by B. B. Hamel
It’s a strange thing, trying to figure out why this apparently selfish asshole seems to care about perfect strangers. Maybe I just have him all wrong, maybe I think he’s this selfish monster when really he’s a totally great human being, but I kind of doubt it.
He catches me watching and his pensive look immediately switches into a smirk.
“Sad we’re not sleeping together?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Too bad. You never got the full treatment.”
“Oh, god. That makes me want to puke.”
He laughs as the elevator stops and we step out. “Come on, wifey. I get that situation wasn’t ideal, but you have to admit you liked seeing me come out of the shower.”
I flash back to him in nothing but a towel, water dripping off his skin. “I could take it or leave it,” I say.
“You were looking at me like a shark.”
“And sharks are always hungry?”
“Exactly. You wanted to take a big bite.”
“You wish.” I stop outside my door and go to swipe it, but Jace lingers next to me. “You can keep going, Jacey boy.”
That doesn’t trip him up at all. “I actually have something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
I sigh and face him. “Can we do it here?”
“Better not.” He glances down toward the elevator where two young girls, maybe fifteen at most, are staring at him. “I think I have some fans.”
I shake my head and unlock my door again. We step into my room, just another average hotel room. I toss my bags on the floor as he sits down on the bed, fiddling for something in his pack.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask. “I really could use some time to decompress.”
“It’s more of a gesture, really,” he says, finally finding it. He pulls out a little square box with rounded corners. My brain doesn’t immediately identify what kind of box it is until he’s getting down on one knee in front of me. “I never got to properly propose.”
I stare at him and a mess of feelings flood through me. I want to kick him, kiss him, throw him out, and wear his damn ring. It’s crazy how many different things I can manage to feel all at once. “You didn’t propose because that would mean I’d have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, wifey,” he says softly, flipping open the box.
I stare down at the ring and my breath catches in my throat. It’s a classic engagement ring, with one enormous diamond in the middle, flanked by two more diamonds. It’s all white gold, simple and classy, and based on the size of that rock it probably cost more than the budget of this whole production.
“Holy shit,” I manage to say.
He grins. “You like it?”
“Where… where the fuck did you get that?”
He bursts out laughing. I guess it’s the cursing, or maybe it’s the way I’m staring, but he seems really delighted. “Got it in the airport,” he admits.
“You got that… that… monstrosity at the airport?”
“I asked for their most expensive ring. This is what they had.”
“You actually bought me a freaking engagement ring?”
He shrugs a little. “Try it on?”
I hold my hand out then stop myself. I suddenly realize what I’m doing and take a step back. “What? No, no, this is insane.”
“Is it?” He stands up, shrugging, his eyes playful and staring into mine. “I thought it was romantic.”
“Jace, we’re not married. We’re not really husband and wife.”
“We are, though.”
“Maybe on paper. But Jace, no way, this is crazy. That’s… how much did you spend on that?”
“They say three months’ salary,” he says. “But I spent a lot more than that.”
I do some quick math and it’s mind boggling. “Why did an airport jeweler have a ring that expensive?”
He laughs and shrugs. “No clue, but here we are.” He holds the box up again, eyebrow quirked, grin huge. “You sure you don’t want to try it on?”
“I’m sure. Jesus, Jace, put that thing away.” I have a flashback to his hard dick in the morning, and for a second I think I’d rather see that than this ring.
At least his dick would feel good. That ring would feel like hot lava pouring down my arm.
He laughs and slips it into his pocket. “Your loss.” He casually walks over to the door, looking over his shoulder at me. “But if you change your mind, I’ll have the ring.”
“I’m not marrying you,” I say as the door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone in my room.
I stare at the floor but all I can see is a huge diamond glittering in front of me and those eyes, those gorgeous, handsome, laughing eyes.
13
Jace
God damn, I hate the fucking great outdoors. Everyone goes on and on about nature and hiking and all that bullshit but fuck that.
I slap my calf where a mosquito wants to suck my blood. I don’t know why people want to hang out in a place where bugs want to suck their literal blood like tiny fucking vampires that also happen to carry deadly fucking diseases, but here we are in the goddamn mountains hiking down a trail toward some shitty cabin. I don’t know how I got talked into this segment, but I’m slightly out of breath from the elevation, covered in mosquito bites, and goddamn miserable.
Our guide, this overly polite man named Jeremy, steps over a rotten log. “Watch your footing,” he says as I amble on after him. The crew keeps pace though barely. I can tell Eric’s huffing and puffing though Calvin’s calm as can be, practically smiling. Piper brings up the rear while Grant hovers off to the side, stomping through the underbrush as if it’s no big deal.
“We’re right up ahead,” Jeremy says as we come around a bend in the path. The trees are thin and scraggly around here, basically these weird-looking rotten pine things. He told me what they’re called but I frankly don’t give a shit.
