The Muse's Undoing

“You know what I mean.”

I do, but I don’t like what she’s implying. It’s not like I’m incapable of forming an attachment to a person. It’s that I do it too easily and sometimes it’s best to keep things strictly to sex and art. “It ran its course.”

She arches a dark brow. “Is there someone else?”

“No,” I say.

She lets go of her camera, allowing it to hang from its crossbody strap. “Sorry. Are you okay? I’m not trying to be insensitive.”

“I know. Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just…”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but I’m always here for you. You know that.”

I doubt she wants to hear that I’m having less than brotherly thoughts about Fischer. Intrusive, persistent thoughts I can’t shake. It makes me nervous to see him again, and I hate that. I hate not seeing him, period. “I want to focus on this for now.” I gesture at the tree.

“Well, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Who are you gonna show it to?”

I allow the subject change because I’m getting depressed again. “Once you send me the pictures, I’ll send them out to a few people.”

“That’s vague.”

“I have all night to think about it,” I remind her.

“You’re right. Grab your stuff, and let’s get a coffee before you have to go to work. I need to talk about this wedding.”

17

FISCHER

Three weeks have passed since Matthew kissed me on the mouth. He worked overnight last weekend but declined my invitation to sleep over. I haven’t seen much of him, but all his excuses have felt valid enough, not like he’s actively avoiding me. We’re texting just as often as usual, but it’s all felt superficial.

Despite my better judgment, I haven’t stopped fucking Ravenna. She’s also taken to texting me throughout the day, hinting at dates and events—fishing for me to say—sounds great, I’d love to do that with you. Which I don’t. We had the “strictly casual” conversation, and she nodded along as if she was on the same page. Then, one night she showed up while I was getting Vaughn’s dinner ready and tried to work her way inside the apartment. I’d turned her away at the door and refused to return her texts that night, hoping she’d take the hint.

And, of course, I’ve spent many a night at Gibson’s club, splitting my hours there between watching the woman on the bed in the “gang bang” room, studying her face like she’s the goddamn Mona Lisa, and behind a door banging someone myself. Occasionally, Gibson and I get caught up talking, but more often, I get off and get out.

Matty can’t avoid me forever. I know for a fact that this is his weekend off, and even though I have Vaughn, I’m determined to spend some time with my brother. Now I just need him to pick up the fucking phone. I call him from my Midtown office before I go on the air.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Where are you?” I ask, because there’s a lot of noise on his end.

“Walking to the train station. You at work?”

“Yeah. Is there any way I could talk you into coming up in the morning?”

“It’d be early,” he says.

“I know. I don’t mind. Nicole’s dropping Vaughn off at nine.”

“I can’t stay,” he says.

“Why?” I ask.

He hesitates and something in my heart withers and dies. I’m sick to my stomach. “Matthew?”

“Yeah?”

“Starting to feel a lot like you’re avoiding me.”