Uncovering Desire

by Kacey Shea

  I end another call and toss my cell on the bed. She rolls out of the headstand she’s been holding for several minutes. I’m drained from all the talking and sharing, but she grins my way and reaches out to pull me up from where I sit.

  “Come on. Break time. Let’s grub.”

  “Kate, I really don’t feel like going anywhere.” I turn to reach for my phone but she’s a quick little thing and reaches out to swipe it first. She backs out the door, my phone gripped behind her, and waggles her brows.

  “If you want it, you’re gonna have to come get it.”

  “Kate, give me my phone. I’m not in the mood for keep-away or any of your games right now.” I’m lashing out. I know it, yet I don’t stop myself. She doesn’t even acknowledge my snarky tone.

  “Be mad all you want, big guy. I know you’re in serious danger of hangry right now so I won’t hold it against you.” She’s in the hall now and prances out to the living room. I follow begrudgingly.

  “Hangry? What the hell’s hangry?”

  “You’re hungry and angry. It’s scientifically proven to be a real state of mind. So let’s go. Slide on those flip flops.” She’s now standing at the door in a pair of cut offs, a tank top, and sandals, with her bag and car keys in tow. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen her leave the house. Even her makeup is understated. She’s beautiful.

  “Come on, Jon, let’s go!” She jingles her keys with a bright smile and I roll my eyes, slide on my shoes and pull on a ball cap from my desk.

  “Where are we going? I don’t want to see anyone today.” She laughs as I follow her out the door and to her rental.

  “Don’t worry. The only people we’ll see today are hung over.”

  We drive to a little hole in the wall Mexican food joint, Armando’s, and park. We walk inside, door jingling, and the smells of carne asada over an open grill waft throughout. My stomach grumbles in response.

  “See. Hangry.” Kate slaps my belly before she walks up to the counter and orders while I study the menu. When it’s my turn I point to the grill, “That, inside a burrito, please.” The man at the counter smiles and rattles off our total. I reach in my pocket to get my wallet but remember I left it back at the apartment. I look up to find Kate’s already paid. She shoves a Styrofoam cup into my chest.

  “Lunch is on me, Army.” We fill our cups and find a table in the back corner. Kate was right. The only people in here look like they’ve just woken from a hard night of partying. The non-intoxicated customers only stop in for takeout.

  “Sixty-nine!” The man behind the counter yells out.

  “Oh, that’s us!”

  “You wish,” I grumble and she pauses before leaving the table.

  “Jonathan Beltran, did you just make a sex joke?” She’s teasing and a smile tugs at the corner of my face but I hold it back.

  “Whatever. Let’s just eat.” I roll my eyes.

  “That’s what I thought.” She smirks and then skips to the counter to retrieve our food. I don’t know how she does it. The lightheartedness. I want to crawl into a cave right now and shut everyone out. I saw her eyes. I know she gets my pain. But how can she be this happy?

  A tray is slid in front of me and the smells fill my nostrils. I close my eyes and sigh. This is gonna be a good cheat meal.

  “Spicy or sissy?”

  “Huh?”

  “Spicy or sissy?” Kate holds two squeeze bottles of hot sauce. One has a single flame drawn on the front, the other a danger sign that looks eerily similar to those poison tags people put on cleaning supplies, warning not to ingest.

  “I’m no sissy.”

  “Hell yeah, I knew there was a macho man under that warm fuzzy cuddle bear.” I arch my brow. She’s delusional.

  “Let’s have a contest. See who can handle the heat and who still can’t grow chest hair.”

  “I don’t want you to grow chest hair. Your chest is perfect.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  As I unwrap my burrito, she unwraps hers and after I take one bite, she reaches over to squirt a generous amount of sauce inside. She does the same to hers.

  “I don’t like the fact you feel comfortable enough to ejaculate stuff all over my food.” Kate coughs and sputters and I grin in triumph before I take my next bite. The sauce burns all the way to my belly. I blink back the tears that threaten. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead but I’m still grinning like an idiot as Kate can’t seem to recover.

