“Where’s Chris?” I ask when my mom joins me in the waiting area. The sun shines through the large windows, and it feels the same way it always feels at home, calm and peaceful.
“He’s at a meeting with a prospective artist,” my mom says. “I think we’re going to get this one.” She smiles.
Chris is a good man, and he supports my mom no matter what, even though he’s less creative and less eccentric than she is.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to work with your soulmate every day. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a soulmate, period. At twenty-eight, I’m still young enough to find one. I keep telling myself that and ignore the hollow feeling that opens in my chest when I think about a forever kind of love.
I smile back. “That’s great, Mom. You guys have really built this place up.”
My mom looks around the studio and nods. She and Chris started the studio after Keagan and I finished our studies and moved out. Until then, they’d both worked dead-end nine-to-fives that drained them of all life to put us through school and college. Now that we’re on our own, they were able to take the risk, and it paid off.
Chris is my stepdad, and he’s a great guy. He’s the only dad I’ve ever known. Mine took off before I can remember. Chris brought Keagan with him. The two of them changed our lives for the better. My mom was happy, and Keagan and I knew each other from school.
It wasn’t always easy to live together. At first, we were strangers thrown into a boat called family , but we made it work. We’re so close now, some of my friends with siblings are jealous.
Once upon a time, he was the popular guy at school that my friends urged me to date. When he became my brother, things changed. I mean, you can’t date your brother. Even if, back then, I might have wanted to.
Now he’s a pain in my ass like any big brother, even if we’re practically the same age.
I glance at my watch. My stomach turns with stress, twisting into a knot of nerves. I don’t think the people from the last interview I went to are going to call me back. They’ve all been dead ends. My landlord is on my case about rent. If I don’t fork it out soon, I don’t know where I’ll go.
“What’s wrong, honey?” my mom asks. Her eyes are on my face, and she looks concerned.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
I look out of the large windows. The street is quiet in the Art District. I don’t want to burden her with my problems. Even though the studio is doing well and my mom and Chris are happy together, they have just enough for the two of them. I don’t want my mom to feel like she needs support me again. And she would, because she’s my mother.
“You know you can talk to me, sweetheart,” she says. “What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I put my hands on my knees and try to pull myself together. It’s hard to keep things from my mom. She’s always been my best friend. It stems from a time when all we had was each other.
“I’m not really here because Jen sent me,” I say, carefully, knowing that I don’t really have a choice. She’s going to keep asking until I tell her.
Mom waits for me to say what I need to say. Her hands are folded in her lap. She’s the epitome of patience.
“I lost my job.”
She doesn’t freak out. She only raises her eyebrows.
“A month ago,” I add.
My mom shakes her head. “Honey, why didn’t you say anything? A whole month. What happened?”
I shrug. “Jen says that I don’t have the right ‘energy’.” I make sarcastic quotation marks with my fingers in the air, and my mom rolls her eyes.
“That’s just a hippy way of saying she’s intimidated by you. I told you, you’re so much better than she is.”
I nod. “Yeah. The problem is that there’s a very small demand for interior designers in LA. Apparently, the market is pretty saturated, and I can’t find another job.”
“So, start your own company!” my mom says and smiles at me. “You have your mother’s business mind. I know you can do it.”
Thanks, Mom,” I say. I know she believes in me. “It’s a great idea. It just won’t happen fast enough for me to pay my bills.”
I swallow, trying to get rid of the nerves that have become a constant fist in my stomach.
“How much do you need?” my mom asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not here to ask for money. I was just feeling lost. Really, I need a lot more than you can afford to give me, and I really don’t expect anything.”
My mom looks concerned again, and the words tumble out.
“If I don’t come up with my rent by tonight, I have to move out.” A lump rises in my throat. “I don’t know where to go.”
I didn’t want to cry in front of my mom. Not because she would mind it, but because I’d told myself I would be strong. Tears well up in my eyes anyway. I’m angry at myself for buckling.
“Sweetie, don’t cry,” my mom says, leaning over and squeezing my hand. “It’s going to be fine. Everyone has dips. Remember how bad things were for the two of us just before we met Chris? And look how good things are now. You just keep the faith.”
I nodded, sniffling. Faith. It’s easy to talk about faith when things were going well. Not so much when times are desperate.
“Why don’t you call Keagan?” my mom asks. “You know he’ll help you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that. I don’t think he’ll like me invading his space. You know what he can be like.”
My mom laughs. “He’s not that bad. Sure, he’s full of shit sometimes, but he’s just like Chris. And it’s more than lovable.” She smiles at me. “Give him a call. You know he adores you. He’ll be more than happy to help. You two have always had a special bond.”
I nod. “I was a bitch to him on Saturday,” I say.
I feel bad. I was rude to him when he kept asking me what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell him why I was in a bad mood. Julie, one of my friends, was already paying for my alcohol because I had no money. It’s hard for me to accept cash from others.
