Home Improvement — a Love Story

by Tara Lain

  He blew a soft razzberry. “Ellie, you make nearly straight As, you were sophomore president, and you still hold down a job. What college isn’t going to take you?”

  “You’re biased.” Still, she smiled.

  “Here we are.” He pulled into a small lot next to a sign for the Italian restaurant they’d picked, a few blocks from the arena where the concert was being held.

  As they parked, Ellie started waving like a fiend through the window as MaryAnn climbed out of a nearby car. An older woman in jeans and a tailored jacket got out of the back seat and walked to the truck while MaryAnn bounded over, and Ellie jumped out to give her a hug.

  Gabe slid out of the truck and smiled at the lady. “They’re pretty excited.”

  She turned out to be MaryAnn’s great-aunt and was satisfied when Gabe assured her that he’d keep an eye on MaryAnn and take her home afterward.

  The lady shook her head. “You certainly don’t look old enough to have a teenage daughter.”

  “She keeps me young.”

  “I think that’s the opposite of what they say about most teenage girls.”

  “She’s exceptional.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome to come and hang out with us while the girls are at the concert.”

  “No, actually Ellie insisted that I have to see the concert, so I have a ticket too.”

  She laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll need it.”

  What followed was a good dinner of decent Italian food, accompanied by a nonstop litany of history and praise about Jet Gemini. How tall he was—six foot one and a half. How much he weighed—156, which made him very slender. Previously, he’d been able to sit on his hair, but he’d cut a foot off of it a few months before and had sent the fan world into hysteria, but it ended up looking great.

  No tats. He was afraid of needles.

  He’d always wanted a cat but traveled so much, he didn’t want to leave it alone.

  Gabe managed to ask, “Where does he live?”

  MaryAnn said, “California, naturally.”

  Ellie nodded. “San Francisco, actually.”

  “Right, San Francisco.” MaryAnn said, “Did you see pictures of his place on TMZ? I died!”

  Apparently dying was good. “So how old is he?”

  “Oh, like twenty-five or something.”

  Ellie said, “Twenty-six.”

  Gabe struggled for more questions. “Is he married?”

  “No.” MaryAnn rested her cheek on her hand. “Never found the right girl.”

  Ellie said, “Some people say he’s gay.”

  MaryAnn snorted. “They’re just jealous of him.”

  Gabe cocked his head. “Jealous of his being gay?”

  “No, silly, they just don’t like how popular he is, so they spread rumors.”

  Ellie shrugged. “So what if he’s gay? Not like we’re going to get invited to be his girlfriend.”

  MaryAnn sighed dramatically. “I can dream.”

  Gabe laughed and looked at his watch. “We better get over there and find our seats. It’s a big place.”

  Ellie said, “Twelve thousand.”

  “And it’s sold out.” Gabe shook his head in amazement.

  “Oh yes, he sells out Madison Square Garden.”

  They found parking in the lot of the big arena that was on an off night for basketball, so it had been turned into a concert venue. After some thrashing around to find the right entrance, MaryAnn got directed one way and Gabe and Ellie the other.

  Gabe said, “Shall we come with you to find your seat?”

  MaryAnn shook her head. “I looked up the floor plan online. I know right where it is. I got a really good seat.”

  The two girls hugged, and MaryAnn hurried toward her entrance.

  Gabe led the way to their seats, which also turned out to be pretty good. They could see the stage clearly with no obstructions. It wasn’t close, but Ellie would be able to see her hero, at least, and hear the music.

  Ellie sat, but she was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Her phone dinged, and she looked at her screen. “OMG, MaryAnn’s in the third row.”

  “I guess her dad has some clout.”

  “No. It’s just harder to sell singles.”

  The lights went down, and after the audience was warned not to take pictures and to silence their cell phones, the warm-up act came out and started to perform. The four guys had a boy-band sound, and Gabe gazed around the arena in boredom.

  Ellie leaned over. “Sorry. They’re a little lame. I think the college must have chosen them; otherwise I don’t think they’d ever have gotten to open for Jet.”

