Blue, Light and Dark (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 2)

by Brashears, Angie M.

  He chuckles at my chatter, “Slow down, Corazon. I’m fine, still locked up tight. No one will be able to steal me.”

  I giggle at his stupid joke, happy just to hear his voice. “How are you calling me right now?”

  “Ted. Our lawyer. He came with Sasha.” The phone rattles, and I hear a loud, “Hi, bitch!”

  “Hey, Sash.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Are you really okay, Javi?”

  “Yes, Bonita, don’t worry about me. Things are looking up. How are you doing?

  “Better now that I can talk to you. I tried to come and see you…”

  “I know, Blue, I know. The one thing you need to know is I would never send you away, ever. All that stuff they’re saying about me is not true.”

  “I know, Javi, I know. When are you getting out?”

  “In about three weeks if I go along with the program and stop causing trouble.”

  “Can I come see you?” I can’t stem the hope that bleeds out in my words.

  “Not yet, my love. But soon, I promise. Did you like the apartment Ted picked out for you?”

  “No, I hate it. It’s stuffy, cold…and no fire pit!”

  He laughs. A real laugh. “That sounds like Ted. We’ll have to rectify that situation!”

  “I just want to go home,” I tell him, yearning for him. “With you.”

  “That’s all I want, too, Bonita.”

  “I’m so happy to hear your voice. I’ve been a nervous wreck. All I’ve been thinking is that they’ve been holding you against your will, mistreating you, hurting you, starving you.”

  Javi

  She doesn’t know it, but her accusations aren’t far from the truth.

  “I know, my love. Hey, it’s just a few weeks. Ted’s involved now, so things are looking up. At least we’re talking now, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I’ve got to go now, Blue. I’ll talk to you soon. Make sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself.”

  Her voice is so small, it’s crushing me. “I will, Javi. I love you.”

  I’m ready to hand the phone back to Ted when I hear it. “What, Blue? What did you just say?”

  Please let her be there.

  She clears her throat. “I said I love you, crazy. I have for weeks. Maybe even longer, but I admitted it to myself just this past week.”

  My eyes close. Her words bring me to my knees, and I say the four words I’ve never spoken, ever. “I love you, too.”

  I hand the phone to Ted and move away from the group. My eyes burn with tears. I’ve loved her since before I met her, when I was just her stalker. I did tell her I loved her, over and over. Just like I’d told my mother, my father, the only others in my life whom I’d loved. But never once had someone told me first. Ever. It was always me saying I love you and someone else saying the too part. Not today.

  Today she said it to me first. I’m ready to get with the program. I need to be free to put my hands on her, show her how much I love her.

  Blue

  After the romantic Javi call, to which she bore witness, I feel weird sending a text to Sasha asking for Brad’s number. How do I explain I need a friend who’s never been in the Chubby Chaser house? And that she doesn’t qualify? Before I can work myself into a lather, she shoots the number back to me with a smiley face with kitty ears on it. I miss her!

  Brad answers on the first ring. “Were you abducted by aliens?” he asks, before I even get a word out.

  “Close. Lawyers.”

  He laughs his ass off at that.

  “Listen, Brad, I’ve got a weird request. Can we hang out tonight?” I let out a breath, sure he’s busy working on a script, has no time for the likes of me.

  “Do you have plans for dinner?” he asks, and I agree to meet him at his apartment. “No funny business,” I say, to which he replies. “Oh, Blue, my business is so funny right now. I’ll tell you about it when you get here!” His excitement is contagious. I agree to be at his place in one hour. I call down, ordering my car for the night, and head into the living room with a ball of yarn.

  “Sam, get your ass out here!” I yell, dangling the string. I wave it back and forth, moving around the room as I do. “Sam, you’re really missing out now.” I continue moving towards the couch when he comes flying at me, all four legs thrust in front of him. He grabs the string, swinging around like Spiderman, as I wave it back and forth.

  This crazy cat. I love you, too, I think as I spend a whole hour just hanging with my poor neglected cat.

