Brent
I WAS NAÏVE. There was a small part of me, tiny I’d hoped, that was excited about being the groupie, so to speak.
I got to sit behind her at her signings and people asked to take a picture with me.
With me.
As much as I could, I tried to sit quietly, as if the fact that I was behind V. Rush, watching her as she signed books and smiled at everyone wasn’t the biggest nerd moment in my life so far.
Well, being married to her wasn’t so bad either.
Falling asleep the other night with her in my arms wasn’t the worst thing ever.
What I didn’t think about was how all of this meeting the public and book touring was affecting her. I watched, night after night, as she tried and succeeded in leaving a signing only to come back to the hotel room, caffeinate, and then work until dawn, only to do it again. She wrote on the plane. She wrote on her phone in the car. She wrote in the hotel room.
She couldn’t even ride down to the lobby of the hotel without pulling out her phone and ticking away at her characters.
I admired her work ethic. She never gave up.
That was until I realized she was using it as a shield.
She hadn’t touched me again since the other night.
I’d tried to hold her hand and to initiate some contact, but she would put her hand in her pocket or turn away.
I felt like I was losing her all over again.
“Viv, let’s go see a movie.” I suggested one morning after breakfast, which she ate right next to her laptop.
“I don’t watch a lot of TV, Brent. Stephen King says good writers step away from the screen.”
Didn’t stop her the other night.
She never took her eyes from the screen or her fingertips from the keys.
“Then let’s go see the Queen Mary. It’s a haunted ship close by. It would be nice to take a break from the hotel and the bookstores.”
Not that I expected her to cater to my needs.
I was just the tagalong – for publicity’s sake.
“Brent, just go with Olivia or by yourself. I have to finish this manuscript.”
Leaning over the table, I put my chin on top of the laptop screen, forcing her to look at me.
“When’s it due?”
“March.”
“Like last March? It’s overdue?”
That surprised me with the amount of work she did non-stop.
“No, next March. I want to make sure I don’t fall behind.”
It. Was. April.
“Well, congratulations, you’re eleven months early on finishing the project. One trip to a boat won’t hurt you. You’ve got to live a little, Viv. Hey, that rhymed.”
She threw down her pen and nearly took out my chin shutting the laptop.
“Brent, this is my life. I write all day and all night. I stop for caffeine, the treadmill, and food. That’s it. I know you’re stuck in this hotel room with me, and I’m sorry you’re bored or whatever. I’m boring. Either go by yourself or get over it. This is my life.”
“You said that twice.”
I felt the stink eye she gave me down in my toes. “I was reiterating a point that you don’t seem to understand.”
“I understand it completely, Viv. What I don’t understand is how you write about people without actually laying an eye on people other than them worshipping you at the altar of the signing table. What are you afraid of?”
She squinted but it faded as quickly as it arrived. “I’m afraid of what they’ll say. I’m afraid of strangers’ comments. I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle the crowds. I’m afraid of you.”
Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “What did I used to tell you about other people?”
“That you would be my shield.” Her brown eyes looked down. I wished she would look at me like she used to.
“I’m still your shield, Viv. No one will hurt you again – ever.”
“Except you,” she whispered, thinking I didn’t hear.
“Not even me, darlin’, not even me.”
It took five minutes of complete silence for her to decide. “Fine. Let me get dressed. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
“Deal.”
I’d come to know her routine.
The woman never wore anything but pajamas unless she was leaving the hotel room.
She had meetings on the computer with a casual shirt on – and pajama pants.
She met with her agent in pajamas.
She chatted on the phone with her editor in pajamas.
Pajamas must’ve been the work uniform of authors everywhere. Or just Vivian.
I didn’t mind it in the least. She looked beautiful in anything she wore. That part hadn’t changed.
What worried me were the things that had changed.
Her insecurities were out in the open now. It was as if she hid them in the folds of her weight. Or maybe she hid behind the weight. I didn’t know which.
What I did realize by watching her work day in and day out was that one day she was going to burn out – and hard.
And I didn’t want to watch as my wife went up in flames.