  The four guys ran off the stage, and with no preamble, a huge anthem-like song began. Four men, dressed in variations on jeans and T-shirts and playing their instruments, were lowered on wires into the arena.

  Gabe whispered, “Which one’s Jet?”

  “None of them yet.”

  When the other musicians touched the ground, a big tower in the middle of the stage rotated open to reveal a man. From where they were, Gabe could make out that the guy was tall and slim, but mostly it was about the hair. Shimmering pale hair, like somebody had captured moonlight, flew around his head, blown by a wind machine.

  And then he began to sing.

  Holy shit. His voice, kind of high, kind of mellow, but with an edge and rasp that cut through and scraped along the nerves like a cat’s tongue, filled the entire arena.

  Ellie leaned over and grinned. “That’s Jet Gemini.”

  “I guessed.”

  Jet Gemini sang his way through the first song while descending the steps of the huge tower, but he didn’t walk. Hell no. He slithered, he gyrated, he slunk. He’d take a step down, then twist himself so he was leaning so far over backward it was a miracle he didn’t pop a vertebra. Then he’d spin and run up three stairs, then slide his way down again.

  The man could dance and move like he invented the concept, but what he really cornered the market on was sex. Every undulation, every twitch, reeked of carnal knowledge. Gabe wanted to hide Ellie’s eyes—except if he stood up, his erection would have knocked over the women in the next row.

  The girls in the audience screamed so loud, it was hard to hear anything but the bass line and the drums. Still, Gabe couldn’t take his eyes from the rubber band of a body that managed to make you wish you were tied up.

  He put his program on his lap to cover the evidence. His condition made him feel stupid. Who gets a hard-on for a rock star? Come on, I know better than that kind of fantasyland. But no amount of yelling at himself made a difference, since el boner wasn’t going anywhere until Jet Gemini stopped strutting around the stage like a living wet dream.

  After a bunch of songs, all of which Gabe liked a lot in all the wrong ways, they took a break for intermission. Gabe said, “How about I get some ice cream for our dessert?”

  “That would be great, but first tell me how you like it.”

  “Oh, I love the music. It’s, uh, original.”

  She frowned. “Is that another word for crappy?”

  “No, honestly, I like it. A lot!”

  He stood, still holding his program strategically, although his condition had improved. Ellie looked a little less disappointed, though not satisfied, but he really needed to walk and breathe before the second half. “Let me get the ice cream, and then we can talk more.”

  He hurried to the busy refreshment stand and got two ice cream bars, then added a third, thinking MaryAnn would probably show up during intermission. He should pack his dick in the three freezing desserts. It might get the thing under control.

  When he carried the bars back to their seats, sure enough, MaryAnn was sitting in his seat, and the two girls were talking like they got paid for it. He distributed the ice cream.

  MaryAnn said, “Thank you, Mr. Mason. I’ve got an idea. You know, my seat’s really good. Why don’t you go down there and I’ll stay here
with Ellie.”

  “I don’t want to take your great seat.”

  “No, like, really, it would be fun, because then I can talk to Ellie and you get to see the show close-up. You’ll like it. Seriously.”

  Some sensible piece of his brain wanted to run out of the arena and hide in the truck until this ordeal was over. It wasn’t that the show was X-rated or something he didn’t want his kid to see. No, this was personal. Somehow Jet Gemini pushed every one of Gabe’s buttons, tweaked every fantasy, and vibrated through him like his own private melody. But no way could he walk out. In fact, he couldn’t seriously turn down the chance to see this guy closer.

  Hell, he was practically drooling.

  He swallowed. “You sure?” He looked at Ellie. “Why don’t you go take a closer look?”

  For a second, MaryAnn looked uncertain. Sitting with her best friend’s father clearly wasn’t what she had in mind, but she rallied and clapped her hands together. “You could, like, for serious, El. I mean, I was so close I could, like, see his eyes.”

  Ellie gripped her sweater in her fist. “Oh, those eyes. Amazing.” Then she shrugged. “But I think Dad should go. Then we can gang up and plot world domination.”

