Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels (A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Book 3)

by Chase Connor

  “Do you think there’s value in talking to Andrew about the werewolves from last night?”

  Lucas’ fingers froze as the button popped out of place and he looked at me sternly from across the kitchen counter. I chewed at my lip, chastened without having Lucas say a word, as I grabbed my wine glass and took another quick sip. Lucas’ hands slid away from the waist of his jeans to rest at his sides as he considered me from the other side of the kitchen counter.

  “Really?”

  “Just a thought.” I cringed. “You can keep stripping. I was paying attention, I swear.”

  “I am not taking another single article of clothing off until you explain yourself.” Lucas laced his arms over his chest. “You are on warning, mister.”

  “So, you’re saying if I came over there right now and—” I smiled wickedly.

  “Don’t you dare try to change the subject.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  “Why do you want to talk to Andrew?” The way he said the name told me that Lucas still wasn’t over the fact that Andrew and I had gone on a date.

  Sure, the date had been horrible, and Andrew had been an insufferable douchebag throughout—not to mention the fact that he had turned into a wolf at the end and had tried to make me a nummy little treat. Regardless of the circumstances, Andrew was a man who was interested in me. Or, had been at one time. The status of present-day levels of interest was unknown.

  “He’s a werewolf,” I answered, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. “Only one I know. I figured he’d know something about whether or not that woman this morning was actually a werewolf, too. Or if he had heard anything through the grapevine about what happened last night. Ya’ know?”

  “Rob.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t talk to the wolf.”

  “The Wolf now is he?” I teased.

  “He’s trouble.”

  “And you aren’t?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  A break appeared in Lucas’ stern façade, and I knew that I had the upper hand in the discussion. Just keep him on the ropes and don’t mention talking to Andrew anymore, Rob.

  “I’m not that kind of trouble.”

  “You’re the best kind of trouble.” I licked my lips. “I like your kind of trouble, babe.”

  “Stop that.” Lucas averted his eyes, a smile coming to his lips.

  “We should see how much trouble we can cause after we eat this delicious dinner, babe.”

  “Rob.” It had been his attempt at being firm, but he didn’t quite manage.

  “I bet it won’t taste as good as you, though,” I added.

  “Okay.” He shook his hands crazily. “Stop it. You’re distracting me from cooking dinner. I need to pay attention to what I’m doing, or we’ll have to eat charcoal.”

  “You used noodles and not, like, slices of zucchini, right?” I teased.

  “I’m not a monster.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now, how about you give me a kiss, and we’ll forget all about everything but dinner and each other?”

  Lucas rolled his eyes but eventually leaned across the counter, presenting his lips to me once again. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his, trying to forget all about Andrew and everything on my mind about the naked burned up lady, werewolves, Kobolds, hooded people in the backyard—all of it. As I pulled back from Lucas, he was grinning, his eyes slowly opening to look at me. He gave me a wink, and I reached up to take his face in my hands so that I could kiss him once again, but deeper.

  It was dark outside.

  Lucas was slowly walking up the steps of the bleachers in the stands of the football stadium.

  He smiled at me.

  “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  Something like talking under water.

  More talking.

  “Did you…want someone to keep you company?”

  Then we were running through the woods. His hand was in mine, and we were scared. Both of us were gasping for breath and scared out of our minds. Then we were standing in the dark of the woods, looking around frantically.

  “Did you see that?”

  I pulled back from Lucas, my eyes wide. His lips were still pursed, and his eyes were still closed. So, I leaned forward and gave him another quick kiss on the lips, then immediately withdrew my hands from his face. I sat back on the barstool, affixing a smile to my face.

  “You still taste better than anything.” He opened his eyes to smile at me.

  “Still do.” I nodded.

  “Always.”

  I gave a nervous chuckle. “Always.”

