by Alexa Davis
As we made our way back to her apartment, C.J. practically skipped down the sidewalk doing remarkably good impressions of the guys we’d just watched trading one-liners between pratfalls. Every time she finished a joke, she’d laugh out loud, right there in the middle of Los Angeles, like we were all alone inside the apartment. Just watching her made me smile.
“Hey, where’s the hardware store? We’re all jacked up on Dr. Pepper and sugar, we might as well burn it off doing what we planned, or at least trying to make our sugar-high selves useful to our nauseated and sober selves of tomorrow morning. She giggled and wrapped her hand around my elbow, and pointed to the right.
“It’s only about a block over, but,” she glanced at her phone, “they closed while we were watching Mark Wahlberg make an ass of himself. So, let’s go home, play a little Overwatch, or Minecraft, have a beer or two, maybe handcuff you to the bedrail…”
I scoffed, then glanced at her face, to make sure she was kidding. She winked at me and tugged me toward the complex door.
Chapter Fifteen
Carina
After I had dragged Jackson upstairs he got the wild idea of having his own little cosplay parade, with me as the opening act and only headliner. We turned it into a drinking game, where we had to roll a die to decide which costume piece to put on next. I ended up wearing bits and pieces of costumes that spanned comic books, video games, and he even dug into my brief flirtation with Manga, a style of Japanese anime.
“You were Sailor Moon and I missed it?” He gasped. “Forget the game. I need you to put this on, in full. What else do you need to complete it?” I laughed and pointed at the silver wig on its shelf and then directed him to the apothecary chest against the wall, where he could find the blue belt and crimson neck scarf.
“I’m beginning to think it’s the costumes you like, not me.” I pouted, even as I strutted across the room in the midriff top, ass-cheek baring skirt, and high-heeled white runners I’d had made especially for the costume. I’d nixed panties at the last second, because the ones I was wearing were black, but thought better of it just a moment too late, as I turned and felt the skirt lift on the breeze I created, and danced out of reach as Jackson made a lunge for me.
“Oh, come on, you didn’t really wear it like that, did you?” He sounded half-horrified that I might have, half-disappointed that he knew I hadn’t.
“No, you dork. My white spanks are in the wash.” I rolled my eyes as he sat on the floor with his back to the ottoman I used for dressing. His face was flushed from the whiskey and he looked at me slant-eyed from his position on the floor
“God, I love the view.”
“Oh, get up, dress-up time is over. We’ll just have to see if you still like me in sweatpants.” He bounced to his feet and started putting away costume pieces as I changed out of the little blue and white sailor outfit. I changed into the sweat pants and tank top I’d threatened him with, and when I rejoined him in the dressing room, everything was put away and he was lying on the floor in a staring contest with Stiles the cat.
“Tomorrow is go day for getting those wings lighter. I think we can maybe take a couple pounds off. Would that help?”
I wanted to say something about alcohol and big ideas, but he looked completely serious, and at least half sober. “Jackson, every ounce counts when you’re in four inch heels for 10 hours straight. You might have to carry me home.”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at me. “I like your ass in those pants.” He reached up with both hands and made a grabbing motion. “That might have been the alcohol talking a little bit, but I stand by my air groping.”
I laughed and shook my butt a little for him. “Ace hardware opens before eight in the morning. I am going to go lay in bed and watch a movie. Because, obviously, we haven’t had enough of those today.”
Jackson got up and brushed himself off. “You still want my company, even after I confessed to you that if you weren’t before, you are now definitely the bulk of my fantasy material.”
“I can handle it. I’ll even let you feel me up during this movie. I still can’t believe you tried in the middle of that stupid cop/bromance/frat party movie.”
“When movie is that bad, you have to find ways to take the edge off,” he shrugged. “Besides. You have the most amazing breasts, like, ever. It is an honor and a privilege to ensure that they receive the attention they so rightly deserve. I rolled my eyes and turned the lights out in the dressing room.
