“I suppose we are Emily.” He smiles and bows his head. He’s back to the stuffy overly proper James. Way different than the man I had holding me on the bathroom floor Friday night.
“Ya know, Calvin James you can take off those boots and get comfy. If you’re going to stay the night here we are going to have to make the best of it. I’ve got chips in the kitchen, popcorn, candy, pop, water, juice, and milk, whatever you want. I could also bake ya some cookies if you’d like.”
“Thanks Emily.” He looks down at his black boots. “But I don’t think those puppies should come off. And I know where the kitchen is if I need anything to eat or drink. Thank you though.” He smirks and the crinkles near his eyes give away his age a little.
I sit up and lean over a little to get closer to him. “If your feet smell I promise I won’t tell anybody. Your secret is safe with me.” I whisper, with an impish grin.
“Yes, but ma’am it’s in your best interest to not smell them.” He smiles uncomfortably.
“I have an idea. You wait here I’ll be right back.” I toss him the clicker. “Don’t put it on the news but anything else is fine.”
I get off the couch and giddily skip my way into the bathroom. I know what James needs, and I’m in the perfect mood to give it to him. I snatch the foot tub out from under the sink, a fresh mini pumice stone from in the little pedicure station drawer Stacy has. If you saw his bathroom you’d know by looking at it he was gay. What kind of man has a pedicure drawer supplied with nail clippers, toe separators, nail polish remover, individual pumice stones, lavender foot soak, and a foot tub? A gay one. He also has a manicure setup and so many other products. I snatch a white towel out of the linen closet, a bottle of unscented lotion from the drawer and an extension cord from the hall closet. I go into the kitchen drop all the stuff on the counter, turn on the water and get it nice and warm. And I carry a full foot tub into the living room.
“What’s that?” he asks, his brows furrowed.
“You’ll see.”
I carry it over and sit it down next to his feet. I dash back into the kitchen and grab the rest of the stuff. I lay the towel out and put the foot tub on it.
“I’m not using that Emily.”
“Ohhhhh. Yes you are.” I sit on the coffee table, bend over and grab his foot. He pulls it back.
“I’m serious Emily. I can’t let you do this.” His tone is firm.
“I’m serious too Calvin James. Your ex whoever she is, was a bitch if she had a problem with your smelly feet and you’re not going to be hanging out with me all-night wearing those.” I smack his boot. “So I am going to compromise. I won’t endure the smell because we will clean your feet with this.” I pat the top of the tub. “You’ll love it I promise.” I produce a big over-the-top smile.
“I’m a guy Emily not a chick. We don’t do foot tubs.” He remarks unhappily.
“Yeah, well tell that to Stacy because that purple tub is his, not mine. And I promise your secret is safe with me.” I cross my fingers over my heart.
He huffs. “Fine.” Crossing his arms over his big broad chest.
I bend down and grab his foot again to help take off his boot.
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not touching my feet too.” He barks less friendly than usual.
I put my hand on my hip and cock my head to the side. “James, I’m going to be a mother is less than seven months. I will have to smell baby shit, puke and all the other wonderful things that come with motherhood. Now I want to help you get over this phobia and make you realize it’s not all that bad.”
“You’re really not going to let up are you?”
“Do you think I give up that easy?” I tease.
He admits defeat and places his foot up on the coffee table for me to have easier access. I unlace his boots one at a time, tug them off and sit them on the floor next to the coffee table. I’m going to put them by the door later where the rest of the shoes go. Then I push up his pant legs and roll down his white crew socks revealing his giant caramel colored feet. I tuck his socks into the top of each boot. His feet are rather nice for a man’s, and they don’t smell as bad as he thought. They don’t smell of roses or anything but they’re nothing I can’t handle. He watches me the entire time. Looking almost pained to see me taking off his boots and his socks. I roll up his pant legs to his knees. I’ve never seen his calves before, he always wears pants. He has a large old English style cross on his calf, it’s beautiful. I tug the towel over with the tub on it and set each of his feet inside. I plug it into the wall and the bubbles take over.