  Chapter 5

  Carlos looked as glamorous outside of drag as he looked when he was dressed as Carlita. When I had gone to the center, under the guise of helping out the community, I was hoping to run into Andrew. After Oma had thrown a fit about going to see Andrew, and Lucas had made it clear that he would never be okay with the idea, going directly to Andrew was a decidedly bad idea. If I went to his office building—or God forbid, found out where he lived and went to his home—I’d have a grandmother and a boyfriend out for blood. Running into him at the LGBTQIA center was pretty innocent, though. It couldn’t possibly be my fault if Andrew and I showed up at the center on the same day.

  It wasn’t the best plan I’d ever come up with, going to the LGBTQIA center in Toledo to find Andrew, but my head hadn’t been right for half a day. When I had touched Lucas’ face—my boyfriend’s face—I had the same experience I had had with Teenage Ghost Rob. And Ernst. Were these memories? Alternate realities? Dreams? Hopes? Wishes? What were these odd memories flashing through my brain?

  After dinner, Lucas and I had had sex. A lot. In fact, we had fallen asleep so late in the night that I was afraid Lucas would not get out of bed for work in the morning. Even if he did, I knew he’d be sore. We had done it every which way we could think of, though my mind had been somewhere else the entire time. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed having sex with my boyfriend—he was pretty stellar at it—but I couldn’t help but feel a cluster of nagging thoughts and questions in the back of my mind.

  When morning came, Lucas and I were roused by his alarm, and I had decided that it would be a good day to find Andrew. Lucas would be at the school, teaching young, fertile minds, and then helping at the hardware store, so he wouldn’t be able to check in on me. Oma didn’t follow me around much, thus avoiding her wouldn’t be an issue. Ernst and the other Kobolds didn’t leave the house as far as I knew, so I had to take advantage of the situation. Andrew might show up at the center. And, if he did, I would be there waiting with a laundry list of questions.

  However, the only person there when I arrived, shortly after breakfast, was the center director, who promptly put me to work stuffing envelopes again. Apparently, the LGBTQIA community had need of a lot of reading material. I wanted to feel snarky and put out by the whole thing, but as I stuffed envelopes, I found myself wishing that someone had been sending out brochures and information to me when I was a teen—hell, even as an adult. It would have made everything about being a gay teen, and then a gay man, so much easier. At the very least, I wouldn’t have felt so lost and alone. The thought that maybe one of my envelopes might be opened by a confused and lost teen caused me to smile as I performed the task. I had been like that, all alone, for an hour, before Carlos walked in the door.

  Carlos was wearing jeans and a sweater, a stylish jean jacket—all of it well fitted to his slim body—a scarf around his neck that practically had its own wind machine, huge sunglasses, a large tan purse…and Louboutins. Apparently, even out of drag, Louboutins were acceptable footwear to Carlos. It made me smile. Not that he was wearing the shoes I had bought for him, but that he enjoyed them so much. He did look good in them, so why not wear them any chance he got, I figured.

  “Well, look at you!” He whipped his overly large sunglasses off and smiled over at me as the door shut behind him. “I didn’t think I’d see you here again, Rob, honey!”

 
I smiled as Carlos sashayed over to the table in his fancy heels. Carlos whipped his scarf off with a flourish and deposited it onto the table along with his sunglasses and purse. As he slid into the folding chair across from me, I continued stuffing envelopes but turned my focus to him. The fact that Carlos had remembered my real name and hadn’t called me “Jacob” made me smile internally. Most civilians weren’t so conscious of what they called me and when they called me it. Leave it to a drag queen to know when to use an alias and when not to—wise and magical creatures, drag queens.

  “I thought I’d come help out a little today,” I replied.

  “Well, aren’t you a doll?” He replied as he grabbed some of the envelopes and inserts to help out. “I hadn’t seen you or Esther Jean since you first came here, so I figured you weren’t coming back. Of course, I should have known better. I’m sorry for thinking you thought you were too good for us, baby.”

  Carlos gave me a wink from an eye that seemed to perpetually twinkle, causing me to laugh.

  “How are you, Carlos?”

  “Oh, lawd, help me.” He fanned his face with the envelope in his hand then went about stuffing materials into it. “I have been trying to get a space to do my drag show at because the last place—Pixxxies?—it shut down a week ago. Apparently, after fourteen health code violations, they just shut you down. Who knew?”

