The Arrangement - A Reverse Harem Romance, page 10
My words trailed off. I was trying not to sigh, but it was already too late.
“The truth is, I never wanted this,” I said. “The publishing part, that is. My father was the one who talked me into it. Renting the house. Writing the stories in conjunction with each other.” I let my mouth go tight. “The other guys were into it too, of course. They were all thrilled we’d be using my father’s connections…”
“But you don’t think those connections are necessary,” said Kayleen.
I shrugged. “It’s kinda like Stephen King. For a little while, he published stories under a pseudonym: Richard Bachman. At that point in his career he wanted to know if he was selling books because they were actually good or just because of his name.”
“And what happened?”
“Someone recognized his writing,” I said. “They looked up Richard Bachman and somehow tied him to King. At that point it was over. Everyone ran out and bought the Bachman books.”
She looked up at me expectantly. “But?”
“But for a while… his books were selling. He was making it on his abilities, and not just on his fame.”
Kayleen took another long pull from her water bottle. She looked at me over the tops of her sunglasses.
“So you wanna make it yourself, is that it?”
There it was, finally laid out there. Totally bare. I thought about it for a moment, long and hard.
“I— I think so.”
Kayleen shrugged. I watched as she brushed a swath of dried sand from her sun-kissed body. “Then do it,” she said simply.
I let out a short, acrid laugh. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that,” she smiled.
I lost focus a little as she drew her legs against her amazing chest, hooking her arms in front of her knees. Kayleen was looking me over now. Her eyes sparkled as she dragged them over my body, stopping briefly at my shoulders, my arms, my abs…
“See anything you like?”
It felt good to know I wasn’t the only one. I’d been checking her out in her bikini all day.
“Maybe,” she grinned.
I reached out and pulled her on top of me, body to body, face to face. Her skin was still cool from the ocean, but I could feel the warmth of blood, rushing just beneath.
Her wet hair cascaded down around our faces. It created a little cocoon of privacy and silence, cutting us off from the world.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said, feeling suddenly breathless.
“I am, huh?”
She dropped her face an inch and kissed me, sweetly, on the lips. A split second later, we were both trying to spit grains of sand from our mouths.
Kayleen giggled, then sat up on me. She planted her hands on my chest.
“Head back and share a shower?”
I was still in a daze, admiring that perfect, beautiful face. Eventually I nodded from the sand.
I gasped as she pushed off me and abruptly leapt to her feet. She landed on both feet — exactly as she did on her surfboard — before sprinting off.
“First one to the car gets the radio,” she called back.
Twenty-Five
KAYLEEN
I’d say it was a delicate balance, but it was more like a whirlwind. A chaotic maelstrom of work and play, of being away and coming home, of sleeping in my own bed from time to time… but usually in one of three others.
Chase had taken to helping me on his day off, and I’d been showing him his way around the kitchen. I’d even brought him with me on a few meal preps, just to break the monotony and to spend more time with him.
Twice a week, Nathan and I woke up before the crack of dawn. We drove out to the coast together, surfing until the morning sun had climbed nearly all the way into the sky. Very quickly, it had become our thing — an almost religious experience at times. To be out there floating in the vast emptiness, just as the first orange light of the day flared brightly on the horizon.
It didn’t matter that the ocean was far, or that it took nearly two hours to get there each way.
There wasn’t a time we went that wasn’t worth the trip.
Burke’s day had become a day of rest and relaxation for me. We stayed in because he stayed in, and renting old movies became our routine. He introduced me to all new actors, directors, and genres. Expanded my horizons so to speak, with films I wouldn’t normally watch but fell in love with just the same.
We ordered in, rather than cooked. Stayed in his bedroom, rather than wandered around. Maybe it was because of that, but our lovemaking was always the most intense. We rutted like animals in his bed, fucking each other to frenzied, sometimes violent orgasms. Grinding and hammering away at each other, screaming our lungs out like there was no one else in the house.
Only there were others in the house. Others who were lying in bed, hands folded behind their heads, waiting patiently until midnight.
Waiting to get me next.
It was a warm Sunday morning when I woke up alone, the house uncharacteristically quiet. Beast and I wandered out into the kitchen, where there was a plate already prepared on the counter. Eggs, sausage, hash browns. The coffee pot, steaming and full. Even a glass of orange juice.
For once, the guys had made me breakfast.
“Adorable,” I said, flipping one of the sausages Beast’s way. He caught it in his teeth and began the process of wolfing it down.
There was also a note from all three of them. It consisted of a few simple lines, telling me they were going into town. And that they wouldn’t be back until after dark.
“Damn.”
I was utterly and completely alone. The first day I would enjoy in total solitude, in I couldn’t remember how long.
And I had absolutely no clue what to do with myself.
