Page 9 of Blown

Rafe fell right into step with him, grasping the end of the blowpipe and blowing when Jake told him to. They actually worked well together and always had. Jake only needed to give him the barest instructions for him to know what he wanted.

“More, more, more,” Jake said, shaping and forming the growing bulb at the end of the pipe. He got up to reheat it in the furnace for a moment, then returned to the bench.

Glass was the most amazing medium to work with. Everyone knew what it was and saw it practically every moment of every day. It was a shape-shifter and a minx. Something that started out as a liquid could be pressed, guided, and molded into the most amazing shapes.

Within minutes, Jake had turned the blob of glass Rafe had gathered into a wide-bottomed, asymmetrical vase. He continued to work it with tongs and pliers long after Rafe’s part in the make was done. All Rafe could do was stand to the side, ready to offer Jake help when he needed it, and watch as an ornate, eclectic vase began to emerge.

It was disheartening. The vase he’d almost made was technically proficient, but the piece of art that Jake managed to coax from the plain glass, without a strategy or a plan, was so far beyond Rafe’s skill level that it made him wilt.

“Is the annealer ready?” Jake asked, his voice serious and urgent, as he made the last adjustments to the vase.

“Yes,” Rafe said, rushing to the side to get the heavy gloves he would need to carry the piece in its current state.

They worked in perfect unison as Jake freed the vase from the pipe. Rafe was right there to catch it, and as soon as its hotweight hit his hands, he and Jake rushed together to the large annealer. Rafe nodded at it, Jake opened the door, and together, they slipped the work into place, shutting the door on it so it could cool slowly without cracking or shattering.

Once that was done, Jake turned to him with a satisfied smile. “Just like old times.”

Rafe frowned. “Right, with me playing the role of assistant while you steal all the glory.”

Jake’s smile dropped. “I never stole anything.”

Rafe shook his head and walked away, back to the bench, so he could clean up.

“No, really,” Jake said, following him like a golden retriever. “I didn’t take anything away from what you were doing in Corning. We were there as equals.”

Rafe sent him a doubting look as he carried the blowpipe back to the rack with used ones. He didn’t know what else to do but grab another blowpipe and return to the forge for more glass. He wasn’t in the mood to work or to have Jake upstage him again, but his muscles and his soul reverted to what he knew best when he didn’t know what else to say or do.

“You’re mad at me, I know,” Jake said, following him as he started the process of gathering bit and moving it to his workbench. “You think that I drew attention from you, especially when Hero Yoshito visited the shop.”

Rafe scowled, but now that he had glass to focus on, he didn’t look at Jake. “I think you eclipsed me on purpose to win that apprenticeship.”

Jake donned his gloves and goggles again and came over to the workbench, his body language saying he was ready to assist Rafe. “If I upstaged you on purpose to win that apprenticeship, then why am I not in Tokyo right now instead of here at Hawthorne House?”

Rafe pressed his lips tight for a moment, then said, “Blow.”

Jake moved immediately to assist so Rafe could concentrate on forming the glass.

The two of them were quiet except for work instructions as Rafe slowly formed what turned into a large goblet. For a few, blissful moments, everything else was forgotten, and it was just him and Jake working in unison again. Goblets took time and several trips back to the furnace to reheat the glass and gather more. It was a dance that the two of them knew so well and could do without thought.

Rafe reached the point of opening the goblet’s mouth, spinning the pipe to keep its shape, and added a series of fine details with his favorite pair of pinchers. Once it was done, he and Jake repeated the process of taking it off the pipe and moving it to the annealer.

“Perfect,” Jake said as he rushed it across the room. “I’ve never seen anyone make goblets as fast and as spot-on perfect as you.”

Rafe nearly slammed the annealer door once the goblet was in. “Perfect goblets,” he said, not even trying to stop the resentment that spilled from him. “Perfect for a gift shop or my family’s Renaissance Faire.”

“Renaissance Faire?” Jake asked, perking up. Because of course he would get excited about something as touristy as the Renaissance Faire and completely miss the tension in Rafe’s statement.

Rafe ignored the question as he headed back into the heart of the hot shop. Jake followed him.

“I get why you think your work isn’t good enough,” Jake said. Even those words stung Rafe to the point of wincing. “We were in some pretty rarified air back in Corning. It was fantastic being in a place that was all about art and higher values. And you’re good at all that, too.”

Rafe rested his weight on one leg, crossed his arms, and stared at Jake.

“I mean it! You are,” Jake said, stepping closer to him. “You’re consistent, you’re technical, and you were better than ninety-nine percent of the people we were working with.”

“Ninety-nine percent, but not you,” Rafe said.

Jake let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. He’d only been in the hot shop for an hour or so, but he was already sweaty and dirty. He must have been incredibly jetlagged, too. There was no way he’d taken a nap before coming down to the studio.

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