“I have bacon and eggs for breakfast, if you want. I got precooked bacon though, because tonight was the last time I get to eat real food for a few days. If you really want to suffer, you can eat and drink what I do. I would strongly suggest against it.” He arched an eyebrow at me and I shuddered. “Very strongly.”
He pulled out the bed while I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. He was in a white muscle shirt and basketball shorts when I came back out, lounging on the bed and scratching Stiles behind the ears.
“You may decide you don’t like me, but I have the feline vote.” I laughed and squeezed in on the edge of the bed, the only space Stiles had left me as he laid on his side, stretched out to his full length. “Seriously, though. Is he part dog? Because he’s the biggest damn cat I’ve ever seen in such a small home.”
“I think his daddy was a Maine Coon, but his momma was a lovely little grey tabby. I wanted to take them both, but an old lady was just signing the paperwork on her when I walked in.”
“And so, ends the story, of how an old cat lady saved you from becoming a cat lady.”
I reached behind me for a pillow and smacked him across the shoulder with it.
“You are so lucky you look so good naked.” He grinned at me and let Stiles attack his hand. “So, I picked the last movie, what’s your pleasure?”
I was tempted to force myself to watch a romantic comedy, just to punish him, but after a moment’s hesitation, I decided to go with something that would get me in the mood to play an ancient being obsessed with war and chaos and killing men. “Expendables, it is,” I announced as I found the movie in my digital collection.
He settled in, after looking at me for a long moment. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he was thinking harder than I had considered he was capable of. I turned out the lights to watch the movie, grateful that the darkness also hid my hot, red blush. I was used to being stared at and scrutinized every day. I was not used to those looks so obviously looking past my appearance to what lay deeper.
Jackson shoved Stiles into a pile of vibrating fur at our feet, and he stayed without complaint, happy to curl up between us and run his engine while the surround sound pummeled us with explosions and fire fights. Jackson was out before the climatic fight, so I covered him with one of my extra blankets, and finished the movie alone. I was lucky enough to have a well-insulated apartment, and the sounds of the nocturnal creatures that had come out to fill the dance clubs and watering holes of Los Angeles were only the dimmest murmur outside the windows of the apartment. There was just enough hum in the air to lull me to sleep, back to back with Jackson, my monster cat still dreaming between our legs.
Chapter Sixteen
Jackson
I awoke to sunlight streaming in the living room window. C.J. was splayed out over half the bed, and her cat, Stiles, was sitting on the side table, staring at me expectantly. My stomach voiced some serious complaints about what I’d filled it with the night before, but what C.J. had said about her diet for the next few days didn’t tempt me in the least, so I figured I’d do her a favor and eat before she got up.
I scrambled eggs, heated up some bacon, and emptied a can of fishy smelling cat pate into a dish which Stiles pounced on immediately and polished off before I even got my own breakfast on a plate. I cleaned up my mess quickly, hoping the tantalizing smell of bacon wouldn’t stick around too long, and settled down at the bar in her kitchen to eat. I had to admit, all that time pestering Patty over the years had paid off.
I could have served breakfast to the guys, and they never would have known the difference.
“Ah, he cooks!” came a sleepy voice behind me. C.J. was just sitting up in bed, and Stiles, having licked his bowl until it shone, bounded over to her, begging just like he had done to me. “Okay, baby, I’ll get you some breakfast.”
“Don’t buy it, I just fed him a whole can of that nasty stuff.” I finished my last couple of bites and stood to wash my plate.
“Oh, you little stinker. You keep that up, you’ll be a sumo wrestler cat in no time!” She scratched his back and he wound himself around her. “He always has been an opportunist, and he got your number. You should have seen him when my mother came to visit. He had her convinced he was starving. I had to forbid her from feeding him--she had him up to five cans a day.” She poked him in the stomach. “Little porker.”
