Bossy Brothers: Jesse

by JA Huss

  “That… you really do not want to know.” And then he shrugs me off and disappears down the hallway.

  The rest of us stand there and look at each other. Emma is taking breaths like she’s about to have a panic attack. Zach is shaking his head and Joey grits his teeth.

  “Come on,” I say. “Show’s over. Let’s go.”

  “Go?” Joey says, grabbing me by the arm. “We need to set him straight. Like… now.”

  “What do you want to do?” I ask. “Kill him?”

  “No,” Joey says.

  I shrug. “Then what? What are we gonna do? We don’t have any leverage and even if we did—“

  I stop, because Emma is suddenly walking through the door and heading back downstairs.

  “Shit.” I look at Joey and Zach and say, “Hey, if you two are stupid enough to confront Johnny again tonight, be my guest. But I’m not gonna lose one more goddamn thing because of that asshole.”

  I brush past Joe and follow Emma down the stairs. She’s already pulling the fire stair door open when I catch up to her. Heading down to my floor.

  “Emma wait,” I call.

  But she doesn’t wait.

  Her feet fly down the stairs and she disappears inside my apartment.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - EMMA

  I rush down the hallway, no idea where I’m going. The tour yesterday is all a bit blurry from the drugs, I guess. And my heart is beating fast with panic because I need to do this before Jesse catches up with me and tries to talk me out of it.

  But the doors are all closed. I start opening them, quickly peeking in, then rush off to the next one.

  The fire stair door slams open, hitting the wall with a bang. “Emma!” Jesse calls. “Wait!”

  “No,” I say. Rushing towards the next door and pulling it open.

  This. This is what I need. I go in and the sound of Jesse’s shoes slapping on the shiny black floors echoes in my head like bad omen.

  I go over to the closet and open it up just as he comes sliding to a stop in front of his bedroom door.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, all out of breath. Which is kinda sexy.

  And it’s so inappropriate that I think this, but I can’t help it. This man… he just does it for me. When I fell for him back when I was eighteen, I fell all the way to the bottom.

  “You know what?” I say, whirring around to face him as I hold the closet door open.

  “What?” he says. He’s got a very serious, worried look on his face. And hey, I do not blame him one bit. His family is psycho with a capital S sounding P.

  “I don’t want to get back up.”

  He juts his head back a little. “What?”

  “When I fell for you, Jesse Boston, I fell hard. And it hurt. I’m not gonna lie. It fuckin’ hurt. And taking a chance on you is a huge risk. And people are gonna ask me, “Why, Emma? Why are you doing this?” And you know what I’m gonna say?”

  He swallows. “What?”

  “I’m gonna say we’re just that couple, you know.”

  He cracks a smile.

  “We’re that couple that comes from two totally crazy families. In two totally different ways. Let’s just make that clear now. That’s how I’m gonna start it. Every time people ask me why I chose Jesse Boston I’m gonna say “We’re two very different people. But it works and you know why it works?””

  He’s smiling big now and I feel a little better. “Why,” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against his bedroom door.

  “Because I’m in charge.”

  He chuckles. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right. These people?” I point up with a finger. “Fucking. Nuts. OK? Nuts with a capital N. And I’m not gonna let you stay here one more second. You’re coming home with me.”

  Zach has appeared in the doorway now too.

  “You,” I say, snapping my fingers at Zach. “Pack your shit, buddy. You’re coming too.”

  “Wait? What?” Zach says.

  “Pack. Your. Shit. You can’t live here. None of you can live here.” I say that because Joey has now appeared too. “You don’t live here, right?” I ask him.

  “Fuck no,” he says.

