Page 47 of Resonance
I pondered Owen for a minute, wondering if he knew how close he’d hit the mark, because there was something about him that was sure as shit neon to me. Lately, he lingered behind most of my thoughts, a bright eclipse-like glow framing the day-to-day tasks that ran on an endless loop.
He kept his eyes on the tape, carving down the sides. “Yeah, I’m nosy, but that was actually second on the list. I figured you might need a distraction for a minute.” He peeled a bit of tape free with the corner of his nail.
“And you were the one elected to provide it?”
“I elected myself. Because I’m distracting.”
I chuckled because I couldn’t disagree, and when he looked up at me, the grin he gave me reached his eyes.
“You have a nice laugh, you know that? People always go for the soft targets. Eyes or ass. Hands. Vein porn.”
“Vein porn?” I arched a brow.
“It’s…” Owen fanned the air, then poked one of the ropy veins that mapped the backs of my hand like tributaries. “Vein porn. But yeah, a nice laugh is awesome, because some folks sound like braying donkeys and you don’t want to be rude because, shit, it’s laughing. How can you judge laughter, the purest expression of joy? Some laughs are better than others, though. You’ve got infectious giggles, or the kind of ringing laughter that lights you up. And then there’s the kind that’s like warm honey drizzled over a biscuit. Dark and velvety and smooth. On the opposite end with the donkey braying, there’s glass-shatteringly shrill, or high-pitched cackles that sound like alarms.” He shrugged. “You get the point.”
“So I smell like shoe polish—”
“Boot polish,” he corrected. “Yes, technically they’re the same thing, but boot polish sounds more like you.”
“And I laugh like…”
“A murder of crows.”
“I thought you said it was nice.” I scowled. “There’s nothing nice about crows. They leave feathers all over the yard and drop heaps of shit on windshields.”
“Your point?” Owen canted his head and grinned shamelessly. “All right, nah, maybe that’s not how you laugh, but I think I’m just gonna leave it a mystery for now.”
He opened the flaps on the box, wrinkled his nose, and my eyes were drawn from the fading curve of his smile to the box as he peered inside. “Well, this is disappointing.”
I considered the packages of sheet protectors and price stickers ambivalently. “You were expecting a pot of gold?”
“Something a little more exciting, yeah. A severed finger, some sex toys, the start of a grand mystery.”
“God help us if our mystery starts off with a severed finger and a butt plug.”
Owen clucked his tongue at me as I pulled the sheet protectors and stickers out and set them on top of the cabinet.
“Now get out of here so I can finish these time sheets, since I assume you want to be paid for all your hard labor and sleuthing skills.” I wrapped some air quotes around the “hard labor” and “sleuthing skills.”
He extended the letter opener back to me, but when I reached to take it, he didn’t let it go, exerting enough pressure that I lifted my eyes to his.
“Did it work?”
It took me second to join the intent of his question to the context, because I’d gotten sidetracked for a moment in the lock of our gazes; he was some kind of lure for certain. I gave him a small smile. “Yeah, for the most part.”
“Good.” He turned to go as I unsealed the box flaps to break it down for recycling.
“He wants to do a reunion tour.”
“What?” Owen whirled around, wide-eyed. “Holy shit, Dan, that would be amazing.” Grinding to a halt, he bit his lip. “Shit, you don’t want to do it, though, probably. I totally get that, too. But god, it’d be wildly successful, especially for…” He stalled out as if he was afraid to voice the hard truth.
“I’ll probably have to do it. Business-wise, it makes no goddamn sense to turn down. In fact, that’s the stupid, prideful option. And it’s just a month. It’d be a Hail Mary that might pay out for a long while, especially with a remastered album.” The original email I’d gotten hadn’t mentioned that aspect.
“So when would this kick off?”
“Dunno, because I didn’t tell him I was gonna do it yet.”
Owen squinted at me.