”Yo, D! What’s up? It’s me, and I just wanted to check the booty status of Seattle. How’s it going with Chemelyn? Call me.”
”Howard, it’s your sister. Why haven’t you called to let me know how the Northwest’s treating you, not to mention that girlfriend of yours? Am I going to have to fly out there? You know the number.”
Howie grinned as he listened to the first two messages on his voicemail. He was only now getting around to checking his answering service; he’d been much too preoccupied for the past week and a half. However, his amusement was short lived as the next recording came across the phone line.
”Howie! It’s Dave. Listen, I’ve got a promotional gig lined up for you next week. I’m sorry it’s cutting into your vacation but we’re asking each of you guys to do something. Seattle’s got a great fan base and presents the perfect opportunity. It’s going to be a radio interview, no more than half an hour of your time, I promise. I’ll call later with further details. Ciao!”
Howie erased the message with a frown, disconnected from his voicemail without waiting for the remaining entries, and dialed Dave’s private extension on autopilot.
“The Firm, David Timmons speaking.”
“Dave, it’s Howie.”
“Hello! Long time, no talk. How’s Seattle?”
“Fine, thanks. What’s this I hear about a promotional interview?”
“Forty five minutes of your typical Q and A session with a local station, why?”
“I can’t do it, I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me? Howie, I left that message a week ago and you’re just now getting around to telling me you’re unavailable?”
“Actually, I’ve been neglecting my answering service account. I hope you can straighten this out.”
“No, but you can smooth things over by jetting down to the station in time for tonight’s interview.”
“Tonight? Dave.....”
“Howie, please. It’s your career and I can’t force you to do this. But everyone else is making exceptions to their vacations, why can’t you? Remember, it’s your choice to be in this business, your choice to stay in this business.”
*****
Rain pattered lightly against the window panes, filling the room with it’s soft rhythm. Dusk had fallen upon the city, bathing it in shadows as a thin fog moved in off of the Sound. The weather of late had been unseasonably warm and admittedly, Chemelyn missed the comforting symphony of the sky’s tears.
In contrast to the exterior climate of her apartment, the interior was strategically lit, with the floor lamps casting their illumination up towards the vaulted ceilings while small table fixtures shed pools of light over the sofa. Extra throw pillows had been added to the couch for comfort’s sake and more than a dozen candles burned brightly on the coffee table. It was the perfect setting for what she hoped would be another perfect evening.
Surveying the living room one final time, Chemelyn climbed the stairs to her bedroom and came to stand in front of the closet. As she thumbed through the clothes within, Chemelyn realized just how thankful she was to be staying home for a quiet evening with Howie. While she had enjoyed with excursion to the Seattle Center the day before, there was still nothing better than cuddling in a warm cocoon of peaceful bliss and passing the time in intimate conversation with the man she loved.
Chemelyn finally decided on a pair of comfortable hip hugging jeans in a light blue hue coupled with a cream Angora sweater set. She brushed her nutmeg waves, the layered ends curling softly beneath her chin, framing her face. As she readied, Chemelyn wondered, not for the first time, what Howie saw when he looked at her. To her own eyes, she was not beautiful in any extraordinary sense; far from the trophy girlfriend. But then, he was far from the sort of man who would want a superficial woman in the first place.
The shrill ring of the telephone jarred her from her reverie, prompting her to dive across the room for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi honey.”
She could feel his smile over the line and grinned at the sound of his voice. “Hi yourself. Couldn’t wait another,” she glanced at her wrist watch, “fifteen minutes?”
Howie sighed over the connection; her teasing tone made his next words so much more difficult. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling.”
“This doesn’t sound very good.”
“I’m so sorry Chem. I’m going to be a little late. Management’s sent a promotional deal my way,” the admission came softly from his lips.
“Oh....Am I allowed to know what it is, or....?”
“Of course you are,” Howie hurriedly replied, “It’s a radio interview for a local station. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but there was a message left on my voicemail which, unfortunately, I’ve neglected to check. Again I’m sorry.”
Chemelyn took a deep breath and shook herself, trying to shrug off the bitter disappointment which consumed her in a rush. “Um, no....no, I understand. Besides, you said you’d only be a little late, right?”
“That’s right.....are you okay, Chem?”
“I’ll be fine,” she paused momentarily before continuing, “I guess this is that fame thing, huh?” It felt as though the veil of privacy which had shrouded their existence was suddenly shred.
“Yeah.....that fame thing,” a thoughtful silence ensued, as each attempted to regain perspective. “I could pick up a movie on my way over. How does that sound?”
“Benny and Joon?”
“What else would it be?” Howie smiled tenderly, even though she couldn’t see his expression. Their evening together would endure only a tiny setback; they would soon pick up right where they left off.
