So. Long(121)

His shoulders droop. “Damn. I guess the cat’s out of that bag.”

“Well, I’m not sure why you were going out with me, but don’t worry, I’m not going to make trouble.” I step through the gate.

Dave catches the gate as it swings closed. “Wait. What are you going to tell Jackson?”

Oh, God. Does he know about me and Jack?

My face flames as I turn to him. “About Jack—”

“Tell him he doesn’t have to pay me the rest of the money. And if I need to, I can refund what he’s already paid.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Dave comes through the gate. “Well, I didn’t finish the job, so—he doesn’t have to pay me.”

All the coherent thoughts in my brain jumble together like clumps of sticky oatmeal. I tap my lip, trying to form a real word.

“What job, exactly?”

Now it’s Dave who looks embarrassed.

“His show hired me.—to go out with you.”

“He hired you?” My voice cracks.

“Yeah, to date you. It was an acting gig.” Dave shuffles his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

My nails bite into my palms. “So, you’re an actor, hired by Jackson Tremaine’s show to date me?”

Dave shrugs and gives a tremulous smile. “Yeah. Pretty much. He was going to have me on the show sometime around Valentine’s when the stunt reveal was supposed to happen.”

“Stunt? Reveal?”

“Yeah. He told me you were a love expert and wrote some book, and your friend is the cheater expert who helps women figure out if their guy will be unfaithful. It’s a gag.”

I swallow twice, but the bile at the back of my throat won’t go down. I hold up one finger to Dave and rush to the nearest potted plant. After the contents of today’s lunch comes up, I swipe my wrist across my mouth.

Benji pushes the gate open. “Everything all right out here?”

Dave waves to his lover. Partner. Husband. Whatever they are. “Can you get Ronnie a bottle of water, Babe?”

Dave hooks his hand through my arm and ushers me inside. “Ronnie Fitz, this is my partner, Benjamin Banks. Come on, we’ll talk.”

At the table in their little break room, I take another swig from the bottle. “Jack knew all along that there was no way I could win the bet?”

That sneaky son of a bitch.

Dave nods. “The other girl couldn’t win either. Women aren’t my thing. Sorry.”

I scratch my forehead. “But I don’t get it. I know a lot of gay men. You’re so…so—sorry, I don’t mean to be offensive, but you’re so not gay-like. I’ve got to give it to you. You’re one hell of an actor. Even now you haven’t dropped out of character.”

“Oh, he’s very masc.” Benji laughs and winks as he stands behind Dave, massaging his shoulders. “Not much acting going on at all.”

“Masc?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing.

With another shrug, Dave says, “Masculine.”

Benji’s smile fades as he plops into the chair between Dave and me. “This is terrible timing.”

“Don’t worry, Babe. We’ll figure things out.” Dave lays his hand on Benji’s forearm.

“Figure what out?” I ask.

Benji sighs. “The money from this acting gig was earmarked to pay the mortgage for March. The weather’s been crazy this year, and a lot of people haven’t started their prepping for the spring and summer. So things around here have gotten pretty tight.”

An idea storms through my mind.

I lean across the table and pat Benji’s hand. “Don’t worry. You guys will get the money. I’m gonna make Jackson Tremaine pay.”





Decode the Man in Your Life

Chapter [10]: Men Aren’t Emotional

Correction: Men Are Emotional Kindergarteners





FOURTEEN





I pull up in front of Ronnie’s place. I’ve called a half dozen times today, and that many each of the last three days.

Fine. She won’t take my calls? Maybe she’s too polite to slam the door in my face. I press the doorbell. The damned bird’s squawking drowns out the chime.

Shayna opens the door. “Well, lookie here. The great Jackasshole Tremaine is gracing us with his presence.”

Great. “Hey, Shayna. How’s it going?”

“I don’t know, Tremaine. Why don’t you tell me?” She ushers me through the door with a sweep of her arm.

Her fiery red hair is wild and windblown. If she had her claws out, she’d look like a beautiful, if angry, witch.

Give that girl some space.

“So, is Ronnie here?”

The bird squawks and whistles. “Asshole. Jackass. Jackhole.”