Page 1 of Composed at Randy's
Chapter 1
Wren
This is literally the dumbest thing I have ever done.
Why did I think I could be left alone during a major deadline?
Why did I tell my agent, my handler, and my closest friend that I would be fine without them because another one of them would be around to take care of me?
Go back and read the first line again. I am a total fucking dumbass.
Smooth brain. No thoughts. Not a single smarty wrinkle to be found.
Sigh.
Everyone keeps going on about how genius my work is and how my mind operates on an entirely different level. What they don’t realize is that said level is the very bottom of the sub-basement.
All of my fancy, inspired ideas?
Yeah, those aren’t mine.
No, no, I’m not stealing them or anything. They come from me, but they also don’t. I don’t think about what I’m doing when I’m painting or creating a piece. Something makes my brain goding!and I have to do something about it.
Honestly, I don’t think about anything at all.
That’s why I have every art medium under the sun in my studio. That way, when I go to start on a new piece, I can just open the gates to Artland and let whatever is in there do its thing.
Then I let go.
All sense of self vanishes, and when I come back to myself, I either have a finished piece, or I’m lying face down on the floor in a puddle of drool because I passed out from exhaustion.
Or at least that’s what used to happen before my bestie Marty found out how bad my lack of self-care was.
Once he did, he forced me to accept one of the dozens of agents beating down my door to represent me.
I’d been putting it off, because how is a person supposed to choose the right agent when they can’t remember to eat regularly or pay their bills on time?
Fortunately, Marty did it for me, and I crafted a statue in his honor. No, seriously. I totally did. Some people are joking when they say that, but I really did. You know that new statue downtown? I slapped Marty’s face on it and then inscribedMarty Rocks!right under the armpit where a casual viewer wouldn’t see it.
I made sure Marty saw it, though. I could tell he liked it by the way he hugged me until I nearly passed out.
I’m a bit on the small side compared to Marty, so getting the stuffing hugged out of me isn’t much of a challenge for him.
So anyway, after Marty found my agent, Shelly, I started getting regular gigs, and I went from financially secure to holy shit rich. It was pretty nice.
It wasn’t until Shelly found out how I lived that she got me a handler. I mean, Marty had told her I needed help and explained my situation, but Shelly had thought it meant I neededa housekeeper to come and check on me once a week and an accountant to pay my bills for me.
When I went MIA on her for a week and my housekeeper found me unconscious on my balcony, Shelly flipped out and got me someone to manage my entire life for me.
Enter Kai. He’s awesome. Ever since Shelly hired him, I haven’t passed out from hunger or sleep deprivation a single time.
It’s been great, and I love him with all my heart.
Not that way. Kai is straight, and I’m… well, I don’t know exactly what I am. I haven’t had a lot of time to explore all of that since I transitioned, but I definitely enjoy riding a dick.
It’s been a whole-ass journey for me. The gender thing, I mean.
Marty was great about all of it when I started realizing that my outsides didn’t meet my insides, but then Marty is about as queer as they come.