  “Fourteen?” I coughed.

  “Well,” Carlos sighed, “it might have been more, honestly. They didn’t have real bartenders so things weren’t as clean as they should have been. You’d think with all of the damn customers and money I brought through that door twice a week, they’d have had money to get at least one good bartender. Sleazy ass Enrique—he’s the piece of shit who ran the place?—well, he cared more about money than quality. He never paid me enough to even keep a one-legged hooker in fishnets, and that’s why all my wigs look like they were harvested from JC Penney mannequins. Bastard. Didn’t even get paid for my last show.”

  “Wow.” I shook my head. “That’s…well, that’s fucked up.”

  “To say the least.” Carlos nodded, his lips pursed. “I find that motherfucker the soles of these heels will get even redder.”

  I laughed loudly.

  “How you doin’, baby?” Carlos reached across the table to swat the back of my hand. “You’re lookin’ like you might have put on a pound or two. You’re simply glowing, baby.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled. “Oma has been making sure that I eat.”

  “Vieja loca can throw down in the kitchen, I’m sure,” Carlos responded. “All old women can. Even the white ones. So…that doesn’t explain the glow…”

  I shrugged.

  “Mm.”

  “What?” I chuckled.

  “I think you might be getting’ a lil’ sum sum lately, that’s what I think.” Carlos nodded as if affirming something to himself. “You have that, ‘I’m getting laid regularly’ look to you.”

  Whether or not I liked it, I felt myself blush.

  “I knew it.” Carlos was nodding again. “Baby, ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ the bottom knocked out every now and again. Or doin’ the knockin’. Just play safe. You can’t be volunteering at the center and not know how to take care of yourself. You need some condoms?”

  Carlos was reaching for his bag.

  “No.” I reached out pushed his hand away from his purse with a laugh. “I’ve got condoms. Plenty.”

  “Mmhm.” Carlos grinned comically. “I knew that’s what was going on with you. Well, good for you, baby. He any good?”

  “In bed?”

  Carlos rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m not that tacky. I meant is he good to you?”

  “Oh.” I grinned. “Yeah. I think so. Yeah. He’s really good to me.”

  “It may be none of my business,” Carlos looked around and leaned in, “but it wouldn’t happen to be another man who volunteers here and Esther Jean set you up with, would it?”

  I turned my nose up.

  “Good God, no.”

  Carlos shrugged.

  “Well, then I’m out of guesses, and you’ll have to tell me all about him.” Carlos quipped. “What’s he like, what’s he do, how tall is he…how jealous will I be when I see him? All of that stuff.”

  “Um,” I chewed at my lip, “I want to kind of keep it quiet for now. We haven’t been seeing each other long, and even though it became a thing pretty quickly, it’s still new, obviously.”

  “Obviously.” He said as he reached for more envelopes.

  “But now that you mention Andrew…do you think he’ll be in sometime today?” I asked. “I did want to talk to him.”

  Carlos’ right eyebrow rose to precarious heights as he gave an envelope seal a comical lick.

  “Not like that.” I shook my head. “I just wanted to ask him some questions about his family.”

  “Mm.”

  “I promise that’s all it is.” I laughed.

  Carlos studied me from across the table for a moment.

  “Well…okay,” Carlos said finally. “But if I find out that you’re fucking around and being a bad boy, you’ll be another reason these soles are red.”

  “You just can’t help mentioning those shoes, can you?” I teased.

  “They are fabulous.” Carlos leaned in with a squeal and patted my cheek. “Thank you again, baby. All these other bitches around here are jealous as shit.”

  “You’re welcome.” I nodded.

  Carlos patted my cheek again and sat back in his seat.

  “Well, Andrew comes in whenever he sees fit, honestly.” Carlos looked around before surreptitiously reaching into his bag to pull out an e-cig. He gave it a healthy puff and blew the vapor out of the corner of his mouth. “Tell me if you see anyone sneaking up.”

  I laughed. “Okay.”

