chapter
twenty-three
loe
"Everyone seems to love the last reel I posted--"
"I posted,"
Jay corrects. He's sitting just off screen but pops his head in so everyone can see him. "
I had the idea for the video. It's all mine. Loe didn't even know what we were doing until he saw the finished product."
"Yes," I agree sarcastically, with an exaggerated head shake and a glare. "Your idea was soooo hilarious."
It actually was. The concept, anyway. He filmed himself loading a couple of ten-pound weights onto the bar with a video caption that said
'POV: loading a few tens onto the bar'
and then he bent me over at the waist, wrapped his arms around me, and loaded me onto the bar
.
You know, because I'm a ten and all. Ha. Ha.
Except...
"I sure was laughing when you picked me up and rammed me ass first into the bar, trying to skewer me like a pig at a luau. But that wasn't enough, was it? Oh no. You could leave well enough alone. You hefted me up a few more inches and tried again. This time, instead of sodomizing me, you tried to shuck my damn nuts off with the end of the bar. By the time you dropped me on the ground, I was as close to a woman as I ever want to be."
Jay is laughing so hard he's hardly making any noise. His face is red and his eyes are wet. He waves his hands in front of the camera like
'don't look at me. I can't pull myself together'.
I stare at the camera, straightfaced. "
See for yourself."
The 'blooper' video of Jay violating me for the sake of a reel ends up with more views than the reel itself. My pain is their gain, I guess.
On the plus side, Jay is awfully attentive to my behind.
****
I find Jay in the kitchen. He's shirtless, his blonde hair is messy as he stands over his sixty-inch gas range, cooking a little of everything. One hand is gripping a towel that's slung over his shoulder while he flips pancakes and bacon with the other.
When I move the barstool, Jay turns and smiles brightly. "Hope you're hungry."
Even if I wasn't, I'd eat his food. "You know--" My eyes shamelessly wander his body. "Shirtless Jay Petermeyer cooking breakfast would be one popular segment."
Jay laughs because he knows I know it would never fly. And not just because Jay would object. Gone are the days of not caring if I'm half naked, or if the guy I'm into is half naked. I've lost all my chill. The thought of someone mackin' on Jay the way Nikolas tried mackin' on me?
Deep breath.
"Hey." Jay nudges my chin up with his finger. "You need more sleep?"
"Nah. Just lost in thought." I grab a plate and gape at the island. "A little overkill on the food?"
He watches me for a second, making sure all is well, then goes back to his grill and gathers the rest of the food. "I saw what you've been eating the last few weeks..."
"It wasn't
that
bad."
Jay narrows his eyes, knowing it really was that bad. I guess, if you had to label it, I might have been a little depressed with him gone.
Jay takes my plate and fills it up. "I'd offer you juice but I think you need water"
"Okay,
Daddy
."
Jay falters, almost dropping the plate. He narrows me with a glare and shoves the plate back to me. But his intense, unamused glare turns smug as I demolish my food.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I say as I get up and shoulder past him. So what if he knows what I need?
He grabs my arm and pulls me back. "I enjoy taking care of you."
I whack his chest. "Great, then you can give my balls a little TLC and then help me put my house back together."
****
Much to everyone's surprise, I'm not naturally an extrovert. I enjoy being in crowds. I even like being the center of attention, but it doesn't take much to reach the point where I need to disappear. And to distract myself while Jay was gone, I surrounded myself with a lot of people. Now that he's back, I don't want to see another living soul except him.
Maybe bringing him back to my house isn't the best way to escape from people, but the flooring arrived for the entertainment room upstairs, above the garage. It's not a contract I'm excited about, but doing it with Jay is exponentially more exciting than doing it alone. I think millions of fans would agree.
Jay is surprisingly efficient. He pre-lays a dozen boards and then goes back through and taps them into place with ease.
I sit back on my hunches and watch. "Have you ever done this before?"
"A few years ago we did Seamus's loft during the off season. His place is easy. Pretty open, a lot like this space."
My first thought is 'why didn't they pay to have someone do it? Seamus isn't hurting for money. But people make the same assumptions about me. I do have the money, but DIY is part of what I do. DIY with Jay is a bonus.
My friends know I'm off for the next week, so I'm a little surprised when the doorbell rings. More surprised that they'd use the bell.
Jay stops me from getting up. "I'll grab it." Then he dusts off his clothes and heads downstairs.
Curious, I head to the landing. The front door is barely out of view, but I can see the bottom of Jay's feet and the sunshine from the open door. Jay greets whoever is at the door.
Nikolas
. I can't hear what he is saying, but I know the voice.
"
Unfortunately, he's unavailable. Is there something I can help you with? What color is the jacket? Loren was cleaning up this morning. I'm sure he tossed it in the lost and found. Sit tight and I'll see if I can find it.
"
Jay sees me standing at the landing and shakes his head like he can't believe the nerve of the guy. I point to the counter where the jacket is sitting, along with other stuff that was left behind the other night. Jay snatches it off the counter. Halfway to the front door, he pauses and pivots back to the kitchen. He grabs a cheap plastic Safeway bag and shoves the expensive jacket in it before tying the handles in a very tight knot.
It's the same thing he does with Aidan's poopy clothes.
"
Is this it? Great. Yeah, man, you too. Have a great day
."
I'm waiting at the top of the stairs for him, grinning. "I have a lost and found, huh?"
"He said they were
probably
in your bedroom."
"So, you tied them off in a plastic bag?"
"It's what I do with trash."
I laugh and follow him back to the media room. Before we get back to work, I stand in front of him and grab his shirt. "It wasn't in my room."
"I know."
"You're a better man than me," I admit. Jay looks so completely unbothered it's almost irritating. "I would've punched him if I were you."
"Punching him means he was a threat. Punching him is what he wants. Nah--" He shakes his head. "Not giving him a moment of my time is worse than getting punched in the face because it's twice the rejection. Once by you not giving in. Then again by me not reacting."
True to his word about not giving Nikolas another thought, he picks up the tape measure and goes back to work.
The odd display of Alphaness has me distracted. Fuck the floors. I turn on some eighties pop hits and drag him off the floor and make him dance with me. After a few songs, we find ourselves in a bit of a competition. I blame the fact he's older that he knows every word to every song. Then he breaks into a full choreographed number to the B-52's Love Shack and I know it's over for me. I'm more of a club dancer with a PhD in bump and grind.
"Where'd you come up with that?" I ask,
"I took a pop dance class in the summer of 1990. It was mostly girls. Johnny Wetzel and myself were the only guys. Anyway, I spent the entire summer learning that dance and then feeling super cool every time the song played and I got to show off my skills.