Better Than People - Roan Parrish Page 0,16

all he said.

Simon hadn’t given much thought to what Jack did, but if he had he’d have thought carpentry or lumberjacking—something physical and outdoorsy; something that would’ve honed the magnificent physique of the man sitting next to him.

But the image of Jack, powerful shoulders bent over paper, strong fingers wielding a pencil to bring a children’s tale to life made something snaky happen in the pit of his stomach.

The questions came too fast for him to type them: What’s your art like? What kind of stories did you illustrate? How did you get into that work? Are they published? Are you famous? Can I read them? Have you always wanted to do that? And, louder, bigger: What happened???

He fumbled his phone in frustration and familiar prickles of anger and humiliation crept up his spine. So many times he’d wanted to scream, “Why are you making me do so much work when it’s so fucking hard for me and it would be effortless for you!?”

One-handed, he typed, Just tell me everything!!! and shoved his phone at Jack rather than sending the message.

He had his eyes fixed to the table, so he didn’t see Jack’s expression, but after a moment, Jack said, “Sure. Sorry.”

It was kind, but the humiliation that came with relief was still humiliation.

“Do you want more coffee?” Jack asked.

Simon shook his head. More than a cup and he’d be buzzing.

“Okay. Um. I met my friend Davis in college. We were on the same freshman hall. I hated my roommate so I was always in the common room, and his room was right next to it. I didn’t really want to be there. College, I mean. I thought—Anyway.”

He gulped his coffee.

“I wanted to be an artist. Stupid, right?” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Eventually, he talked me into illustrating this story he was writing for a class. I don’t know, I think I was drunk. But it was...good. I’ve never been any good at writing or coming up with ideas. Not that smart, I guess.”

Simon glanced up in time to see hurt burning in Jack’s eyes and wondered who’d convinced him of those things. Jack ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed.

Mayonnaise jumped soundlessly from the counter to the table and insinuated herself on Jack’s lap. He stroked between her ears and let her make biscuits on his thighs. Then he pressed between her shoulder blades and she curled up contentedly.

“It just worked with Davis,” Jack went on. “He had the ideas and I just made them happen. At first we wanted to do a whole comic book thing, but then his sister had a baby and he wrote this little story for the kid. I illustrated it and his sister went nuts over it. So Davis decided we should try and publish one for real. I didn’t think anyone would want something I drew. Hell, what did I know about kids’ books? Books at all, really. Or kids. But Davis... When Davis decides on something it always happens for him.”

The sentiment was so like what Simon had assumed about Jack.

“After we graduated he moved to New York. It’s where his sisters live and they encouraged him to come. Before I knew it, he’d made all these editor contacts—I don’t know where. He was always good at meeting people and I didn’t want anything to do with that part of it. But it was cool. It was...ah, fuck, it was magical. The book sold and we did another one right after. I couldn’t believe I got to draw shit for a living. It was...perfect. But Davis—I dunno, it was like he was never satisfied. Anything good that happened he just wanted something better next time. He got an agent and wanted more money, he wanted to win all the awards, sell more books, I don’t even know what all else.”

Jack shook his head and gestured at the humble kitchen around them.

“I don’t need much. Never have. This place was my parents’. I just winterized it. Davis still lives in New York and his sisters, all three of them are...” Jack gestured unreadably. “You know, what’s the word. They like expensive stuff. Davis wants to be like that. Fancy. I dunno.”

Materialistic, Simon offered inside his head.

Jack trailed off and looked right at Simon.

“Is this boring? Is this too much? You said tell you everything, but...” He shrugged.

A smile tugged at the corners of Simon’s mouth and he shook his head and gestured for Jack to go on.

“’Kay. Anyway,