by Alexa Davis
I picked out a dress that was just tight enough, and just short enough to make Jackson look me over a second time, but not revealing enough for me to spend the evening fending off perverts and assholes who were just as likely to come onto me to pick a fight with my guy, as to get my attention. I dug into the back of my closet for my favorite strappy sandals, excited that I could wear the six-inch heels without dwarfing my tall, hunky cowboy. Dressed, hair checked and the stray curler I’d found discarded, and Stiles the cat chowing down on his stinky salmon pate, I locked the door and strutted out to the curb just as Jackson pulled up.
He let out a long, low whistle as I jumped up into the passenger seat and put on my seatbelt. After a few seconds, when we didn’t pull away from the curb I glanced over at him, and found him still leering, a predatory smile on his face. I laughed and blushed, and smacked him on the knee.
“Buy me a couple of drinks, and we can show this Jeep a thing or two on the way home,” I offered as incentive to get moving. He chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows at me, but pulled into traffic, humming a country tune along with the radio and smiling softly to himself.
With a little prodding, I finally got him to tell me how his meeting had gone, though he still wouldn’t tell me where we were going to dinner. In turn, I told him our flight was leaving tomorrow at lunch, and that I’d arranged for Shelby to take Stiles while we were gone, like she usually did when I was out of town for photo shoots or other work. She’d agreed enthusiastically, and when I asked why she was so excited I was leaving, she had pointed out that for as long as she’d known me, even before we were friends, I’d never taken a trip that wasn’t business related.
When I admitted that to him, he was shocked. I’d been all over the world, but I’d never taken a vacation. In truth, I’d never really taken a day off. Every minute of every day was spent growing my sponsorships, or streaming, or building costumes, or working toward or in modeling gigs. I felt a flutter in my stomach. Jackson was the first guy I’d ever talked to online before I met him in person. He was the first guy I’d ever had stay with me in my apartment, and the first I’d let touch one of my costumes, let alone paw through them the way we had, playing together before convention.
When he finally parked, I looked at the building ahead of us. We were on Melrose and headed toward an acclaimed seafood place called Providence that I hadn’t been to in ages. I tucked my hand over his arm and leaned into him as we walked toward the front door. He was still in his cowboy boots, wranglers, and a dress shirt, and I itched to unbuckle his big belt and get him down to the boxer briefs I knew were hiding underneath. He was so tall and muscular and confident; every eye was on him as we entered the restaurant. I’d always been afraid of what would happen if I ended up with someone prettier than me. As it turned out, I liked the freedom of not being looked at.
Melrose was popular for even big celebrities, so my small success in the entertainment world and subsequent recognition wouldn’t cause gawking in a place like that. He ordered drinks and appetizers for both of us, which earned him a raised eyebrow from me, but I let him do it, mostly to see how far he took the “dominant male” thing.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I asked where the best place to take you was when I stopped for gas. I was told by a fan of the place that we had to order these starters. You’re on your own for dinner.”
I glanced at the descriptions under what he’d order. The baked cream cheese in toasted sesame seeds did sound good, and more my style than whatever seafood salad, martini-style, appetizer had been offered by the server.
“The lady who suggested this place was adamant that it was the most loved dish by regular patrons, even though the restaurant doesn’t put it on the menu or advertise it.”
“The fat, wrinkled, old lady who walked with a limp and was missing teeth, who suggested this place to you?”
He choked on his microbrew as he laughed. “No, the very expensive, wears fur in the summer with her hot pink mini-dress, driving a Porsche, bright pink lipstick on her surgically altered teeth lady did when she promised me that if I brought my girlfriend here, she’d adore me for life.”
I snorted and coughed into my napkin. “She was right.” I said, straight-faced, picking daintily at the napkin as I set it back in my lap.
It seemed like forever before they brought out the first appetizer, a block completely coated with sesame seeds, toasted and fragrant, with a small stack of crabmeat on top, and thin, crispy crostini and crackers on the side.
“It’s crackers and cheese. They even left the cream cheese in the block you get at the grocery store.”
I eyed it suspiciously, and Jackson pushed it towards me. “You never know, it might be a spiritual experience.”
I scoffed and dug into a soft corner of the warm cream cheese with a cracker, making sure to take as much of the crabmeat as would fit, as Jackson glowered at me. I bit into the cracker and froze. It was so creamy and delicious, I was half tempted to mimic the famous Meg Ryan scene from “When Harry Met Sally.” I glanced over the table and saw the glint of victory in his eyes. “It’s okay,” I said with a shrug. I pushed the plate towards him, half hoping he’d turn it down so I could claim it for myself. “Definitely… edible, certainly not the high-end fare I’m used to here.”
He rolled his eyes and tried a bit, and halfway through his eyeroll, they rolled back in his head in ecstasy. I reached for more before he came to claim his full share and almost didn’t get away before he clipped my hand with is fork.
“You devil-woman,” he laughed and reached out for my hand. “If you like it that much, you can have the whole thing, for all I care.”
I shook my head. “No, and not just so we can be one of those disgusting couples who are always nauseating everyone around them, saying ‘no you take it,’ ‘oh no, I insist.’” I made a gagging sound and when he laughed, I swiped more of the cream cheese bliss.