Something goes smell good, though. As we get closer, a little cabin, not as dumpy as I thought it would be, sits in the middle of a little indent in the mountainside. The ground all around it is relatively flat, which is delightful since we’ve been stomping up and down hills for the last ten minutes. Directly in front of the cabin is a large fire blazing away under the watchful eye of two of the fattest men I’ve ever seen, both wearing camo vests and bright orange hunter hats.
They’re slowly turning this enormous deer thing right over the open flame, roasting the hell out of it. Fat drips down into the fire and sputters, the flames popping and licking it up.
“What’s that thing?” I ask Jeremy as we get closer.
“That’s a Rocky Mountain elk,” Jeremy says. “And these two fellas are Chef Bob and Chef Roger.”
The two fat men nod in my direction. They’re clearly brothers, and I’d guess that Roger is the older of the two since his hair is slightly thinner and grayer, although neither of them is sporting a full head of hair.
The animal over the fire is huge. I’m talking massive, like enough meat to feed an entire fucking village. It’s not whole though, clearly its been butchered down, but I can imagine what it was like at its prime. “How heavy is that thing?” I ask him.
“That right there is a Rocky Mountain elk, just a little lady. She weighed something like five hundred pounds when she was alive, but we’ve trimmed her down and cut her in half, get her down to a more manageable one hundred, give or take.”
“Holy shit,” I say, which earns me a look from Piper, but I don’t care. “That thing is absolutely massive. And that’s only half?”
“Sure is, just the front end, minus the head. And we’re eating it all.”
I give him a look and he laughs.
“Nah. I’m kidding. We’ll have help.”
I let out a breath. “Good. How long has it been cooking?”
“Hours,” he says. “Should be ready soon. Roger? Bob?”
The two big men look over. “Half hour,” Bob sh
outs.
“Forty minutes,” Roger corrects.
The two guys glare at each other and I laugh a little as Piper speaks up. “How about we cut here?”
The crew drops their cameras, and Eric makes a grateful groan as he sits down and rubs his shoulder.
“Good job so far,” I say to Jeremy. “Really, solid stuff.”
I wander away from them as Piper goes to talk to the chefs about the next scene. I figure I’ll be eating bits of that fucking monster animal and while I’m not looking forward to it, I have eaten weirder shit in my day.
I wander off, away from the cabin. I want to get a few seconds to myself for some reason. I sit down on a large rock a few hundred feet distant, enough space to make myself feel alone without being lost, and I look out at the landscape in front of me.
It took an hour to drive up here into the Rocky Mountains. I don’t know which peak we’re on exactly, but we’re tucked up in the mountains that run right up next to Boulder. It’s strange, looking up from town and seeing this enormous range just breaking up into the sky like a wall. It’s almost terrifying, if it weren’t so absolutely beautiful.
I hate nature, but I get this. If I could box this view up and look at it from my living room, I absolutely would. Scrubby pines line the horizon as the hills rise and fall in undulating patterns, covering the distance until the horizon. It’s like the range never ends, almost majestic in its enormity. I feel fucking small sitting here staring at it.
I hear her before we say anything. She’s not exactly quiet, kicking over rocks and stepping on twigs. I don’t look at her though. I don’t want to tear away from this view, uncomfortable as it is.
“Hey,” she says finally. “They’re getting ready.”
“All right.”
She walks over and sits down next to me wordlessly. We look out into the distance together, not saying anything.
“That ring.” She lets the words sit between us for a second. “That was crazy.”
“I know,” I say, grinning.
“It’s not real, is it?”
“I don’t do fake, wifey.”
“You married me, and that’s fake.”
“Is it?” I cock my head at her and our eyes meet. We’re sitting inches apart from each other. “You met my grandmother. You knew me before all this. I even got you a ring.”
“We’re not really married.”
I smile softly. “You keep making that argument.”
“Because you need to hear it.”
“Why?” I move closer to her and she doesn’t back off. “What are you so afraid of, Piper?”
“You,” she says instantly. “All this. Shit, I don’t know.”
I laugh a little bit. “You’re always so worried.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? This show is a big deal. I can’t risk screwing it up, and yet…”
“And yet I keep teasing you. Pushing you. Pissing you off.”
“Mostly pissing me off.”
“Riling you up.” My hand drifts up to her face and she doesn’t flinch away.
“Being an asshole,” she says softly.
“Yeah, maybe. Tell me you haven’t been dreaming of what it would be like to have my hands on your body,” I whisper to her, getting nearer, close enough to smell her skin.
I can’t miss the shiver that runs through her, and she doesn’t say a word. I don’t need her to. I know the truth, I know the answer already. I saw it on her face on the plane, and I saw it on her face back in the hotel in Philly. I know what she’s been dreaming about, and she’s been thinking about it all day long.
I move closer, pulling her the rest of the way, and I kiss her. I half expect her to pull away but instead she presses tighter, kissing me more deeply, her taste flooding into my mouth.
We’ve kissed before, but never like this, never with all this tension between us. I remember her, if only as if she were a dream, like all the dreams I’ve been having about her. It’s both familiar and different, changed over time, made even better, refined into something sharp and perfect. Her lips and tongue taste and feel right against my mouth, my other hand tangling into her perfect, thick hair.