*****
Chemelyn lounged on the sofa, her eyes closed as Howie’s voice washed over her in comforting waves. Even on the radio, his tone had a quality to it which could easily make her forget about the surrounding world. Perhaps it was simply his sound, but she knew instinctively that it was the man behind the microphone who appealed so strongly to her. While it was odd hearing his words come across the speakers, Chemelyn realized the experience was something she had to get used to. For better or for worse, she was in love with a man who had a prominent career, something she couldn’t -wouldn’t- force him to change.
Chemelyn listened as Howie interacted with the DJ. He had a way of setting those around him at ease, a talent for conversing with those he wasn’t acquainted with. He never met a stranger, she realized and wondered if that was a trait born of practice or nature.
With a start, Chemelyn noticed that the interviewer was prodding Howie for answers to questions even she didn’t know. Much of it was about his career, but others were of a more personal variety.
”And the question every female with a pulse wants to know....is it boxers or briefs?”
Chemelyn drew in a sharp breath at the inpropriety of the inquiry, in her opinion and listened in amazement as Howie laughed and gave a noncommittal reply that was so humorous, no one in the sound booth seemed to realize that he hadn’t answered their question. If the first query had surprised her, nothing had prepared her for what was to come.
”Lately, the Backstreet Boys have become more vocal about their personal liaisons with the opposite sex. How do you feel about that, and are you currently involved with someone?”
The radio waves were silent a moment as Howie contemplated his answer.
”I think we’ve made a lot of progress in our careers, getting to the point where we’re able to tell our management that we’d prefer being open about our dating status. For a long time, such knowledge was repressed due to concern regarding the reaction of the fans. However, what the hierarchy of the industry isn’t always considerate of, is the strain such secrecy can place on a relationship. Now, we’ve decided that if a person can’t respect our decisions and choices in our personal lives as being personal, then they’re not truly a fan. And for the record, I am involved, but we haven’t yet discussed what we’re comfortable revealing.”
”Fair enough. Thank you for your answer, Howie, and thank you listeners for your phone calls! We’re going to pay a few bills now but we’ll be back in a few with more of this totally exclusive interview!”
Chemelyn sat in stunned silence before reaching for the remote control and lowering the volume of stereo system. She wasn’t sure what was more unsettling: the fact that she had been so ignorant of Howie’s lifestyle, or the fact that they even had to have a discussion concerning what they were comfortable disclosing to his fans about their relationship.
Before her thoughts could run away with her further, the phone gave a piercing ring. Thankfully, the cordless was sitting on the coffee table not two feet away, saving Chemelyn from having to make a trek into the kitchen on unsteady legs.
“Hello?”
“Chemelyn Clavaro, please.”
“This is she. May I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Radiance Neal. I got your phone number from your associate at the cafe, and was wondering if I might take a moment of your time......”
*****
“Thirty five cents is your change. Have a great evening!” Malone bid as he dropped the coins into the customer’s palm with a forced smile. The elderly man grunted before letting the quarter and dime slide into the glass jar sitting beside the register and trundling out the door. Malone did his best to stop an impending scowl from creasing his features but his efforts weren’t quite enough. A diluted frown furrowed his forehead as he resumed wiping the counter as he had been before the man ordered a frapaccino.
“The last of the big spenders, thanks for the tip.”
It was a slow evening, the cafe’s tables nearly deserted as the closing hour swiftly approached. Only one couple remained sequestered in the back corner of the establishment, ignoring the box of napkins and kissing coffee foam off one another’s mouths instead. Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Malone tried not to so much as glance in their direction as he wallowed in self pity. Three months ago, that would have been him.
Giving himself a shake, Malone mentally reiterated the phrase that had become his mantra over the past 90 days, It’s all in the past....it’s all in the past.... In truth, the sting of rejection had barely faded, hurt still gnawing at his heart as though it had been yesterday. The bell above the door jingled as someone entered, prompting Malone to glance up in anticipation, hoping that the portal would admit the one person he longed to see.
“Hi Malone!” came Corbin’s cheerful salutation. She had been a loyal customer since the cafe’s opening three years before and had been the first patron to set foot inside the business once it’s remodeling had been completed.
“Corbin, what are you doing out this late at night?”
“I just got out of a meeting and decided I needed some java to keep my eyes open for the commute home. Think you can fix me up?”
“What am I, your dealer?” Malone teased.
Corbin grinned in return, “Just make it a triple shot mocha grande.”
“Triple shot? Are you planning on staying awake for twenty four hours straight?”
“How else would I keep my husband happy?” she winked then, eliciting a laugh from the bleach blonde man as he set about preparing her order.
’Even Corbin is married, he thought dolefully as the espresso maker whirred. Her order was finished in no time, and Malone handed it over with a flourish. As she left, the woman dropped two dollars into the jar with another wink and sashayed out onto the Seattle streets once again.