I started putting veggies and the powder I’d found in her pantry into the blender in the order of the list she’d left out on the counter. “Hungry? I’ll have this done in a minute.”
“You don’t have to do that, I can make it,” she protested.
“Will you, or will you just go without? I remember you talking about this in the past. A few months ago, you realized after almost two full days that you hadn’t eaten.”
“Okay, go ahead and make it. But, don’t go all ‘intervention’ on me. Not eating, for me, was a model-thing, not a psychological disorder thing. Sometimes, they make you go without for so long, you just get used to not eating.”
I turned on the blender, and bit my tongue while it whirred loudly, crushing up the ice and veggies together. I poured it into a tall glass and handed it to her as she joined me in the kitchen.
“First, I’m glad you’re not a full-time model anymore. Second, this one isn’t too bad, from what I tasted. Hopefully that helps. Third. I am really, truly, deeply grateful you aren’t focused on modelling anymore.”
“Well, don’t hate on it too much, there are a lot of good people trying to stop the bad ones from treating people that way anymore. Unfortunately, I got in with the wrong ones at my start. It’s a cutthroat industry, I was lucky in a lot of ways.”
“Whatever you say. I’m used to a different kind of danger, other than starving to death just so I can be skinny, but I’m beginning to think getting trampled by a stampede, or thrown into a fence by a bronco are a lot less scary than I was taught.” I poured the leftover smoothie into her glass, topping it off. “Just don’t you go losing that perfect ass. That would be a tragedy.”
She snorted rudely at me, then held her nose and poured the thick liquid down her throat. She shuddered violently and set the glass in the sink, and I promptly rinsed it and set it in the top of the dishwasher.
“Do you do bathrooms?” she asked.
I laughed and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I am capable of all sorts of domestic bliss-type chores and tasks.” I put one hand on my hip and waved a finger of the other at her. “But all this doesn’t come for free, Honey.”
She giggled and smacked my butt as she walked past. “Taking the bathroom first!” She called out as she broke into a jog down the hallway.
“I thought we could share…”
“Not after yesterday. I’m still a little too sore to be playing games like that again.”
I flushed, embarrassed. I’d finally acted out a fantasy with a woman I really liked. Guess I’d picked the wrong one. I got my clothes ready while she showered, and earned another love tap to my ass as she walked by in a towel.
“That was fast.”
“No point in taking my time when I left the fun out here.”
I rolled my eyes and took my things into the bathroom. The water was hot and the pressure was great, and I stood under for too long. C.J. shortened my shower by turning on the hot water in the kitchen, full blast. I had the whisper of a warning before the heat leached away and ice cold water poured over my neck and shoulders. I heard her howling in laughter even over my unmanly shriek of surprise at the sudden chill.
I turned the water off as fast as I could and opened the shower to see C.J. holding a towel out for me. She had tears running down her face, and she was leaning on the counter, silently shaking with laughter.
“You’re evil.” I snapped the towel out of her hands and stalked out of the bathroom, still dripping. I barely made it out of the room before I lost control of my own face and started grinning. She apologized through her laughter as she followed me through the apartment, collapsing on the bed and shaking as she tried to stop giggling.
“I am sorry, Jackson, it was just a funny idea, and then I did it, and it worked. These days, most places are regulated so that can’t happen, I really figured it wouldn’t work.” I arched an eyebrow at her. “I promise.” She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek while I was halfway in my shirt, so she could run her hands over my bare chest. Even though they were warm, I shuddered from her feather-light touch.
“Hardware store?” I asked when I got my shirt down over my stomach.
“I’ve already ceased to be a distraction, huh?” she pouted and I chuckled.
“Oh, no. If I hadn’t just had a cold shower, I’d be all over you.”