  MaryAnn looked a little relieved, and Gabe fought the whirlwind of elation in his gut. Getting to do his salivating in private and up close sounded like a dream.

  He leaned against the seat in front of them and finished his ice cream while the girls compared enthusiastic notes. When the lights flashed, he collected their sticks and wrappers. “Okay, so you two sure you don’t want to change your minds?”

  “No, we’re good.” Ellie grinned.

  MaryAnn told him the seat number and pointed down to the front, two sections over. “Down there.”

  “Guess I’m going.”

  Ellie gave him the side-eye. “Just don’t become a rock-star groupie, Dad.”

  “Oh, thanks a bunch.”

  Ellie snorted, and MaryAnn obviously didn’t get the joke. She knew Ellie’s dad was gay, but it probably didn’t occur to her that an old guy would find her heartthrob sexy too.

  Gabe slid out of the row, which was filling up again, walked to the top of the aisle, dumped the trash, then hurried to the designated aisle two sections over and stepped his way down and down to the third row. Hellfire, talk about great seats. First row probably didn’t see as well since it was so flat. The third row was perfect. He scooted in and sat.

  A dark-haired girl with a lot of tattoos next to him said, “Oh, sorry. There’s a girl sitting here.”

  “Yes, I know. We traded seats.”

  She barked a laugh. “Seriously? Were you sitting on the stage or something?”

  He smiled. “I was sitting with my daughter. She’s my daughter’s best friend, and they wanted to sit together.”

  She narrowed her eyes but grinned. “Hey, man, who’d know you could have a daughter old enough to see the Jet.”

  “Yep, it amazes me too.”

  The lights started to dim, and Gabe drew a big breath.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IN THE blackness surrounding Gabe, Jet Gemini’s voice, alone and clear as crystal, filled the arena and slid down Gabe’s spine like cool syrup all the way to his groin. Nobody could say the guy got by on his hair. Hell, he could sing your ass off.

  Gabe snorted at himself. That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Slowly, the lights came up, and the instruments picked up the melody. Jet stood in a spotlight, his head forward and his hair forming a curtain around his face.

  A few girls started to scream, but they got shushed by other members of the audience, and the huge crowd became nearly still.

  Jet began to sing in his pure voice about love that mended and never ended, a ballad that started in a mournful cadence but picked up and wrapped itself in joy. He swirled and spun, arms extended, hair whipping, his torso bare except for a silk vest with a huge red rose embroidered on it.

  Gabe’s heart thumped so loudly it should have added to the percussion of the music, and as the crescendo built, it seemed to live in his groin, throbbing and stretching.

  Gemini stopped whirling and drew his hands beside his face to pull the hair aside. As the last notes faded, he raised his face, eyes closed, to the light, the flash of the spot reflecting on his perfect cheekbones. Breaking a smile, he opened his eyes and looked into the sea of passionate fans—

  —and Gabe almost lost his ice cream. He pressed forward in his seat, and his lips formed the word: “Jerry.”

  His heart stopped for a second, then slammed against his ribs in a rush of adrenaline. Nuts. Crazy. Of course it’s not Jerry. Just somebody who….

  But even if every detail of Jet Gemini’s beautiful face hadn’t been identical, those eyes didn’t lie. One blue, one green.

  Gabe collapsed back in his seat, trying to take in enough oxygen. He wanted to jump up, run out, pound on something, but sliding past a whole row of avid fans sounded craptastic. I don’t get it. I’ve been played. But why? What possible use could I be to a world-famous rock star?

  Nothing quite made sense. Maybe Gemini was trying to get Gabe’s help for the best price? But fuck, why would he want Gabe at all? He could have fifty guys, a hundred of the best craftsmen, working on his house. Why the fuck was Jet Gemini sleeping on a mattress on the floor and living on pizza? It has to be a mistake. Jet has a twin. That’s it. Jerry’s his wacko twin.

  But the eyes. They had to be so rare. Would even identical twins both have those eyes?