By the end of dinner we both agreed that when we came back we’d just get three cream cheese appetizers to go, but dinner was amazing and filling, even though we ran out of cream cheese and had to move on to the rest of the meal. I thought he’d have to roll me back to the Jeep, but instead, we walked down Melrose at an easy pace, looking in windows and making fun of the well-to-do around us.
“Wait, isn’t your family loaded?” I asked as he mimicked a spray-tanned bodybuilder who climbed into a Tesla and peeled out ahead of us.
“Sure, but they’d be as uncomfortable here as lobsters in the holding tank. If you asked them, they’d say they were rich in family and friends. They’ve never really thought of themselves as wealthy.”
“I love that. Just in case they ask, I may have no family, but have a lot of my own money. I know that when a guy with money has a girl chasing him as hard as I chased you, they might wonder what I was after. Rest assured, I don’t need your money.”
He chuckled and pulled me tighter to him. “Is it just me, or are the lights on Melrose, just a little brighter than everywhere else?” he whispered as we made an about-face and headed back toward the car.
“Well, the Melrose folks wouldn’t have it any other way,” I scoffed. We weaved along the sidewalk like a couple of drunks, refusing to let go until we absolutely had to, and for once, I was happy to get looks from strangers as we staggered down the road. Jackson suggested I do a partial stream in the morning, which meant I had to go online as soon as we got home to let my audience know about the schedule change. It also meant that as lovely as the evening had been, we were probably going to bed without talking about Jackson’s family stuff or Stanford.
I ran into the booth and hopped online to talk to the few viewers who were lurking elsewhere and would come over when they saw I was streaming, and set up an early morning viewer stream, where they could pick the game and I’d team up with subscribers who wanted to. I’d forgotten all about what I was wearing, until one of the guys in chat asked if I had a date. I hadn’t told anyone about Jackson. I hadn’t kn
own a good way to make an announcement that I was seeing someone to the whole world, on a platform that could haunt me forever if I did it wrong.
I replied to the chat that I had just come home from a great date with an amazing fellow gamer. The chat was immediately filled with well-wishes and “It’s about times” from the guys who had been tuning in since the beginning. A few of them even reminded me that if he ever hurt me, they’d be happy to take him out for me.
It was strange, thinking that for what it was worth, this was what amounted to family for me. Sure, there were a few bad eggs, a couple of perverts and trolls, but, by and large, the guys and gals who I hung out with every day, who had stuck around through my breakups and donated to my costumes, sight unseen, who I laughed with and swore at when they beat me at games, were true friends. They had hunted me down and sent me flowers in the hospital after a car accident, and had supported me when I spoke out against the predators that seemed to have control of the modeling industry, and the ways they hurt young models.
I had been very lucky in life, recently. It made me wonder when the other shoe was going to fall.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jackson
The flight was as easy one to make, at a time of day that shouldn’t have been difficult to get to with plenty of time to spare. Which meant, of course, that we were scrambling around at the last second trying to get Stiles’ cat food and toys assembled as C.J. ran around the apartment looking for her “lucky” t-shirt - the one thing she hadn’t packed, and just could not leave without. A quick shouting match and a search of the washer and dryer located it, freshly cleaned, at the back of the dryer drum.
I counted to one hundred a couple of times as she found three or four more last second items she couldn’t live without, then we raced to the Jeep. Par for the course, our route contained the only patch of traffic (an accident), and when we reached the car rental return, we were behind a dozen other customers. Finally, I suggested to C.J. that she valet our luggage and head toward security, and I would join her in line as soon as I was done.
The cars slowly, but surely moved through the line, and I turned in my keys and made a run for security with my pre-printed boarding pass in hand. Up at the front, I could see a worried C.J. looking around as she approached the x-ray machines, and I texted her to let her know I’d made it into the line and could see her. I watched as she glanced down, then scanned the crowd one more time before stepping through security. A minute later, I got her reply, and told her I’d be at the gate as soon as I could.
As though we’d passed some test set before us by the TSA gods, it was then that they decided to open a few more lanes. The clock above the light boards that announced the arrivals and departures said I still had fifteen minutes until we boarded, so I stepped into the newsstand and bought C.J. a fantasy novel by an author I’d seen at her place, and some candy and chocolate.
I arrived at the gate with minutes to spare, and a concerned girlfriend who’s face quickly went from worried to irritated when she saw the small plastic bag in my hand. She looked at her phone and then glared back at me, and I handed her the bag as a token of peace before she could say anything that might ruin the flight for us both.
“Oh, she’s my favorite author right now. Did you have to run because you stopped for it?”
“Well, I didn’t run, but yes, it was a little time squeeze getting here. I figured you could use something nice for the flight, and you wouldn’t have stopped if you were trying to make sure we got on the dang plane.”
She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, and I gave a wry smile to the gate agent standing behind us. She’d booked us first class tickets, and I reminded myself to get a total from her and make sure I paid her back before our return flight.