  “See,” I point at Joey. “Listen to me, Jesse. You can’t choose your family. But you can choose to walk away from them. Any time you want. But let me also make this very clear. You don’t have a choice. I’m packing your shit and you’re moving in with me. That’s the end of it so if you have objections, then I suggest you keep that crap to yourself, OK? Because I don’t want to hear them. This place is a… a… a fucking shit show of a nightmare. I don’t know how any of you are sane. But from now on,” I point to Zach again. “You have dinner in Key West on the first and third Saturdays of every month. You can come too,” I offer to Joey. “But… whatever. I’m gonna assume you have some sane people on your side already, because you had the good sense to get out early. But you two?” I point to Jesse and Zach. “Key West. Every other fucking Saturday until the day you die. Because this is not what a family looks like.”

  Jesse walks towards me and I suck in a deep breath of air. I don’t care what he says. He’s coming with me. He’s leaving this life behind. He’s not staying here.

  “Emma Dumas,” he says. Reaching up to gently place his hands on my cheeks.

  “Jesse Boston.”

  “You had me at ‘I’m in charge.’” And then he leans in and his lips touch mine. His kiss is soft. And filled with something new. Something I never felt with him before now.

  Trust.

  And everything I just saw, and all the weird confusing things that come along for the ride by loving this man, disappear.

  None of it matters.

  “We’re that couple,” he whispers. “We’re that couple who sticks together because we know who’s side we’re on.”

  “Ours,” I say.

  “Ours,” he agrees. “I would go anywhere with you. I would do anything you ask. You know why?”

  “Why?” I whisper, looking up in his blue-blue eyes.

  “Because you’re the best boss ever.”

  EPILOGUE - JESSE

  A miniature Barbie and Ken cinnamon roll hits me in the head and I turn to find Emma staring at me from across the top deck of our new yacht. She looks radiant and sexy in her teal-green bikini that really sets off her pigtails. The sun is just setting to the west. A long tail of orangey-pink stretches out across the ocean and lights her up like some kind of celestial angel.

  “What was that for?” I laugh, plucking the mini-roll out of my lap and popping it into my mouth.

  “Stop it right now, mister. I can practically read your mind. We made a pact when we came down here.”

  “We did.” I sigh. We handled shit. We all went on Hot Tonight Show the day after Zach and I moved in with Emma and did an interview.

  Me, Emma, Joey, Mila, Hannah, Natalie, and Zach. Everyone but Johnny. And we told them the story we made up.

  It was a murder mystery date. I played the victim, the girls were the kidnappers and then we made up this whole plot about Joey being the detective and Zach was his sidekick.

  It’s a stupid excuse but we can’t tell the truth.

  Not because there was actual drugging and kidnapping happening that weekend, but because the whole reason Johnny was tipping off the tabloids about me all these years and encouraging Joey to party around the globe was so that no one would take us seriously.

  No one would see us as a threat.

  I called him from the jet on the way down here. I wasn’t expecting him to pick up. He never picks up. But it was eating away at me. Joey went back to… wherever the fuck he’s staying. But he didn’t go home. I guess Tokyo is home. Just learned that about him, actually. He stayed and it feels good to have him here. Because this is home. I know he’s moved on, but I’m not quite there yet.

  I know I should walk away from Johnny. Hell, he wants me to walk away. He’s done everything he could think of to save me from the lif
e he’s stuck in.

  Joey and I are the laughable, the ridiculous, the foolish Boston Brothers. We waste money. We do drugs and drink. We will never amount to anything but this.

  Harmless fuck-ups. No threat to this secret society called The Way. Which I do not understand at all.

  But fine. I’ll play that role. I’ll be that guy in public if that’s what it takes to keep everyone safe.

  But I’m not ready to give up on Johnny. He’s still my big brother. And I get Emma’s point about how he fucked up my life with the tabloid stories.

  But sometimes things should be forgiven without question.

  I know this better than anyone.

  Johnny didn’t make me a drug addict. He didn’t make me do all those things when I was younger.

  I did that all on my own.

