Chapter 38

After a celebratory homecoming night with Peg, Chrissy joining them later, and the next evening reading at another great independent bookshop in Minneapolis, Harry wanted to rest. Instead he went shopping for Christmas presents, last minute, being Christmas Eve day. It turned out Frances’s home would become Christmas central. Everyone and her sister, literally, had been invited, meaning the Peterson sisters and their father too. Marisol would be staying there during her winter vacation. Others would be visiting, including Harriet and her mother, and Marisol’s friends, the L cubed contingent and even Max’s occasional lover and Lizzy’s summer boyfriend Cam. Max and Robin would be home from school, and Frances of course. Harry had a lot of shopping to do.

Midway through the torturous marathon, Peg finally noticed, “You’re tired aren’t you.”

“I think I can get through this,” Harry admitted. “But yeah. I need some alone time.”

“The sunroom probably won’t do. Frances’s manse is going to be nuts.”

“I don’t mind sharing the alone time with you.”

“You don’t mind, or...”

“I’d like it.”

“Chrissy will be busy with the party,” she contemplated. “The bar will be closed Christmas day. How about we stay the night in my apartment.”

“Our apartment.”

“Of course. Sorry.”

“As much as I’ve been gone...”

“It’s ours. But I’m thinking I can head to Frances’s early, help Chrissy or make some eggnog or whatever, and you come by later whenever you’re ready.”

“But...”

“You need your time, Harry. Besides I have a feeling Marisol will want to keep you busy, so even more so.”

“Probably,” Harry chuckled.

“Let’s finish this. I’ll drop you off at home and Chrissy and I can wrap them at Frances’s and I’ll come home later with something delicious made by our lover.”

“Thanks.”

“Always, Big Guy.” They kissed.

Harry, alone in the apartment, napped. Woken by a kiss, it soon became husband and wife making love. Pillow talk followed.

“You’re leaving after New Year’s,” Peg said.

“Unfortunately. The last leg of my tour.”

“Did you talk to Jenny?”

“She’s accompanying me, driving her car or we’ll be taking turns I suppose.”

“Good. Then?”

“Meetings for the Whatever You Want film, figuring out the production schedule.”

“Is Marisol a concern?”

“I’m hoping we can time her scenes for spring break. She might need time off for auditions.”

“Not a shew in?”

“She’s part of the deal I made with Pat’s production company, but it would be a good experience for her even if we’re going through the motions, and we can try to match up a Nathaniel.”

“And you?”

“Part of the deal too, though I didn’t really press it. Pat wanted me involved, and the part will be an interesting challenge.”

“Being a bigoted Indian killer.”

“Getting into the 19th century mindset of that being a good thing.”

“Not just 19th.”

“Unfortunately. Maybe the hardest thing, because, in those times, I’d be accused of being an Injun lover.”

“Like a nigger lover.”

“Yep.”

“And then?”

Harry sighed. “Selling my series. The showrunner for the police procedural showed interest, although that’s problematic.”

“Why?”

“First is the asshole producer who used Jenny breathing down his neck, and the showrunner isn’t exactly innocent in that regard, and if that isn’t an issue, which it probably will be since I helped get Jenny out of that shit, there’s the fact that he’s showrunner on one of the most popular series on television.”

“So probably not.”

“Yeah, but showrunning seems to be a small incestuous pool, like for instance the showrunner of Frances’s show got the recommendation for me auditioning on the show I was in.”

“So you have two recommendations.”

“Triangulation! Can’t miss.”

They laughed.

“Is that how it works?” Peg asked. “Selling to one of these showrunners?”

“Instead of cold calling a studio or a network? It seems like they have some real power.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“It’s different from getting an independent producer like Pat’s company to get things going, because it’s about more than one thing being produced, and then there’s whatever network it would be on.”

“But why couldn’t it start like that? I know Pat and Linda are excited about your abilities both as a writer and as an actor.”

“Like creating a pilot on spec? That’s like the whole let’s do a show in a barn and it becomes somehow some Broadway hit. There’s a lot of money, and therefore a lot of risk, to not make it look amateurish. I mean if that could possibly work, then I already have a pilot.”

“What do you have beyond just a pitch?”

“A complete script and another nearly done. Ideas sketched for further shows.”

