Home Improvement — a Love Story

by Tara Lain

  The man—did he say Jorge?—kept talking. He seemed nervous. But what was he saying? Jerry glanced around again. No sign of Gabe. “So where is Gabe?”

  “Uh, I guess he’s at work. He said he left you a report. Didn’t you see it?”

  “No. No report.”

  “Did you look in the bedroom he finished for you?”

  “What?”

  Jorge was looking confused and… patient. “The bedroom? Upstairs? The master isn’t done because of the bathroom build-out, so Gabe got one of the guest rooms ready for you. Uh, he worked really hard to—”

  Jerry jumped off the couch and started running toward the stairs.

  Jorge muttered behind him, “I guess that’s a no on having looked in the bedroom.”

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Jerry made it to the second floor. He stared into the guest room across from the staircase. Floors and walls done, but empty.

  On his left, he peered into the bathroom with the soaking tub. Holy crap. It was gorgeous. There were even towels. Big, fluffy dark-green towels.

  Turning quickly, he took the four steps to the door of the next guest room—and stopped.

  If the bathroom had been great, this was—no words. Beautiful jewel-colored rugs dotted the maple floors, drapes and sheer curtains stretched across the whole back wall, and the room was dominated by a king-size bed made up with crisp sheets that probably had a million thread count and a quilt in muted silk folded across the foot.

  I could have slept here last night in this perfect haven that Gabe made for me.

  Heat stung the back of his eyes, and he inhaled and blinked. All he wanted was to curl up in that cozy nest—preferably not alone. He strode closer, and that’s when he saw the papers lying on the cover.

  He stopped. It’s a report. A schedule. That’s what Jorge said, right? But it didn’t feel right. Hadn’t Jorge said something about a to-do list and taking it over? The words good start trickled into Jerry’s mind.

  He didn’t want to look at the papers, but he sighed and picked up the top page. Carefully typed and printed, it was headed “Interim Report: Renovation of South Mountain Property for Jerry Castor, aka Jet Gemini.”

  Shit. He didn’t want to read any further.

  But he did.

  The report listed every action that had been undertaken, its state of completion, and the precise expenditures made in pursuit of that aspect of the renovation. It went on for pages, listing every charge and purchase down to the penny.

  In a separate document, he detailed Jorge Alvarez’s credentials and cited his trust in his abilities. He recommended that Jerry keep Jorge as supervisor.

  Last, he’d attached his final bill. It was a lot, but compared to the work that had been done, the bill was a pittance. Only the furniture he’d provided—the dining table, three bookcases, the credenza, a bedframe, and the perfect coffee table—were charged at what Jerry thought of as a fair price. At least he respects his own art.

  Jerry sat on the bed. It was wildly comfortable, but not as much of a haven as it had felt a few minutes before. Choices. He could lie down and go back to sleep. Let events unfold as they’d been so meticulously planned. Chances were good that Gabe wouldn’t tell anyone who Jerry was, and Jerry would never have to see Gabe Mason ever again. Yeah, sleeping was an option.

  GABE LEANED against the shelves on aisle eighteen, pulled his phone from his pocket, and glanced around. It was a slow day. He should check out lumber and see if he could help over there, but first….

  He clicked on the links that had become pretty familiar in the last week—the gossip and so-called entertainment news sites. With a deep inhale, he tapped in Jet Gemini. True, it was pretty unlikely that there was anything new since the last time he’d searched a few hours before. In fact, he got a story he’d seen promoted on one of the other pages he’d looked at. It was a story about Jet and his band at a club in New York. It showed a photo of Jet sitting on a couch with a beautiful woman on each side. He had a glass in his hand, his head was thrown back, and he was laughing.

  Man, he was gorgeous—and lying through his gorgeous teeth. Not only was he someone other than who he’d told Gabe he was, but also, as far as Gabe could tell, he wasn’t shy in any way, and despite one very memorable kiss, Jerry Castor wasn’t gay.

  Gabe sighed and ran his thumb across his phone screen. Shit, I’m not usually an effing masochist.