“So, apologize,” my mom says. She’s got answers for everything. Like it’s just that fucking easy. “Don’t let your pride get in the way. We can’t always be strong all by ourselves.”
That’s easier said than done, and my mom knows it. She’s as stubborn as I am, although she’s not as independent.
“Keagan’s life is just so put together,” I say. “Especially with the company, now. I don’t know how to call him and tell him my life has fallen apart.”
My mom shakes her head. “He’s not going to turn you down. Trust me.”
“What makes you so sure?” I ask.
She smiles at me, and I don’t like her expression when she does. Her smile is secretive, and I hate it when she gets like that.
“Just a hunch, honey. Call him. You don’t have other options, anyway. And he’ll help you. I’m not saying you should mooch off of him. Just stay with him until you get back on your feet. Some bonding time might do you good, anyway.”
She smiles at me again. I shake my head. Stay with him? I don’t want to call him and admit defeat, much less stay with him. That opens up a whole other can of worms.
It’s hard to admit I’m not doing so great when he’s so damn successful. But my mom is right. I don’t have much of a choice anymore. I don’t have anyone else I can turn to.
When I leave the studio, I get in my car and dial Keagan’s number. It plays over the car’s stereo so I can talk while I drive. The phone rings for a while. I expect the call to roll over to voicemail, but then he answers.
“Johnson.”
“You sound so professional over the phone,” I say.
“Dana,” he says, and his voice is immediately warmer. “What a surprise. How are you doing?”
I swallow. I can’t do this over the phone.
“Fine. I was wondering. Are you free tonight?”
“Why?” he asks without giving
me an answer.
“Do you want to go out to dinner? Catch up? We haven’t really spent time together in a while.”
I hear him turning pages. He’s checking his schedule to see if he can fit me in.
“You can’t be that busy,” I point out.
“Says who?”
He’s teasing me. I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s always teasing me, getting on my damn nerves.
“You haven’t said no yet,” I point out.
Keagan chuckles.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tonight. Where are we going?”
“We can go to Far Bar again,” I say. “It’s casual, and the food is good.”
“No,” Keagan says immediately. “Let’s do something nicer. I don’t want to spend my life in a bar. Meet me at Bestia.”
“The Italian place?”
“That’s the one.”
I drive when the light turns green.
I hear more page flipping. “I have a meeting with some technicians after work, but I’ll meet you once it’s finished. Let’s say seven? I should be done by then.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”
I hang up and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The call went better than expected. At least he’s willing to see me.
I don’t know how I’m going to ask him for help, but I’m going to have to do something. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.
Honestly, I just want to be able to relax for a change and not worry about the future.
But relaxing around Keagan is easier said than done, for reasons I don’t even want to admit to myself.
Chapter 3
Keagan
I manage to get home before I need to head over to the restaurant. The meeting with the technicians threatened to take forever. That brainy bunch has all the time in the world. Nighttime is their favorite, and they could go on arguing algorithms until fucking dawn.
I wanted to get home to get ready for my date with Dana.
Dinner, I remind myself. A catch-up session. Not a goddamn date.
I jump into the shower. I soap up my body and my hands slide over my cock. I’m already rock-hard. I palm myself and slide my hand up and down my throbbing shaft a few times, but I let it go. There’s no time.
I rinse, get out, and dry off before I pull fresh clothes from my closet. Black jeans, an aqua shirt, black shoes, and the chain around my neck she bought me for Christmas. I finger comb my wet hair to the side and let it dry by itself. I run a razor over my chin, pat on aftershave that stings like a motherfucker, and leave my apartment again.
The drive to Bestia from my apartment at South Park by Windsor is quick, and I pull into a parking spot just after seven. I’m only a couple of minutes late. I’m nervous. I’ve grown up with this girl, and she still gets me tongue-tied and hot and bothered without doing anything at all.
When I walk up to the front door, a flash goes off in my face. Then another, and another, and I sigh. Fuck.
They fucking follow me around sometimes. I smile and pose for a photo or two. This is my life now, famous and frustrating whether I ask for it or not. When I’ve done my part, I walk into the restaurant where the paparazzi isn’t allowed to follow. Thank God.
The restaurant has an industrial vibe, but it’s a cozy place. When I walk in, I see Dana sitting at a table already. I tell the hostess I’m meeting someone and walk straight to her. I only have a second to study her before she looks up and sees me, and she’s fucking breathtaking. As always.
She gets up, smiling. She’s wearing a dress that hugs her curves in all the right ways. It catches her leg mid-thigh. Her legs are long and tan. I want so badly for her to wrap them around my hips. Heels made her ass look fucking fantastic. I can’t see it now because she’s facing me, but I’ve looked at her ass enough times in my life to know this for a fact.
When she hugs me, I smell her perfume, subtle, floral. I breathe in deeply, and it drives me fucking crazy. Her tits push against my chest, and I’m hyper aware of them. When she sits down, her dress gapes just enough to show me the swells of her perfect tits.
