“You guys seem like you’ve hit your stride again,” Petey said.
Beck was leaning on the AD bar, watching his friend fill out an order sheet. “Yeah,” he said. “Took us a couple of weeks, but we’re kinda coming around to the idea of twins.”
It had been three weeks since they’d found out there were two babies. It was a major shock to the system and Beck hadn’t thought it was possible for him to feel more protective of the woman carrying his offspring, but now he knew there were three of them to worry about, his instinct to look after her had intensified.
Pete finished with the top sheet and turned it face down to start working on the second page. Glancing over his shoulder, Beck saw Jaycee standing in front of the stage, separating out the denominations of money from her tip jars. It didn’t matter that she was four months pregnant with his children and nowhere near having to worry about taking care of herself again, or that he was always going to take care of Mavis’ costs, Jaycee still checked every cent.
Poking at the jar of pencils against the pillar at the corner of the bar, Beck pulled a couple out. There were jars like this all over the place with all types of utensils for customers to create their art on the walls. He loved seeing the free expression spread around the room and often came in when no one else was here to admire the latest additions.
“You know, the guys and I didn’t know if we should ask… Pine says he doesn’t want to know, you know, given who he is and everything…”
“Given who he is?” Beck asked, sweeping the tip of the pencil across the blank sheet of paper on the bar. “Does he have a secret identity too? How come he knows mine and I don’t know his?”
“No,” Pete said and laughed, but the sound was awkward. Intriguing as his friend’s reaction was, Beck didn’t take his eyes from the picture building under the graphite. “Your lawyer. He updated all the contracts as you told him to, and he wondered if… you know, if he should uh…”
“If he should what?” he asked, grouping a series of tight, curved crisscrosses over the apple of that beautiful supple cheek that tasted sweeter than honey.
“Remove the sex clause.”
Lifting his eyes to Pete, Beck read how serious his friend was. “The sex clause? Out of the contract? What contract are we talking about?”
“Your contract with Jayc,” Pete said.
While his friend was intent, Beck smiled. “This your subtle way of asking me if I’m having sex with her?”
“We’re not blind,” Pete said. “And I see you guys almost every day, I haven’t even told Pine and Snick half the shit I’ve seen in here.”
That got his back up. He and Jaycee had been careful. They were never caught kissing or doing anything intimate at work. “What? What do you think you’ve seen?”
Pete folded his arms on the bar to get close enough to whisper, though there was no one around to hear them, everyone was doing their end-of-the-night jobs. “You watch her all the time. You never take your eyes away from her, Beck, and she’s no better. As soon as she’s off the stage, she heads straight for you and doesn’t leave your side for a second. There’s an energy around you when you’re together. You’ve always got your arm around her or you’re holding hands—”
“We live together,” he said. “Yeah, we’re close. We’re friends.”
“You’re working like you’ve never worked before and this piece, the one you will only let her see, this is gonna be bigger than The Abyss, I can tell. You weren’t even this excited back then.”
“She inspires me,” he muttered and returned to his drawing.
“Yeah, we got that on poker night when we were kicked out so you could both go up to the studio. Neither of you showed up to work for a week… What is it you’re working on, huh? When are you gonna clue the rest of us in?”
“When it’s ready,” Beck said, speeding over the lines of her incredible hair. He’d never get the bounce of her locks right, never be able to match the intensity of its color or the depth of its softness. But he’d keep trying.
“And will that be before the kids are born?” Pete asked. “What happens to the piece when the babies arrive? You know you’ll lose her then, right? You know this can’t last.”
Beck didn’t need to be reminded of the storm on his horizon; he spent enough time dreading it himself. Sometimes, like when he was alone in the shower, or when he was sitting outside Mavis’ home waiting for Jaycee to come out, he told himself to end MAC.
Giving what they were doing a moniker put some distance between them and whatever it was. They didn’t have to label what they had as a relationship or a friendship with benefits. It was just mutually assured climax. They were helping each other out with a little physical comfort; that was all it was.
Except it wasn’t.
Beck was in love with her.