  “Gabe?”

  Gabe looked up at Harry as he clicked his phone off. “Yeah, sorry. Just checking some stuff. Slow as maple syrup in Canada today.”

  “He’s back.”

  “What? Who?”

  “The weird guy. Weren’t you doing some work for him?”

  Stomach to the floor, heart in the throat. “Where?”

  “Uh, I told him to wait over on sixteen.”

  “Look, I don’t really want to see him. We didn’t end up too well. So would you tell him I’m working on a project offsite? Just get rid of him? Sorry to ask you to lie, but I’ll go back to lumber, and that’s kind of offsite, so it’s not too bad.”

  “Jeez, Gabe, can’t you just talk to him? I think I scare the shit out of him.”

  “You don’t. Trust me. He’ll be fine.” He took a few steps backward. “See, I’m heading offsite.” Gabe turned and practically ran toward lumber. When he got to the end of the aisle, he looked back and saw Harry walking in the opposite direction, but he glanced back once with a really grumpy expression. Man, I’m gonna owe him.

  Gabe waited on a couple of people in lumber and then started cutting two-bys, an activity that was soothing. He could be useful and focused and not have to think. Thinking was the enemy. Unfortunately, he was under enemy attack.

  Why did Jerry come here? Maybe he should rephrase that—why did Jet come here? What could he possibly hope to accomplish? What does he want from me?

  Just run the saw.

  An hour later, he’d cut so much lumber, he was running out of space to store it, so he gave up and pulled off his safety goggles and gloves. He waved to the guy coming on the late shift as he walked back to his own department.

  It was close to quitting time. Maybe he’d stop and get some takeout for him and Ellie and—he paused in the middle of the aisle.

  Sad. He felt sad. How strange.

  He shook his head and continued to the department counter. He stopped and checked the computer, then fished his windbreaker out of the drawer of the desk.

  “Gabe?”

  Gabe caught his breath because he didn’t even have to look to know whose voice that was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BRAIN EXPLOSION.

  Jerry Castor had been waiting for him for almost two hours.

  Gabe turned and frowned. “What?”

  “Hi.”

  There he was. Stupid cap. Stupid sunglasses. Shoulders stooped in that shy, diffident way. Stupid way.

  “What the fuck, Jerry? What’s with the stupid act?”

  He glanced around nervously. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”

  “No. What’s there to talk about?” It was Gabe’s turn to glance around. For the first time that day, he was glad it was so slow. “I don’t get it. Why the hell would you want to take the time and energy to con me, of all people? Jesus, why didn’t you just buy the store? Then you’d have owned me.” He paced a couple steps, then turned back. “And why did you come to ImproveMart to buy some drawer pulls? Couldn’t you have sent ten employees? They could each have carried one knob home.” His voice kept rising, and he tried to control it. “Living on pizza? Bullshit. Do you know we were all worried that you’d spent your last dime on that wreck of a house, and we thought your credit card wouldn’t work, and I was trying to hire people who’d charge you the best rates so you didn’t go bankrupt? Damn, Jerry, why? Why’d you do it?”

  Jerry stared at the floor and mumbled something.

  “Fuck, I can’t hear you when you pretend to be some social misfit.”

  Slowly, Jerry loo
ked up and pulled off the glasses. His two-color eyes met Gabe’s. “I am a misfit. I can’t be who I am because no one wants him, and the one everyone wants lives a life I hate.” Gabe’s face must have shown his cynicism, because Jerry said, “I know, poor little rich boy. So misunderstood.” He sucked in a long inhale. “I let you think those things because no one else ever cared enough to think them before.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and held it out to Gabe. “Thank you.”

  Gabe stared at it. “What?”

  “Payment of your invoice.”

  “Okay.” He took it. “You should let Jorge stay on.”

  “Sure. I already told him. I appreciate you taking so much time from Ellie. Give her my best.”

  He turned and started walking toward the front of the store where the exit doors were, perfect ass in baggy sweats flexing.

