what their voices both have in common is a kind of nonchalance for the violence they cause. That detachment struck me as funny for some reason, in a bit of a Tarantino way. And combined with the fact that everything Devon does is tinged with sex, made for a unique and well-written story. I’m just glad that it’s only the beginning!

And by Lisa at Attention Is Arbitrary: I was impressed by the energy and excitement of the action scenes. The smoothness of Rio’s killer confidence makes me want to be behind him in any gun battle. Another highlight is the anticipation of a sexual encounter between Rio and Devon. Unfortunately the steamy build up was better than the act itself. I’m not saying it was a total let down, but I needed to ‘see’ more. That being said I realize this is a serial and we can’t have it all too soon. The fact that I want to see more gritty detail really says it all, right?


Action, excitement, fun, humor, semi-casual violence and sexiness.  All for you, all for 99 cents if you just want to try it out.  But you don't even have to pay today.  All you have to do is drop me a comment on, oh, anything, and at the end of the day (tomorrow morning, actually, since this is so bloody short notice) I'll pick a name out of the hat and send the lucky winner a copy of Episode One.  You get an extra entry if you follow me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/author_cariz, I just need to know your handle), or if you visit Pants Off Reviews and comment on my post there today: Cari Z at Pants Off Reviews, or if you follow me on my blog here! 

If you win and you've already bought Episode One, or are in the mood for something else, my backlist is available to you as well.  You happy makes me happy:)