“See, not so bad.” I say with a reassuring smile.
He exhales loudly and places his hand over his heart. “I think I almost had a heart attack.”
“Why?”
“No woman touches my feet. Ever. This girl I dated twelve years ago her name was Susan. She always complained about my feet smelling. I was in the military back then and my feet sweat a lot in combat boots. After we broke up like eight months into the relationship she made a big deal about how gross my feet are. So now whenever I date a woman I take extra socks to her house and hide a bottle of Gold Bond foot powder in my duffle. When we go to bed I always make a point not to take off my shoes until then and I sneak into the bathroom, scrub my feet with some water, change my socks and put in some of that powder.”
Talk about skeleton’s in a person’s closet. Who in their right fucking mind would talk to a man like that? ‘Oh, sorry I don’t love you and yeah your feet smell bad that’s one of the reasons I’m dumping you.’ How ridiculous is that? Seriously, what was that woman thinking? I know plenty of people in this world who would do anything to be loved and cherished by a man, and I know James has the capacity to do that. Why somebody wouldn’t want him is beyond me.
“I’m sorry you dated a dumb bitch James. You’re my friend. I want you to be comfortable around me. Feet included.” I shoot him a friendly smile and reach down to snatch up the pumice stone. I dunk it into the water and lift his foot up a little. I scrub them nice and good. Then leave his feet to soak a little while longer.
“You’re a real lover Emily.”
“I try to be. I love taking care of people. Stacy won’t let me help financially so I do a lot around the house and cook for him. I think he’s gained a little bit of weight since I moved in. Keeping him well-fed and I bake cookies for him like once a week. He’s a cookie-a-holic.”
“I’m a snickers-a-holic.” He says and pulls a snickers out of his cargo pocket on his leg.
“Well I love food. But let’s not talk about the kind of a-holic I have been lately.” I wink.
“Oh that’s fine. I’ve heard plenty from Stacy last night.” He grins.
“Like what? Is he blabbing about me again?” I roll my eyes with a silly smile and tuck my hair behind my ears.
“When is he not? I swear if you two were into each other, ‘that way’, he would have married you years ago. I don’t think he can breathe without you sometimes. Let’s just say he wasn’t happy to hear Claire was keeping you overnight. Then this morning he called me and said you were staying with her all day. I think she threatens him.”
“How so?”
“She’s your girlfriend. Not lesbian wise but I mean a girl that’s a friend. He’s always been your girlfriend, even though he’s a male. I think he worries about you replacing him with a female version of himself. Plus Claire takes care of you sexually too. Something he can’t do. So yeah I think she threatens him.”
Wow, I never thought about it that way. James is one smart cookie. He is intuitive and has also known Stacy as long as he’s known Johnathan. They’re all kind of a package deal. Not that I mind because I love them all. He’s right, Stacy can’t breathe without me sometimes. He’s told me a few times if I wasn’t in his life he’d die. A little on the theatrical drama side but I get his point. I don’t know what I’d do without him either.
“Guess I will have to nip that one in the butt. Stacy has nothing to be
worried or jealous over. I’m not ever going to choose Claire over him even if she does please me rather well sexually.” I smile and I can’t help it.
The past day was freaking awesome! I haven’t had to flick the bic since. Which is a new record I think? Four hours, no orgasm. Okay, maybe it’s not a record but it feels like one with the way I’ve been dealing with my body lately. But that almost full twenty four hours with her I didn’t worry about Johnathan, Stacy or anything else at all. It’s was my own little escape. If things get too hard in life I will be doing that more often. Maybe the hotel can be our spot to do ‘the nasty’ away from it all. The view sure is beautiful and the hotel service is perfect. My own home away from home. Okay, I don’t actually have a home. So it’s my getaway from Stacy’s place.
