Rainbow at Midnight

“You can sleep in the guest room. It’s probably not what you would expect, since I don’t really have many guests here,” she explained, leading him down the hall. “My nine year old cousin just left from spending a few days with me.”

“Cammie,” Howie said.

“What?” Amber asked, turning fast to look at him.

“Cammie. Isn’t that your cousin’s name?”

“Yes, but how…?”

“I told you, I know everything about you. You call her ‘Shadow’ because she idolizes you. She’s even a fan of mine.”

“I don’t understand exactly what you are talking about,” Amber said, leaning against the wall. “You keep referring to your job and fans. What is it that you do?”

Propping himself against the doorframe, he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Are you telling me you really have no idea who I am? I’m a singer in a group. We’re kinda famous, you know. Backstreet Boys.”

Amber scrutinized him. She had heard of them, but that was it. Perhaps she should have listened more closely to Cammie’s ramblings.

“Well, I am going to get up early and go into town to buy a few things,” Amber told him, not believing the words that she next words she spoke. “I don’t know how long you are going to be here, but you’re welcome to stay with me. You can go with me and get what you will need.”

She walked away, turning when he called her name.

“Amber, thank you. I want you to know I’m not some crazed person. You’re safe with me.”

“I know. I can feel it in my…”

“Heart,” he said for her. “You always follow your heart. Good night, sweet Amber.”

*****************************

For the next three days, they were polite strangers in the same house. Amber stayed to herself, writing one start on stories after the other. None seemed to flow like she was used to. By the end of that third day, there were nearly fifty sheets of paper wadded up on a corner of her desk.

Howie checked on her occasionally, waiting for her to play a prank or just go crazy as she usually did. He had to keep reminding himself that while she looked like his love, she was not. Amber had gone outside to wander around early one morning, hoping for inspiration. Bored without cable television, Howie rambled through the house. The entire house, except for his room, was built for romance. The living room was painted a Chinese red with comfy, overstuffed cream-colored suede furniture. Amber’s bedroom had been painted the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen. The giant bed had feather-soft mattresses, covered in a goose-down comforter. He pulled the spread back, running his hand along the sheets. Silk so pure it made him shiver to feel it. The bathroom connected to the room was beyond belief. A giant sunken garden tub sat in the middle of the room, candles along the edge of it. In the corners of the room were bubble lamps.

The things we could do in there, he thought. He walked out, wondering what had come over him. I really miss her, he thought as he drifted into Amber’s writing room. He ambled to the desk, picking up one of her discarded beginnings. He smoothed the paper out, sitting down as he began to read it. He was involved in the fifth story when Amber entered the room.

Her first reaction was one of anger. How dare he come into her private sanctuary? No one was allowed in there. And no one was ever allowed to read her stories until they were finished. She stopped short of screaming at him as she saw the way the sunlight caught on his face. Sensing her in the room, he looked up, pushing his hair out of his face, smiling at her. He hadn’t shaved and the stubble on his beautiful face accentuated his jaw line. Damn, she thought, what book did you just step out of?

“You really do write romance novels, don’t you?” Howie asked, impressed. “Are those awards you have won?” He indicated some crystal statues in a curio cabinet.

“Yes. Those are called RITAs. Why were you reading that junk?” Amber asked, nodding to the papers he held in his hand.

“Junk? This is good and I don’t know anything about romance books. Do you write those paperbacks?”

“Sometimes. I’ve had a few published in that form. Mostly, though, I try to publish hardback. Although there’s nothing wrong with paperback. They’re more widely read. I like the formulas for them.”

“Where do you come up with the ideas? I guess it’s different than writing songs, which is what I can relate to.”

“I don’t know if there’s much difference. I can go on and on in my stories, create twists and turns, kill off some people for dramatic effect. I think if you do that, you get certain activist groups after you, right?”

Howie laughed. “True. But, each one of these has a different feel to it. The characters are different, their lives, everything. Where do you get this?”

“I can’t explain it, but it’s as if when I get a personality for my characters, they start to speak to me. I’m not saying I hear voices, cause that would be crazy…”

“And me being from a parallel universe would not?” He grinned.

“Some things we can’t explain. I’ll accept that,” Amber told him. “But for the most part, once they are formed, I write what they tell me happens. Those you have are a mental block. I guess those characters didn’t like the way they started out, because they stopped talking to me.”

“How…um…into detail do you get into your books? Are they ones that would be banned in small town libraries?”

“The little old librarian in town here has mine proudly displayed for everyone to see. So I guess I’m not that racy,” she said, somewhat embarrassed.

“Do you base your racy parts on real-life experiences?” He had a mischievous look on his face.

“Not hardly. It’s all imagination. Someone told me one time that romance stories are the same as those girlie magazines guys buy. Women don’t need pictures because we have such great imaginations and can see it in our minds. On the other hand, men are very visual creatures, so…What?” He was looking at her in a way she had never experienced.

“It is amazing. The more I am around you, the more I realize how different you are from my Amber Sue. Complete opposites. You’re her quiet and reserved personality. I’d go so far as to say her sexy side.”

“Is she not sexy?” Amber asked, curious.

Howie stood up and walked to her. He began fingering her long tresses. His nearness caused her heart to beat faster. She could feel her face flushing red.

“Oh, she’s sexy,” he said, his voice low, “but not in the way you are.”