  When I get to Bradley’s, I walk up a winding path, secluded from prying eyes. The fragrant aroma of Marijuana hits me the minute I step on the path. Someone’s been smoking the mota, I think, and might still be hitting the pipe. On both sides of the path, weed plants, lush and fragrant, dot the overgrown landscape. Maybe that’s where the smell is coming from.

  As I get to the top, it’s hard to miss the full-on make-out session taking place outside the massive double doors. Brad’s hands roam all over the petite actor he’s got imprisoned against the brick wall of the house. “Blue, Trevor. Trevor, Blue,” he says, before biting the man’s neck. “Nice to meet you,” he moans in my general direction. Luckily, my stint in the Chubby House has made me more worldly, so this man-on-man make-out session is nothing.

  “Blue, we’re going to move this to the garage. Go inside, make yourself at home. Oh! I know! Snoop your ass off. There’ll be a quiz later.” He leads Trevor around the side of the house, and I shrug. Why the hell not? I get to work digging up Brad’s secrets.

  As an homage to MTV Cribs, I start my treasure hunt right where all the magic happens, the bedroom. And his is a doozy. Pictures of every one of his leading ladies, in various stages of undress, line the walls. He’s even got the actress who played his mother, topless and looking satisfied.

  I drop to my knees, pulling the skirt of the unmade bed back, and bingo! I find the mother lode—a massive, black dildo under the bed. I jump at the sound of his voice. “I see you’ve met Jethro.” He smirks and jumps on the bed.

  “Get up here, gorgeous, and snuggle with me. We’re ordering pizza, watching shitty movies, and getting high, high, high!”

  I laugh and join him for a night of debauchery.

  * * *

  “Hmmm, how did my friend-date go? Let me think.” This may shock the buttoned up Dr. Timlan, but here goes. “I met up with a friend, a famous actor.” I say actor with a capital A, “whose name I’ll take with me to the grave. He’s fun, and different, and I just had the best time.” I smile, remembering our night of bonding.

  She smiles, interested. “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, he’s a man of contradictions, that’s for sure. His work is the most important thing to him, yet he superglued his Oscars onto the top of the toilet tank.” I stop, not sure she can handle the next tidbit, but I think, fuck it, and go for it. “I found a double-sided black dildo under his bed, which he lovingly named Jethro, but sat flipping through Playboy magazines in his bathroom while I peed.”

  She’s thoughtful, slowly nodding her head, probably wishing she could get her hands on Brad’s ying and yang mind.

  I take a sip of water before continuing. “His house, set up high in the hills of Topanga Canyon, looks like a color form board of a movie star’s home. Insert star here. Well, except for the weed plants he’s got growing right out in the open in the front yard. And which he partakes in, like, every five minutes. In between hits from his bong, he pops vitamins like candy. His bathroom looks like a mini GNC store.

  “There’s a tanning bed in one room and skin repair bottles in the next. His furniture looks like it was picked out of the hands of the trash collectors, yet he’s got a personal chef flown in from Argentina to cook for him at all hours. Prius in the garage and a heated pool in the back. Brad definitely swings both ways. He’s not sure if he’s the ultimate consumer or the world’s staunchest conservationist.” I smile at this, and the doctor returns her own, enjoying my description
of the world’s biggest clash of the classes that is Brad.

  I take a deep breath and go on. “He walks around shirtless, in holey board shorts, but wears a thirty thousand dollar Rolex at all times. Oh! And no shoes, ever, unless a role requires them, but he sports a meticulous pedicure, complete with shiny toenail polish. The list really does go on and on, Doc. He’s a man firmly planted on the fence. A lover of big boobs...and big cocks. He’s not particular. He’ll take whatever the main course of the night is. A lover of life, he lives it to the fullest, taking whatever is thrown his way, not choosy in the least.” She laughs, waving her hand, encouraging my playful descriptions, and I don’t disappoint.

