Page 103 of Refraction

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Calvin saton the kitchen counter, feet dangling, munching on a piece of avocado toast. He stared at his cell phone. “Jesus, Tucker. I have twenty-seven voicemails.”

He felt so great after last night. He thought Tucker would disappear to paint, but they’d ended up falling asleep together on the porch as the storm died down, and that’s where they both were when the sun came up this morning, tangled together in the hammock.

He really didn’t want to blow this buzz on work, but he knew he’d moved past petulant radio silence and into irresponsible territory now, and he really did want to work again one day.

He scrolled through the messages first. Four from Timmy, and they didn’t start until two days ago. A couple here and there from Zoe, and the rest were all from Michael.

“Damn, honey. Twenty-seven? None of them are from me, even.” Tucker grinned at him, eyes bright in the tanned face.

“I would listen to all twenty-seven if they were.” He snorted. No, he wouldn’t. And he wasn’t going to listen to all of these either. He started with Timmy’s last.

“Hey, man,” Timmy drawled into the phone. So stoned. “Just checking in with you, dude. It’s been, like, forever, and I just wanted to call—again—and make sure that Tex hasn’t turned you into a cowboy. Call me. I kinda miss your neuroses.”

Calvin laughed.

Tucker glanced up at his laugh, offering him this warm, pleased grin, like it suited Tucker totally to hear him happy, and then Tucker bent back to his sketch pad.

“Timmy wants to know if you’ve turned me into a cowboy.”

He kept Timmy’s other message. If they were all that cute, they’d be worth listening to. Then he moved on to Michael’s latest message, which was left just yesterday, trying not to wince reflexively.

“Calvin. I have work for you. Your pity party is officially over. Call me. Or don’t call me and I’ll give it to someone else.”

Hold up. Michael was making clients wait for him? Whoa. He didn’t know he had that much cred. He hit Call Back, and the line started to ring in his ear.

“Jealous?” Michael’s voice was smooth and chilly.

Calvin blinked. “What?”

“Are you jealous that I am about to hand off your next 2(X)IST gig to Bobby Abrams?”

Bobby was basically him with darker hair. Except Bobby was a diva who hadn’t earned it. “Wait. Don’t. You are? Don’t yet.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought you were on a honeymoon or something.”

He sighed. “Can we start this conversation over, please?”

“I don’t know, man. Are you coming back to real life again?”

Tucker clucked his tongue, then winked at him, mouthing, “No stress.”

No stress. Calvin rolled his eyes. It was total stress.

It was stress, the kind he missed, if he were perfectly honest. Real life, though… this place was also real life. Tucker’s home had started to feel like his too. They were easy together here, things were simple, and his mind was quiet. He liked it. Just as much as the noise and the lights and the busy that was New York.

“Yeah. Yes, I’m coming back. I need a little more time, though. Uh….”

“Two weeks from today. They want you next week. I can put them off until the week after, but that’s it, Calvin. You show up for the shoot two weeks from today, okay? I’ll send a car. Either you’re in it, or…. Cal, just be in it. Please?”

“I’ll be in it. I’ll book the flight.”

“I’ll text you the deets. Come back in shape, yeah?”

“I’ve been pretty good. No problem. Except I might be a little tan?”

“Meh. That’s what photo editing is for.”

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