I swallow hard. My cock is straining in my pants, pulling against my boxer briefs, begging to be let loose. I don’t want her to see how crazy she makes me, so I crash down onto the chair so my hips are below the table.
Dana laughs. The sound of her voice is like velvet on my skin. My cock twitches like she’s wrapped that sexy mouth around it.
“How are you doing?” I ask. I need conversation to distract me.
She shrugs. “I’m alright. I’ve had a rough month. How about you? I see they’re hounding you again outside.”
I nod. “They’re always like that. I hardly ever get a break.”
The waiter joins us, and I glance up at him.
“What will it be?” he asks. He’s speaking to Dana, smiling. Guys always respond well to her. I don’t fucking blame them, but it still irritates the hell out of me. After we order something to drink, the waiter disappears again.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” Dana says. “I was rude.”
I shake my head. “Don’t apologize.”
“No, I want to. It was unnecessary. You’re always just looking out for me.”
I shrug. “You know I care.”
She nods. She fiddles with her fork. My eyes slide to her tits again. When she sighs, her chest heaves, moving up and down, and I swallow hard.
I look at her face when she looks up at me, so I’m not caught staring. She looks nervous, unsure. Why did she ask me out to dinner? I have a feeling there’s more to it than just catching up.
“How’s work going?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t really get along with Jen.”
I nod. I’ve heard from Susan, my stepmom, that Dana has been having it hard at work for a while now.
“She’s intimidated,” I say.
Dana laughs. “Mom also said that.”
“She’s right. You’re tough to compete with. You always have been.”
She smiles and her dimples show. She tips her head to the side and runs her hand down her neck. It’s a normal gesture. I follow her hand with my eyes. I imagine her skin to be soft and delicate. I want to kiss it. Lick it. Bite it.
“And you?” she asks. I look at her again. “How’s work going for you?” She’s oblivious to my thoughts.
I shift in my chair, tugging at my buckle.
I shrug. “It’s going well. We’re expanding. Again. We can’t keep up with the number of users signing on.”
“You’re doing very well. Sociable is a hit. I don’t have any friends that aren’t already on it.”
“Well, it pays the bills,” I say dryly.
Dana laughs. I want her to keep doing that. I fucking love it when she’s laughing, when it goes all the way up to her eyes. She hooks her hair behind her ear. She’s wearing long earrings that make her movements seem more graceful.
The waiter finally brings our drinks. I’ve asked for a soda. I don’t want to lose control tonight and say something stupid. Dana ordered alcohol. She seems nervous, and I can’t figure out why. When we order food and the waiter disappears again, I take a sip of my soda.
“Your hair looks great like that,” I say.
Dana smiles, touching her head lightly. “You noticed.”
“Of course. It suits you.”
Her dimples appear again.
We spend the night speaking about trivial things. We eat pasta, we laugh, and everything is the way it always is, light and pointless. But now, I want to know what’s bothering her.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to keep pretending everything is fine?”
She glances up at me. Her face is serious again, her lips slightly parted. Full lips. Delicious lips. Lips I want wrapped around my cock.
“I forget how well you know me,” she says.
I shrug.
She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.
/>
“Well, you asked how work is going. The answer, to be honest, is terrible. I got fired.”
I widen my eyes. “What the hell, Dana?”
She nods, looking down at her nearly empty plate. “It’s been a few weeks now, actually. I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Why the fuck not?” I frown at her.
She shrugs. “Because everyone is doing so well. You’ve got Sociable, and Mom and Chris have the studio, and my friends are all successful now. I didn’t want to be the only one that’s failing. I’ve been looking for a job but nothing has gone through yet, and I’m in trouble now.”
I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. It’s warm and soft. She glances up at me.
“Tell me how I can help,” I say and let my fingers linger on her skin only a moment longer before I pull my hand back. Before I let my mind drift to other places I want to touch her.
She looks like she might cry. She swallows hard, not meeting my eyes. “I’m getting evicted now. If you could just help me out with a bit of cash, so I can find a place to stay while I sort this out, it would be a huge help. I really hate asking.”
I shake my head. “You can always ask me. I’ll do you one better, though. Why don’t you come to stay with me for a while? You don’t have to worry about cash then, and you can find a new job without all the pressure of needing to survive.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of them.
Dana blinks at me. “I won’t impose?”
I chuckle. “We grew up together, remember? It will be like the good old days.”
Fuck, what am I thinking? The good old days? When all I did was jerk off to thoughts of her. Jesus, it’s not like much has changed there, though.
She swallows again.
“I have enough money to cover your expenses for a while, and I won’t see you end up on the streets,” I say, apparently rolling with this fucking terrible idea.
Finally, she nods.
“Thank you,” she says in a thin voice. “I hate that all this is happening.”
Wanted_Big Bad Brother Page 2