  The dark girl in the next seat cast a glance at him, then leaned down. “You okay? Are you sick or something?”

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Just a little light-headed. Not a lot of air.” He tried to smile.

  “Yeah, he has that effect.” She winked. “Tell me if you need help. I’ll be glad to give you mouth-to-mouth.” She laughed and went back to whistling and screaming at Jet Gemini, but in Gabe’s brain it was like someone had done a film overlay, and the top image blurred the one underneath. Gabe kept trying to make sense of tongue-tied Jerry with his shy smile stalking around the stage like a caged lion—growling, thrusting his hips, and tossing his hair. It made him dizzy even attempting to bring the two wildly opposite ideas together. His stomach flipped and shot a sour taste into his mouth.

  Before he knew, he was moving. People were yelling and smacking at him as he pushed his way in front of them. After a couple of yells from people with hurt toes, he made it to the aisle and stopped, swallowing hard.

  He couldn’t help it. He wanted to keep running, but he looked back toward the stage. It might have been his imagination, but Jet Gemini was staring right at him.

  Nonsense. The lights were too bright—weren’t they?

  But Jet stopped singing, just for a second, a breath. Probably more imagination. Probably he meant to pause there. Probably the fact that his lead guitarist gave him a startled look didn’t mean anything. He seemed to blink and picked the melody back up so fast no one would know he’d stopped to look at Gabe.

  Right, because he didn’t.

  Get the fuck out of here. Gabe hurried up the aisle and through the doors into the outside hallway. He wanted to keep on running straight to the truck, but he was afraid he wouldn’t find the girls in the crowd, and they might not remember where the truck was parked in the big lot. Instead, he started walking around the circular hallway.

  About halfway around the big circle, a security guard flagged him. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Gabe grimaced. “Sorry. I brought my daughter and her best friend to see the concert. I, uh, just didn’t have the same reaction they did, so I was taking a break.”

  The guard chuckled. “Man, I can get with that. You should hear some of the gar-bage I have to listen to on this job.”

  “But then the rest of the time you get to watch basketball, so I’m not crying for you.”

  They both laughed.

  Gabe said, “Anyway, I’m getting in my 10K steps while I wait.”

>   “Good plan. Excellent.” He gave Gabe a pat on the arm, and Gabe kept walking. After a few steps, he let go of the smile. Now if he could just let go of his thoughts.

  He rounded a turn and there was no one. Aside from the muted music drifting in from behind the wide doors, the hall was quiet. He stopped and leaned against the wall.

  Assuming this was what it appeared to be—some kind of joke, if not a scam—the next question was what should he do? Jerry, who apparently was Jet Gemini no matter how insane that idea was, was also Gabe’s client. One he’d spent a lot of time on, to say nothing of a lot of Jerry’s money.

  He gently banged his head against the wall. “So what do I say to him?” With a push, he launched himself from the wall and kept walking. Do I pretend like I don’t know? Chances are he didn’t really see me.

  Craptastic idea. Jerry wasn’t just a client. Gabe cared about him. Or maybe better to say he had cared about him. Maybe even for him. How did he ignore the kiss they’d shared? The way Jerry made him feel? To get to work on that house and save up more of Ellie’s college tuition, was he willing to become a liar?

  A huge explosion of applause poured from behind the doors. A minute later, one door opened and a couple hurried out, heading toward the exit. Probably wanting to be first out of the parking lot.

  Get back. He turned and hurried toward the door where the girls would come out. As he passed the entrances, he could hear an encore going on.

  At the correct entrance, he slipped inside and stood by the door, trying not to watch. No chance. He walked a few steps forward and stared at the stage. From that distance, the singer could be more Jet Gemini than Jerry Castor.

  Wait, Castor. Wasn’t he the twin of Pollux? Twin. Gemini. Shit.

  He turned and walked back out the door to the hall. Suspending his brain for ten minutes, he waited while the music gave way to more clapping. The double doors swung open, and a flood of people poured out, laughing, chattering, and squealing. A minute later, Ellie walked through with MaryAnn behind her.