She started to giggle again and walked off toward her converted bedroom. “Give me five minutes to check in with my followers and get some shoes on,” she called over her shoulder. I put the bed away while I waited, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I set my laptop up on the kitchen counter and checked my email, and shot off a message with the Dean of Admissions at Stanford regarding our meeting Monday morning. I hadn’t seen much of California yet, but what I had seen was worth spending more time with.
By the time I’d taken care of my business, C.J. was done with hers, and we walked to the hardware store to pick up rubber tubing, heavy gauge wire, and the same hinge system I’d used on a glider repair back home.
“So, you’re sure this will still work?” C.J. looked through her bag of goodies as I steered her down the sidewalk and kept her out of traffic.
“It worked on my glider, in a pinch. But, in this case, I think it’s a better idea, since it doesn’t have to hold your weight, but you hold its weight.”
“Well, you are full of surprises. How many good looking, cowboy, computer geek, hang-gliding engineers are there in the world, do you think?” I laughed and shrugged, then steered us into a sandwich shop that looked like it was already getting busy, despite the early hour.
We ordered lunch and took it to go so we could get to work on the wings and restructure them in time for the convention in the morning. C.J. was skilled with her costumes, and she had her largest prize yet riding on her ability to deliver more than she ever had before. Working with her on this, and getting to build something for once, were both exciting to me. But, after watching video of how she had constructed a working grappling gun for her last competition, I knew the stakes were higher than I could even imagine.
Next year, she’d have the assistance of major designers to help with her costumes, but if she stopped being relevant before that could happen, it would be that much harder for her to come back. Doing this competition so close to the last was a huge risk for the sake of her dream career. I wasn’t about to blow it for her.
She put the food and sodas away in the fridge and I went straight to work, carefully undoing the layer of fabric stretched over the frame that held the feathers. I was too scared to lift the feathers off the frame by myself, so I left them in place and began remeasuring the lengths of steel that I’d already measured twice since the inspiration first struck.
C.J. brought the high back barstools in from the kitchen and used them to drape the wing “covers” over, so that the rest of the frame could stay on her mannequin for me to work with. While I replaced struts one at a time with lighter, slightly more flexible wire, C.J. curled up in her leatherworking corner and began working on the extra brace to fit across her ribcage and help distribute the weight that was left.
It was an afterthought,
but when I saw her curled up on her wide bench, concentrating over her tooling and leather, I turned my laptop web camera on her. I knew the guys who followed her like only geeky fanboys could would stick around through her absence better if they got a YouTube video or two in the interim. I let the video record for a good ten minutes, then shut it down to be edited and uploaded later
We worked separately, without talking for a couple of hours, until I had replaced every strut on one wing, and was ready to start the second. My stomach growled loudly enough that C.J. heard it on the other side of the room and laughed at me. She stood and stretched, and rumpled my hair before heading out to the kitchen to get my lunch and make hers. I folded the wings and released the catch three or four times, just to make sure I hadn’t made any miscalculations, and popped the first couple of struts off the second wing. It went much faster, once I figured out exactly how to best disconnect and reconnect the pieces, and even with a quick break to bolt down a delicious sandwich and kettle chips, it took half the time to finish the second that it had the first.
Together, we pinned her additional brace into position and she secured it with anchor stitches, and we recovered the wings with the hand-sewn feather overlay. I was nervous for her to try it on, and judging by her hesitancy, I wasn’t the only one.
“Look, it’s a really big deal that you trusted me to mess with this costume,” I began, my voice trailing off as she glanced up at me.
“I can’t explain why I did. I didn’t panic at all until right this moment. I may look all calm and clear-headed, but I am so afraid to put those on and realize that they no longer open.” She shook her head and scrubbed at her face with her palms. “Well, no use in stalling, right?” She removed her top and the little lace bra underneath, and I helped her get her arms through the straps in the bodysuit. I heard a click as she locked the brace across her chest and buckled it up over both the original waist-brace and the new brace across her ribs. She had used the leather from her new hobby to create a bra of sorts to wear under her costume, and stepped out into the middle of the room.