  “I think my evil ways are wearing off on you!” She takes another long sip from her drink. “But don’t think you’re out of the challenge, mister.” She continues to cover our food in sauce. Bite for bite, we go head to head while trading jokes in between. We finish our burritos, declare a tie, and my mouth is on fire. It feels good to laugh. I shake my head. She’s done it again.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what, exactly?”

  “Make me smile and laugh and feel better? I’d be a mess without you, you know that?” Kate blushes, a rarity because the woman’s impossible to embarrass.

  “Don’t discount yourself, Army. You’d be fine without me.” I reach my hand across the table to cover hers and gain her full attention.

  “No. I don’t think I would. Don’t put yourself down, Kate. You’ve been my saving grace today. Yesterday too. Thank you.” We stand and refill our drinks before walking out into the midday heat.

  “It gets better, right? Tell me it gets better,” I mutter.

  “It does. But it’ll hit you in the most random ways, at the most inconvenient of times. The sadness, it never really goes away, but the peace you find more and more each day.” She squeezes my hand before she starts the car and backs out of the space.

  “How about that hot sauce, though?” My weak attempt to lighten the mood earns a grin.

  “You crowning me caliente champ?”

  “Hell no.”

  “My mouth is on fire! Cheap ice cream cones from McDonald’s? My treat.”

  “Be careful, sugar mama, you don’t want me to get used to this high-class treatment.”

  “That’s right, remember who wears the pants in this house—er—car.”

  “I’m the one who always remembers to put pants on.”

  She laughs. “Oh, shit. I forgot to charge my phone last night. You mind plugging it in?” She reaches around in her bag, eyes still on the road and retrieves it. I plug it in as she pulls in the drive thru to the first Mickey D’s we see. Ice cream cones in hand, we both moan in appreciation.

  “So much better,” I mumble. The cool, creamy goodness steals the burn.

  “Don’t know what it is about ice cream that takes the sting away but it works every time.” We’re back on the road when Kate’s phone comes to life and starts having a fucking heart attack by the number of messages and missed calls.

  “Miss Popularity, your phone seems to be hemorrhaging messages.” She waves a hand and continues driving.

  “Psh. Probably just Evie. She can get a little crazy if she doesn’t hear from me.”

  She doesn’t seem concerned, but I look down to read the flashing screen displaying the last message.

  Trent Rock God: So you wanna play hard to get? That’s how it’s gonna be? Game on.

  Great. Apparently this d-bag is still in the picture. She can do so much better than this wanna be rocker. I’m sure he’s good at playing music, but something about him rubs me the wrong way and I know he’s not good enough for Kate. Because I want her for myself. The thought pops into my head before I can dismiss it. Fuck. More accurate than I’d like to admit. Okay, Mr. Rock God. You think you can win over Kate? Game fucking on.

  FLIP, FLIP, FLOP.

  It’s Monday and I’ve totally got a case of the back to work blues. I just don’t feel like being productive today; I’d rather be lying out by the pool, disappearing in a good book. Not that I have a bad life, it’s just that sometimes everyone needs an escape. Instead, I’m filling my last few moments of my lunch hour by l
aying out my most prized possessions—my photographs.

  Ever since Jon found them I feel restless about my art. I’ve always kept that part locked away, a secret for only me. When Jon found them I was a little miffed, sure. Having him see my photographs made me vulnerable and naked, in a way. Nervous about what he thought. But he likes them. And now I feel maybe I don’t want to keep my art locked away in a tower anymore. Maybe it’s time I take a chance. I don’t know. The timing isn’t right. We have so much on our plates with the Three Ugly Guy music video shoot taking place this week. I don’t want to bother Marc by asking for his feedback on my work. I’m also a little scared. What if he doesn’t like them, or worse, thinks they’re average.

  I’m methodically stacking the prints back in order when my office door swings open.