  So I called him up and we talked a little. For the first time in decades, we talked like brothers. He even apologized. I, of course, used to being the one who always needs to apologize, forgave him. I even invited him down to Saturday dinners. I don’t think he’ll come. Ever. But the invitation is there. Maybe one day we’ll figure this all out and it’ll make sense. Maybe one day Johnny can stop whatever it is he’s doing and find a nice girl like Emma to be with.

  I have that same hope for Joey as well. There’s something going on in his life right now. I’m not sure what it is, because he’s not talking much. But I’m here for him too.

  When the day comes that Joey Boston needs me, I’ll be there.

  Emma and I came back down to Key West to forget. One week, we said. One week to forget and then we’ll deal. We’ll start looking into The Way thing. It’s a cult, maybe. Or a secret society. Or hell, it could be a sanctioned government entity for all I know.

  “Jesse,” Emma says.

  “Emma?” I smile at her.

  “I’m giving you an order. Stop. Thinking.”

  She reaches behind her back and a few seconds later her bikini top falls to the ground at her feet.

  I stare at her perfect breasts in awe, her nipples perky and tight when she bends over—eyes locked on mine—and wiggles her bottoms over her hips. They join the top on the deck at her feet.

  She waggles her eyebrows at me.

  “Are you innuendo-ing me?” I laugh.

  She stalks towards me like a lioness on the prowl. And when she reaches me she climbs into my lap—one knee dipping down into the cushions of the top-deck couch—and places her forearms on my sunburned shoulders.

  I gaze up into her brown eyes and smile.

  “What do you think?” she asks.

  “I think you’re trying to distract me. Make me bend to your will.”

  She grins, reaching for my board shorts. Deftly untying them with one hand.

  She’s practiced that move a lot over the last week. She’s practically an expert now.

  “I’m gonna make you forget, Jesse Boston.” She pulls my cock out and mouths, “Blow your mind.” Then winks and whispers, “And your cock too.”

  I can’t hold in the laugh. Because Emma Dumas is my jam.

  “But first,” she coos, lifting her hips up as she guides my cock to the entrance of her pussy, “I’m gonna let you blow mine.”

  She sinks down on me and the world turns.

  The sun disappears and the stars start to twinkle above us.

  And when she kisses me we travel backwards thirteen years and become that couple.

  The one that falls in love after one weekend.

  The one that drifts apart and finds their way back.

  The one we knew we’d always be.

  It just took us longer than most to find our way home.

  More to come. Bossy Brothers: Joey will release July 29, 2019.

  If you’d like to read something similar to the Bossy Brothers series give Mr. Perfect a go!

  END OF BOOK SHIT

  Welcome to the End of Book Shit where I get to say whatever I want about the book. This is always done after editing and I barely proofread it, so… you know. Don’t judge me. Or I guess you can if you want, but I give no fucks about typos because it’s nine o’clock at night, I’ve been up working since 5 AM and the only reason I’m writing this right now is because I would like to hold this paperback in my hand on release day and I need to get it uploaded tonight to make that happen with two-day shipping. That’s all I’m saying.

  I’m gonna warn you ahead of time - there is a rant coming…

  So three things to start:

  One – this is book one of a series. At least three books, probably four, and possibly seven. But I reserve the right to change my mind about pretty much anything I want. So could just be three.

  Two – this is a romantic suspense because that’s what I write. That means it’s got a mystery.

  And Three – this should go without saying since it is a clearly marked series, but again, this is a series, so no. You’re not going to get all the answers to the mystery revealed at the end of book one at the end of book one.

  And I only preface this EOBS with these clarifications because I’ve seen some *really strange* reviews for other authors lately. I mean… you know. If a reader picks up a dark book and then bitches about it being dark in the review – go away. OK. Go read something else. This wasn’t my book, BTW. It was someone else’s book and I didn’t read it but I didn’t have to in order to deduce that this reviewer had a problem. Either they were A) a complete asshole or B) they don’t know how to choose a book they actually like.