“Breakfast first,” I told Beast. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
I considered eating at the kitchen table, but the table looked lonely. Instead I fixed my coffee and took the plate back down the hallway, to where I’d find something on my bedroom television.
I stopped at the end, right in front of the house computer.
Their book is on that thing.
The realization wasn’t a new one; I’d seen each of them using the computer on multiple occasions. They used it to read chapters the other two had written, to keep up with their shared story. It was also a way to motivate them. To make each of them accountable, and to keep them on schedule. Only finished, polished chapters went on the machine.
Go on. Check it out.
I hadn’t read any of their story so far. And I had to say, by this point I was dying to.
They won’t even know.
I stood there holding my plate, looking down. The machine seemed to stare back at me, daring me to turn it on.
“In time,” I told myself. “When they’re ready, they’ll show me.”
Proud of my resolve, I spun on my heel and walked back to my bedroom. From a chair in corner of the room, I flipped restlessly through the channels.
But I couldn’t think about the television — or even my breakfast — at all.
They’ll be away all day, you know.
I handed another sausage over to Beast. He devoured it noisily, while I reminded myself about something to do with curiosity and cats.
Won’t be home until after dark.
Shit.
I spent a minute chastising my lack of self-control, and another convincing myself that what I was about to do wasn’t really all that bad. After all, I was a part of this too. They were writing a trilogy, and I was providing love, support, and inspiration.
Love? Really?
And just what the hell were they writing about, anyway?
Another two minutes, that’s all I lasted. Then I set my plate on the floor, patted Beast on the head…
… and took my coffee back out into the hallway with me.
Twenty-Six
KAYLEEN
“House meeting.”
They were the first two words out of Chase’s mouth the next morning. The only two words he’d uttered from the breakfast table, that caused the other two to get up. One by one they filed through a painted archway, and into the sunroom. Giving Beast instructions to stay, I grabbed my bowl of cereal and followed.
Everyone sank into one of the polished oaken chairs, me included. Chase looked uncomfortable almost immediately.
“I, uh…” he started, looking me over. “Oh.”
“What?”
“It’s just that… well, this was supposed to be a writer’s meeting.”
“You said house meeting,” I pointed out. “Not writer’s meeting.” Casually, I shoved another spoonful of shredded wheat into my mouth. “I’m part of the house, no?”
“Yes, of course,” he smiled.
“I can leave if you wan--”
“No way,” said Nathan. Even Burke was shaking his head. “She stays.”
I sat quietly as they got down to business, discussing the events of yesterday. Apparently they’d had a meeting with their publisher. Editors too.
From the sound of things, it hadn’t gone the way they’d hoped.
“The continuity issues we can fix,” said Chase. “The other stuff…”
“The other stuff is a matter of preference,” Nathan shot back. “They were suggestions, not rules. One person’s opinion.”
“Three people’s opinions,” said Burke, warily. “Don’t discount that.”
They went on some more, in generalizations rather than specifics. I was afraid to say anything. Afraid to even look up from my bowl, for fear of—
“Kayleen, what do you think?”
I glanced up at Chase. He was considering me thoughtfully.
“About what?”
“About making changes for the sake of the story.”
I was confused. “What kind of changes are we talking about?”
Chase sighed. He was trying to figure out the wording.
“Romantic changes,” Nathan said abruptly. “The editor felt our characters were flat. That they needed love interests to flesh them out.”
“Oh.”
I was doing my best to bite my tongue.
“Well what kind of love interests do you have now?”
I knew the answer already, of course. But I had to play stupid without sounding stupid.
“None,” Chase admitted. “Well, none until recently.”
I nodded, and maybe a little too quickly. Each of them were writing different characters. I knew their backstories, their struggles, their triumphs. I hadn’t read anything about a love interest though. For any character.
“I… well…”
The books were compelling, the writing top-notch. But there was an awkwardness about the story. Something I could actually put my finger on. Something I thought could easily be fixed.
All three of my lovers were staring at me now. The light streaming in through the sunroom windows was like a spotlight. My expression gave me away.
“She knows.”
The words came from Burke. They sent a hollow chill through me as they echoed through the beautiful room.
Chase looked bewildered. “What?”
“She knows, bro,” he continued. “Look at her face. She’s read it.”
Nathan bolted upright. “Our story?”
“Yes.”
I set my bowl of milk down on the tile floor. Sank my face into my hands.
“Holy shit,” Chase breathed. “You read our story?”
I nodded, numbly.
“How much did you read?” demanded Nathan.
I decided to come clean. “All of it.” I swallowed. “Everything on the hall machine, anyway.”
“When?”
I didn’t answer. A few long seconds ticked by.
“Yesterday,” Burke answered for me. “While we were out.”
I expected them to be furious. To be hurt and angry at what was obviously a betrayal, and for invading their privacy.
Instead they all pulled their chairs closer at once.
“Well?” Chase asked excitedly. “Did you like it?”
