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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Jake & Conor - 12. Chapter 12

There was no mistaking Conor’s return. Partway through The Hollywood Reporter one up-to-that moment uneventful morning, I came upon that fully-embarrassing childhood photo my father had sent him. Conor had spared me a caption, so I could still find work among strangers. And though I wasn’t clearly recognizable, I knew all my friends would know. He’d tell them.
I called him at home, expecting to get the machine.
“Hi,” he said, as though we’d spoken moments before.
“Why didn’t you hold out for the centerfold?”
He laughed. “The picture works better vertically.”
“How are you?”
“Fine,” he said.
“When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.”
That puzzled me – man of detail. “How’d the picture get in so fast? They have deadlines.”
“I set it up from London. Been making a lot of calls from there.”
“What are you doing for lunch?”
“Already ate.”
“Want to eat again?”
“Love to.”
“Be there in twenty minutes.”
“Come upstairs. I’ve got a surprise.”
“More?”
“This one’s not pornographic.”
It wasn’t a day I could leave the office. But I did. “Family emergency,” I explained, pulling rank I hadn’t yet earned.
“Everything all right?” everyone asked. Cassie just stared at me, somehow knowing.
“Everything’s fine. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Call us for anything.”
Cassie followed me to the stairs. I’d almost gotten out the door. “Can’t even wait for the elevator,” she shot.
“It’s only one flight.”
“Don’t quit your job!”
I had no idea what she meant, so I stopped. I was standing ten feet below her. “What’re you talking about?” I asked.
“Obviously, he’s back?”
I nodded.
“Funny picture in The Reporter.”
I grinned.
“Don’t do anything nuts.”
“Do you know anything?” I asked.
“No. But you’re a guy who hasn’t had sex for a year.”
That ended pretty damned fast. “So much for lunch,” I told Conor.
“You didn’t think I was hungry?”
“I was. Still am.”
He laughed. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
He said it more easily than I expected. And I hoped it meant more.
“Things turned out fine,” I allowed, thinking of work.
“I know. I’ve been following.”
“So... where do we go from here?”
He didn’t hesitate: “We could get married.”
“Yeah... well...”
“I thought you’d like that.”
“I’d like to get dressed first.”
And we needed to talk. But I didn’t want to say that just then. As it happened, he needed to talk more than I did.
“You know I love you, Jake. That was never in question.”
I nodded.
“And I did everything wrong that day except leave. That was the only thing I should have done.”
I didn’t follow, but I let him go on.
“There are just so many things I’ve never worked out. I never really expected to, honestly. It’s part of me. And stuff is going to happen, and continue to happen, probably. But I didn’t want to mess up what we had, and the only way I knew to do that was to leave it alone.” He hesitated. “It’s the biggest chance I’ve ever taken in my life.”
I grinned – actually, I breathed. I don’t think I’d been inhaling. “I think we’re fine,” I said.
“Now comes the hard part.”
I laughed, nervously. With Conor there were always surprises. “Hard part?” I asked.
“How would you feel about writing with me? And co-producing?”
I laughed again. And couldn’t stop laughing.
“What? What!” he asked. “What!”
I couldn’t stop.
“Jake! Jake! Are you okay!”
I barely was able to nod.
“This wasn’t supposed to be funny!” he insisted.
I nodded again.
“Jake!!”
He got me some water. He got me some Scotch, and I drank it, though I don’t really drink Scotch.
“I’m fine,” I finally said. “It’s just...”
He had to ask “What?” again.
“I’m comfortable,” I told him. “Just having you back is going to shake things up. And that’s great. But I need some constant.”
He nodded. “I see that. But why were you laughing?”
“Among other things because the last thing Cassie told me, as I tore out of the office racing to get here was, ‘Don’t quit your job!’”
Conor smiled. “How is Cassie?”
“Fine. Great. As always.”
“I always worried about her. I figured if there was one person who’d take you away from me...”
“Cassie?” I was astonished. “She loves Stu,” I insisted. “She loves Stu as much as I love you.”
Conor was less sure. “I don’t know. When two people work that closely... And Stu’s always out of town.”
I grinned. “ I’m glad you had something useless to worry about.”
