Brick by Brick

by Maryn Blackburn

  “Trouble?” I asked. Who welcomed a call at this hour?

  “Business as usual.” Gage tilted his head left, then right, stretching muscles that probably tensed during that phone call. “My agent’s been dodging my calls at his office, so I got him at home, even though I hated waking up his wife. He doesn’t want to go to bat for me on something, which probably means he’s negotiating with the same studio for one of his bigger clients. He’ll fold on what I want to get the other guy what he wants.”

  “I won’t pretend to know how any of that works.”

  “The business end is soulless and boring. I thought I’d take a shower, then we’d go bed shopping, if that’s all right.”

  “I set out green towels for you and a new toothbrush.”

  “I think I like Chez Bedwell a lot better than my hotel. Not that I’m inviting myself to stay here. The plan is to drop you off after we find a bed, not park my ass at your house. What a relief, huh?”

  “I do have things I have to do.”

  “So do I. First of which is a shower. And if there’s time, I need a drugstore. There’s not one near the hotel. Maybe you can direct me.”

  “Sure. I need to get something anyway.”

  Gage’s speed surprised me, first in the shower, then behind the wheel. It took him a while to notice my unease.

  “Sorry.” He backed off the gas. “I haven’t driven my car in a while.” His wicked grin creased the corners of his eyes in a way the camera never caught.

  “How many speeding tickets have you had?”

  “In Arizona? One.” He laughed. “Don’t ask me about California.” He spotted the furniture store before I could tell him it was coming up, and turned in faster than I would have.

  I’d never been in Dulces Sueños before, and at the first price tag, I knew why. That bed wouldn’t give me sweet dreams but nightmares.

  Prices didn’t faze Gage; he ignored the tags. How liberating, to be able to buy whatever you liked best without factoring in the cost.

  A salesman in his twenties approached us, his smile broadening when he got close. “Good morning, Mr. Strickland. Miss.”

  Gage’s expression soured. “Hi.”

  “We’re looking for a bed with a sturdy frame,” I said.

  “Certainly. Let me recommend some of our finer things.” He led us from one four-digit price tag to another, rhapsodic about each possibility, quick to dismiss them when Gage showed no enthusiasm. Was his fame the reason for the service that made me uneasy, or did high-end stores fawn over everyone?

  Soon an older man joined us, rubbing his hands together like a fly. “I’m the owner, Gage. Is my boy treating you right? Maybe not. This is one ugly bed. We can do better.”

  “They’re specifically after a good strong frame,” the salesman said to his boss, then turned to us. “This may be utilitarian, but it can take hard use.”

  The owner’s diamond pinkie ring winked at Gage. “Hard use, I see.” He winked at me, with the eye on the side away from Gage.

  The young salesman saw it, though. He looked angry for an instant before the professional salesman mask reasserted itself.

  The owner mentally undressed me so boldly that I knew what items he removed when. He put one hand on Gage’s shoulder, another on the bedpost. “Believe me, Gage, you can do better.”

  My heart sped up in a rush of helpless adrenaline. Cynthia would call him on it, but she was a New Yorker, at ease with confrontation. I was only me. Meek little Natalie Bedwell disgusted me as much as the owner did.

  “Let’s go,” Gage said, the disdain in his voice clear. “We don’t need you looking at her like a piece of meat, or any of this double entendre shit.”

  “But, Gage! We can find you a bed that can take anything. I can order something reinforced for you and your big tiger here.”

  A vein in Gage’s forehead throbbed. He grasped my upper arm and marched me toward the door, exactly the way my mother had so many times when she thought I’d behaved badly. I half trotted to keep up with his longer legs.

  Our salesman dashed to place himself in front of us. “My apologies, on the store’s behalf. We’ve been entirely unprofessional.” He glared past us at the older man.

  Gage jerked one thumb toward the owner, who stood watching at a distance. “He has. Are you on commission?”

  “Yes, sir, I am. We have a large inventory, and if you’ll forgive me my awkwardness, I’m sure I can help you find something you’ll be pleased to own for years and years. This really is the best selection in the area, by far. We carry some of the finest beds available anywhere. You wouldn’t do any better in Los Angeles or New York.”

  “All right,” Gage said, grudgingly.

  “Thank you. We know you want something solidly built. Is there a wood to be matched, or a style to coordinate with?”

  “Show me something as far away from him as we can get.”

  In a distant part of the showroom, the salesman confided, “I really am sorry about the way he acted. He’s my uncle, and he’s incredibly rude to our more attractive shoppers. ‘Big tiger’ was pretty classy, for him. Usually it’s a smaller feline, if you get my drift.”

  I did. “I bet a lot of customers walk out.”

  “A lot of employees too. Every time I quit, my dad talks to him. Uncle Charlie swears he’ll do better and gives me a raise. He tries for a while, but in the end, nothing changes.”

  When he smiled, Gage’s mouth really was too wide for his narrow jaw. “Family, what can you do?”