  “Kate, would you be a dear and confirm the location shoots for this week? Oh…”Marc sidles up to my chair and looks over my shoulder. “What have we here?”

  “Um. It’s nothing really, just a little playing around I do in my spare time. You know how much I love a naked man!” I try to laugh away my nerves but the sound falls hollow on my own ears. I watch Marc’s expression but he gives no indication of what he thinks.

  “You took all these?” He picks up each photo off the desk one by one before he swipes the entire stack from my hands. “And did the edits?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Steph! Jason! Kate’s office, pronto!” he calls over his shoulder and continues to study the prints. Steph walks in and Jason saunters in behind her. “You need to see this.” Marc hands Steph the prints he’s already looked through and Jason views the prints still scattered across the desk with a playful smirk.

  “Finally coming clean, little grasshopper?” He chuckles before adding, “Please tell me I at least made the final cut.”

  “You knew about this?” Marc looks across the desk at Jason. He nods. “And you didn’t say anything?” Marc looks upset and I fear I’ve done something wrong here.

  “I promise I never took any of these during work hours, and I used my own camera. I borrowed the editing program, but I swear I worked on that at home. I’m sorry, Marc.” An edge of panic creeps into my voice. I have no apartment. I have no car. I can’t lose my job, too.

  “Kate!” Marc turns to face me with a powerful glare. “These are fucking phenomenal. The symmetry between the subject and the space, the organic use of light, the bold and dramatic scenes! I swear I feel like a proud papa right now! I didn’t even know you were messing around with photography, but these aren’t hobby shots. This is art.”

  My eyes fill with tears, though I will them not to. His words strike a chord and provide the affirmation I desire but am not sure I deserve. That Marc approves means more to me than any art critic.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Steph grins.

  “These need to be in a show.” Jason sends me a wink. “Preferably one with me as the subject.”

  “What about the LaRosa Art Gala Charity Event?” Steph suggests.

  “That’s perfect! I’ll make a call now!” Marc claps his hands and moves to leave my office.

  “Uh. Guys. Not that I’m not flattered, because truly I am. But that event is this weekend.”

  “Your point?” Marc asks.

  “We have so much to do this week with the Three Ugly Guys video. My photography can wait. We don’t have to push this right now.” Marc marches back to my side and turns my chair, bending forward so we are eye to eye.

  “This art. It cannot stay hidden. You have to share it. I know it seems like a lot, but trust me, this is the perfect timing. Besides, we already have a table at the gala and I have connections. The only thing you have to worry about is selecting which prints to use. And we can all help you with that. Oh, and buying a killer dress for the event.” He grins before standing. His words put my fears at ease. He’s right. I can’t put these photos back in the box, or drawer in my case. Besides, I have nothing to fear now that Marc, Steph, and Jason have seen my work. Theirs are the only opinions I truly care about.

  “Okay, I’ll make some calls. You invite your best friends. I’ll let you know how many extra seats we’ll have. Oh, and make those confirmation calls for the shoots this week before you forget. I’m proud of you Kate.”

  “Thanks, Marc.” Everyone files out of my office and I don’t waste time getting to work. This very busy week just got busier. I’ll need to bring my A game if I want to survive.

  “Please tell me I get my car back soon!”

  I’m about to leave for the day when a call from Aaron’s Auto flashes across my cell. I’m really hoping my Acura’s ready soon, because my insurance only covers my rental for one more day.

  “Hello, Miss Bryant. I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?” This guy is irritating. I don’t want to play a guessing game. I just want my car.

  “Just give it to me straight.”

  “So, we ordered all the necessary parts to repair the damages and those came in today, except for two. We are still waiting on those and once they come in it will take us less than a day to have your car back on the road.”

  “Excellent. So when will those two parts be in?”

  “That’s the bad news. One is coming from California so that should be here tomorrow. The other, the closest part we could find is in Detroit. So, you are looking at another seven to ten.”