And as quickly as it starts, she cuts it off, turning away. She puts her chin on my shoulder for a second, breathing deeply, and I hold her hair tightly before letting it go.
“We shouldn’t,” she says finally, sitting up straight. “We really shouldn’t.”
“That’s what makes it so fun, wifey.”
She sighs and scrabbles to her feet. “Don’t show me that ring again.”
I laugh a little bit. “No promises.”
She can’t help but smile. “Whatever. Just, whatever. We have to start shooting soon.”
“I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” She hesitates, maybe wanting to say something else, but instead she turns and stalks away. I bet she wants to run right now, but she keeps herself under control.
I’m smiling like an idiot as soon as she’s out of sight. I can’t remember the last time a kiss made me feel like this. I’m happy, delighted, almost elated, like a little kid again, like the first time. I’ve been so fucked up and jaded for so long and yet kissing that girl just made me feel purer, cleaner than I have since before I got into drugs. I never thought I’d feel like this again.
I know she’s running from it. She’ll keep running. I slip my hand into my pocket and feel the ring there, turning it over in my fingers.
She can run all she wants, but there’s nowhere to go, unless it’s down on her knees, my ring on her finger.
14
Piper
The next few days of shooting go well. We drive through the mountains to follow a professional runner on one of his normal training mornings, which is pretty crazy. We eat at a local restaurant, we meet with students at CU Boulder to talk politics, and we even go on a hike through a national park. Jace is cordial, friendly, outgoing, the perfect TV host through all this.
And we don’t kiss again.
I don’t even understand how it happened the first time. One second we’re sitting there, away from everyone else, taking a short little break while that monstrous animal roasted over an open fire, and he just kissed me. And I didn’t stop him.
That’s the craziest part. I saw it coming, saw it written all over his face. I could’ve stood up and walked away, or told him no, or done anything else. I could’ve screamed. Laughed, cried, asked him his favorite color. Instead, I kissed him back.
It felt good. It felt really good, I mean, the kind of good you just can’t shake, not even days later. Every time I look at him, I can feel those lips against mine. It’s even better than when we kissed back in the church in Vegas, better than any kiss we shared back when we were in college together. It was the culmination of something that’s been lingering between the two of us since this whole show started. It felt right and wrong and fucked up and amazing and I want to kiss him again so badly it hurts. I know, I’m stupid, we’re still technically married and if I want to get that annulled, I’d better start acting like it, but still. It felt good. I want more.
He doesn’t make a move. He has opportunities, lots of them. We’re alone at a bar the next day. We’re alone in my room, going over footage. We’re alone at the end of a trail while he jokes about taking a piss off a nearby cliff. He still jokes with me, teases me, calls me his wife, even introduces me as his wife to everyone we meet, but he doesn’t kiss me again. It’s like he indulged in a momentary weakness but he’s controlling himself now. I should be happy about that, but I’m not.
I don’t know how this role reversal happened. Now I’m the one that wants to kiss him, and he’s the one that’s keeping me away. Impossible, improbable, but here we are. I want him and maybe he doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe he got his taste and he didn’t like it.
Things go well in Boulder. We travel to Denver for a shoot, and drive further into the mountains for another. I’m starting to think the crew is gelling
, or at least forming into a cohesive whole that’s not ready to tear itself to pieces, at least until we’re alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Jace is out looking for firewood, which amuses me to no end, but he wants a fire and nobody else was willing to do it. The sun’s not completely down yet so there’s enough room for him to stomp around and enough light for him to see where he’s going. I’m not worried about him falling off a cliff even though I know he’s not exactly the outdoorsy type, which is probably an understatement.
I’m sitting at a table with the crew, and we’re playing Go Fish. It’s probably the most boring game of Go Fish I’ve ever played in my life, and the guys are all drinking from a bottle of whisky that Grant slipped out of his equipment bag as soon as the cabin door slammed shut.
“This stuff is garbage,” Eric grunts, tipping the bottle to his lips.
“Good, don’t drink it,” Calvin replies, snatching it away from him and offering it to me. I frown and shake my head, not trusting the blank label and the way Eric practically wretches every each swig.
Calvin shrugs and takes a sip himself. His face contorts into a pained grimace but he doesn’t say anything about it. Grant grins and takes the bottle, sipping it like it’s water. He looks at his cards, looks up at the guys, and seems like he’s about to ask for something… and just draws from the pile instead, like always.
“Hard to play Go Fish when you refuse to talk, huh, Grant?” I ask him.
He grins at me, his eyes sparkling, and he shrugs.
“Leave him alone,” Eric says.
“She’s just teasing,” Calvin cuts in. “You need to relax.”
I can sense the tension between Eric and Calvin. I thought I had squashed it, but slowly, as the days have passed, the two men have been getting into more and more little spats. Nothing major or really even exciting, but just little things over and over again, little disagreements. Every time it starts to escalate though, one of them will look at Jace and back off. Jace doesn’t even have to say a word, it’s like they already know what he’ll tell them.