From Simple Beginnings -- Part 12
Continued from here
As Nick sat in the bar that Tuesday night, he couldn't explain to himself what he was doing there. He wasn't interested in a relationship. He knew he wasn't, but a part of him that he kept buried deep had been drawn to Quinn in a way that he hadn't been drawn to anyone before. So he sat on a stool at the far end of the bar watching the door -- waiting to see if Quinn would come in.
Slick, as Marty called him, had shown up five minutes ago, so he was certain now that Quinn would come in. Whether the other man would be willing to talk to him was still anyone's guess.
Nick watched as Slick got progressively more agitated as he waited for Quinn. The initial finger tapping on the table turned to a furious toe tapping under the table complete with mumbling while looking at his watch.
Quinn must be late, Nick thought. I hope nothing's wrong with his car.
Nick was sipping his beer a few minutes later when Quinn strode in with the cardboard carrier tucked under his arm. From his vantage point, he could see Slick's face darken and the under table tapping sped up.
***
Quinn slid into the booth where Rich was waiting impatiently. "Chill out. I'm not even ten minutes late."
"My time is valuable. You need to be more responsible." Rich reached across the table to grab the carrier, which Quinn immediately pulled away from him.
"That's a joke, right?" Quinn stared at Rich - not believing what the other man had just said.
"No. It's not a joke. If you want me to represent you, some things are going to have to change." Rich reached into his briefcase and pulled out a notepad. "First, you need to be on time to meetings."
"Um. Hello?!? Who left whom sitting here for over two hours on Saturday?"
"That was an unfortunate misunderstanding. I told you what time I would be here. It's not my fault that you misunderstood and arrived early." Rich tapped his notepad again. "Two, you're going to need to increase both your production and your visibility."
"Back up. Unfortunate misunderstanding? Dude, you called me to ask me to wait. Unavoidable delays, you said. You'd be here right away, you said. You left me sitting here for over two fucking hours, and you're lecturing me about timeliness and responsibility? Have you lost your fucking mind?" Quinn's voice rose with each word that came out.
"I'm not having that conversation with you. We're talking about your career and your responsibilities."
"Look, you don't want to represent me. You know that and I know that. Why don't we just chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and call it a day?"
"You have a contract, and you will fulfill it. I've taken the liberty of scheduling on a seven city tour. You'll also be doing three cons in the next six weeks." Rich plowed on with his notes. "We've scheduled interviews with four different magazines in hopes of mainstreaming this comic of yours. You have to tone down the gay thing - no one wants to read about that."
Quinn's face was tight with strain as he tried to control his temper. He had a firm grip on the edge of the table, but his knuckles were turning white with effort. "I don't do cons. I don't do tours. And I'm most certainly not toning down the 'gay thing' as you put it. I'm a gay man you fucking moron and I draw a strip with a gay character. It doesn't get much more gay than that."
"Oh, and you will stop cursing. We are trying to attract a younger audience, and a foul-mouthed cartoonist is simply not the image we're going for."
Quinn picked up the carrier containing his latest series of strips and started to leave the table. Rich grabbed his arm and forced him back into his seat. "We're not done here and you aren't leaving until we are."
Both men were startled by the large hand that suddenly clamped down on Rich's arm.
"The gentleman wanted to leave. It's not polite to prevent someone from leaving if that's what they want to do." Nick spoke quietly, but firmly.
"This is none of your business, pal," Rich grumbled as he rubbed his arm where Nick had grabbed him.
Nick looked at Quinn. When Quinn met his gaze, Nick inclined his head toward the door and made a slight motion with his hand. Quinn nodded and got up from the booth again making for the door.
"God damn it, Quinn. This discussion isn't over. You have obligations - commitments - and you will meet them. Do you understand?" Rich shouted after his retreating client. Quinn didn't look back.
TBC
As Nick sat in the bar that Tuesday night, he couldn't explain to himself what he was doing there. He wasn't interested in a relationship. He knew he wasn't, but a part of him that he kept buried deep had been drawn to Quinn in a way that he hadn't been drawn to anyone before. So he sat on a stool at the far end of the bar watching the door -- waiting to see if Quinn would come in.
Slick, as Marty called him, had shown up five minutes ago, so he was certain now that Quinn would come in. Whether the other man would be willing to talk to him was still anyone's guess.
Nick watched as Slick got progressively more agitated as he waited for Quinn. The initial finger tapping on the table turned to a furious toe tapping under the table complete with mumbling while looking at his watch.
Quinn must be late, Nick thought. I hope nothing's wrong with his car.
Nick was sipping his beer a few minutes later when Quinn strode in with the cardboard carrier tucked under his arm. From his vantage point, he could see Slick's face darken and the under table tapping sped up.
***
Quinn slid into the booth where Rich was waiting impatiently. "Chill out. I'm not even ten minutes late."
"My time is valuable. You need to be more responsible." Rich reached across the table to grab the carrier, which Quinn immediately pulled away from him.
"That's a joke, right?" Quinn stared at Rich - not believing what the other man had just said.
"No. It's not a joke. If you want me to represent you, some things are going to have to change." Rich reached into his briefcase and pulled out a notepad. "First, you need to be on time to meetings."
"Um. Hello?!? Who left whom sitting here for over two hours on Saturday?"
"That was an unfortunate misunderstanding. I told you what time I would be here. It's not my fault that you misunderstood and arrived early." Rich tapped his notepad again. "Two, you're going to need to increase both your production and your visibility."
"Back up. Unfortunate misunderstanding? Dude, you called me to ask me to wait. Unavoidable delays, you said. You'd be here right away, you said. You left me sitting here for over two fucking hours, and you're lecturing me about timeliness and responsibility? Have you lost your fucking mind?" Quinn's voice rose with each word that came out.
"I'm not having that conversation with you. We're talking about your career and your responsibilities."
"Look, you don't want to represent me. You know that and I know that. Why don't we just chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and call it a day?"
"You have a contract, and you will fulfill it. I've taken the liberty of scheduling on a seven city tour. You'll also be doing three cons in the next six weeks." Rich plowed on with his notes. "We've scheduled interviews with four different magazines in hopes of mainstreaming this comic of yours. You have to tone down the gay thing - no one wants to read about that."
Quinn's face was tight with strain as he tried to control his temper. He had a firm grip on the edge of the table, but his knuckles were turning white with effort. "I don't do cons. I don't do tours. And I'm most certainly not toning down the 'gay thing' as you put it. I'm a gay man you fucking moron and I draw a strip with a gay character. It doesn't get much more gay than that."
"Oh, and you will stop cursing. We are trying to attract a younger audience, and a foul-mouthed cartoonist is simply not the image we're going for."
Quinn picked up the carrier containing his latest series of strips and started to leave the table. Rich grabbed his arm and forced him back into his seat. "We're not done here and you aren't leaving until we are."
Both men were startled by the large hand that suddenly clamped down on Rich's arm.
"The gentleman wanted to leave. It's not polite to prevent someone from leaving if that's what they want to do." Nick spoke quietly, but firmly.
"This is none of your business, pal," Rich grumbled as he rubbed his arm where Nick had grabbed him.
Nick looked at Quinn. When Quinn met his gaze, Nick inclined his head toward the door and made a slight motion with his hand. Quinn nodded and got up from the booth again making for the door.
"God damn it, Quinn. This discussion isn't over. You have obligations - commitments - and you will meet them. Do you understand?" Rich shouted after his retreating client. Quinn didn't look back.
TBC