by Piper Rayne
“No, Mike, I’m not. Unlike you, some men don’t mind talking about their feelings.”
He shakes his head. “And to think my dick twitched when I first saw you. My balls had it right. They screamed, ‘Stay the fuck away, she’ll bust us to pieces.’”
I roll my eyes. “Just do your job, Mike, and I’ll do mine.”
He pretends to salute, and heads to someone else with a mic backstage.
Leo walks over from where he was playing with the dogs. “Ex, I presume?” He stands close to me for the first time today and per usual, his smell intoxicates me.
“Yeah, can you smell the animosity in the air?”
He knocks shoulders with me. “You can do better.” His voice has a hard edge to it.
I wave him off. “It was college. We tried long-distance, but…”
“Yeah, those never do work as well as you think.” He focuses on the stage in front of us. “Don’t get too upset, your prince will show up one day.”
Mike waves Leo over and he steps away to head on stage.
A bustle of activity happens on the set and before I can snap my fingers, Leo is out on stage, shaking hands with the hosts.
Mike comes to stand beside me and presses his hand to his ear set. “Get him mic’d and here in one minute or it’s over.” He glances to me at his side. “I hope you’re not committing career suicide here.” His eyebrows rise and I want to pour wax on them, ripping each hair out as slowly and painfully as I can.
Leo’s smiling with the hosts, making them laugh, sitting on a stool in his usual easy manner when Oscar appears beside me.
“Hey,” I say.
He’s dressed to the nines in a paisley shirt, maroon suit. So opposite to Leo’s casual jeans and button-down shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled up.
“I’m just glad I made it.” He looks on set, sees Leo and his lips widen like they should when you’re looking at the one you love.
A woman comes over and rushes to mic him and then the segment starts. My stomach topples and turns as if I’m sitting on a rollercoaster and I step to the edge of the backstage to get an up-close view.
“Our next guest styles dog clothes for the rich and famous in L.A. His store Canine Couture is the go-to for many of Hollywood A-listers and their fur babies,” the pregnant host says.
“I caught a glimpse of him backstage,” the other host says. “If you didn’t know better you’d think he was a model or actor himself.” The two hosts share a laugh.
Leo is shaking his head and then the female host holds her hand out. “Welcome, Leo Vaughn.”
The camera zooms in on him and his smile and I’m completely captivated.
“Tell us, Leo, how did you start making doggy clothes?”
Leo tells the story about his mother the seamstress, endearing both hosts to him immediately, and I second-guess having Oscar join him on stage. Don’t get me wrong, if Leo weren’t openly gay I would never have even considered asking Oscar to be here. I just thought it might add to his likeability factor. But maybe the public doesn’t need a glimpse into Leo’s personal life to gain traction with the public. He’s already likeable.
“I think I’d love to meet your mother one day,” the pregnant host says.
“I just got word that we have a surprise guest here. Leo’s partner for many years is backstage. Do we want to meet the man behind the man?” the blonde host says, and someone walks in front of the live audience, raising their hands for them to clap.
The audience hollers and claps while Leo tries to see backstage, but my guess is the lights are making it difficult.
“Come on out, Oscar Reyes,” the one host says and Oscar’s hand rises in the air as he beelines for Leo.
“From the look on his face, I’d say you made the wrong decision.” Mike leans in close, ridiculing me once more.
The problem is, he’s right. Leo’s smile has turned tight and forced. Oscar sits down next to Leo and puts his arm on the back of the couch.
“So how long have you guys been together?”
“Six years, right?” Oscar says, leaning in closer to Leo.
“We’ve been working partners for six, yes, but—”
“And Oscar makes the appliqués, right? Let’s see some of your styles.” The red-haired host waves her hand to start the dog parade.
Each dog comes out and Leo plays along, explaining what each style is and the perfect dog it fits. Oscar busies himself talking to the other host, the two laughing to one another.
The lights shift and Leo’s gaze shoots to mine, a scowl on his face right before he smiles when the host says goodbye. He shakes hands with each host but doesn’t wait for Oscar before he stomps off stage straight to me.
“Why is he here?” His voice is so cold and distant that I know I’ve made a huge mistake.
“I thought it would be good to get a glimpse into your personal life and—”
“Oscar isn’t my personal life. Where…” His fingers thread through his hair. “Fuck, are you kidding me? You too?”
My eyes widen. “Me what?”
People backstage are starting to watch and Leo notices it, so he grabs my hand, leading me down the hall. The room we were in earlier is vacant, so he walks us in and then slams the door, letting go of me. “You believe the rumors? The bullshit that people throw out there?”
“What are you talking about? I thought you were with Oscar.”
He steps closer to me. “How could I be with Oscar when I’m not fucking gay?”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes and it takes me a moment to respond, everything from the past several weeks whirling through my mind at once. “But the article…?”
He lets go of another huge breath. “The bullshit article where I was just taking a friend home? Oscar’s always handsy when he drinks and we’re friends, so I tolerate it. He loves that a lot of people assume I’m gay and that the joke is at my expense, so he does whatever he can to exacerbate the situation.”