  “He’s a staunch saver of whales, but an eater of cows. Loves his steaks. Hates anything to do with cigarettes, but smokes a shit ton of weed. Exercises twice a day and drinks a pint of Jack Daniels a night. Cocky and confident, yet insecure and seeking. He’s got a female gardener and a male housekeeper. He’s richer than me, at this point, but doesn’t carry even a dollar for parking. A Hollywood bad boy who’s never been in trouble with the law. He can speak Spanish with a southern accent, but he’s never been outside of California. He listens to gangsta rap, volume set to max, yet can play a mean classical piano piece.” I smile, remembering all of the Bradley’s bits I’d gathered on our hang date last night. “If I never met him, I’d know that I’d be missing something in my life.”

  She leans forward in her seat, assuming the doctor persona again. “See, that homework wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Begrudgingly, I nod. “Even though I was forced into these sessions, I must admit I think they’re helping.” It’s true. Having an impartial jury to listen to all my shit lightens my load.

  Dr. Timlan cocks her head to the side, studying me. “Can I ask a personal question?” I feel my body start to tighten up at the request, not sure what she’s going to ask. “What is Javi to you? Would you consider him your fiancé? Or serious boyfriend?”

  I frown while I think about this. It has to be related to the Stockholm thing, right? But is he? Has he ever, besides marital bed, defined our relationship? I exhale before answering. “Not really,’ I hedge, “he’s more than a friend at this point, but no, we haven’t really known each other long enough to wear labels. He’s pledged his love for me, and when I’m talking to him, hearing the words, I believe them, even going so far as to feel and say them back…but, well, I don’t see the love. Especially since he’s locked away. So unless he’s telling me constantly, his words of love tend to fade.” I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “And mine do, too.”

  She nods. “Are you ready for tonight’s homework?”

  I tense at her tone, nervous. “Lay it on me, Doc.”

  “I want you to go on an honest-to-goodness date with someone other than Javi.” She holds her hand up to stop my protests. “Now, before you refuse, hear me out. I just want to make sure you don’t feel threatened, personally, when in the presence of another man. Maybe go to a movie, eat a little popcorn, engage in some lighthearted conversation, the works. Just think of it as an assignment so we can gauge the level of anxiety you feel. It should be manageable, seeing as you and Javi barely know each other.” She smiles like the cat that got the canary.

  Fine, I think, feeling very put upon at this moment.

  “Okay, Mom. Do you wanna pick the movie, too?”

  She shakes her head. “No, and don’t make this all about therapy. Promise me you’ll give it the good old college try. Have some fun, be young, and enjoy the pleasant company of another with no hidden agendas. Again, not in any way, shape or form,” she gives me a stern look. Brad was a client, after all, “connected to the Chubby House. Just journal your thoughts, feelings, and actions that you experience while you’re on this date.”

  I shake her offered hand. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”

  “Oh, and Sara?” I raise my eyebrows. “I want a picture of you and another actual person as proof.”

  I nod, that other actual person already in mind.

  Javi

  I love having phone privileges back. If you’ve ever had a dead battery on a cell, you know what I mean. Of course, I’ve gotta stand in the hallway and use the payphone like everyone else, but it wouldn’t matter if it was just two soup cans connected by a piece of string, I’d take whatever connection I can get to my Bonita. It’s after two; her therapy should be over. It rings twice before she answers.

  “Blue?”

  “Yeah, hey, Javi! I was just thinking about you. Were your ears itching?”

  “Haha! Not my ears, Bonita. How was your appointment?” Her laugh lightens my heart.

  “Really good. You know, I think I am going to continue with the therapy. Maybe you should, too.” She’s got therapy euphoria; I’ve seen it too many times on the Fruit Loops’ faces in here not to recognize it in my girl’s voice.

  “Whatever you want, Bonita. What were you thinking about me?”

  “Okay, don’t freak.” Already the change in her tone from playful to cajoling causes my stomach to churn. My heart starts pounding in my chest.

  “I won’t. Blue, I don’t have a lot of time.” It’s a lie. I walked a half a mile to get to this very phone because it’s out of the way and private. There’s no line and no one’s eyeballing me yet. But after my exploits with my own shrink, I’m just dreading what hers might have to say that would freak me out.

  “I know, I know. To make sure I’m really not suffering from the Stockholm thing…”

  “You’re not.” I say it with more force than I intended.

