songs done, and they'll be good. When have I ever let you down?"
"There's always a first time." There was a pause. "I wasn't kidding about the execs.
They're nervous because you've suddenly disappeared. In their eyes, you're off somewhere
having sex and shooting heroine into your eyeballs. You need to give me something
soon, or they may cut you loose before you become a liability."
"I'm not going to become a liability."
"You know that. I know that. But the execs don't know shi—crap." Roddy cursed under
his breath. "Damn it, that one was close."
Grif smiled. "You're a good man, Roddy. I won't let you down."
His manager sighed. "Where did you say you are?"
"I didn't, but that was a good try. Talk to you later."
"Damn it—"
Grif hung up, tucked his phone away, and started running back.
The thing about running was that it gave you time to think. Most of the time, he liked
the space it gave him. Today he could have done without it. The pressure to produce
a hit album wasn't atypical; the desire to stay with Nicole was. The sooner he had
his song, the sooner he'd have to leave.
Picking up the pace, he headed back toward her apartment. He wasn't ready to leave.
There was something between him and Nicole, something more than the simple friendship
they'd known as teenagers. He wanted to know what that was and how deep it went.
He rounded the block and slowed to a walk the rest of the way to her apartment. Susan
kept unusual times, leaving early one day and late the next, but she was always out
midday. Nicole's hours were steady: she'd leave a little before eleven and return
home after seven.
The apartment should have felt empty while they were gone, but the women always left
him unintentional reminders of their presence. He smiled as he almost stumbled over
the calf-high boots Nicole had kicked off in the living room the night before.
She liked all sorts of boots, short and high. He had to admit his favorites were the
long red ones she'd been wearing at the wedding. At night when he couldn't sleep he
thought about her wearing those boots and not much else.
No, that never helped him fall asleep.
Stripping out of his shirt, Grif headed to her bathroom to take a shower. As he walked
through her room, he noticed one of her notebooks lying on her bed.
He stopped, staring at it. He shouldn't invade her privacy, but he knew nothing was
going to stop him either. She'd been secretive about her drawings that morning they'd
gone to Coit Tower, and he was curious. Nicole used to draw all the time, for as long
as he could remember, and she'd always been good.
He crossed the room and opened it.
It was filled with page after page of sketches of women of different sizes and shapes.
Some were standing, some reclining, but all wore beautiful lingerie that enhanced
their shape.
He flipped through a second time, slowly, entranced. He didn't know much about lingerie
except how to take it off, but to his untrained eyes Nicole's designs were exquisite.
Romantic and colorful, exciting and flattering.
She had a gift.
He especially liked the one on the last page. Sheer black with a touch of frill, he
could see Nicole in it. With her boots, of course.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. It was so wrong picturing Nicole's nipples
peeking through the see-through lace—and such a turn-on.
He quickly shut the notebook and took care to make sure it was in the same spot where
he'd found it. Was she pursuing lingerie design and just being quiet about it? His
mom hadn't said anything to him about it, and she was tight with Nicole's mom.
If he knew Nicole, it was more likely she hadn't committed to the idea. She'd always
flitted from one interest to the next. As a kid, it'd been cute. Now, seeing her designs
and how incredible they were, it made him sad.
He went into the shower, not sure what to do about it. Not sure if Nicole would appreciate
him doing anything about it,
"There's always a first time." There was a pause. "I wasn't kidding about the execs.
They're nervous because you've suddenly disappeared. In their eyes, you're off somewhere
having sex and shooting heroine into your eyeballs. You need to give me something
soon, or they may cut you loose before you become a liability."
"I'm not going to become a liability."
"You know that. I know that. But the execs don't know shi—crap." Roddy cursed under
his breath. "Damn it, that one was close."
Grif smiled. "You're a good man, Roddy. I won't let you down."
His manager sighed. "Where did you say you are?"
"I didn't, but that was a good try. Talk to you later."
"Damn it—"
Grif hung up, tucked his phone away, and started running back.
The thing about running was that it gave you time to think. Most of the time, he liked
the space it gave him. Today he could have done without it. The pressure to produce
a hit album wasn't atypical; the desire to stay with Nicole was. The sooner he had
his song, the sooner he'd have to leave.
Picking up the pace, he headed back toward her apartment. He wasn't ready to leave.
There was something between him and Nicole, something more than the simple friendship
they'd known as teenagers. He wanted to know what that was and how deep it went.
He rounded the block and slowed to a walk the rest of the way to her apartment. Susan
kept unusual times, leaving early one day and late the next, but she was always out
midday. Nicole's hours were steady: she'd leave a little before eleven and return
home after seven.
The apartment should have felt empty while they were gone, but the women always left
him unintentional reminders of their presence. He smiled as he almost stumbled over
the calf-high boots Nicole had kicked off in the living room the night before.
She liked all sorts of boots, short and high. He had to admit his favorites were the
long red ones she'd been wearing at the wedding. At night when he couldn't sleep he
thought about her wearing those boots and not much else.
No, that never helped him fall asleep.
Stripping out of his shirt, Grif headed to her bathroom to take a shower. As he walked
through her room, he noticed one of her notebooks lying on her bed.
He stopped, staring at it. He shouldn't invade her privacy, but he knew nothing was
going to stop him either. She'd been secretive about her drawings that morning they'd
gone to Coit Tower, and he was curious. Nicole used to draw all the time, for as long
as he could remember, and she'd always been good.
He crossed the room and opened it.
It was filled with page after page of sketches of women of different sizes and shapes.
Some were standing, some reclining, but all wore beautiful lingerie that enhanced
their shape.
He flipped through a second time, slowly, entranced. He didn't know much about lingerie
except how to take it off, but to his untrained eyes Nicole's designs were exquisite.
Romantic and colorful, exciting and flattering.
She had a gift.
He especially liked the one on the last page. Sheer black with a touch of frill, he
could see Nicole in it. With her boots, of course.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. It was so wrong picturing Nicole's nipples
peeking through the see-through lace—and such a turn-on.
He quickly shut the notebook and took care to make sure it was in the same spot where
he'd found it. Was she pursuing lingerie design and just being quiet about it? His
mom hadn't said anything to him about it, and she was tight with Nicole's mom.
If he knew Nicole, it was more likely she hadn't committed to the idea. She'd always
flitted from one interest to the next. As a kid, it'd been cute. Now, seeing her designs
and how incredible they were, it made him sad.
He went into the shower, not sure what to do about it. Not sure if Nicole would appreciate
him doing anything about it,
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