“What about your ex Alex? And the package delivered to your house? Or the guy on the beach who knew you? John’s comments after the article?” I’m thinking out loud, but when my gaze floats up to meet his, the weight of what I did hits me with a crushing blow.
He’s straight and I’m a fucking idiot.
I let all the rumors cloud what I saw and it led me to misinterpret everything.
“Let me ask you a question. Does this have anything to do with why you told me you wanted to put more space between us last night?” he asks, stepping close.
“I’m working for you. It’s not right,” I say in a small voice.
“Not because you made the very wrong assumption that I was gay?” He stands almost chest-to-chest with me.
My nipples pebble, my breath comes in short, shallow spurts.
“I didn’t want to keep wanting you,” I almost whisper.
His lips crush mine, his arm sliding around my waist while he spins me until my back hits the door. Our hands are frantic, our mouths devouring one another and I raise my leg, wrapping it around his thick thigh while my arms entwine around his neck, holding him to me.
He pulls away. “I’m still fucking pissed, but I’m glad I got that out of my system.” He slides me to the side of the door, grabs the doorknob and leaves.
I let my head fall back against the wall, my eyes shut, my hands covering my face.
“Told you he’s straight,” Mike chimes in from the hallway and I kick the door shut.
17
Leo
I can’t believe it. Teegan thinks I’m gay.
Not that it would be a big deal if I were. I have lots of gay friends. But I’m not. And let’s just say it’s a bit of a ball-buster when the girl you’re into believes that you aren’t heterosexual.
All of this explains her hot and cold behavior.
I’m out of the studio and halfway down the block when I dial up Jagger.
“I feel oddly offended that I had to find out about you and Oscar on the morni
ng show,” Jagger says when he picks up and then laughs.
Any guilt I had about calling him so early vanishes. “I should’ve called Vance.”
“And wake up the kids? Although Bianca’s not too happy right now. Ouch. Sorry, Brianna.”
I roll my eyes. “Can you fucking believe it?” I ask.
His winded breaths and the padding of his footsteps tells me he’s already on his treadmill getting in his cardio for the day.
“Yes, I can. You put yourself in stupid positions, man. You should have come out of the closet a long time ago.”
“Jag, fuck off.”
“What I meant was that you should’ve come out of the heterosexual closet a long time ago. You’ve always kept a closed lid on the subject, leaving a lot of people to wonder whether you were or weren’t. Once you stopped dating altogether because of that crazy bitch, Yvette, you sealed your fate.”
He has a point. I’ve always remained so hell-bent on it being no one’s business—because really, why should it matter to anyone?—I’ve allowed people to make their own assumptions. After a bad experience with a stalker/wanna be actress named Yvette I decided to lay low for a while. Have you ever seen the movie Wedding Crashers? Remember the red head Vince Vaughn bangs? Case in point.
“But Teegan? I thought we were on the same wavelength. That we were keeping our distance out of professional respect. But now I think it was because she thought I was gay.” I walk into a coffee shop to grab some caffeine to keep my brain sharp, so I can work all of this out in my head.
“Are you sure? Maybe she doesn’t feel anything for you.” He presses some buttons on his treadmill and the sound of his steps slow.
“I kissed her in the greenroom. She wants me.” I remember the small moan in the back of her throat when our tongues touched and the way she used her leg to press me in closer to her. There’s no way I mistook any of that.
He laughs. “Then why the hell are you talking to me right now?”
I cover up the mic. “Tall black, please.” Then back to Jagger. “Because I’m pissed. I’m pissed she came to that conclusion. I’m pissed that she invited Oscar to come out. I’m pissed at Oscar for not saying no.”
“Well, the man loves fucking with you. Not in the literal sense, of course.”
I nod, although Jagger can’t see me. He’s right.
“Do you like her?” he asks, and I hear him open his fridge and then close it. Probably grabbing one of those disgusting green shakes he drinks.
“Yeah.” I push my fingers through my hair.
“Then I’ll ask again, why are you talking to me?”
My silence must speak for me.
“I’m going to take advantage of you waking Brianna up and make her pay for tossing my belt at me when I got her name wrong. And you’re going to track Teegan down. You know I’m opposed to the whole work relationship thing, but if Vance proved anything it was I can be wrong on the odd occasion.”
I chuckle. “Odd occasion?”
“If she still likes you after she thought you were gay and you still want her after she outed you on national television, then I’d say you’ve already beaten the odds. Now, go be a smart boy, Leo. See you when you get home.”
The line dies. I grab my coffee out of the pick-up area and head to New York.
I should listen to Jagger. He rarely makes this much sense, but instead of heading back to the hotel, I walk the streets of Manhattan. The hustle of people on a tight schedule with places to go brings a familiarity from my childhood, and so I walk and then walk some more trying to work out what I’m going to say to Teegan. And to Oscar. His bullshit has to stop.
It isn’t until I step from the concrete and steel part of the city into the green and bright colors of spring in Central Park that I truly feel I’m somewhere different. Rounding the paths, I reflect on my life. How I went from trying to become an actor to the owner of a dog clothing company. Sometimes you have one plan for your life, but it has another.
