Suddenly Yours

by Jacob Z. Flores

  “It wasn’t?” Cody flew his hands to his chest before turning to Julian. “Well hell’s bells, and here I thought it was. What are we going to do now?”

  “That’s a tough one.” Julian stretched his arm over the back of Cody’s chair, and the warmth of his touch radiated clear through the fabric of both their jackets, making it seem as if the contact had been skin on skin. Naturally that woke Bruce Boner right up. “Especially since we already came out to the media as married. You can’t exactly put those horses back in the barn, now can you?”

  Cody shook his head. “At least not without a few shotguns.”

  “Then there’s the lawyers and the division of property.”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna probably take you to the cleaners. I’ve grown accustomed to your lifestyle.”

  Julian danced his fingers across the back of Cody’s neck, and it sent shivers fluttering down his spine. Julian really needed to stop doing that. “After only a few hours?”

  “It happened pretty quickly,” he answered with a shrug.

  “Yes, it did.” Julian’s words dropped to a low, suggestive whisper. He was clearly no longer talking about the same thing Cody was.

  “Oh cut it out already!” Mando groaned. “You two are perfect for each other.”

  Cody took a deep breath. If people didn’t stop using that word, he was going to go all Stefano DiMera on their asses. “There’s no such thing as perfection.”

  “Fuck. Not this shit again.” Brett took another long sip from his beer bottle. “If I have to hear one more lecture about how perfection is a useless quest, I’m gonna shoot myself in the head.”

  Julian turned to Brett and leaned his elbows on the table. “He does seem to harp on that, doesn’t he?”

  “You have no idea.” Mando placed his hand on Cody’s chest and moved him out of the way. He clearly wanted to look Julian in the eyes for this. “He’s been bitching about perfection since college. Telling us not to fall into that trap or we’d be sorry. Personally, I think the idea of Cody being perfect for anyone scares the shit out of him.”

  Cody eyed Mando’s hand, causing his friend to remove it before he drew back a nub. “I’m not scared of shit. I just happen to believe perfection doesn’t exist in any form for anyone.”

  “You only believe that because of your mother,” Brett added.

  Cody flinched. That was a low blow. It was true, but it was still a kick to his nuts. It wasn’t like his friends didn’t know about his mother. Hell, in the years he’d known them, they’d attended two of her weddings just to provide emotional support.

  Mando stood up, walked over to Brett, and knocked him upside the head.

  “What the fuck?” Brett asked, wiping the spilled beer off his chin and button-down shirt.

  “You’re being a dick.” Mando motioned to where Cody was glowering at him.

  A tentative smile slowly stretched across Brett’s contrite expression. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

  Cody took several breaths to calm down. What else could he do? His friends were jerks, not assholes, and Brett had clearly forgotten to keep his finger off that particular button.

  “How about we dance?”

  Cody glanced up. Julian stood beside him, his hand outstretched and waiting. “I’m not really much of a dancer.” That was a lie. He loved to dance. In fact, he did it as often as he could, and he was damn good at it if he did say so himself. His “Go, Cody” dance had always been met with rounds of applause in college.

  Mando patted Julian’s shoulders in sympathy. “He’s right. He’s awful.”

  “Are you shitting me? I’m great at it.”

  Mando and Brett laughed so hard they drowned out the music.

  Why was he friends with these guys again?

  “Well lucky for you,” Julian said as he grabbed Cody’s hand and tugged him out of his seat, “I’m great at it.”

  “How about we get a drink instead?” Cody yanked Julian toward the bar on the other side of the room.

  “No.” Julian spun him onto the dance floor. “We dance.”

  He placed his hands on Cody’s hips, their chests and hips flush. Cody wasn’t accustomed to being so easily manhandled, especially since he was typically the one doing the manhandling, but the way Julian clutched at his back and held him tight made him feel as though he was exactly where he belonged. Cody had to bite his lip to prevent the moan from escaping his mouth.

  “Just like you taught me craps, I’ll teach you to not dance like a white boy.”

  “I do not dance like a white boy.” Cody shook off the strange warmth that spread throughout his body and replaced it with his usual cool demeanor. “Despite what my former friends just said, I’m actually a great dancer.”

  Julian stepped back, a teasing smile hitching up the corners of his lips. “Well, show me what you’ve got, then. I dare you.”