  “…She wants me to go on a date, and not with you, or anyone affiliated with the Chubby House.” She takes a big breath and holds it in, waiting, maybe fearing my response to this. The phone slips in my sweaty hands. I trust Blue; I just have no faith in the rest of the world.

  “What kind of date? Like a dinner date?” I’m heating up, my pits are sweating. I use my elbows to rub my shirt against the sweat drops that are trickling down my sides.

  “No, nothing that formal. Just a movie.”

  Her sweet voice drones on and on. Movie with another guy. A picture with another guy. But the worst? The one that stabs me through my fucking heart? “Blue, promise me you will not let him feed you. Please?” I feel a hand tightening around my windpipe at the thought.

  “Oh, Javi. No one else’s fingers will pass these lips.” She laughs it off, but if she only knew…

  My dick twitches in my lounge pants at her husky laugh. Problem is, I’m not wearing any underwear, and I tell her so.

  Her voice drops an octave. “You’re a naughty boy. I might just have to suck you.”

  “Ahhh, Blue, you’re making my dick so hard.”

  “I should sneak in, tie you up, and suck you till you remember to wear panties.”

  “Ah, Blue? Panties?” I laugh so hard I snort. “Your dirty talk sucks.”

  As she realizes her boner chill, she laughs with me. I smile as I picture her head thrown back, her silky black hair touching her round ass.

  “I’m sorry, I’m still wearing my training wheels!”

  We chat a little more, no more panty-talk, though. I’ve got a line forming behind me now. Seems the zombies have finally made the trek to this phone, after all.

  “Blue, I gotta get off.”

  “Okaaay, I hate to say goodbye. What are you gonna do now?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go jack off right now and then get something to eat.”

  I love the sound of her laughter. It’s a balm for my weathered soul.

  “Don’t make a mess.” I hear her kiss the phone, and I can’t help myself. Before she says bye, I yell into the phone, “Don’t let that fucker feed you, Bonita, dammit!”

  “Bye, Javi.”

  Blue

  I text Sasha because it’s easier than trying to explain why in the hell I’m calling Frankie, the biker nibbler from the bar.

  Sash, I need Frankie’s number. Don’t worry, I’m no
t thinking of running away on the back of his bike. It’s homework. ☺

  While I’m waiting to hear back, I call in an order of broccoli beef with brown rice to the Red Dragon restaurant down the street. It’s a few blocks over. I’ve been in several times and the walk does me good. Stretches these weary bones.

  As I change into jeans and my Nikes, I think about something I saw on one of the daytime talk shows. A hip surgeon was the guest, and he said if everyone just took a walk around the block each day, he’d be out of business. No need for hip replacements. I grab my keys, wallet, and phone, and head out the door, doing my part to put that hip surgeon in the unemployment line.

  Frankie??? You little slut you! I’m sending the pic of your hand. You try to make out if that’s a 6 or an 8. And no hickies!! Toodles –S

  The picture, when I receive it, makes me snort with laughter. My hand tagged with Magic Marker digits above the wonkiest heart I’ve ever seen. I giggle, turning my phone this way and that just to make out the numbers. I remember when he drew it on me—what a great night—as I take a few deep breaths and make the call.

  * * *

  “It’s open!” I yell, as I slide my boots on. He’s taking me for a ride on his Harley, something I’ve never done. I don’t wanna freeze. I’ve got thick socks under these bad boys, plus jeans, bra, undershirt, long-sleeved shirt, plaid Pendleton, gloves, and a black pea coat. You know, just in case we play strip poker later.

  I finish my ponytail—it’s a high one—and I go out to find him rubbing Sam’s belly. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he says, a slow-burning grin beginning. And God, does he look great. Tonight he’s wearing a fitted—like the skin on a grape— black long-sleeved T-shirt, with tight long black jeans, and black boots with silver buckles that match the chain hanging from his pocket. Wow.

  “You look so tasty, Blue.” He stands and walks with intent—to set me on fire—over to me. “Good enough to eat.” He leans in and brushes my lips with his own, making my head swim.