by Chase Connor
Lucas just stared at me.
“I can’t.”
“I didn’t think you could.” I nodded.
“So…what does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But…I’ve been having flashes of memories and weird dreams.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know.” I felt my vision get blurry. “I can’t remember after I have the flashes of memories or the dreams. But I remember how they made me feel.”
“They make you miss me?”
“A lot of them, yeah.” I nodded.
“I’m not sure what that means, Rob.” He said, then kissed my lips again. “But I know that I always felt like I was supposed to be with you. It’s why I was so upset when Mrs. Wagner tried to set me up on a date, and it wasn’t you. I wanted you so badly…but I also knew that I was supposed to be with you.”
“That doesn’t make sense either.”
“Obviously.” He chuckled.
Both of us laid there, curled up in each other’s arms, Lucas’ fingers trailing through my hair again as I nuzzled my head against his chest and I held myself against him with all my might. In the furthest reaches of my inner self, I knew that it wasn’t quite normal to have someone you barely knew feel like home. However, that same part of me told me that it wasn’t normal to reject something that felt like home, either. Everything about Lucas made me feel warm and safe and…like Rob. Everything I was felt tied to this person whom I had only known well for fewer days than I had fingers and toes. Lucas made me feel like I was really getting back to being Rob.
As I lay there, Lucas stroking my hair, wondering if Oma was going to come knocking on the door to ask if we were going to have dinner or at least text, I felt a nagging feeling in my gut. Surely, there was some way to figure out why I was having weird memories and dreams that didn’t make sense. If I couldn’t figure out why I was having them, maybe I could at least remember what the memories and dreams contained. As if testing a hypothesis, I reached up and laid my hand against Lucas’ cheek, trying to make it look like a loving gesture and nothing more. Lucas smiled at me and looked into my eyes.
Nothing.
How I felt about Lucas remained, but I didn’t get a flash of a memory or a weird jolt of feeling. We were simply in bed together, doing what couples in…what couples in love do. That thought was more telling than any memory or dream I could have and then remember. Since my experiment had half-failed and half-succeeded, I leaned up to give Lucas a soft kiss.
“I hope you never want to stop kissing me.” Lucas sighed as I pulled away.
“Highly unlikely,” I whispered. “Would you humor me if I wanted us to check something out?”
Lucas grinned evilly.
“Not that.” I laughed.
“Well,” He was still smiling, “then what?”
“I want to go to the football stadium.”
“Really?” Lucas cringed. “It’s like a three-and-a-half-hour drive to Athens, and I have to work at grandpa’s store tomorrow, babe, and—”
“Not Peden, silly.” I laughed.
“Well, Cincinnati is like four hours away, too.”
“Not Paul Brown, either.” I reached up and thumped him gently on the forehead. “The high school football stadium. I’m not crazy. I don’t think.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “But why?”
Another kiss.
“Maybe it will jog some memories that I can remember?”
“Even if it doesn’t, can we make out under the bleachers?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Of course.” I snorted. “But you have to let me look around first.”
“Can’t I get some head under the bleachers?”
“You’re pushing it, Lucas.”
He laughed loudly before giving me another kiss, this one a little more aggressive than the last. I tightened my arms around him as our lips pressed together, savoring our final few moments in bed together.
“Well,” he finally pulled away with a sigh, “if we’re going, let’s go. I want to get back in time to get head in bed.”
“You’re a horny bastard,” I shook my head. “And that rhymed.”
“What?” He winked. “You don’t want to?”
I just stared at him.
“Fine. Let’s go to the stadium, and we can go back to your place.”
“In case we get loud?” His eyebrows were wiggling again.
“Yes.”
Lucas pushed me away and bounced to the edge of the bed, quickly coming to stand beside it before buttoning his pants hurriedly. I watched as he found his shirt on the floor at the end of the bed and pulled it on. I’d never witnessed a man button a shirt so quickly. Once Lucas was pushing his feet back into his boots, he glanced up at me on the bed.
