Owning It (Metropolis #3)(10)

"So what am I supposed to do?" I ask. "Sit in my condo all night with Charlie-boy?"



       
         
       
        

Charlie-boy's my roomie … and by roomie, I mean my beta fish.

"I couldn't hang with you even if I wanted to," Gary says. "Trav and I are having a date night tonight."

Hayden pipes up. "Yeah, Cody and I are going to see a movie. You could tag along with us if you wanted, though."

"Fuck that! I'm not going to be some third wheel on your little love date. Sitting beside you while you boys get all smoochy-face in the chairs next to me."

Hayden laughs. "Well, that's probably what we'll really be doing, so you might want to bail then."

"Don't go out drinking tonight, though," Gary warns. "Promise me."

"Okay, I promise, I promise."

The conversation shifts to light gossip and catching up about our jobs before we head back to Metropolis. We all live in the same building-the gayest building in the gayest part of Midtown. Like it's so gay, the gay guys who don't live here make fun of how gay this building is. But they're just jelly because we're the ones who essentially live in an adult frat house.

As I enter my unit, I run my fingers through my sweat-soaked hair, pulling it back before heading into the living area, to the side table with my glass lamp where Charlie-boy lives. It's an antique lamp I bought at a thrift store when I was looking for some sexy new outfits with Gary. I haven't always made as much as I do at the salon, and growing up in a trailer park with dick parents and six siblings has made me resourceful as fuck.

The idea of having a fish inside the lamp was Gary's, and when I saw Charlie-boy at the pet store, looking all sad and mopey in that tiny little glass bowl, I thought I could cheer him up by giving him all this space to move around in. Unfortunately, I've learned since I got him that he just likes being mopey.

I remove the shade and light fixture from the lamp, exposing the ring at the top. Fetching some fish food out of the drawer the lamp sits on, I take a bit between my forefinger and thumb and dip them into the water. I have to feed him this way because I learned very early on if I just put the food in the bowl, it drops to the bottom and Charlie-boy is either too stupid to realize it or too disinterested to care. So to keep him from starving to death, this is what I have to do.

Charlie-boy swims slowly to my hand and eats just as unenthusiastically.

"Who woulda thought a guy like me would have ended up with such a sad roommate?" I tell him, and as he finishes up, I add, "Well, Charlie-boy. Now you live another day."

I put the shade back on the lamp before plugging my phone into the charger in the kitchen, adjacent to the living room of my one bedroom unit.

My phone died on the jog, so I turn it on to check and see if I have any messages on Grindr or Scruff when I notice I have a voicemail. 

It's from Jackson.

Weird.

I remember waking up and feeling lost, confused … and my skull feeling like it was about to cave in.

As good as Jackson was to me that night and as much as I've considered reaching out to him, I've avoided it. I figured he wouldn't want anything to do with me. Not that I haven't considered how much fun it would be to mess around with him, but I doubted he would be interested, especially when all I got from him last time was a cold shoulder.

I listen to the message. "Hey, Derek, this is Jackson. We … met … the other day. I was just calling to check in and make sure you're all right."

Make sure I'm all right? After three weeks?

Odd as it sounds, there's something sweet about it. And I don't doubt that he's concerned about me. He seems like the kind of guy who would worry. It must be his fatherly impulse kicking in. Although he could be getting the itch to bang someone, and if that's the case, I'm down for that too.

I spin around. "What do you think, Charlie-boy?" He swims lazily in circles, not seeming to care about what I'm saying. "You think Daddy needs some hole?"

I tell myself that's more than likely what it's really about. After all, he said he was going out that night to get some action. Maybe he hasn't had any in the past few weeks, and it's finally getting to him-and he remembered that he has this hot, tight piece of ass in his phone. But for some reason, I don't think that's what he's really looking for.

I call him back right away, not waiting the usual amount of time I would to tease a guy. I don't imagine a guy like Jackson cares much for games.

"Hey, Derek?" he answers.

"Who else would it be? Someone who stole my phone and decided to troll for a top?"