3
Jason
Jason sat in front of his laptop and sighed. The page remained blank. It didn’t make sense to him. He’d done plenty of writing in the last year. Granted, he’d never written a book in his life, but he’d written a few long form pieces about his experiences as a homicide detective in Los Angeles in general, and about catching Flower Man. Now he couldn’t seem to type a word. He stared at that white screen and felt frozen, almost physically unable to move, much less type coherent sentences. Yet when he read through his notes and his outline, the stories he had to tell seemed well organized and compelling. He just... couldn’t.
The sun was setting. Another wasted day. He’d moved out to Catalina to relax a little, but he’d also intended to write the book. It was his job now. Eventually the publisher would start asking about his progress.
Jason rubbed his eyes just as his phone buzzed. A jolt of anxiety made him wonder if he’d just wished a phone call from his publisher into existence. But no, it was just Cal.
“Cal,” Jason said. “What’s up?”
“Heeey! Lonesome wanderer!” Cal said, cackling.
“Well…” Jason tittered. “Not much wandering. Twenty-six miles to the island and I anchored. How’s it going, man?”
“Oh, it’s goin’ fine, goin’ fine,” Cal said. Jason pictured him as he spoke. Cal was from the San Fernando Valley and had the air of the Midwest about him somehow. He was big, red-headed, and good at being a detective, a solid cop. He’d also seen Jason at his worst and his best. One of the weirder parts of moving was no longer seeing Cal every day. “Just wanted to check in. See how you’re doin’. How’s the book?”
“Oh, ya know…” Jason grimaced, staring at that blank page. “I’m pluggin’ along.” Jason squeezed his eyes shut and felt a headache coming on. The blank screen was glaring at him, glowing white and accusatory. He pictured Cal going about his day, still on the force, chasing down kingpins and murderers.
Meanwhile, his ass was slightly sore just from sitting in a substandard desk chair for too long.
“That’s great!” Cal said, enthusiastic as ever. “Can’t wait to read it. It’s gonna be fantastic. After those pieces you wrote? In a book format? Christ, it’s gonna be a bestseller, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“Yeah…” Jason let a breath out slowly. “I bet it... will be.”
If I ever finish the damn thing...or start it.
“Listen, buddy,” Cal said, “I got some time off comin’ to me, thought I’d pay you a visit. If you’re not too busy with the book, that is? Don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to read it. I know writers are precious about the work.” He snickered at that, and Jason winced.
“Yeah, real precious,” Jason said, leaning on his hand. “No, I’d love to see you. Anytime. Miss your ugly mug, man. Come on out. I’ll take you snorkeling, if you think you can zip a wetsuit over that beer gut.” He smiled, knowing the reaction it would get, and sure enough Cal burst out laughing.
“You son of a bitch!” Cal said, catching his breath. “I owe you a rap in the mouth for that one, Jay.”
“Like you could catch me,” Jason said. He tapped his fingers on the desk and gazed out his stateroom window. It looked out on the ocean with an unobstructed view to the shore, except for the crowd of other boats anchored between Jason and land. “Listen,” Jason said. “Have you seen Alyssa lately?”
“Oh, yeah!” Cal said. “Sure, I was just over at the house last night, matter of fact. “Sutter was sick so—”
“Wait, Sutter’s sick?” Jason said, tensing just a little. The Irish Setter had been his dog originally. He had become Alyssa’s over time. Still, Jason missed him. It had stung to leave Sutter behind. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Hey hey, it’s nothing serious,” Cal said. “Just an ear infection. But you know Sutter flips out when you take him to the vet. She just needed help with him.”
“Is he okay now?” Jason said.
“Yeah, he’s fine. I mean, she has to squirt meds in his ear. You know he loves that…”
“Heh. Yeah.”
The sky was turning orange and reflecting off the rippling waves. It dulled the ache of missing his old life, as much as he liked the idea of his new one.
“I’m glad you’re there to help her out.” A lump of emotion appeared in Jason’s throat and he coughed to cover it. “It made it a little easier for me,” he admitted now, “knowing you’d be around for Alyssa. I don’t know if I deserved for anything to be easier…”
“‘Course you do, Winters,” Cal said, with the same tone of authority he used on the job. “Now tell me for real, how are you doing out there?”
“I like it but… kinda lonesome, ya know,” Jason murmured. “There are like five thousand people in this entire place. Probably shouldn’t be so hard to meet them. But I bumped into a couple guys the other day. One of em’...” Jason laughed, thinking of Charlie and his wry, nasal voice, expressive face, and sharp wit. “He was a crack-up. I’m sure I’ll bump into him again. Seems like a decent guy to hang with.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Cal said. “You’ve only been there a couple weeks, buddy. Give it a little time. Go get a beer with that guy. Sounds like something. What about eh... the ladies?” Cal put a little twang on it, and Jason could just picture him leering.
“Like you said, dude. Been two weeks. Gimme a minute.”
“Go get laid!” Cal said. “Place must be lousy with chicks in bikinis. Get that dick wet and call me back.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” If he were honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind getting his dick wet. He had indulged in a few post-divorce one-night stands. None of them were anything to write home about. Before that, he had not had sex with Alyssa since long before the shooting because things had already been going south, the two of them slowly realizing they had simply grown apart and become incompatible.
If nothing else, he could use the release.
He wondered briefly if getting laid would help him write?
Jason hunkered down and managed an entire paragraph’s worth of a generic pablum that felt like pulling teeth to write before he finally gave up. It was hard not to stress out. What if he was physically incapable of writing the book? He could remember writing those freelance pieces that had been so well received. They’d come pouring out of him as if he were touched by some fleeting muse.
That was the problem with the muse, he supposed. It was always fleeting.
Jason sighed heavily as he brought up Pornhub. Jacking off might relax him, he reasoned. It sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but he had no better ideas.
He found himself so restless that he could hardly settle on one porn clip. He finally chose one with a tall, fit guy and a big-breasted curvy girl going at it in a gym. There was nothing very special about it beyond the guy’s giant dick and the way he kept laughing in delight when he made the girl moan. That in itself was unusual.