“Get moving, babe.” He urged me. “I want to get this over with so we can get back to having fun.”
“Going to the football stadium with me won’t be fun?”
“Going to my house with you will be more fun.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckled as I slid out of bed and did my pants up once again.
Lucas waited, semi-patiently, as I pulled on my shirt and shoved my feet into a pair of kicks, then raked my fingers through my hair. Luckily, my hair had been cut in a way that made it always look stylishly sloppy, so I didn’t have to try too hard to get it back into place. There was no set place for my hair. It did whatever it wanted to, and that was how it was supposed to look. I reached up to scratch my chin, feeling the beginnings of whiskers that would need to be shaved away soon. When I had shaved off my beard, I thought I was saving myself the trouble of trimming my beard regularly. Having to shave daily if I wasn’t going to have a beard was a task I had forgotten about after so long of not shaving.
Lucas grabbed my hand and pulled me in for another quick kiss, and then we exited the room together. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Ernst climbed out from underneath the bed. I’d hope he hadn’t just stayed under the bed and witnessed everything Lucas and I had done. Sexuality and sex were probably not as taboo with Kobolds, but I still didn’t want Ernst—or anybody really—witnessing what I did in my bedroom.
Down in the living room, once we had made our way down the stairs, I could hear Oma banging around in the kitchen. Literally. She was making much more noise than was necessary, which let me know that she was still agitated about the incident in the cellar. Instinctively, I wanted to go into the kitchen and hash things out with her. Whether we fought it out or hugged it out didn’t matter, just as long as we settled the tension. Taking the fight to Oma’s doorstep would mean delaying going to the football stadium, though. Lucas cringed as he looked at me and Oma banged things around.
“Oma!” I shouted. “We’re going out. I’ll be back later!”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” She snarled back.
Lucas cringed harder. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“She’s cussing at me. Things will be okay.” I winked at him.
Lucas produced a nervous smile and let me lead him to the door.
“Don’t worry.” I shrugged as I reached for the knob and opened the door. “Things always work out one way or another around here.”
Of course, when you least expect it, another assault comes. When I opened the door, that’s precisely what happened.
Chapter 8
“JACOB!”
“JACOB!”
“JACOB!”
“Over here, Jacob!”
The screams and flashes were coming from every direction. Lucas vapor locked in the doorway as the cameras went off and paparazzi screamed at me. Immediately, a friendly smile came to my face, and I affected my best “Friendly, Accessible Jacob Michaels” look I’d used with the paparazzi a million times before. Since I hadn’t stepped outside yet, I nudged Lucas away from the door and let the door swing shut. Then I locked the deadbolt and turned to my boyfriend as he stood in shock beside the now closed door.
Estimating from the c
rowd I saw outside of Oma’s door there had to have been at least twenty people waiting to scream a question at me or snap a photo. Automatically, I went into assessment mode, going through my head what happened from the time I opened the door until I had closed it. Lucas and I had been holding hands. No big deal there, everyone knew I was gay. They didn’t know I had a boyfriend, but that wasn’t that big of a deal, either. Unlike my heterosexual counterparts, the consensus was that if a celebrity was gay, people actually liked them more when they were in relationships, so it was a good thing that Lucas and I had been holding hands. I had smiled and had “twinkly, friendly eyes” for at least half of the photos, showing that once I was surprised by the paps, I had taken it in stride. Then I had shut the door without saying a word, so any made up quote could easily be fought by my team. Things had gone better than they should have.
“Babe?” Lucas peeped.
“Yeah?” I turned to him, chewing at my lip.
“What…the actual fuck?”
“I guess Sarah Jean phoned a friend.” I shrugged.
I shook my head, kicking Jacob Michaels out of my brain. In Point Worth, especially at Oma’s house, I was Robert Wagner. Robert Wagner did not stand in the foyer assessing a situation with the paparazzi. That was a Jacob Michaels activity, and I wanted no part of it.
