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.”
I chuckle. “I see he’s learned some new words for me. Nice.”
Shayna glares as she backs into the kitchen. “Ronnie will be out in a minute.”
“Okay. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She turns, mumbling under her breath. “Cum bucket.”
I sit on the couch. The bird does acrobatics in his cage while I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
A half-hour rolls by.
I wait some more.
Finally, Ronnie saunters into the living room. Her eyes widen and then narrow.
After a blink, her expression clears and she smiles. The sun comes out again, warming my life. “Jack, what a surprise to see you. How’ve you been?”
“I’m all right. Better now that I see you. Hey, you got the stitches out.”
She heads into the kitchen. “Took them out myself. Thanks, by the way. Doc did a great job. It barely made a tiny scar.”
I stand. “Shayna didn’t tell you I was here?”
She looks over her shoulder. “Nope. Sorry. Guess she got sidetracked.”
Sidetracked, my ass. “Well, I was just checking in. I haven’t seen or heard from you in a few days.”
She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. The pocket plastered to that amazing ass that I’ve missed having my hands on. My cock stirs.
Her eyebrows knit as she slides her finger across the screen. “Oh, look. You did call. Wow. Not sure how I didn’t see that.”
What the hell? “I was trying to call to ask if you want to go out.”
“Go out? As in tonight?”
I shrug. “Sure. I’ve got about three hours before I have to be on set.”