Malone grasped the rag in his right hand and resumed his work, feeling like the poster boy for Mr. Miyagi’s ‘wax on, wax off’ practice. The bell above the door sounded yet again and Malone didn’t even bother to glance up from his work.
“What’d you forget this time, Corbin?” he asked, referring to her uncanny ability to leave her briefcase, day planner, or keys in the cafe.
“Hey Malone.”
As furiously as he had been scrubbing the counter top, his hands immediately stilled as the all too familiar voice interrupted his closing regime. Slowly, Malone allowed his head to raise, meeting the other man’s gaze for a split second before diving back into his tedium. “Derik.”
“I’ve been trying to call you.”
And I’ve been trying to avoid you.”Oh.”
“I guess you haven’t been home lately.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So....Malone, could you at least look at me?”
Heaving a sigh that clearly expressed his displeasure with the situation, Malone straightened his shoulders and returned his gaze to Derik’s. Seeing the pain in the other man’s eyes didn’t help much, however, and Malone quickly averted his eyes to Derik’s forehead. “What can I do for you?”
“You can start by talking to me.”
“Want a latte? Mocha? Straight shot espresso?”
“Malone....”
“What do you want me to say?”
At that moment, the couple in the corner chose to leave, filling the cafe with the sounds of their not so subtle departure. They obviously weren’t aware of what a ruckus they made as both seemed completely enamored with the other’s presence. As the door shut behind them, Malone left the counter and began setting chairs upside down on the tables.
“How about what you’re feeling?”
“I feel like wringing your neck, Derik.”
“Good.”
That caught Malone’s attention and he halted mid reach for the next chair. “Excuse me?”
“I’m glad you feel that way. It means you still have feelings for me.”
“Did you just come here to gloat, or did you have some legitimate purpose?” he frowned, wishing the other man would leave and never return.
“I was wrong, Malone. I came here to say I’m sorry.”
Someone chose that moment to barge into the cafe, shoving the door open with such force it ricocheted off the wall, shaking on it’s hinges. Both occupants swiveled their gazes toward the figure in the doorway, eyebrows raised in alarm.
“Chem?”
“Malone, you’ve got one hell of a big mouth.”
“Come again?”
Chemelyn entered the restaurant fully, shutting and locking the door behind her with an audible click. “So, I got a phone call this evening,” she began, countenance unreadable.
“And this would be out of the ordinary because.....?”
“You didn’t let me finish. The person on the other end of the line happened to be one Radiance Neal, curator of Expressions.”
“Hey, isn’t that the clothing store on Broadway?” Malone asked with a knowing grin.
“No, you nitwit! It’s an art gallery not far from here, which just happens to be looking for new talent and just happened to get my number from a certain associate of mine!” Chemelyn’s happiness unleashed, gracing her features with a luminous glow as she beamed with pride.
“Hmm, I wonder who that could be?” Derik smiled.
“I can’t believe you started talking to a stranger about my work! Did you know who she was, or did you just let your mouth run off with you?”
“Hey now,” Malone protested, holding his palms up in supplication, “She came in here asking for Chemelyn Clavaro, the artist. I told her you were unavailable and that she could leave a number. So she did and in the process asked if I knew who had done the photographs on the walls. I told her they were from a local artist and she asked for the artisan’s name, saying she was the curator at a nearby gallery. I figured it couldn’t hurt so I told her they were yours. She looked surprised and said, ‘I thought Ms. Clavaro worked in watercolor’. As you can see, it was my duty to inform her that you are a multi talented woman and that the photos were, indeed, yours. I think I also offered some gushing praise of your paintings, but that’s something I’m sure you’ve no desire to hear.”
“How could you not tell me about any of this?!” Chemelyn cried, torn between laughing, crying, and strangling her friend.
“In a way, I did. I gave you the number she left. Didn’t you call her?”
“Um....” a blush began to creep over her cheeks, “Not exactly.”
“She was otherwise preoccupied,” Derik deduced sagely.
“I’ll bet,” came Malone’s dry response, “So I take it this wasn’t just a friendly chat?”
“She wants to see my portfolio. I told her I didn’t have one made up, but that she was welcome to come to my studio.”
“What’d she say?”
“She’ll be there at ten tomorrow morning.”
Malone whooped loudly, catching Chemelyn around the waist and swinging her in a wide arc. Derik chuckled and claimed the woman next, wrapping his arms around her in a huge bear hug. “What’d Howie have to say about all this?”
Chemelyn gasped, removing herself from his embrace. “He doesn’t even know yet! He should be home soon; I’ve got to go, see you two tomorrow!” And with that, she dashed out onto the city streets, the torrents of rain barely registering as she hurried back the way she had come.