  “Jet, look over here!” The shout was accompanied by flashing lights, and suddenly four people, three men and a woman, came running toward Jerry. The woman held a microphone out in front of her, and a guy with a video camera chugged behind her. The other two both flashed expensive cameras.

  Jerry’s expression looked panicked, and his arm came up to hide his face. He bumped against the shelves beside him and stumbled. The woman shoved the mic in his face as he tried to catch himself. “Jet, what are you doing in ImproveMart? Have you got a girlfriend near here? Are you trying to show the world what a regular guy you are?”

  One of the men yelled, “Jet, what’s with the cap. Come on, show us your hair.”

  As the vultures closed in on Jerry, Gabe’s feet moved on their own. He rushed forward and put himself in front of Jerry, who cowered against the shelves.

  “Get away from him. Stop harassing our customer. Please leave.”

  Cameras flashed in his face. Gabe grabbed Jerry and, using his shoulder to block the reporters, rushed Jerry from the store. Outside, he said, “Run. Come on.”

  They broke into a fast canter, and Gabe led the way to his truck. The reporters were after them, but he unlocked the doors from several yards away, and they each dove into a side. Gabe clicked the locks and had the engine revved and them moving before the photographers could even get a picture, much less reach a vehicle.

  As they raced out of the parking lot, Gabe said, “We’ll go to my place. It’s closer, and they’re likely to see us on the freeway if we drive all the way to Ashland.”

  Jerry just nodded, but his hands were clenched in his lap, and the guy looked freaked.

  “How in the hell did they know you were there?”

  He sighed. “Someone in the store must have recognized me and called them.”

  “Seriously? Who’d do that?”

  “Lots of people, I guess.”

  Gabe said, “Does this happen to you all the time?”

  Jerry shook his head. “It happens to Jet all the time.”

  “Uh, you are Jet.”

  “I know.” He didn’t say anything else. He just closed his eyes and rested his head against the window.

  Ten minutes later, Gabe pulled into his own driveway, looked up and down the street and saw nothing out of the usual, then got out, walked to the passenger door, and tapped against the glass.

  Jerry’s head popped up, and Gabe opened the door. “Come on in.”

  Jerry slid out of the truck, but he looked like somebody had beat on him with a stick. The cap sat cockeyed on his head, and his sunglasses were askew. Gabe walked beside him to the front door, then opened it and gestured for Jerry to go in.

  When Gabe followed, he found Ellie sitting at the dining room card table, her laptop open in front of her, staring at Jerry with her mouth open.

  Gabe grinned at her stunned expression. “Ellie, you remember Jerry Castor.”

  She nodded, but her wide eyes narrowed. “Hello.”

  Jerry glanced up at Gabe like maybe he wanted rescuing, but Gabe said nothing. He really wanted to see what Jerry would do next.

  Jerry’s chest expanded as he visibly took a breath, then walked over and slid into the chair beside Ellie. “Did you come to the concert too?”

  She looked confused, but she nodded.

  “It was your birthday, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you enjoyed it.” He smiled shyly.

  For a second she just gazed at him. Easy to understand. Even behind sunglasses, that was quite a face. Then her eyebrows lowered. “I did until my dad told me that you were the person who’d been pretending to be his friend and he had no idea why you’d done it.”

  From where he stood, Gabe could see that Jerry held her gaze. “I wasn’t pretending. I am—I hope I am—your dad’s friend.”

  “But you lied to him.”

  “Not exactly. My name is Jerry Castor—legally. My own brother calls me Jerry. When I met Gabe, I….” He ran a hand over his head, pulled off the cap, and let the world-famous moonlight-blond hair fall around his shoulders and down his back.

  Ellie actually gasped.

  He looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

  Gabe said, “Ellie, why don’t we let Jerry go sit on the couch and watch TV while we make dinner? Then he can tell us whatever he wants to.”

  She looked torn. Poor Ellie. Of course, she wanted to gush over her hero, but she wanted to be loyal to her father too.