“And what else? What do you ultimately want out of this?”

“Beyond a lot of money?” Harry chuckled.

“It looks like that isn’t really the main thing.”

“My bank account is plenty flush for me,” Harry agreed. “There’s power in having more, but I doubt I’d ever get to a producer level. But if my films end up successful, even critically if not financially, there’d be power in that too, being proved a sellable commodity. I suppose I could be patient and hopeful things work out that way.”

“How did you get the audition to get that villain part?”

“A showrunner talked to a showrunner.”

“And why did he do that?”

“Because Frances showed him dailies...” It clicked for Harry where Peg was steering him. “Marisol working with me on Cam’s film. Audition pieces can and often are crude like that, and Cam’s natural talent made it a lot less crude than most would be. It’s proof that Marisol works on film and can act.”

“And you two have chemistry.”

“If I could pitch it to both showrunners ... representing two different major studios ... and even with the shit with Jenny, Leo got along well with me when he ended up directing me. I’ll see if Frances can pull another string and Leo gave me his number. How come you’re encouraging me?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I sell the series, it means a fuck of a lot more time in LA.”

“Harry, don’t you think I want what’s best for you?”

“What about what’s best for you?”

“You are what’s best for me.”

“And you’re what’s best for me.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I love you Peg.”

“I love you too, which means never holding you back. Look, let’s face it, I’m a bartender.”

“You’re far more than that.”

“To you I am. To the rest of the world, except Chrissy I suppose, I’m a bartender. Maybe friends and lovers ... but what you are to the rest of the world is a lot more: an actor, an artist, a writer.”

“It’s just what I do.”

“It’s what you are, Harry. To me, though I enjoy it, bartending and owning a bar, it’s what I do. Being creative it’s more than that, otherwise you wouldn’t be impelled to do it. Beyond being with me and the lovers we either share or don’t, you exist as a creative force of remarkable and awesome power. I could no more hold you back than I could an erupting volcano, and why would I want to?”

“Except I prefer being with you here in Stillwater. You know how I feel about LA.”

“Not so bad staying at the Hacienda and Melly becoming a best friend.”

“That definitely helps,” Harry agreed.

“And the advantage of being a writer is you can work anywhere.”

“True, though as an actor I can’t.”

“Then I’ll accrue a lot of frequent flier miles.”

“Until this bump gets a lot larger,” Harry pointed out, rubbing where their child had become much more apparent.

“You can blame her for more disruptions than that, the little imp,” Peg smirked.

“Her?”

“Five fingers, five toes, but no other appendages.”

“Ultrasound,” Harry sighed. “I wish I’d been there.”

“Daddy needed to work,” Peg shrugged. “But being that I’m older, albeit completely healthy as is our child, my obstetrician recommends bed rest for the last trimester, earlier if I start feeling tired a lot. There’s also the question about where she’s raised. It’s not the same, but I don’t want her to be another Nathaniel.”

“Natalie,” Harry murmured.

“What?”

“I always liked that name.”

“Me too. Natalie Iris Lynch.”

“Why Iris?”

“NIL,” Peg chuckled.

“A born nihilist,” Harry chuckled too. “But I actually like Iris.”

“Me too. So anyway, I’ve started thinking about selling the bar, kind of felt things out with Dennis and Julia as a partnership with Chrissy.”

“They have the money?”

“They do except Chrissy. Their partners are fairly wealthy.”

“And the restaurant is the biggest expense.”

“Belle. She may end up third partner, albeit remaining silent.”

“Money laundering.”

“Yep. And I’ll still own the building because it’s a lot cheaper that way, billing the partners to defray taxes and insurance on it.”

“You’ll keep ownership of this apartment.”

“Maybe rent it to Chrissy for a nominal amount, but I don’t imagine she’ll mind if we visit her here.”

“You’re saying you want to move to LA?”

“Instead of raising Natalie above a bar, yes.”

“Except it’s LA.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be able to afford a nice house there. Not a Hacienda, but...”

“I think the fancy houses have to do with security as much as anything, and if I became a star...”

“You’re certainly working towards that both as a writer and an actor.”

“I suppose if things go as planned I could very well be. So maybe at least a gated community.”

“With at least four bedrooms.”

“Four?” Harry asked.

“And an office of course.”

“Four?” Harry repeated.

