Daylight morphs into dusk. Evening still comes early in mid-January. Picking myself up from the floor, I grab a towel and my cell phone that I left close by on a barbell bench. Throwing the towel around my neck, I slog over to the floor-to-ceiling window. My muscles ache almost as much as my cock. With a groan, I gaze out the glass pane, taking in the gray-pink sky and the glimmering lights of Los Angeles that dance in its midst. In the near distance, I glimpse Zoey’s guest cottage. The lights are burning bright. I haven’t seen her for hours. Mostly, she was out and about running errands for me. I did call her a couple times to check on her whereabouts and gave her a few dumb things to do like having my freshly laundered jeans pressed just so I could hear her voice. I acted like her boss when I wanted to act like her lover. And she fell for it.
Then, she took me up on my offer and gave me a rude reminder. Texting me from the dry cleaner, she told me he couldn’t get her outfit done in time for her “hot” date. The skirt might even be ruined for good. My father was a man of honor and always told me never to break my word. So, I told her to go shopping and buy something new. Stupid me! I should have gone with her to monitor her selection to make sure it had a turtleneck and was two sizes too big.
My skin prickles with sweat. Clenching my cell phone, I text her.
I want to see what u bought.
That’s right. My money. My eyes first. I swear if her new outfit’s too sexy, I’m going to make her take it off. Even if I’m the one who has to do it.
Awaiting her reply, the rumble of a sports car in my driveway resounds in my ears.
Ping. Her response.
Too late. I’m out the gate. Off on my date. :)
The nerve of her to add a happy face! Get your ass back here is what I want to write back. The words are burning on my fingertips. Instead, I squeeze my phone like I want to strangle it. My blood is curdling with helpless rage. And it’s turning green with uncontrollable jealousy. An emotion I know I’ve never experienced even with my amnesia. Seething, I pivot toward the punching bag. I need to punch it again. This time pretending it’s that fucking boyfriend. And giving it to him until he cries.
Halfway there, my cell phone vibrates in my hand. Loosening my grip, I glance down at the caller ID screen. The face of a beautiful blonde meets my eyes. Dammit. Katrina.
Reluctantly, I answer.
“Darling, I just wanted to make sure you’re getting ready. Our reservation is at seven.”
It’s been almost two weeks since I came out of my coma. I still feel nothing toward her except growing dislike.
My reservation has nothing to do with time.
Zoey
I pick at my spicy tuna roll with my chopsticks. Popular Sushi Roku is one of my favorite restaurants and usually I binge out on their outrageous rolls. But tonight I have no appetite. Since that shower with Brandon, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. I almost canceled my date with Jeffrey. But when he told me he was feeling down because Chaz was away for a few days doing trunk shows in the Midwest, I didn’t have the heart to let him down. Jeffrey’s always been there for me just as I have for him.
“What’s wrong, Zoester?” asks my perceptive brother. “You don’t seem yourself. Are you sick or something?”
I am sick. Lovesick. I’m crushing on my boss. People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” A man I can never have. Should I tell him? All my life, I’ve told Jeffrey everything. Even my weight when it was at its highest. After a quick mental debate, I decide not to. I make up an excuse that’s partially true.
“I had a hard day with Brandon.” Oh was it hard!
Jeffrey pours some sake into our petite stoneware cups. I take a sip and the soothing hot liquid immediately seeps into my bloodstream.
“Is that slave driver asking too much of you again?”
You could say that. I sigh. “Yeah. He’s wearing me down.” Emotionally and physically.
My boyishly handsome confidant scowls. “You can’t let him take advantage of you.”
I take another sip of my sake and practically choke on it. Oh my God. Heading straight toward me is Mr. Slave Driver himself with a dazzling Katrina on his arms. All eyes are on the gorgeous Hollywood glamour couple. My heart beats into a frenzy. Oh, please God, don’t let him see me. I may vomit if he gets within ten steps of me. Frantically, I search for a menu. Something…anything to cover my face. Wait! My napkin. I’ll use that. I yank it off my lap, but it’s too late. He’s already made eye contact with me. Without a blink, he holds me fierce in his gaze.
Jeffrey eyes me strangely. “Zoester, you’re acting all weird.”
Bratrina is getting closer. My inner panic button sounds. “Quick, Jeffrey. Kiss me!”
“Huh?”
“Just do it! And make it look like you love me.”
“I do love you.”
“No, I mean like you’re my boyfriend.”
Jeffrey’s eyes pop. “What?”
Brandon is so close I can taste him. “Hurry, just do it!”
“Zoester, you’re going gross on me.”
“I know. Just no tongues. Hurry!”
“You owe me.”
“Fine.”
Thank God, we’re sitting next to each other in a circular booth. On my next breath, Jeffrey slides in closer to me and his lips touch down on mine. They’re warm and silky, and taste sweet and a little salty from the sushi. While he’s nothing like Brandon, I always knew he must be a good kisser and he is. Banishing the thought of how inappropriate this is, I fist his spiky hair and deepen the kiss, prolonging it as much as I can. A sultry voice breaks it. Brandon’s!
“Well, Ms. Hart, fancy meeting you here.”
His manly gorgeousness is looming above me. Katrina gives me an icy look as if I’m nothing more than a slice of raw fish.
I flutter my eyelids and smile at Brandon. “Well, hello.”
He doesn’t smile back at me. His frosty eyes stay fixed on Jeffrey. “Do you mind introducing me to your companion?”
“Oh, this is my boyfriend, Jeffrey.” I give Jeffrey a kick under the table. I hope he gets the message to play along.
He does! He flashes his dazzling smile and, standing up, extends his hand. Brandon reluctantly shakes it as Jeffrey gushes.
“So nice to finally meet you. Zoey has told me so many wonderful things about you.”
Brandon’s eyes shift back to me. A brow lifts. “She has?”
I keep smiling smugly while Katrina gives me another dirty look. Disdain flickers in her catty eyes.
“Brandon, darling, let’s not waste our time with these pe…people.”
Bitch! I just know she was going to say “peons.” I’d like to shove her superiority complex up her ass.
Without losing eye contact with me, Brandon excuses himself.
“Well, enjoy your dinner.” His jaw tightens. “And, Zoey, don’t forget to print out the rest of this week’s sides when you get home.”
Newsflash. “I may not be going home tonight.” I shoot Jeffrey a seductive smile. He winks at me. My gay “boyfriend” deserves an Emmy. Matter of fact, give one to me too.
Brandon’s violet eyes darken. Before he can say a word, the bitch wrenches him away. “Come on, darling. Our table is waiting.” As she turns on her heel, she hurls a snide comment at me.
“Oh, and by the way, congratulations, Zoey. I honestly didn’t think someone like you would have any luck in the boyfriend department.”
Jeffrey’s mouth parts, but I kick him again before he can throw an insult back at her. I’m going to play it cool.
“Thanks, Katrina. Enjoy your dinner.”
She snarls at me before leading Brandon to a nearby table. Brandon is seated facing me, his eyes glued to me. Grinning, I give him a little wave. With a frown, he buries his head in a menu.