  Jerry held up a hand. “I don’t want to keep you from your dinner, but I want to say that when I met Gabe, I wasn’t looking for a friend. I just wanted some drawer pulls.” He looked up at Gabe and then back at Ellie. “Then I met your dad, and he was so kind and nice to me, and he didn’t know who I was.” His voice rose. “I was trying to have a life. A life of my own. No one knows about my house, and when I met Gabe, he seemed like someone who could help me without my having to reveal my private place to all the people who take care of Jet.” His Adam’s apple bounced. “I didn’t mean to lie or hurt anyone. Especially not you.” He looked up at Gabe. “But I couldn’t imagine that you’d care if I was Jet Gemini or Mickey Mouse.” He stared at his hands, the glowing hair covering his face. “I’m so sorry.”

  Gabe gazed at Ellie. He didn’t want to take the decision on forgiveness away from her.

  Ellie said, “So are you really shy and tongue-tied?”

  “Yes, but it’s made a lot worse because I know that most people could recognize me, and then I get chased and photographed, and I don’t have any freedom or personal life.” He dug his fingers into the mane of hair and pulled it off his forehead, then let it go. He looked so sad a person would have to be a real hardass to stay mad.

  “You should have been honest with my dad and not let him think you were a regular guy who blew all his money on a run-down property.”

  Jerry looked up at Gabe. “You thought that?”

  Gabe nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I gave you the card. Did you think it wasn’t good or something?”

  “Yeah. I’d never seen the black card before. That’s not your fault, I realize.”

  Jerry half smiled. “I really loved that you were looking out for my budget so carefully. No one ever does that. I didn’t know you were being so cost conscious because you thought I was broke.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Gabe pointed toward the couch. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”

  Jerry stood from the dining room chair. Suddenly, he touched the card table. “Wait. You gave me your table. I didn’t mean for you to do that.”

  Ellie said, “That’s okay, Jerry. We always meant to sell it. We were just using it until we had a buyer.” She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, we were super careful.”

  He smiled softly. “I really love it.”

  “Good.” She stood up, all lady-of-the-house efficiency. “Go rest while we make some dinner. Dad says you eat way too much pizza.”

  “Well, I guess he’d be right about that.” He gave Gabe another of those shy smiles. “But I do like pizza a lot.”

  Ellie grinned. “That just means you’re smart.” She w
alked toward the kitchen.

  Jerry said, “I’d like to help make dinner too.”

  “Oh.” Ellie looked surprised. “Okay. Dad, you guys make salad.”

  She started banging pots and pans, and for the first time, Gabe looked at Jerry head-on. They were both standing, and Jerry’s unique eyes were almost on a level with Gabe’s.

  “You’re tall.”

  “Almost six-two.” Jerry spoke quietly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to lie to you.”

  Gabe raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, I knew I was hiding a part of my life, of myself, from you, but I didn’t exactly think of it as a lie. More like a sin of omission. It was so much fun having someone who just treated me like everyone else. Like a regular person. I thought of telling you about, you know, Jet, but I couldn’t bring myself to spoil everything.” He stared at his feet.

  Gabe frowned. “But like I said before, you are Jet.”

  “Not really. I mean, Jet’s an act. I’m me.”

  “Seriously? Don’t you spend more time doing your so-called rock-star act than being the shy, pizza-eating nerd we know and love?”

  “You do?” Dimples flashed in his lean cheeks, and then he dropped his eyes. “That was why I bought the house. To try and have some private life.” His light brows pulled together. “But they’re everywhere. No one lets me just live.” He glanced up. “Sorry. Poor me again.”

  “I’ve got to admit, those reporters were crazy.”

  Jerry nodded. “Let’s make salad.” He walked to the kitchen via the piano and ran his hand over the keys.

  As they ripped prewashed lettuce, Ellie asked, “So how the heck did you become Jet Gemini?”

  “My brother.”

  Ellie said, “Freedom?”

  “Yeah. Fred.”

  “Seriously, that’s his name?”

  “Yep.”

  “So how did he make you Jet Gemini?”

  Jerry leaned against the counter. “When I was little, I could sing.”