I towel off James’s feet, apply a thick coat of lotion, massing the the arches of his feet. For a man his feet a gorgeous. And we both lay on the couch all night long talking and watching more Friends. Which turns out he loves almost as much as I do. I love Joey and Phoebe. He’s a Ross and Rachel fan. Romantic at heart? I think so. Mr. James rough and tough has a soft interior. If a woman commenting about his feet twelve years ago has shaped him into the man he is today. I can’t image what other things are lurking under the surface. As long as Stacy or Johnathan doesn’t fire James or have him bodyguard for somebody else I will have plenty of time to get to know him. He’ll be my manly version of Stacy. Except that this one likes Friends. Stacy hates the show and most sitcoms. Boo Stacy!
Chapter Nine
“Emily get up. Get up Em.” A familiar voice says softly pushing my side to wake me.
I open my eyes and reach above my head for a good stretch. I can feel all my muscles pull and damn it feels nice.
“Hi Stace.” I smile wide with my sleepy morning eyes.
“I let you sleep in crazy woman. It’s ten. We should probably head out in fifteen to get Johnathan. The group of news people will be staked out so it could take a bit to weed through the gate.”
I sit up and stretch some more, cleaning the sleep out of my eyes. I toss back the covers, slip out of bed and I already feel like dog shit. Two rather good days and Monday morning rolls around and I feel like I’ve been dumped into a vat of suck. It’s awful. I’m going to finally have to face the music, quite literally. He’s going to be all happy to leave and then the big bunch of us fuckers are going to rain all over his parade. I wish he could get one day out of rehab without finding out. I know he needs to know. Just like he needs to know about our babies, but I don’t see why one day of freedom back into the world is too much to ask. Apparently, it is though. The stupid media never sleep, they’re like a bunch of rabid dogs fighting over who can get the first picture, the first exclusive... etcetera…etcetera…etcetera.
“So what were you doing last night?” I ask Stace who’s sitting on my bed, I’m going through my closet to find an outfit that hides my tummy but makes me sexy enough to see Johnathan for the first time in over a month.
“Seriously? I was hashing over late night with Johnathan’s lawyer and Cassandra’s new lawyer through videoconferencing. Kind of a last minute thing I requested before today.”
“What!” I shriek, whipping around quickly and adverting all my attention to him. This doesn’t sound good. Not good at all.
“Yeah, well since she claims the baby is Johnathan’s there’s a lot of be hashed out.” He runs his hair through his hair, looking overly stressed.
“You mean money? The woman wants money?”
Son of a bitch! How could I have been so naive to not have seen this coming from a mile away or a whole country away, as it is? Of course she’d want money and probably lots of it. Jesus, how much will Johnathan be forced her pay her in child support? Since it goes by income hers will skyrocket into the thousand’s a month. I’m glad I’m not like that. I could care less if Johnathan pays me a damn cent for my kids. I was going to keep them regardless. So why in the world should he have to pay an obscene amount of money to me? I can see normal support like average blue collar working Americans pay, but not ten grand a month. That’s a fucking car! Anybody who needs that kind of money to survive and raise child monthly, needs admitted into a mental hospital, like yesterday.
“Of course she does. We’re also paying her for the rights to the photos that were taken with her cellphone. And we have to establish boundaries in writing. So she can’t be interrupting Johnathan’s life whenever it tickles her fancy. It’s just a lot of paperwork to be drawn up and big fat checks to be written.”
“Why in the world would someone do that? Seriously, Stace. Why would you demand money for being pregnant with a man’s baby? You’re its mother! You should be happy you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be using it as a ploy to dip into a checkbook for a little doe-ray-me. I hope her child hates her when he or she is older, for doing this to his or her father.”
He shrugs and hangs his head. “She must have been hoping this would happen or she wouldn’t be pulling this stunt. It’s sick. Plus we have to draw up paperwork to say what she will divulge about each doctors visit to us and what she won’t. It’s contractual and if she doesn’t follow her end of the bargain it will be a breach of contract. I told them I wanted her to do an amnio on the baby as soon as it’s allowed to be performed. That way they can do a DNA test now and we can know for sure it’s his. But the way her lawyer talked she’s not going to do it and we can’t force her.” His voice is grim. Poor man!