  I know this because I made the mistake of clicking over to see ALL of this person’s reviews and it was just one-star, after one-star, after one-star. Just… choose another genre. OK? Don’t read every dark book out there and then one-star them for being too dark. Take some responsibility for your book choices. If every book you read is a one star you’re kinda bringing that on yourself.

  I mean here’s the reality for me. I almost never finish a book. I DNF just about everything. But it’s not the author’s fault. They wrote their book, I didn’t get in to it because I’m kinda picky and I like a very particular kind of story, so I move on. There’s no drama. Just move on. I don’t return the book and I don’t complain about it. Ever. I bought it, I tried it, I moved on. It’s just that simple.

  There was another review that said “No character development of this ‘random tertiary character’”. Hmmm... I mean. This isn’t literary fiction. It’s romance. There’s really only a few characters in the book who really count and this was a series, so it’s very possible that the author has big plans for that random tertiary character in a future book and revealing all that stuff in this particular book is not actually beneficial.

  Sometimes the author really does know what they’re doing.

  I saw this tweet on Twitter a couple months ago. This tweeter is a blogger and “aspiring author” but has not actually written a book. She is one-hundred percent “mean girl”. I know this because she’s been around for years and the things she has said about authors in the past were just quite despicable. And this tweet said something like… “Just FYI – using ellipses to indicate emotion doesn’t actually qualify as good writing.”

  And I just laughed. Because… lol yeah. It can. Especially if you’ve ever written a book and didn’t think about what your audiobook would sound like as you were writing it. Because those ellipses actually convey a whole fucking lot to the narrators. But this “writer” doesn’t know that yet because not only has she never written a book, she’s never made an audiobook before either.

  But after I laughed I felt sad for her. This woman who writes these tweets with her “strong opinions” about being an author (who is not really an author) - see, I think she says all this mean stuff because it makes her feel better. She doesn’t seem to be able to finish writing her book and instead of feeling bad about that she chooses to prop herself up by making other people feel like shit instead. And she has chosen authors as her target because she want to be one. So bad.

  Same thin
g that that one-star reviewer above. This person has a problem. For whatever reason he (yes, this is man!) he has chosen a target for his own unhappiness and that target is romance authors. Now look - this author he left this one-star review for - it’s not going to matter to her in the long run. The book was clearly a hit, she clearly did her job, her fans were happy, and that one-star review will fade and she will forget about it. This asshole will have no lasting impact on her happiness.

  But there is always that shock when you log in to Facebook, or Amazon, or wherever—when you realize someone you don’t know has chosen you as their unhappiness cure. Because this kind of behavior is always about unhappiness. People who are happy go out of their way to NOT make others unhappy. That’s just the truth. And this one-star popped up on her release day. So this jerk like… hung around for her book to go live, downloaded it, read it (or didn’t, because he admitted he didn’t read it - it was too stupid to continue) and then took time out of his day to write a pointless mean review. And he probably knew she’d see it because there weren’t that many at that time.

  He gets off on this, right? Making her feel bad is his drug. This is his cure. When I saw that review five people had marked it helpful. WTF? How could that review be helpful? He admitted he didn’t read the book, he insulted the author, and he had absolutely no valid points. So who are these five people who actually clicked that “Helpful” button? I can only assume they are people like him, the reviewer. Maybe they don’t actually write the nasty reviews—but seeing this author insulted made them feel better.

  I find that to be gross.

  But back to “mean girl” and her opinions on writing - here’s something you learn after writing seventy books… there’s no ‘right way’ to make stories. There’s rules but no one says you have to follow them. There is no actual council on storytelling that governs us. So her opinion on ellipses, or books written in second person, or chapter length, or switching point of views, or dual narration, or whatever— it’s just her opinion. And she’s allowed to have it. Everyone gets an opinion. They can have them on anything they want. But she’s gone past that. She’s internally declared herself the “writing police”. She’s declared herself “the expert” because she’s a reader and she has personal preferences.