“I never stopped thinking about you, Jake.”
“And you know how I feel.”
“I was pretty sure. But could you quit your job?”
Was this a test?
“I have this chance,” he went on. “My agent’s been working it out. And I’ve been working on it – I told you, I’ve been making lots of calls. And I’ve flown in and out for meetings but never went near the apartment. I’ve been offered a production deal. I can shoot a pilot. I know the writing end, and I know who I want on staff... who I can afford. But I need you to produce – as well as write.”
He added the last part firmly, maybe so I wouldn’t think it was an afterthought.
“We’d both write,” he said. “And I’d learn more about producing. I know a lot from watching, but we’d both learn more. It’s an enormous chance, and, right now, you have a lot more to lose. ‘Cause I can always find another writing job.”
It’s good he thought of that. I had just over a year’s experience on a minor if reliable sit-com. I knew what I was doing, but so did a lot of other people. And a lot of people seemed far more ambitious.
“How soon?” I asked.
“Immediately. I put off coming back till it was set. I’ve written the pilot, and they love it. But you know how much things will change. I’ve got some ideas about casting... some ideas about everything... and good support at the studio. But I need you.”
I laughed.
“What?” he asked. This time he was nervous.
“Well, you couldn’t get me more vulnerable.”
He laughed.
“This is totally gonna screw up my job,” I said.
“The show only has another year. Maybe two, you know that. Even if it keeps going on, it’s never gonna suddenly get hot. Dan and Paul will pick up something else. The second show might get better, or they’ll hit with another pilot, and they’ll take you along.”
It was pretty much what I’d been thinking.
“And they’ll forgive you, Jake. They’ll be pissed off for a minute and make you feel guilty. But you brought that script to them. They never asked for it and never would have thought of you as a writer.”
I thought for a moment. “What if I’m a lousy producer?”
He grinned. “We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Then he laughed, and we had sex again. I kind of paused in the middle, to call the office and tell everyone I was all right.
“I know where you are,” Paul told me. “I’m not an idiot.”
“He is family. It was an emergency.”
“I sure hope your dick’s grown since that picture.”
I laughed with him.
“You coming back to work?” he asked.
“Be there in two hours.”
“You mean that?” Conor asked, as I hung up.
“I’ll finish up the season. I’ll co-produce at the same time. You can write.”
He considered.
“It’s not like I’m the first person to work on two projects at one time,” I said.
He nodded.
“And if they fire me, I’m all yours.”
“You’d risk that?”
“Oh, come on. I’m all yours anyway. I have been before your first took off my clothes. How else could I have gotten through the last year?”
He didn’t know exactly what I meant. But he understood. And I still made it to the office in under two hours.

The second and much longer volume of this book, Moorpark Palms, will start on Wednesday and continue on the usual Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule.
Moorpark Palms is the reason Jake and Conor exists. The longer book is the story about Jake's experiences living in a small Los Angeles apartment building in the early 1990s. He narrates that, and it focuses on his stream of often crazy neighbors. As I wrote it, Jake's personal life was intertwined. But when people read the book, they said Jake's personal life interfered with the stories of the neighbors, and that's what they really wanted to read.
2012 Richard Eisbrouch
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I just finished this in one read. I love it and am looking forward to Moorpark Palms. And all the while I'm reading about Alan and getting to know him better...I think. 

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Yeah, Jake and Conor was designed to be read straight through.  But then some of my shorter books -- like Mexico -- were, too. 

Moorpark Palms is another of my books that takes some getting used to:  it's about the characters, not the plot, and it's completely episodic.  As I've noted, that's the reason I created Jake and Conor -- to gives the anecdotes some structure.  But it just made things more confusing.

Again, thanks for reading along.

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