“First off if Johnathan is paying for her doctor’s visits she shouldn’t need a contract all for her medical records. They should be available if he’s fitting the fucking bill. So she doesn’t do the amnio, then what? We do a DNA in thirty four more weeks when the baby is born? And what if on the very slight chance it’s not Johnathan’s what happens then? He’s paid her all this money and she just gets to keep it and the baby and move forward in her life? That doesn’t seem right.” I shake my head in disgust.
I am fucking livid. I can’t believe that bitch would do this! Why? That’s the question I can’t understand. I get money drives some people but I guess I can’t see it because I’m not that type of person. I buy yoga pants from Walmart and shop at thrift stores. Money is the last thing I am greedy over. Especially if a child is involved.
“If on the slight chance the baby isn’t his? Yes, he’ll have forked out thousand’s to her for nothing. We could sue her but you can’t get blood out of a turnip and she’s a waitress at a Denny’s. She has no ambition to move forward in life and she sees this as her chance. I guess.”
Fuck! I’ve been standing around here for the past ten minutes I’ve got five left to get dressed and head out. “Well that’s wrong.” I state angrily, and tug on an emerald green knee length rock-a-billy dress with a square cut neckline and my silver flats. No heels today. I can tell by the way I’m feeling I’ll be crying soon. I can’t risk falling with these little passion fruits in my tummy.
Chapter Ten
We just pulled into Passages. The damn lineup outside the black rod iron gate was ridiculous, there were over ten different news crews, fans and other paparazzi. I’m sitting in the back of a new bulletproof unmarked black suburban with dark tinted windows. James picked it up this morning from the dealership Stacy ordered it from. James is the one driving but next to him is Johnathan’s new full-time bodyguard that James knows personally. They served in the military together. His name is Xander Davis but of course just like James is actually Calvin James. They just call him Davis. He doesn’t look like James at all, he’s pale in complexion, a homegrown corn fed farmer boy type with a southern accent. He’s about six four an inch or two taller than James but his body is leaner and more on the athletic side. His head is closely shaven and dark. Not bad looking at all but defiantly not as scary as James, or Johnathan for that matter. It’s got to be weird working for a rocker who’s as tall and built as Johnathan is.
`“You ready?” Stacy asks me offering his hand across the aisle in the back. I take hi
s hand into mine and he offers me a gentle loving squeeze.
“No. I’m not.” I reply sadly, staring out the window in a mental daze. Which is true. I don’t want to go in. I spent the last ten minutes in the truck reapplying makeup that’s going to smear off any second now. The closer we got to the compound to pick up Johnathan the more my eyes would well up with tears and I’ve been swiping them away so I don’t look like a blotchy mess once we get inside. I have to be strong because I have to allow enough time for the men to tell him what’s going on with Cassandra. It’s hard, and for some reason sitting out front of this building my heart is in more pain now that it’s ever been. It ached when he was away and when he tore my heart out. But now it feels like it’s been torn apart, ran over by a monster truck, ground in a meat grinder and then tossed into the trash. And if that sounds good to anybody they need a serious mental evaluation. I made sure to take my vitamin this morning before we left but I’m afraid I might throw it up. I wish I could have thought about that before I took it. Now I might be forcing my babies to go a day without a pill and I’ve only ever missed once since I found out I was pregnant.
“Listen Em, you just have to go in with us to sign him out. We will take care of the whole talk. You just wait in the reception area or wherever. This is hard enough as it is and we don’t need to get you the pregnant lady involved with the other monstrosity that we are dealing with.” Stacy explains sweetly, his hand still folded into mine.
“I know. But it’s hard enough as it is seeing him.” I sniffle. Oh damnit! The tears are going to come. Shit! Breathe Em, Breathe. I suck in a deep breath and hold it.
“I know babe.” He says leaning over the space between our seats and kisses me on the cheek. His lips are warm and comforting, just what I need right now.
“I’m going to open the door Emily. We’ll do this together.” James says and gets out of the truck. Davis follows and opens Stacy’s opposite mine.
Stricken Unveiled (Stricken Rock #2) Page 7