  “I haven’t seen him since the last time I saw you, frankly.” Another puff on the e-cig. “He used to come in whenever he could if he wasn’t busy at his office, or if he was on lunch, or…just whenever he felt the need. But, like you, I guess he is feeling too good for us commoners.”

  I shook my head with a smile.

  “I’m just kidding, baby.” Carlos took another puff and folded one arm across his chest, resting the elbow holding the e-cig against it. “He’s probably just been busy. You’ll probably have to go down to his office to talk to him if it’s super important. You stick around here waiting, you might have gray hairs before he shows up.”

  “I guess I might have to walk down there later.” I sighed.

  “We all got bullshit to deal with.” Carlos teased.

  For several minutes, Carlos puffed on his e-cig while I stuffed envelopes and kept an eye out for the center director or anyone else who might narc on him. Once all of the envelopes had been stuffed, I sat back and looked over at Carlos as he puffed away, not a care in the world.

  “You seem to be taking losing your drag show pretty well,” I said. “You don’t look too stressed.”

  “Stress creates Crow’s Feet.” Carlos quipped as he blew out vapor. “I can’t afford that shit.”

  “Well, you’re handling it remarkably well.”

  “I didn’t lose my drag show, anyway.” Carlos took a final puff and stuffed the e-cig back into his bag. “That’s in here.”

  He jabbed a manicured nail into his chest.

  “I just lost the place to perform it.” He reiterated. “Clubs are a dime a dozen. Just, a lot of them don’t have the stage space for a good drag show. I’ll make the rounds, though. Talk to owners, see what I can do. This ain’t the first time I’ve had to hustle. And there are other bars in town. They care more about ensembles, though. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Let me know.” I winked. “I’ll come see the first show. Promise.”

  Carlos put a hand to his chest. “I would be honored, baby.”

  Standing up from my seat, I pushed the folding chair back in under the table as I smiled down at Carlos.

&nb
sp; “Tell the warden I had to leave, would you?”

  “Absolutely.” Carlos winked. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t.” I agreed. “See ya’ next time, Carlos.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  Exiting onto the street in front of the center, it became apparent that the day was going to warm up—maybe even be tolerable by lunchtime. Since the wind wasn’t too strong and it wasn’t too cold, and Andrew’s office building wasn’t too far away from the center, I opted to walk over to see if I could locate him. I gave the lock button on my key fob a quick click and my car honked at me as I made my way down the sidewalk. Being in downtown Toledo reminded me of being back in Hollywood—of course, it wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan or busy or, well, big, but it was a taste of being in a place more significant than the postage stamp that was Point Worth.

  When I had come back to Point Worth, I knew that I wanted to get away from living such a busy lifestyle, constantly around tons of people, running from paparazzi, listening to a constant dull roar of noise. However, after what had happened over the last several days, I wasn’t so sure if Point Worth was going to be the ideal place to settle down in, either. Apparently, the supernatural community—the were-community—were all over the place, so I couldn’t entirely escape whatever it was that went on in the shadows. However, I certainly couldn’t hide in a small town like Point Worth. It was everywhere at all times because there wasn’t enough space to contain it.

  In my heart of hearts, as I made my way down the sidewalk, hands in my pocket, eyes down so that no one could get a straightforward look at my face, I knew that Point Worth was home. If something like the date with Andrew and then the attack from the werewolves, Kobolds—any of it—had happened in Hollywood or anywhere else, I would have lost my mind. I wouldn’t have known what to do. Something about being home in Point Worth, where I was born and raised, living in Oma’s house, it all made me feel stronger. Braver. Saner. Powerful. Maybe Point Worth and even Oma’s house wasn’t perfect, but it just felt natural to be there. Hollywood and anywhere else in the world felt wrong.

  Andrew’s office building was large enough that I knew I would have to ask around quite a bit to find him. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get recognized by anyone in the process, either. As luck would have it, I didn’t have to enter the building, ask a receptionist where to go, talk to another receptionist, talk to other employees, so on and so forth until I had spoken to a hundred different people. Andrew was outside of his building, sitting on one of the benches, eating a sandwich and drinking something in a to-go coffee cup. Probably coffee, if I were to place a bet.