“What the fuck is goin’ on out there?” Oma stomped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel.
“The reporters found Rob.” Lucas groaned.
“Paparazzi.” I corrected him. “Reporters don’t behave like that.”
“What?” Oma’s expression changed from angry with me to concerned for me. “Who found you?”
“You have a porch full of photographers.” I sighed. “I guess people finally found out that Jacob Michaels is in Point Worth visiting his grandmother.”
“Well, shit.” She slung the towel onto her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. “It was goddamn Sarah Jean Dennard. She’s like a Christmas Goose with a bell up her ass. Makin’ noise is all she does.”
“That was my assumption.” I nodded. “None of us are getting out of this house without them harassing us now.”
Lucas looked ashen but was slowly coming back to himself.
“Want to be my date to my next premiere?” I teased.
He turned green.
I took that as an outright rejection of my invitation.
“Sonsofbitches,” Oma grumbled as she stomped over to the closet stairs and nearly ripped the door off of its hinges. “I’ll be damned if a bunch of papa-whatevers are gonna park themselves on my porch rent free!”
“What are you gonna do?” I snorted. “Go out there and charge ‘em twenty fucks a gander?”
Oma turned her head to gawk at me.
“You think they’d pay that?” She asked.
“Of course not.” I laughed. “How did you not know that they were there anyway? Didn’t they knock or ring the bell or make enough noise to make you suspicious?”
“Someone’s been knockin’ every now and again for the last thirty minutes.” Oma went back to rummaging around in the closet. “Thought it was them damn Kelly kids—ugly assholes—or Wesley Dennard’s tubbly ass. I didn’t have time for none of that.”
Oma pulled her arms out of the closet, her shotgun in hand.
“Whoa, Mrs. Wanger!” Lucas put his hands up.
I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. “What are you gonna do, Oma? Shoot ‘em all like they’re looking for potatoes in your garden?”
Then I had a thought.
“Maybe I should call my publicist? Or manager?”
“While you’re doing that, I’m gonna see how many of these shitheads I can put in the hospital.” Oma waggled her head. “Or the morgue. Depends on how well they get low.”
“Oma.” I stepped in front of her, putting my hand on the shotgun. “You can’t shoot paparazzi. Well, you can’t shoot anyone without good cause.”
“I’m gonna tell ‘em to get off my private property.” She snapped, glancing at the door. “Then I’m gonna count to ten. If they ain’t gone, that ain’t my damn problem.”
“That’s not good enough.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Mrs. Wagner,” Lucas added, “you could get into real trouble.”
“From who?” She hooted. “Wesley Fatass Dennard? I know I won’t miss him. Wish to hell he’d come try to do something about me defending my property.”
“Get real, Oma.” I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t shooting the people on the porch, and you’re certainly not shooting the sheriff.”
“I got a golf club in the closet.” She suggested. “I can always go out there swinging with that if you think it’ll cause less trouble. Be fun to watch ‘em all scatter either way.”
“That is absolutely rid—”
Then I had another thought.
I looked over at Lucas, and he frowned at the expression on my face.
“Oma,” I said, “do you think you going out there with a shotgun will make them all run for it?”
“Unless they’re complete morons.” She snorted. “I mean, who don’t run when someone shoves a shotgun in their face?”
“Fair point.”
“You can’t let her go out there with a shotgun, Rob.” Lucas laughed nervously.
“Oma,” I continued quickly, “Lucas and I need to leave for a little bit. But we can’t go anywhere with all of them out there waiting to follow us. If you get them running for it, Lucas and I can jump in Opa’s truck and take off before they know it’s us. Well, me. They don’t care about Lucas. No offense.”
Lucas chewed at his lip while he thought this over.
“I mean,” Lucas spoke slowly, “as long as no one actually gets shot, that is okay with me. And it’ll probably work.”