It was that love that wouldn’t allow him to put a stop to what was going on between them. Being practical and sensible was easy when he was alone. Then she’d walk out of Mavis’ home upset or she’d be lying in his sheets when he came out of the shower and that was it, he fell in love with her all over again.
When the kids were born, he’d lose her, that was dictated in the terms of the contract. Even after they learned that she was having twins he didn’t want to put any pressure on her. Pine had suggested she take one of the babies, and the idea gave Beck a flare of hope.
If she wanted to raise one baby, then maybe she’d want to raise two, with him. But it was a selfish thought. Jaycee had been as clear as he was about what she wanted, rather what they didn’t want. She didn’t want to be a mother any more than he wanted a wife.
Yes, he loved her, he adored her, but it was an infatuation that would one day come to an end. It was easy to love when all they had to do was bask in each other and express their creativity together. How would that hold up when there was real pressure? When they had babies screaming their heads off in the middle of the night? There would be no MAC then; he’d be too exhausted, as would she if she was a full-time mom.
There would be no time for sex. No time for jerking off by proxy. No time for inspiration and art. In short, there would be no fun, and he had a feeling if there was no fun that he and Jaycee would start getting on each other’s nerves damn fast.
“Do you get that we all worry about you. We love Jaycee and if she’s the woman you want—”
“What?” he asked, resting a fist on the picture. “You’ll pass her a note after gym? You don’t have a clue what Jayc and me talk about when you guys aren’t around—and we live together, so we talk a lot.”
“You never talked a lot with any other woman,” Pete said. “Never let another woman into your studio… Is she sleeping up there with you?”
Now it felt like his friend was just trying to piss him off. It didn’t matter that the bartender looked all serious and worried, Beck figured Pete would know better than to pry into his private life. “What the hell do you care?”
“We care because we don’t want your arrogant ass to screw this up. You get some idea in your head and think you’re so right that you never consider other options. She’s into you too… I think if maybe you step up and tell her—”
“Tell her what?” Beck hissed, bowing nearer to Pete. “The last time I tried to screw with the contract, I lost her. You might not remember what it’s like to watch her walk away from you, but I do.”
“Is that what’s pissing you off?” Pete asked. “This is different. You lost her because you backed out of the contract.”
“No, it’s not different. Asking her to stick around after the babies are born means tearing up the contract too,” he growled. “I tell her that and she walks away again, then what? She’s four months pregnant with my kids, Petey. You think I want her couch surfing?”
“You’d set her up somewhere, or I’d take her in and—”
“Exactly what we don’t want. If she hated me, she’d never take help from me, or from you now she knows you’re on the inside,” he said. “I open my mouth and the whole thing goes to shit. I’d never get her back.”
Pete rose to support his weight on his hands. “So you do love her.”
“I didn’t say that,” Beck grumbled and went back to his drawing. “We stick to the terms of the contract, that’s what we all agreed; no one’s changing a damn thing… Pine writes in baby two, me and Jaycee sign, and that’s it. Nothing else. No more discussion.”
“You’re giving her part ownership of this place,” Pete said. “That’s different, did you tell her that yet?”
Jaycee deserved some security to fall back on. He’d made sure she was insulated from any debt AD ever accrued, not that they planned to bankrupt the place. But it seemed right to give her a stake. While his money had been responsible for the purchase and modeling of the place, his name wasn’t on any paperwork.
All three of his boys had an equal share and now that Jaycee understood as much as they did about him, it was symbolic that she should be a part of the property that bonded those who knew his true identity.
Beck knew his friends agreed with him because when he suggested it, not one of them put up any objection. They actually went out of their way to work it out and redistribute their claim on the place to give Jaycee equal ownership.
“If I told her, she’d never accept it,” Beck mumbled and kept drawing.
Pete was still watching him. He could feel the way his judgmental friend’s eyes were boring into the top of his head, but Beck held it together, only because he had this pencil in his hand. It was working as a vent for the turmoil roiling through him.