  “Days?” I shout through the phone.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can’t you just put the other pieces on and find a way to patch it up until it gets in?” I’m practically screeching through the line.

  “Uh, no, ma’am. There’s no way to just patch it up with the extreme damage that was caused from your accident. I’m really sorry. I understand it’s an inconvenience, but we are doing the best we can.” I pull the phone away from my ear, cover the mouth speaker and let out a scream. I take a cleansing breath before bringing the phone back to my ear.

  “What was your name again?”

  “It’s Jared, ma’am.”

  “Jared, I need you to do me a favor?”

  “Sure thing, what’s that?”

  “I need you to not call me back until my car is fixed or until you have good news, okay? Also, please stop calling me ma’am, you’re making me feel fucking ancient. Just Kate, please.” A deep chuckle comes through.

  “Yes, m—er—Kate. I will make a note of it in your file.”

  “Thank you, Jared. Now, please just fix my car.” He says good-bye and I drop my phone in my bag. I wave to Teagan and Marc, the only two left in the office before I head out to my rental. I’m going to have to return the damn thing. I can’t do another week on my own dime. This sucks. I’m so ready for things to go back to the way they were. When I can go to my own home to my own space after driving my own car.

  But then I think of my news about the art show on Saturday. I can’t believe Marc was really able to get me in. I will have ten photographs featured in the New and Noteworthy section and any sales will be split between myself and Phoenix Children’s Hospital, the benefactor of this year’s event. I also have six seats at the table to fill. I already texted Evie—Tate and her are two. I’m three and I’m thinking of asking Trent to be my date. We’ll wrap up our work together by the end of the week and I promised to go out with him. I think he’ll like it, schmoozing with all the movers and shakers. Plus, he will look incredible by my side.

  I texted Melissa, but she and Drew already had plans to rent a beach house for the week and leave Friday, so they’re out. I wonder if Jon would go? He really liked my work the other day and honestly, if it hadn’t been for his snooping in my office last week I wouldn’t have brought the prints out today. I’m sure it’s not his scene, but it would mean a lot to have him there.

  I’m excited to tell him my news, and I hope he’s still home when I get back. He hasn’t broken down once since Friday night and I doubt he will again. At least, not in front of me. He’s strong and ind
ependent. I caught him in a weak moment. I like that I was able to be there for him, though. I feel value in that he trusts me enough to share that side of himself.

  As I pull into my space I’m pleased to see his truck’s still in the lot. He works so many nights that it’s normal to not see him until my morning yoga sessions in the living room. I traipse down the path to our apartment door, the brutal heat pricking my skin.

  The sounds of pans banging and food cooking fill my senses. Yum. I love it when Jon cooks. He prepares simple dishes but they hit the spot. I hope he’s making extra. I throw my bag and close the door.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I call out as I kick off my heels and plop down on a barstool. “Smells good.” Jon pauses briefly to flash me a grin.

  “I’m making dinner for us. I hope you’re hungry. You have a good day at work?” He continues to chop and dice a slew of veggies. Some kind of meat sizzles in the skillet.

  “Work was work, but I have some exciting news to share.” He sets down the knife and leans against the edge of the counter to give me his full attention. He wears an open smile and something inside me warms to know we have this close relationship again. Not the same as when we were teens because we’re different people now, but there are no defensive walls resurrected. I’ve never felt more comfortable around him. He’s someone I consider a best friend. I smile widely with the realization.

  “Okay, so you know how you found my secret photography collection last week?”

  “Yeah, Pervy McPerverson, how can I forget? The sight of so many penises are permanently burned into my retinas.”

  “Hardy har har. Well, I pulled them out during my lunch break. I don’t know why. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since you snooped. And anyway, Marc barged into my office. Long story short, I’m outted. Marc was adamant they be included in a show. So, we have this big charity gala we always support each year, it’s this Saturday night, and they agreed to feature ten of my prints!” I practically squeal the last part. Talking about it outside of work is so much more exciting. I don’t have to hold back or play it cool.