“Of course it will!” Oma announced. “This ain’t the first time I’ve sent folks runnin’. By the time they know what happened you two can be long gone.”
Nothing like a common enemy to make Oma and I get along. If only for a brief period.
“Good.” I nodded as I pulled Lucas towards the kitchen. “After we’re gone and all of them have collected themselves and taken off, get all the bullets and give ‘em to Lena or Ernst and tell them to hide them. Just in case Sheriff Dennard does show up. Then you can claim you don’t even have bullets for the gun and he can’t get too mad.”
“Shells, ya’ asshole.” She frowned at me. “It’s a shotgun. My Glock forty-five takes bullets.”
“Whatever.” I waved her off and pulled Lucas into the kitchen before yelling back to Oma. “Count to ten and make ‘em scatter, Oma!”
“Like this is my first rodeo.” I heard Oma mutter under her breath.
Lucas stood by the kitchen table as I pulled the “catch-all” drawer out and quickly grabbed the key to Opa’s truck. Hopefully, the thing wasn’t frozen up due to the winter. Of course, Oma had used the truck to make trips into town during nasty weather or to go to Barkley’s, so I was pretty sure it would start up fairly quickly. Lucas and I headed to the backdoor and waited. When we heard the front door open, and Oma scream something unintelligible, then heard the sounds of people screaming, I pushed the backdoor open and pulled Lucas outside with me.
As we were running to the side of the house where Opa’s old truck was, I heard the first shotgun blast. I cringed internally, hoping Oma hadn’t aimed too well at anyone. Hopefully, she had fired the gun into the air off of the porch or just in the general direction of one of the photographers. Worrying about whether or not Oma had shot a trespassing paparazzo was not my business, however. Lucas pulled open the passenger door and jumped inside, slamming the door quickly behind himself. I rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, mimicking his actions.
As if the Gods of Luck were pissed at us, the truck didn’t do anything when I turned the key. I growled under my breath as I tried turning the key again. Another shotgun blast sounded in the distance.
“It�
�s a manual, Rob,” Lucas announced desperately, looking around. “You have to get it in neutral, push the clutch down and put your foot on the brake and—”
Lucas looked over to find me just staring at him.
“City boy.” He took a second to tease, though the worry didn’t leave his face.
Two seconds later, I was sliding over Lucas’ lap as he scooted across the truck into the driver’s seat. I plopped down into the passenger side of the bench seat, and another second later, the truck was roaring to life. Lucas gave me a nervous wink as he put the truck into gear and quickly got the truck turned around, aiming down the driveway. Then he gunned it. We sped down the driveway towards the front of the house as we bounced in our seats.
“Don’t hit anyone,” I begged him with clenched teeth.
“I’ll do my best.” He chuckled through a grimace.
As we passed the front of the house, I glanced over to see Oma standing at the base of the porch steps, the shotgun raised to the heavens as she fired one more time. The blast from the shotgun looked almost like an exploding firework in the dark as Lucas drove us away. Paparazzi were scattering everywhere, trying to figure out how to get to the plethora of cars parked in the driveway—which Lucas had to steer around to get us away from the scene of mayhem. Turning in my seat, I watched the paps running around crazily, trying to get into their cars as quickly as possible as Oma fired another shot off. I could practically see her cackling as she scared the paps. Lucas had us at the end of the driveway and turning onto the main road before I saw a single paparazzo make it into their car.
When we were clear of the driveway and free from the type of mayhem that only Oma could create, I turned around to face the windshield and sighed with relief. Lucas was shifting into another gear, the truck roaring and speeding up as we drove down the road away from Oma’s property. Silently, I said a prayer, thanking…whatever…for Oma’s skill at causing a scene worthy of any movie I’d ever been in before.
“Mrs. Wagner sure knows how to cause a ruckus.” Lucas laughed, sounding a lot less tense now that we were driving away.