Drinks were served and I got a double scotch, while C.J. settled for soda. She glanced at me, but said nothing as I finished off the small tumbler and asked for another. About my third or fourth drink, she broke in when the flight attendant asked if I was ready for another, and told her that I was good for a bit.
“My God, C.J. I’m a grown-ass man. I can order a drink if I want.” I muttered angrily.
“You sure can, Lover,” she replied drily, “but since we both know I can’t carry your two-hundred-fifty-pound ass off this plane, maybe you can slow it down and save some drinks for when we’re in the air.” I opened my mouth to reply, but the look on her face shut me down quick.
She leaned over and kissed me on the neck, and rubbed my thigh. “If you are so nervous you’re trying to arrive passed out drunk, how am I supposed to feel?” she whispered in my ear, and kept rubbing my thigh.
I felt like shit. She was right, but I wasn’t drinking because of my family. I could handle them no problem. “I’ve flown twice in my life, and one of those times was to see you. The alcohol worked well that time. I thought I’d try it again.”
The gentle rubbing on my thigh became a firm squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. What can I do to help?”
With her hand on my leg, I could think of a few things that would be pleasantly distracting, but I tried to keep it clean at least until we were in the air and they couldn’t throw us off the plane. “What you’re doing helps. I like the distraction.”
“You like that I’m inches away from your zipper,” she countered.
“No kidding. I always like when you’re close to my man-bits.”
She snorted and shook her head, then glanced around. “I should’ve stopped you one drink earlier, it seems,” she snickered as a man across the aisle looked at us.
I leaned forward in my seat and turned my head to stare him down until he looked away. “Nah, I’m good. The drinks they serve are ridiculous. Considering how many it takes to make you drunk, they must make bank on food service.” I glanced up at the friendly attendant who kept stopping at our seat, who smiled and shrugged. She set a tiny plastic bottle of water on the tray in front of me, and a Diet Coke in front of C.J. She kept looking at us, and I started to worry that C.J. was about to have an issue with the flirtatious blonde. She walked away and came back once more with cookies and packages with Harry and David meats, cheeses, and crackers. Carina watched her with a thoughtful look on her face, and my palms got sweaty.
“I’m sorry I keep bugging you guys,” she finally said, “But are you C.J. Rivers, the model?” I exhaled a huge sigh of relief, and got a sharp knuckle in the side from my girlfriend in response.
“Yes, I’m Carina Rivers.”
I smiled up at the attendant, who was grinning ear-to-ear and glowing.
“Oh, my God,” she gushed, “My husband is a huge H1Z1 player, and he streams, just like you do.” Her eyes got huge and she dropped her voice to a whisper. “He is going to flip his shit when he hears that I got to serve you and your friend!” Her voice got even lower, so even I could barely hear her, and she added, “Is he, like, with you, with you?”
C.J. laughed and told her that yes, I was her boyfriend.
The attendant squeaked and shook my hand. “Oh, you two look so good together! Are you a model too?” I blushed a hot, furious red and shook my head, frowning. She winked at C.J. and walked away to help a complaining passenger, and I leaned into C.J.
“Does that happen to you a lot?”
She giggled and shook her head. “It happens, but not all the time. The longer I go without a magazine cover, the less people remember who I am.”
I wanted to ask her if it made her unhappy, but she smiled at me and threaded her fingers through mine.
“This is what I want. I want to be known by people like us, and left alone by the ones who don’t get it. I’d rather be your girlfriend than be stopped for pictures and autographs by teenaged boys who are going to go home and tell their friends I slept with them.”
I agreed to that wholeheartedly, and saluted her with my baby bottle of water before pouring it down the hatch.
The rest of the flight passed in a lovely amber haze, as C.J. lifted the ban on sco
tch and regulated my use to keep me calm and relaxed, but still self-ambulatory. The latter was the most important part, since I drank so much I spent close to half an hour in the lavatory over the course of the flight.
As we bumped and shimmied to a stop on the runway in Austin, I texted Danny to tell him we were back and that I’d be staying in town so I could ambush Tuck the next day. He agreed, and replied that he’d slip into town with Rachel and take us to brunch first, so he could fill me in on the family, and C.J. could ease into meeting the family, instead of being accosted by everyone at once. I knew it was an apology for the things he’d said about her on the phone, and I appreciate the effort. When I relayed the information to C.J., she seemed grateful too. Her sigh of relief made me laugh out loud, the sound ringing out in the confines of the first-class cabin.
I couldn’t believe how happy I was to be back. It was different than I thought I would feel. Not relief at being home, just happy to be bringing C.J. here to see my family. I could imagine a Christmas trip would feel the same way. It would be nice to box up my computers myself, too. I didn’t trust anyone but C.J or myself to understand their value and do it correctly. It felt right to be here, and to have her by my side. Fast or not, everything I did with C.J. was right. We were young, but we were old enough to know the difference between living and succeeding. Together, I believed we really could take on the world, or at least face the judgment of the Hargrave clan.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Carina
The flight attendant that had recognized me squealed and clapped her hands when I asked her to be in a picture with me. We ended up taking a couple from each of our cameras, and I even got Jackson in on them. He wanted to ease me into his family… well, I figured I needed to ease him into mine too.
