UNTITLED MASTERPEICE

PART ONE: BODIES

BEGINNINGS PART TWO

Ian slept soundly that night feeling freed from 29 years of hiding. Of course, it wasn’t until his Uncle Nate died a few years ago that he fully understood what the man had been so angry about. Ian’s Grandmother had left everything to him, the house and fairly nice sized bank account and a bank box. By the time he had discovered this, the house was so useless that the family he sold the property to were able to knock it down with a few swift kicks. The bank account had been drained or moved somewhere, and the bank box was empty, but Ian didn’t really care. He was just glad to be rid of the burden of the past.

The rest of the week flew by, gloriously exciting and deliciously dazzling. Every morning the staff met around nine, ate breakfast together and talked about who would do what that day. They made connections, held conferences and worked together to make what they wanted happen. The place was filled with laughter and the spirit of artists working, replacing the smug fog that had doomed the previous group.

Wella even hired the perfect personal secretary for Ian, a nice young man named Blake, fresh out of college with Harry Potter spectacles and an eager smile. By the end of the young man’s first day, he had not only made his place on the team, he had managed to consistently second guess Ian’s needs so eerily it almost made him feel that he had been watched for months before he had even thought about the possibilities of moving to California.

Even Trish seemed to fall in line. She sulked about for the first few days, and while not insulting to any one, she was still the chill on an otherwise busy and seemingly unstoppable ray of sunshine. By 5 PM on Friday, they had either gotten used to the frost or she had decided to just give up the attitude and at least attempt to be civil. While Ian did not trust her enough to let her join in the meetings, he did take note that she took her task seriously and made an effort to be respectful.

Nights at home had been quiet. He ate alone and played his guitar or watched TV until he fell asleep. He had watched out for the stranger on the balcony, but they had not managed to connect. Both Tippy and Colton had stopped by, acting as though nothing unusual had happened that night. Their company was actually so welcome and the friendship so warm and honest that Ian, while unable to forget about it, was able to put it aside.

He had brought some work home to do with him that Friday night, but Ian was determined that it was time for him to begin stepping out of the two realms that he had become so comfortable in. He had always had a very small circle of friends, and while he did not feel the need to expand that, he was aching to get out and just, well, get out, but not that night.

He had fallen asleep on pages from a script he kind of liked and had spread out in pieces on the bed spread. He woke up with one of the pages stuck to his cheek.