“For us and Natalie and our lovers.”

“Meaning?”

“Jenny and Marisol.”

“Marisol will be in school here.”

“Not if this series gets bought. I’m thinking UCLA as originally planned. And possibly we’ll need a bigger home someday.”

“Not more lovers.”

“Possibly, but I was thinking you might be inseminating both Marisol and Jenny someday. Unfortunately Natalie will be the last for me.”

“LA,” Harry sighed.

“Stillwater could be a second home,” Peg offered. “I have a feeling Frances would be cool with us staying at her place as big as it is and her virtually on her own there.”

“And what would you be doing in LA?” Harry asked.

“Being a mother and a hausfrau. Believe it or not it’s a dream I hadn’t had for decades until you came into my life, and Natalie,” she rubbed her belly. “A dream I thought would never happen so I never bothered envisioning it, figuring I’d be pulling beers until I died. A dream I buried when I lost my drunken husband and my baby, finally unearthed because of you.” She sniffled.

“But ... will it be enough?”

“Being a mother and looking after you three? I think it will be plenty. And I can always befriend the rich bitches in the neighborhood.”

Harry laughed. “Or offend them.”

“Probably, but I’ll always have the advantage over them. You.”

They exchanged a kiss, his stomach making sounds ended things, so they got up and Harry ate the delicious meal Peg nuked for him, Peg nibbling on some too. They made long sweet love after that.

The empty space in bed beside Harry when he awoke made him sigh. He got up and after making coffee and toasted bagel, went into his office and Chrissy’s bedroom, though she seldom used it and began copying the drawings he’d made on the trip and sending them to the subjects. That provoked responses, emails, expressing thanks and Merry Christmas wishes. Most wanted to talk to him directly. He emailed back promising to call soon, since there was no way to call them all at once.

He called Leonora first, and found her happily ensconced with her family. “How was the trip back?” he asked.

“A lot better with Marie as company,” Leonora responded. “She seems happy with Freddy and maybe a little guilty.”

“Heather.”

“Yeah. She decided to stick to her guns about not communicating with her for a bit, which I think is a wise choice. It’s the kind of poisonous relationship that can be seductive, Heather finding some way to draw her back. Just calling her...”

“Would mean Heather desperately phoning her,” Harry finished.

“And a need to change phones at best.”

“At worst, succumbing, but I think seeing her mother really helped her realize people need to be responsible for their own lives, whether continuing the spiral or waking the fuck up, that Heather would have pulled her down as much as her mother would have if she’d stuck around. And you?” Harry asked.

“Back to my bad ways, but at least refreshed. Our friend V visited, but just for some fun.”

“Say hi to her for me.”

“Don’t be surprised if she decides to visit you.”

Harry laughed. “Only if it’s for fun.”

“Holy shit. I didn’t think of that!”

“I think she’ll understand.”

“I suppose so,” Leonora chuckled. “Thanks for the drawings. I’m going to print them so they can join the others.”

“You hung them?”

“Seemed appropriate decorations.”

“Makes sense. You stay safe.”

“I will. Let me know when you’re in DC.”

“I will,” he promised.

He called Cara next, also celebrating Christmas at her home in Seattle, not sounding nearly as happy about it as Leonora. “It’s mostly my mom,” she explained. “She latched onto my dad when he was stationed in Korea because she could, so she could get out of a place she was rejected.”

“Because of her mixed race.”

“And he had no clue she was using him being the shy type like me, appreciative of her supposed love because he probably had nothing to compare it to, and me being like him instead of a tough, manipulative bitch like her. She probably respects my fucked up oldest sister a lot more than me, even if they fight like cats and dogs all the time.”

“And yet the marriage continues,” Harry commented.

“Maybe because he never had the balls to get out of it, or maybe it’s a dynamic that works for them, or, not something I like to imagine, they have really great sex. Their bedroom could get noisy. But another week with my mom and my sister...”

“I’d invite you here, but my sister’s got a full house already.”

“Tempting, but I imagine you’ll want to be with your wife and I suppose there’s other women too knowing you.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be fine. I get along with my dad and my little brother, and the middle brother is sort of a referee, though he’s kind of a dick, a smartass. I should probably go, but if you’re ever in New Haven...”

“Promise.”