Him and Jaycee would never work out, he knew that. It tore Beck apart that he couldn’t keep the only woman he’d ever really loved. They both understood that their dalliance was temporary, and he planned to enjoy every second he had with her. Jaycee was his inspiration and without her, he doubted he’d ever create again.
Jaycee was counting her tips for a second time as she dropped the coins into her purse.
“Hey.”
Glancing around, she saw Pascal approaching and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “How have you been?”
“Good,” he said, sitting up on the stage beside the last of the tips she was scooping up. “Do you want to come over tonight? I wondered if we might take another shot at you modelling for me.”
“Oh,” she said and tied her gypsy purse after all the money was inside. “That’s a really generous offer. But I… I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
Pascal wasn’t discouraged, in fact he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad about last time. I told you it’s not unusual for models to have second thoughts or for it to take a few tries before someone’s comfortable sitting for an artist.”
It had taken her no time to be comfortable posing for Beck, maybe because he didn’t make it feel like posing, he just… drew. It didn’t matter where she was or what she was doing. He’d just ask her to sit still for a minute, or to lie down, and with a few swipes of his pencil he could capture a moment. Yeah, he’d often go back later to add a lot of the details, but if he wanted to depict an emotion or an act, he would do it right there on the spot. Beck didn’t stage the moment like Pascal had.
But it wasn’t fair to compare two artists’ styles, especially when she had such an intense relationship with her maestro. No one would ever compare to him. Jaycee knew that she’d never sit for another artist, not for as long as she lived. Even after the babies were born and she was little more than a distant glimmer in his rearview mirror, she’d never forget the feeling of being captured by Beckett.
“I won’t sit for you,” she said. Jaycee had never shied from telling it like it was before and although she tried to break it to him gently, she could see that he was surprised. “I’m sorry, Pascal.”
“But I thought that we were… that we were going to…” That they were going to what? Twisting to face him, she was sure there was expectation in her expression. Sliding down from the stage, he picked up her hand. “It takes time for an artist to build a relationship with a muse; we can’t expect it to happen overnight.”
That was what he wanted from her? Oops. Jaycee didn’t mean to smile and it was insensitive that she did, so she cleared her face. “I can’t be your muse, Pascal,” she said.
“Don’t be afraid of it,” he said, moving in closer. “There isn’t an experience like it… If it’s right, it’s more intense than anything you’ll have ever experienced.”
“I know,” she said, not shy about portraying her understanding. “I know exactly what it’s like to be an artist’s muse. I know how intense it is.”
His hands fell, and she took a step back. “You… you belong to another artist?”
“And I can only be under his pencil,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Moving away from him, Jaycee felt this was more heartbreaking than most of the break-ups she’d had. It was hard to walk away from the man who looked so dejected even though she hadn’t done anything to encourage him. When she’d walked away from Pascal’s studio, Jaycee had assumed that he would realize that she wasn’t interested in sitting for him again. But he’d just seen her reluctance as the first step of a journey. Except it was a journey she was embarking on with the man at the bar she was walking toward.
He and Pete were engaged in some kind of discussion, but she needed his strength right now. Jaycee didn’t hesitate to curl a hand under his arm to draw him back from the bar enough that she could slide between him and the solid surface he’d been leaning on.
Sliding one hand over his cheek, she ran her fingers over his temple into his hair. “Beck,” she whispered and the flash of surprise on his face quickly became concern because she knew better than to use his real name in the club.
As far as she could see, Pete was the only person close by. But even with that, she shouldn’t be standing so close to Beck and touching him like she was, but he didn’t back away. “Muse,” he asked and ran a fingertip down her jaw.
It was then she noticed the pencil in his hand, but she didn’t have a chance to think about what it meant before Pascal was there beside them. “This guy,” Pascal said, and she read the fury in his expression.
“No, I—”
“Don’t even deny it,” Pascal said and nodded behind her. “You’re his muse?”
Twisting around to face the bar, the first thing she saw was Beck’s drawing of her. Oh no. She knew better than to use his name, but he should know better than to sketch her in public. He wasn’t supposed to draw here at all.