  “Take the money, for now. And give you a price on whatever you pick that will leave him no profit at all, once my commission comes out. For good will, I’ll throw in two eiderdown pillows too. They retail for one thirty a pop. Plus two gel foams, which go for ninety. Good enough? Now, this bed is tubular steel with brass finials on the posts. It may be the strongest one we carry, but not much in terms of style.”

  We found it soon after, although we looked at a dozen more before returning to the graceful wrought-iron lattice intertwined with leaves, traced with the green patina of artificial age. After that, we just lay on one mattress after another until we agreed we both liked the same one. Gage got up, and I barely felt it.

  “What do you think, Natalie, this in a king?”

  “There’s only a queen there now.”

  “I know. But there’s room. Wouldn’t you and James like to spread out?”

  “I guess. How much more is the king?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s my treat. A belated wedding gift,” he added for the salesman’s benefit.

  “I see.”

  “Nat, could you do me a favor and find my sunglasses?” Gage held the Porsche keys out.

  “Now?”

  “Please.”

  “Sure.” By the time I returned, sweating profusely, to report they weren’t there, he’d paid and was shaking the salesman’s hand.

  On the other side of the store, the owner beamed his approval.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “So did I do okay?” Gage started the engine’s throaty purr.

  “Picking the bed, fine. But you didn’t have to send me on a pretend errand so I wouldn’t see the total.”

  “I never know what to do about money, you know? I want to be generous, but I don’t want to show off.” He backed out of the parking space too fast.

  “It’s like those restaurants where only the guy’s menu has the prices. I’m not supposed to worry my pretty little head about it. Don’t treat me like that again, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Turn right at the exit. There’s a drugstore down the street.”

  He drove without saying anything for a mile or so. “It’s so fucking hard, figuring out the rules for every new person. I’m glad you said something instead of letting me keep fucking up.”

  “You can stop beating yourself up over it. There’s the drugstore, on the left.”

  He turned sharply, zipping ahead of oncoming traffic I’d have let
pass, and pulled into a parking place well away from the other cars. Gage groped under his seat, fishing up the purple Suns cap I’d found in the futile sunglasses search. “How much time do you need?”

  “I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes.” James’s sunscreen, and another box of condoms, and while I was there I might as well get contact-lens cleaner and body wash.

  “Okay, I need to restock a little anyway. See you at the register in fifteen. But don’t talk to me. Two people talking draws a lot more attention than two people just waiting their turn. Meet me back here.”

  “Okay. I shop here all the time. Do you need me to help you find anything?”

  “No. Go ahead. I’ll wait a minute, so we don’t go in at the same time.”

  Finding what I needed took only a few minutes, so I surreptitiously watched Gage as I browsed, finding a few things to add to my shopping basket. He kept his head down and stayed close to the shelves, not giving anyone a reason to glance at his face.

  My lotion was on sale, so I bought two and, as an afterthought, a boxed tube of Preparation H for Gage.

  His plastic shopping basket on the floor, Gage read the labels on several packages in the painkiller row before picking one; when he bent to pick it up, he stood with one hand pressed to his lower back.

  Naturally, there was a flurry of activity at the registers when it was time to pay. He stood silent, studying his feet, his face all but covered by the Suns cap and his selections by a Time magazine. He moved with shuffling steps as he neared the register.

  “Natalie? That is you. Hi.”

  “Oh, hi, Cynthia. What’re you doing shopping here?”

  “Doug is going out of town later this week, and he needs those little sample sizes of everything. This store always seems to have more of those that the one near us.” Cynthia looked at Gage, then lifted her eyebrows, asking.

  I smiled and nodded. “Where’s he going?”

  “Houston. Naturally, in the summer. Next winter, they’ll find a reason for Boston or Toronto. It’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help noticing your lotion. I’m looking for a new brand. You like it?”

  “A lot. It’s on sale,” I told her.

  “This line’s barely moving anyway. Think I’ll grab one, and maybe pick up a magazine. See you!” She moved toward Gage’s line. “Excuse me; excuse me,” she murmured and cut through it right in front of him, touching his arm “accidentally.” I thought I saw him suppress a smile.

  Back at the car, Gage asked permission before stowing his drugstore bag next to my feet. “I think there’s still time,” he said.

  “Time for what?”

  “Time before the delivery to buy sheets and stuff.”

  “What, they’re bringing it today?” He must have paid extra.

  “Yeah. First delivery on the afternoon truck. They’ll take the old stuff and trash it or donate it, depending on condition. Sheets?”

  I directed him to a mall, air-conditioned to the point of discomfort for anyone whose clothes were damp with sweat because she’d looked for imaginary sunglasses. He zeroed in on the most expensive of the big department stores, where we had the bed and bath section to ourselves.

  “I’ve set up housekeeping a lot of times. I like three sets,” Gage said. “One on the bed, one in the wash, one clean and ready to go.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Also, extra cases, since they wear out first. I always try to get everything to mix and match. We’ll get three mattress pads, so we don’t get sweat on it. A blanket, a bedspread. Natalie, stop.”

  “What?”

  “Freaking out over what I’m spending. Your eyes are spinning like pinwheels. I broke your bed. I replaced it, with one big enough to include me once in a while, so what I’m buying is for me too.”