“Thanks for the Christmas gift,” she giggled.

“You’re welcome.”

He called Fia next. “Happy Christmas! Thanks for the gift!”

“Merry Christmas to you and you’re welcome. Where are you?”

“With me ma. Been thinking about that script. Maybe send me one of yours for a template?”

“I’ll do that. What’s the status of the recording?”

“Good. Ashleigh’s for now ex-boyfriend says his record company ain’t biting, but wants to put it out independent like. He says they’d still get distribution, and of course everything’s on the internet anyway.”

“So he was cool with where you went with it?”

“With a bit of I told you so, but really what he liked about us, maybe besides Ashleigh, is all there, so whatever. But yeah, he’s keeping in, paying for the mix with the engineer at Electric Lady thank the gods. Everythings sounding like we like. Those guys are coming over with a tour of Europe once their new album and documentary comes out, and ours too of course, so more of the same, which is cool because it was a good tour. We’ll probably tour the Isles and Paris, because we got fans there, before that all starts, you know, smaller clubs and such.”

“Sounds great, Fia.”

“Yeah. I miss you anyway.”

“Me too.”

“So what’s your Christmas like?”

“Family and lots of friends.”

“So more orgies then,” she giggled.

“Maybe not, but there’s some people I’ve missed besides my wife of course I’ll be seeing.”

“Sounds like orgies.”

“We’ll see,” he sighed.

“You sound tired.”

“Just finished most of my book tour, and all day shopping because of all the friends.”

“Poor baby.”

“Nothing like you with your long tour.”

“Kind of ingrained in me system having been at it for nearly fifteen years.”

“That long?”

“Ashleigh was fifteen and me almost seventeen when we were a local phenom, just the two of us then, but going ever since.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. A fifteen year overnight sensation as far as the states go.”

“You never got frustrated?”

“Maybe when our first flash of fame didn’t get us anywhere, but loving what you do helps, and really it’s almost a blessing, because no one’s shouting for some old fucking song, you know?”

“You can keep it fresh.”

“Yep, and we ain’t hurting for material neither,” she chuckled. “I should go. Nearly boxing day here you know.”

“Sorry about that.”

“I’m a rocker so no problem.”

“I kind of figured.”

“Call me whenever you like.”

“You too.”

“Thanks for calling.”

“Always a pleasure Fia.”

“You too Harry.”

Bridgette was his last call, her request surprising him because she’d let he and Leonora know that she and Simon were together, or as she put it, fucking each other silly. But she did ask to marry Harry.

“Harry!” Bridgette exclaimed.

“Still interested in marrying me?”

“I think Simon might object,” she giggled.

“I’m not asking him.”

“I’d think about if you were serious. You’ll just have to up your game, Simon.”

“He’s there?”

“Long story. Mom and Dad decided on a second honeymoon in Bermuda and Simon’s folks were nice enough to invite me over. Separate beds mind you, but we’re heading up to Baltimore soon so...”

“A house to yourself.”

“Yep. His folks live in a suburb of Atlanta, so we flew to Baltimore and I borrowed my mom’s car to drive the rest of the way and back soon enough, or maybe not soon enough,” she giggled. “Thanks for the drawing.”

“Simon...”

“I confessed my sins and he gave me absolution, of course with a long blow job, the threat of absence of which, along with a tight pussy, promoted complete forgiveness.”

“I take it you’re somewhere private,” Harry chuckled.

“In the guest room with the door of course open,” she replied.

“And your confession?”

“Not long after you left.”

“The pouncing.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m glad things worked out.”

“Me too.”

“So, goodbye I guess.”

“Until next time you’re in New Haven.”

“Uhm...”

“For your next book reading.”

“Of course.”

“And maybe some pointers,” she giggled. “See you then.” And she ended the call.

Harry decided to work on his Robin based novel, but found himself distracted by thoughts of the full house at Frances’s he was avoiding. Oddly he realized that, though communicating with old lovers had not exactly been alone time, it felt revitalizing somehow, like completion, doors that he didn’t even realize needed closing.

Saving what little he had done, he got up, did the three S’s, dressed and headed to Frances’s.

It felt like a homecoming, the welcoming of a traveler too long on the road, well missed. Hugs abounded, even surprising ones, like Harriet’s, who surprised him being there with her mother, Van, also giving him a hug.