*****
Howie stepped into the apartment and knew immediately, she wasn’t there. As he removed his shoes and padded across the wooden floor in his stocking feet, he took notice of the plethora of candles set out on the coffee table, all of them unlit but with melted pools of wax which were still watery. The stereo had been left on at a low volume and all of the lights continued to illuminate the loft as if someone had left in a hurry. Anxiety began to claw at his mind; had something happened? Terrible visions raced through Howie’s head as he contemplated some tragic emergency which had pulled her away.....
Giving himself a good mental jolt, Howie wandered into the kitchen to place the bottle of wine in the refrigerator and locate a vase for the bouquet of flowers he had chosen for the evening. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he recalled the DJ’s expression when he’d asked for the blooms to be placed in water until the end of the interview. They had obliged him, but Howie had still felt their curious glances and unasked questions in response to his request. Even now, he couldn’t help but chuckle over their behavior.
Returning to the living room, Howie placed the floral arrangement in the center of the low table, then made himself comfortable on the couch. With a sigh, he tipped his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Where was she?
He didn’t have time to ponder much further as a warm weight leapt into his lap, something soft and furry brushing beneath his nose. Sitting up, Howie found an orange tabby cat perched on his legs, gazing into his face expectantly. The feline meowed plaintively, clearly demanding an explanation.
“She’s not here.”
Meow., came the reply. Hesitantly, he began to stroke the cat’s soft coat. “Hello there. What have you been up to?” The animal’s only acknowledgement of his inquiry was to send a withering glance in Howie’s direction. “Oh. You must be hungry, am I right?” The cat jumped off his lap and led the way to the kitchen. Howie stood and followed the tabby as she sauntered into the other room.
Bounding up onto the island counter, Wisteria waited patiently for Howie to figure out what he was supposed to do. Starring at the little tiger for a moment, he soon realized that she wasn’t going to be of much help. With a shrug, Howie opened the refrigerator and peered into it’s depths. An opened can of Fancy Feast caught his eye at once, and as he tore off the saran wrap, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “How can you eat this stuff?” The cat paced the counter, silently telling him to speed it up. Taking a glass plate from the cupboard, Howie emptied the contents of the can onto the dish and pushed it toward the feline. She immediately struck up a purring rendition of praise and began to inhale her dinner with a dainty grace that Howie supposed was only commanded by cats. Spoiled ones.
“Like that, huh? Yeah, I think your mommy buys you the expensive stuff, so you had better enjoy it. So......what do you want to talk about?” When no answer was forthcoming, Howie continued. “How about Chemelyn?” This suggestion seemed to agree with the other occupant of the kitchen. “She’s a wonderful woman, isn’t she? I think so. I love her, you know....” he paused observing as Wisteria began to wash her face and paws, “A lot. I think it’s the way she looks at me, and without saying a word, I just know. I know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, that she loves me. Sometimes I worry that she can’t see the same things in my eyes, but they’re there.”
The cat shoved it’s face beneath Howie’s hand, begging for attention. Her fur was soft and comforting. “I’m so used to hiding behind a facade of composure, that I’m afraid someday, I’ll not be able to remove the mask again. But Chemelyn.....she’s an open book. She’s the kind of person who wears her heart on her sleeve with no apologies. She’s innocent and worldly all in the same breath and can be so tantalizing in the little things she does, she’s not even aware of the way she makes me feel.”
Wisteria sat back on her haunches, fixing Howie with a penetrating stare. “I guess I should be telling her these thoughts instead of a cat, huh?” he grinned ruefully.
Just then, the door opened and the object of his affection walked in. Chemelyn’s gaze locked with Howie’s for a split second before she took off at a banshee’s pace, dodging around the furniture to reach the man she loved. Howie stood with a grin and caught her as she catapulted herself into his arms.
“Hello to you too!” he laughed as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He continued to hold her, tightening his grip in an effort to keep them balanced. The effort to remain upright increased tenfold as she began to lavish kisses on his forehead, the bridge of his nose, chin, and eventually, his lips.
“Oh God, I love you!”
“I love you too! What sparked this fire storm of emotion?”
“You’ll never guess....what’s happened,” she told him between kisses.
“Hadn’t you better get it out before we topple over?”
She pulled her upper body away from his, leaned back in his embrace, and gazed into his eyes, her own sapphire orbs sparkling brilliantly with an untold secret. “I have an appointment tomorrow morning with an art gallery. They want to see my work.” The room was plunged into silence for a moment.
“Truly?” he asked, voice no more than a whisper. Chemelyn only nodded her head enthusiastically and he let a joyous shout bellow from his lungs. “That’s wonderful! I am so proud of you!” Howie cried, hugging her fiercely to himself. “I knew you could do it.”
“You did?”
“Of course. I believe in you.”
Links to other sites on the Web
To Chapter 10
Back to CONTENTS
© 1997 crunkgrl62382@yahoo.com
Get your own Free Home Page