  “All right. But James isn’t going to like it.”

  It took us both to carry all the big plastic bags into the house. “Okay, then,” he said. “I was thinking maybe I’d come by after dinner, if I’m invited.”

  “We eat around six, so not before six thirty. I don’t have enough for three, and there’s not time to go to the store. Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to feed me every night.”

  We shared an awkward moment when he left, ending with a kiss on the cheek and a nervous laugh. “Neighbors,” he said and waved as he backed out.

  A wall of reeking heat greeted me in the bedroom. I stripped the sheets off the old bed. Fresh yesterday, they were gross today, with spots and streaks I didn’t want to identify.

  Once I’d taken them out of the bedroom, it smelled all right again, although the temperature remained stifling. My pounding head reminded me that I hadn’t slept much the night before.

  Later, after the bed came, I’d catch a long nap on the sofa. Meanwhile, at least one set of the new sheets should be washed before we used them, and there was the drugstore stuff to put away and the kitchen to clean.

  I put the sheets in the wash, then took the drugstore bag to the bathroom.

  We’d switched bags. Gage’s purchases surprised me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I’d guessed correctly that he was in some discomfort; he’d bought two painkillers, one promising it would let him sleep, and a bigger size of the same ointment I’d tossed into my bag to give him. What startled me was the disposable enemas, ten of them. Was he sick? Or were they part of some ridiculous regimen to stay camera slim?

  Think, Natalie! If your new lover was only going to enter you there, and using your mouth was not an option, wouldn’t you make sure the way was clear? Of course.

  Better for him, and no embarrassing possibilities, or stinking sheets, for you. Still, the image it created disturbed me yet kept popping into my thoughts until the delivery guys arrived.

  The new bed dominated the room. The queen had never flaunted itself as a sexual playground, and certainly not boasted that it could easily accommodate three.

  That was a pleasure to think about. It carried me through moving the sheets to the dryer, then the necessary housework and even a bit of dinner preparation. Oddly, it wasn’t so much who would do what to me that occupied my thoughts, but imagining what the men might to do one another, and how they’d each react, that carried me through. James would certainly see to my pleasure, but he and I had done everything. What he did with Gage was fresh, exciting for its newness, even for me.

  I made up the new bed, not minding that I was sweating bullets by the time I finished. It seemed enormous, trampoline-sized. What was next, a mirror on the ceiling?

  James called when I’d just finished showering. “Yell at me now, but be quick,” he said. “Danny never showed up today, because he got pulled over last night and had crystal meth in the car. Idiot violated his probation. We have to finish this step today to let it cure overnight. I got most of a crew wanting the overtime. I should be there by dinner.”

  “But that’ll have you working through the heat.”

  “It passed a hundred hours ago. We’ve got water and shade and a job to do. I’ll be there by six. Can we push dinner back long enough for me to catch a shower?”

  “Of course.”

  By six thirty, James wasn’t home yet, which didn’t really surprise me. If I worried every time he was late, I’d fret to death.

  Gage’s Porsche idled at the curb for a long minute before he cut the engine. He emerged with my drugstore bag in one hand.

  “Hi. I must’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

  “Aren’t you the diplomat? I’m the one who brought in ‘my’ bag. Come in.”

  “Thought you’d never ask. God, it’s like two hundred degrees out there.”

  “Barely half that.” I handed over his bag. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I saw what you bought. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are. You bought two painkillers and the big yellow tube because you’re just peachy.”

  Gage Strickland’s angular face was improved by the abrupt flush of
pink on his cheeks. “Uh, James was, you know, enthusiastic. After the way things were before, I couldn’t stop him over a little chafing.”

  “Chafing? The sheets had blood,” I said. “I thought I’d started my period.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that, but yeah, I guess I bled. Not a lot, and it stopped. Now I’m just kind of, you know, raw? I opened the tube you bought. Keep the big one.”

  “I was buying it for you. Should you see a doctor?”

  “God, no. The tabloids would love that. It wouldn’t even be original, just one more pretty-boy actor who’s rumored to be gay, no matter how gorgeous the women he’s seen with are. Like you.”

  “Oh, right.” My turn to blush.

  “To me, you are.” He smiled handsomely. “Could I get a glass of water, so I can take a couple of these pills?”

  “Me too,” James said, coming in the side door.

  “Hi. I didn’t hear the truck.” I kissed him.

  He kissed back, the perfunctory kind. His face was red, his hair damp with sweat. “It stalled right in the driveway, so I rolled in. Hand me a glass too. What pills?”

  Gage didn’t answer, just held his hand under the faucet until it ran cool, or less warm anyway, then filled his glass.

  “Tell him,” I said.

  He told the kitchen window instead. “My ass is really sore, bad enough that I need to take something for it. Sorry.”

  “Sorry for what, not being available? Jesus. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know I was hurting you.”

  “Just a little, and only at the end.”

  I remembered him wincing, and his relieved expression when James finally finished. Why the lie?

  “Well, next time I hurt you, tell me.”

  Gage nodded, but I knew another lie when I saw it. He wouldn’t stop James unless he had an alternative to offer. Instead he’d allow injury.