proud. Absolutely and completely proud of something that I'd created.
I could feel like this all the time, I thought. Hell, I should feel like this all the time. It felt good, and didn't I at the very least deserve that? To feel proud and good about my work?
Without a moment's hesitation, I opened my inbox, found my conversation with Shane, and typed out a message: Hey, man. So, I was thinking about that interview. If the offer still stands, I’d love to do it. Give me a call. Hoping to hear from you soon. – Blake
Chapter Eleven
JAKE WAS AT my place for a sleepover when my phone rang. It was Shane and I couldn’t miss his call. So, I answered, hoping Jake could contain himself long enough for us to have a conversation. But I should’ve known better. Shortly after the formalities were out of the way, my brother was badgering me with desperation, and my patience was wearing thin.
"Blake, Blake, Blake." Jake had my name on repeat, trying to grab my attention, and in a huff, I pulled the phone from my ear.
"Jake. Buddy. I need you to be a little patient right now, okay? I'm on the phone." I sighed at the blank expression on his face and said into the receiver, "Sorry about that, Shane."
He chuckled and replied, "It's all good. I have kids, myself."
"Oh, uh—"
"Blake, Blake, I need—"
I groaned and finally shouted, "Jake! Please, give it a rest, okay? Give me two minutes!"
I don't know what I’d been thinking, taking this call in the house. I should've stepped outside. Jake had zero understanding of patience or of the concept that I could too busy for him, and the constant interruptions were not only frustrating but embarrassing as well.
When he opened his mouth to speak again, I hurried into my room and shut the door behind me, locking it for good measure.
"Fuck. I'm really sorry. I thought it wouldn't be a problem talking here, but if it'd be easier, maybe I should give you a call when I'm at work."
"No, no, it's cool. Seriously." He was nothing but friendly, and I relaxed a little before he added, "How old?"
My brows lowered as I sat on the bed. "Huh?"
"Your son, how old is he?"
My head lifted with the realization that he thought Jake was my kid. "Oh, no, I don't have any kids," then I stopped myself. "Well, not exactly. That's my brother, Jake—Jacob."
"Oh! My bad, man. So, your brother is younger, right?"
Shane was making innocent, casual conversation. It was no different than how you'd get to know anybody else. But for me, these questions felt intrusive and invasive. I wanted to ward them off and defend myself, tell him it was none of his goddamn business. But Dr. Travetti was right, I get too defensive when I don't need to be, and so I took a deep breath instead.
"Uh, well, no. Not exactly. He's my twin brother." Immediately I realized how ridiculous and confusing that sounded, and I scrubbed a hand over my face before explaining, "He's disabled."
Shane's surprise was blatantly apparent as he replied, "O-oh, sorry, dude. I didn't realize."
I shook my head and felt the cocktail of irritation and embarrassment creep over my neck and onto my face. "It's fine."
"Maybe we'll talk about that in your interview," Shane suggested, and I began to sweat, despite the window being cracked open. "I mean, if that's cool with you. I'm just curious to know how that has affected your art."
My jaw clamped shut and my molars ground together. "I'd rather not. I don't talk about it much."
"Oh, yeah, of course," Shane hurried apologetically. "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. That was a dickish move."
"It's cool," I muttered, laying my forehead in my palm.
"Anyway, so I'm heading back up to Salem in a couple of weeks to hang out with Cee, sometime around Halloween. Would you be able to get together then for the interview?"
I nodded to the nothing surrounding me in my room. "Yeah, that works for me."
"Awesome, man. I'm looking forward to it. Thanks so much for reconsidering, by the way. I'm fucking excited. The response from the ink you did on my leg has been insane."
I grunted my acknowledgement. "Yeah, I've been watching on Instagram. Pretty crazy."
Shane laughed boisterously. "You're so casual, man! God! I feel like I could tell you Ozzy fuckin' Osbourne wanted to get ink from you and you'd just be like, yeah, that's cool. You have a crazy vibe, I fucking