“Oh,” she whispered and grabbed up the drawing to flip it over, showing that it was on the back of one of Pete’s order sheets. But it didn’t matter, the damage had been done.
“You bitch, you made me—”
“Whoa, wait a goddamn second, asshole,” Beck said. When her maestro began to withdraw, she grabbed his ribs to pull him to her. “What the hell is going on here?”
Oh no, Beck was pissed. Why did Pascal have to swear at her? That was the absolute worst thing he could have done short of physically assaulting her. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Forget it. Please, Maestro, ignore him.”
“Maestro?” Pascal spat, she’d never seen him look so disgusted, and he had to be in the midst of some kind of psychotic break because if Beck wanted to flatten him, he would. Pascal shouldn’t provoke him. The men’s physical prowess wasn’t close to an equal match. “You’ll let this bastard draw you, but not me?”
“Muse?” Beck asked her. Jaycee tried to soothe him with a caress, but he was too tense to feel it.
“Yeah, muse, there you go,” Pascal said. “She was supposed to be my muse, not yours.”
“Crap!” Pete said behind her, but she kept trying to reach for Beck as he moved away.
“She was never your goddamn muse. She always belonged to me,” Beck said, turning around to square up with the angry Pascal.
“Please,” Jaycee said. “Both of you, please don’t.”
“Who the hell are you?” Pascal demanded. “You stole her from me!”
“Sitting for you made her sick,” Beck sneered. “That’s why she couldn’t stomach it for more than ten seconds.”
“Pete!” she called out when Pascal lunged forward to shove Beck.
“She’s coming with me,” Pascal said and managed to get his hand around her wrist.
Jaycee gasped in a scream and then everything happened fast. Beck snatched Pascal’s arm and twisted it so fast and hard that the guy called out in agony and let her go as he crumpled to a crouch.
With one sure stroke, Beck smacked him across the jaw and Pascal went down.
Leaping over him, Beck bent to grab Pascal, but Pete vaulted the prone man to grab Beck’s shoulders to force him backward. The other bouncers were rushing over to break things up.
“Get him the hell out of here, Brik!” Pete demanded of the men while he concentrated on wrestling Beck backwards. “You’re fighting over inspiration, you dumb jerk!”
“Don’t say that!” she screamed at Pete knowing there was little an artist would fight harder for.
“He’s not worth it!” Pete shouted, thrusting Beck back against the bar. “You take him apart and we’ll end up in court. Everything will fall apart!”
The bouncers dragged Pascal through the curtain and although she could hear him shouting, she was only interested in the rage on the panting Beck’s face. Pete gave him another shove, but her maestro stayed slumped against the bar where he’d ended up propped on the front edge of a stool.
When Beck took his snarl from the curtain, it landed on her. “Get over here,” he snapped. Jaycee went straight to him. Beck grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her forward to press his forehead against hers, their noses bumping as his eyes closed. “Talk. Just talk.”
“Baby,” she whispered, stroking his chest. “I’m sorry. You’ve got me, Maestro. I’m right here. I’m yours, my darling, my love.” Tears slipped out of her eyes as she closed them. “We’re safe. We’re together. I belong to you. Only to you.”
“Did he hurt you?” Beck asked, keeping the force of his grip on the back of her neck, he drew back enough to look at her forearm. “Muse, if he hurt you—”
“No, Maestro, no. As long as I’m with you, I’m never hurt. I’m not hurt. I’m here. I’m with you.”
“We’re together,” he mumbled.
“Yes,” she smiled. “Yes, my maestro, my man. We’re together. Always together… We’re safe. Together.”
Beck straightened and pulled her tight to against him, clamping her face to his chest. He panted into the top of her head.
“Guess I got my answer,” Pete muttered though she couldn’t see the man. From Beck’s lack of reaction, she’d guess her maestro didn’t hear his friend.
That could’ve been worse, but shit, it could’ve gone better. Jaycee knew artists could be passionate about their inspiration, but if anything had hurt Beck because of her, she’d never have forgiven herself. Jaycee held onto him tight, she needed the comfort he offered as much as he needed it from her.