I was a little breathless. This was the last thing I expected.
“Umm… yeah. Of course I did.”
“Seriously,” Nathan jumped in. His expression was all smiles and enthusiasm. “Tell us! How was it?”
“It was good.”
“Good? Just good?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Actually it was great! A real page-turner. Very compelling.”
Burke’s eyes narrowed. “But…”
I paused, and even that small bit of hesitation said everything. Watching the light go out of their faces, I felt like total crap.
“But?” Chase re-iterated.
“C’mon Kayleen,” Nathan encouraged. “Say it.”
One by one my eyes shifted to each of them in turn. In all the time I’d been here, I’d never seen them like this.
“Really,” said Burke. “You can tell us.”
Now it was my turn for my eyes to narrow. “Seriously?” I asked, still skeptical. “And you won’t be mad?”
All three of them shook their heads simultaneously.
“Alright,” I said, standing up all of a sudden. “But first, more coffee.”
Twenty-Seven
KAYLEEN
They sat there in the sunroom, hanging on everything I said. True to their word, they didn’t even seem angry.
“Well first, the story kicks ass,” I said. “I love the hook. I love the way it begins, and the way the reader gets sucked in.”
My three boyfriends rested patiently, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I did it as gently as I could.
“But if I’m being honest?” I took an inadvertently dramatic pause to sip my coffee. “You’re using one pen name, and it reads like it was written by three different people.”
Chase and Nathan let out a long breath they’d apparently been holding in. Burke shook his head slowly.
“Damn. That’s not good.”
“No,” Chase agreed glumly. “It’s not.”
“Maybe it’s because I know you all so well,” I went on, “but I can tell each time the story switches over. I can see when a new author takes over an existing character, and I can tell where one of you leaves off, and the other picks up.”
Chase looked frustrated, but not crestfallen. Nathan was scratching at a patch of blond stubble.
“Look at it this way,” I said. “Things could be worse.”
“And how’s that?” Chase demanded.
“Well your story could suck,” I pointed out. “It could be flat, or boring, or not believable. The mechanics could be off, too, but it’s none of those things.” I shifted forward in my chair, cradling my mug in both hands. “The story itself is fantastic.”
I could feel a palpable sense of relief. From some of them, at least.
“But the publisher said the sample chapters flowed perfectly,” Nathan said. “Shit, I think he even used the word ‘seamless’.”
“Yeah, well the publisher is your father’s best friend,” Burke pointed out. “Soo…”
They fell silent now, the three of them. I seized the opportunity.
“Wanna know the real problem?”
Now I had their attention. Totally and completely.
“You’re going about this the wrong way,” I said, waving my arm around. “You’re treating the writing of these books like some unwanted task that needs to be parceled out, rather than done when inspiration actually strikes.”
They stared back at me emptily. I took the silence as a cue to go on.
“Throw away your schedules,” I said. “Write when you feel it, and don’t force yourself to write when you don’t.”
From the look in their eyes they were getting it. Maybe. Sort of.
“So you’re saying we’re too rigid?” Chase asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “That calendar is your worst enemy.”
“But that’s how we keep on track,” said Nathan. “That’s why we’re actually ahead, instead of behind.”
“Yes, but the writing suffers,” I explained. “You’re so segregated, you’re locking yourselves up and ignoring each other. You’re supposed to be writing this story together, but none of you are in tune with what the others are doing.”
Burke and Nathan were looking at each other now, as if granted some kind of personal epiphany. Only Chase didn’t seem convinced.
“But that’s what the shared machine in the hallway is for,” he said. “So we can see each other’s work.”
“Those are polished, finished chapters though,” I pointed out. “Right?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So by the time you read them, they’re mostly unchangeable. You need to communicate with each other a lot earlier. Keep things more dynamic and fluid while you’re writing entire sections of the story… not after you’re done.”
I was actually standing up, that’s how excited I was. Turning to face each of them in turn.
“So what do we do now?” asked Nathan.
“Well first… am I distracting any of you?” I asked. “Be honest.”
“No,” Chase and Nathan said quickly.
“Fuck no,” Burke chimed in. “Actually, you’re the one good source of inspiration I have.”
The others nodded vehemently. Seeing their enthusiasm made me feel warm inside.
“If that’s the case, then fuck the writing schedule,” I said. “You should be writing when you want to. Writing when you feel like it — not when you’re forced to by whatever day of the week it happens to be.”
They were staring at each other now, gauging one another’s reaction. Each trying to see how the others felt.
“Instead of avoiding each other you should be talking about your chapters. Sitting down next to each other if you have to. Going over things line by line, scene by scene, so that each character is a collaboration.”
Burke actually laughed. Nathan too.
“Holy shit that makes sense.”
“Right now your stuff feels disjointed because your lives are disjointed. Your doors are closed. You’re trying to write one story while living three different lives.”