My phone dings in my pocket and I pull it out, sitting down on the bench.
Oscar: Meet me at the coffee place on the corner near the studio.
Me: I’m in Central Park. We’ll talk when I get back to L.A.
Oscar: Don’t be such a grouch. Come on.
Me: You want to talk, you come to me.
The three dots appear and then they disappear.
Oscar: Fine, where exactly are you?
I explain where I’ll meet him in the park and then sit on a bench, content to watch a mother and her young kids play before I set Oscar straight once and for all.
Either I didn’t walk as far as I thought, or Oscar can teleport, because he’s rounding the curve of the park in his goddamn paisley and maroon suit. What was he thinking?
“You traveled like that?” I raise my eyebrows.
He laughs, sitting down next to me, crossing his legs, revealing teal socks. I shake my head.
“I’m sorry,” he says so soft I barely catch it.
“Me, too.”
“No. When Teegan called, I should have told her, but… I didn’t. I don’t know why.”
“You definitely should have told her you weren’t my partner. At least not in a sexual sense.”
He laughs again and positions his sunglasses on his face. “I wanted the exposure the show would give me. And you know me. I’m a shit-stirrer. I don’t know why I like to bug you about the gay thing so much. I mean, you’re the only straight man I know who wouldn’t go out of his way to defend his heterosexuality when it’s put into question. So I figured what would a fake relationship hurt?”
I shake my head, watching the girl run away from her mom with a juice box. “I don’t care what other people think, that’s all. And I don’t think that trying to convince them of my sexuality is energy worth spending. But today was crossing a line.”
He lets a deep sigh escape. “Agreed. Will you forgive me?”
“On one condition.”
He turns in his seat to face me. “Anything. You name it.”
“You need to stop threatening to leave the company. The hissy fits have to stop. I understand that our contract says that if I want to buy your ten-percent shares out at any time I can, but I’m going to bring you up with me. You do great work. I’d never leave you behind.”
Oscar stares at me for a moment and I will him to see the sincerity of my words. “You never even told me you hired her. She just shows up and then she’s in your apartment and sue me if the green monster took over.”
I sigh. Even if I were gay I could never be with Oscar. He’s way too possessive and jealous.
I nod. “I should’ve mentioned it to you, but you have to remember that this is still my company. I let you buy in because you do amazing work and what you do has helped Canine Couture make a name for itself and I thought it was fair that you have a small stake in the company’s success. At the end of the day though, I have controlling interest. I make the decisions and I don’t have to answer to you. Now, as far as Teegan goes, I hired her because I want to eventually get some of my work into a pet store—especially the wool coats. Remember when I made one for Cooper in the city?”
“Hello, I asked you to make me one, too,” he says.
I chuckle. “I want those in pet stores. As far as the designer items we do, they should be exclusive. But whatever I decide, I think I’ve been more than fair.”
He sighs. “You have and I shouldn’t have overstepped.”
“So we have an understanding?”
The little girl catches my eye again and I laugh at her screaming and running toward a group of birds walking along the grass, causing them to fly up into the air.
“You thinking of wanting some one day?” Oscar knocks his shoulder with mine.
“Nah, I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know how in the past weeks, I’ve wondered more and more whether a family could one day be a reality for me.
“She’s really upset. I think she’s
catching a flight home today.” My head whips in his direction and he purses his lips. “Now’s your time.”
“I yelled at her,” I say.
“You did.”
“Then I kissed her.”
“You straight guys are the most complicated creatures I’ve ever met. At least with gay men, when they like you, you know it.” He moves his finger in a disgusted way in my direction. “You heteros all play games.”
I can’t refute his point. If I’d been upfront with Teegan about my feelings for her I wouldn’t be sitting here on this park bench.
“So go get in a taxi and find her.” He stands, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up. “Do I have to give you step-by-step directions?”
“No.” I smile. “Thanks, friend. I’ll call you later.” I pat him on the back and jog up the path.
“Hurry, she was catching an afternoon flight,” he hollers and I raise my hand in the air to say I heard him.
My hand stays in the air until a taxi arrives on the curb for me. I slide in, giving the hotel name and pulling out my phone.
I’m writing a text message to tell her to stay put when another text comes in on my phone.
Oscar: DON’T call her. Just surprise her.
I tuck my phone back in my pocket, my fingers tapping on my bouncing knee. Fifteen minutes later, I throw cash at the cab driver and climb out of the cab before the doorman can open the door.
I rush to the elevator, getting a few looks from people milling around the lobby, and then I’m running down the hall to her door.
I knock, gripping the edges of her door.
No answer.
I knock again.
I lean in to listen and there’s some rustling, so someone is in there.
I knock for the third time.
“I don’t need—” The door swings open and she stands there, mouth ajar. “Housekeeping.” She finishes her sentence, but I step in, planting my hands on either side of her face and pressing her back to the wall.
My mouth descends without permission and I’d second-guess my aggressiveness if she didn’t grip my shoulders so tight it’s like she’s afraid I’m going to leave.