Van explained. “I had enough of my husband’s hypocrisy regarding his daughter’s choices and just him being a prick. It’s like a separation where I don’t kick him out of my family home, but he has no say about our daughter’s or my lives. I prefer the company here.”

“Me too,” said Harriet, giving Susie a kiss.

“I come up here when I can on weekends,” Susie explained. “Help out with the horses, and she stays with me here. Although tonight with the party, a lot of people staying the night, it’ll be the first time in Harriet’s room, which could get weird.”

“Better not be,” Van pronounced.

Of all the hugs, and Robin the only exception to them, a subtle nod exchanged between him and Harry, Marisol’s was by far the longest, and she was the most disappointed when what she wanted became delayed by lunch and present opening.

A large pile of them lay beneath the large Christmas tree in the living room, well-trimmed with colorful blinking lights and tinsel and ornaments, a lit angel at the top in white and gold with a painted face and gold/blonde hair. Harry became elected to distribute them.

Being an older group, Robin the youngest at fifteen, the gifts had the practical, like scarves and sweaters. But Peg, assisted by Chrissy and Marisol, had sent out an e mail, an RSVP invitation, that, along with choosing whether to come earlier or later and if they wanted to stay the night, also requested a wish list of presents which Harry used to buy the presents he bought as did others, so there was some diversity. He also included one hundred dollar coupons to Barnes and Noble with the Christmas cards, Max also getting one from Bea’s company, since software was her thing, though it sort of hid with the Barnes and Noble coupon so it wouldn’t be seen as her being favored somehow. He added a note having her keep things hush hush and to let him explain.

“Uncle Harry?” she asked once all the gifts had been distributed to those present.

At the same time, an impatient Marisol tugged at his hand.

“I’ll explain later,” he told his niece.

She giggled. “Okay.”

Marisol led him to the familiar sunroom where she pushed him onto the bed and undid and removed everything in the way of his cock. Once out, she sucked it into her mouth and gave him a determined and successful blow job. Only then did they strip naked and form a sixty-nine, Harry keeping her there as soon as she got him hard again so he could tease out an orgasm, unable to keep her for a second one, Marisol lifting off his mouth, turning around, and impaling his cock in her pussy.

She kept it slow only for a little while so they could enjoy the intimacy of kisses while she posted on him, but soon enough she broke from his mouth and bounced atop him enthusiastically, with breathless exclamations to God mixed with Fuck and his name. An extended growl and her grinding down on him ended that part of the fucking, and Harry pulled her under and recommenced making love, keeping it slow for a while with lots of kissing.

That ended with his balls feeling the need to release its contents, and her grasping legs seemed attuned to it as well, their pressure equal to his quickening thrusts. She added clit stroking while he nibbled at her nipples, the kiss broken to allow both to gasp their pleasure.

She thankfully climaxed first before his last rush to his, which seemed to intensify and extend hers, and he released his semen deep into her fluttering and shimmering cunt.

They softly kissed once their orgasm abated and he rolled them over.

“God I missed you so much,” she murmured, her face resting on his shoulder.

“Me too,” he told her.

“Is it weird I believe you with all the pussy you get?” she giggled.

“Probably,” he chuckled. “Nevertheless it’s true. I love my Indian Princess.”

“Your Indian slut,” she corrected. “I love you too.”

“No one else in your life?” he asked.

“Just Lindy sometimes.”

“No boys?”

“That they’re boys being the problem,” she sighed. “Three to be honest.”

“I want you to be honest.”

“I know. Two I shared with Lindy, just because we could I guess. Neither lasted more than a night. The third I met at a party. Well, I knew him actually, a graduate student in directing, and I’m pretty sure he’d wanted me before, kind of checking me out when I hung out at the theater building. He’s kind of tall and cute so I guess I was kind of checking him out too, more discreetly than him.

“Anyway his come on to me is this play he wrote and planned to direct and star in, which should have been a warning about his ego, you know. He told me about this play, kind of a gritty love story about a guy trying to change his life from a drug addled male prostitute to becoming straight in all ways. This girl is like his way out, and he gets her pregnant and they marry, but like this ghost from his past, an old friend of his, a boyfriend actually, still in the life, threatens to kill the girl and the baby and he ends up killing the guy instead.”