“THIS PLACE IS too beautiful to be haunted,” Vivian said, listening to the tour guide tell us all about the ghost sightings, including his own.
The think the kid was probably twenty-three at the oldest and he was flirting with my wife like she wasn’t…
She wasn’t wearing a ring.
Maybe he was confused.
“Well, that’s it, Ms. Rush. You’ve paid for the extended tour, so you are free to walk around the boat for the next hour. Have fun and happy haunting.”
Yet, he didn’t move.
Viv was in some kind of trance. She was making the same face as when she wrote stories in the middle of the night.
I stepped forward with my hand extended. “Thank you, Sam. My wife and I appreciate the thorough tour. We’ll be out within the hour.”
That’s right, buddy, my wife.
Tell that to your ghosts.
He hadn’t been gone a minute when Viv turned to me. “Was that necessary?”
I took her hand and led her to the room down the hallway that Sam claimed was the most haunted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let’s go see what we can find in here.”
“This is the honeymoon suite, Brent.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “Exactly.”
“Be serious. I could write a thousand books on this ship alone. The stories untold here are endless.”
“Don’t you ever think about anything else?” I asked, laying on the bed that we were told was the resting place for a ghost named Matilda. Sam told us when he came into this room there was a depression in the mattress, the size of a woman.
“Not really, no.”
“You know what Olivia told me the other day?”
“What?”
“That she thought all of this touring was giving you a new boost in your writing. She alluded to you maybe having some writer’s block before you left.”
Vivian gasped. “I can’t believe she said that. It was just a little break. I was taking a break from everything.”
I turned my head to chuckle at her. She said things twice when she was upset or when she’d been caught.
“But she was right. You’ve been writing non-stop since you started touring. That’s got to count for something, right?”
“I guess. I really need to refresh her memory about our non-disclosure agreement. She shouldn’t be talking to…”
“To your husband?”
Viv was facing away from me, but I could see enough of her face to know that her left cheek had lifted a bit. “Yeah, my husband. You know what’s funny? Having you for the rest of my life was the only anchor to Billings that I could think of when I tried to weigh the pros and cons of getting out of there. You were the only pro. And now here we are, living that silly girl’s dream.”
“It was a silly boy’s dream too.” I clenched the tapestry-like comforter on the bed to stop myself from going to her.
She giggled. “You’re far from a boy, now.”
“And you’re far from a girl.”
Nothing could stop me now.
I marched across the room with one mission and one mission only. From the look in her eyes, she had the same idea. Our bodies and lips collided in a rush like we’d been starved for each other for way too long.
Her lips were soft and full against mine, just like I remembered. A slight moan came from her mouth as we progressed into a more passionate embrace.
I stopped it before we gave a new meaning to honeymoon suite. It wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t the place.
I hoped one day it would be the right time.
I broke away from our kiss and looked down at her, mouth still open and eyes still closed. “I have another proposal for you.”
Smiling, she kept her eyes closed. “That’s not fair after you-lips-you-kiss.” She stuttered.
She tipped her head and laid it against my chest.
“I think you and I should go back to the Boulder after this tour. It will give you some new perspective. I’ve got a cabin in the woods behind the main house with your name on it. No visitors, no guests, unless you want it – no going into town either. Just a fresh perspective and some good, quiet writing time.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked. I could feel her warm breath break the barrier of my shirt and go straight into my heart.
“Well, you’d have to stay married to me a little longer, I suppose. My family would be happy to see you and you don’t have to see yours if you don’t want to. We won’t publicize any of this. As far as your readers know, you would be back in Washington state, chilling with the sasquatches.”
“The longer we wait to process the divorce…”
“What? Say it, Viv.”
“The harder it will be for me. The harder it will be to undo it.”
“Just think about it, darlin’. Fresh country air might be good for you. We can leave as soon as the last leg of the tour is done. Just change your flight.”
She sighed again, this time looking up into my eyes. We shared the same breaths, and it was all I could do not to reach down and convince her with my mouth instead of my words.
From the faint whimpers she made the last time I kissed her, it was a viable option.
“Come on, Viv. Stay married to me just a little longer.”