  Why did Cody sense this Truth or Dare game was going to end up driving him batshit? “Fine. I will.” He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck, jogging in place like a boxer getting ready for round one. “Are you ready to be amazed?”

  “So ready.”

  Cody started slow, bouncing on the balls of his feet and finding his rhythm. When the music took hold of him, he whipped his arms in a circular motion, matching the same movement he made with his hips. People around him suddenly stopped what they were doing and stared. He couldn’t help the cocky grin that slanted across his features.

  He’d told Julian he was good. Not only were people watching, but they moved out of his way once he started the kicking part of his routine. They formed a circle around them, clearly wanting front-row seats.

  That happened every single time he killed it like he was doing now.

  Suddenly a pair of hands rested low on his hips, and Cody’s flailing arms and legs immediately stopped. He glanced over his shoulder at Julian, who pressed his groin into Cody’s butt, and the weight of his body shoved so gently against Cody caused a sharp intake of breath.

  “Why don’t we slow it down some?” Julian ground himself against Cody, using his hands to force Cody’s hips into a back-and-forth motion that reminded him of the unhurried, sensual way they had explored each other’s bodies the night before.

  Cody’s cool, aloof demeanor slid off and hung askew. Instead of hiding behind the comforting armor he usually greeted the world with, he stood defenseless with ragged breath and a flopping belly.

  He teetered precariously on the edge. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fall.

  Chapter Nine

  CODY still couldn’t wrap his mind around the events of the past few days. After saying good-bye to his college buddies and leaving Las Vegas, he and Julian hopped a plane for Austin, where they spent the weekend boxing up the life he’d lived in his studio apartment.

  Although Cody didn’t want to leave Texas, Julian was right. If this arrangement was going to work, they needed to live together during their trial period. That meant that for the next six months, Cody would be calling San Diego his home when they weren’t on the campaign trail or in DC.

  Shortly after they arrived at his run-down studio, the great packing adventure began. Julian helped Cody get his life in order when he wasn’t fielding calls from Adria. Apparently their media event had taken a lot of bluster out of the sails of scandal, and the public was champing at the bit for more information. That was precisely why Adria believed the best thing for them to do was to lie low for a while. It would whet the country’s appetite and egg Julian’s opponent into making even more of an ass of himself on television.

  In his attempt to gain political traction at the expense of Julian and Cody’s marriage, Spencer Baldwin had shoved both his feet in his mouth. He let it slip during an interview that their marriage was “proof that fa—gays couldn’t handle the sacred commitment of matrimony.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Julian had said after watching the interview that had been recorded the night before. He stormed for his cell phone.

/>   Cody slipped the phone off the table and placed it in his pocket. “And just what do you think you’re going to do?”

  Julian jerked his head toward the television, where his opponent was busy backpedaling. “I’m gonna call Jimmy Kimmel. His producer owes me a favor. Maybe I can get on the Ellen Show. She’ll help me rip him a new one.”

  Julian reached around Cody’s back for the phone, but even though he was fast, Cody was still stronger. He clasped Julian’s wrist and held him tight. “Do you really know Ellen DeGeneres?”

  “Is that the conversation you want to have right now?”

  “Fine. We’ll come back to that. But for now, you should let this Spencer mess go.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Show him you’re the bigger person.”

  Julian scowled up at him. “Are you telling a short joke right now?”

  Cody rolled his eyes. Julian was confident in most things, but he had a hang-up about his height. He’d almost gotten into it at the airport when some redneck had called him a “little fella” while they waited to board the plane. It took every ounce of Cody’s persuasion to keep Julian from replying and opening himself up to more gossip. As for the redneck, well, Cody had taken care of him. While he didn’t normally lord his size over anyone anymore, he made it a point to stand taller, puff out his chest, and pull Julian close to him.

  The man received his message loud and clear.

  “Why don’t you call Adria instead? Isn’t this her job?” A second later the phone rang. Cody checked the caller ID and then held the cell out to Julian. “Speaking of the devil.”

  When Julian answered, he blustered for a good ten minutes, but after a while, he beamed. Adria told him Spencer’s slipup had cost him some percentage points in recent polls. Her advice was to do nothing and let the man hang himself.

  Cody found the approach completely acceptable. Besides, if he never attended another press conference, he’d die a happy man.

  They celebrated the scandal Julian’s rival had created for himself with a dinner of wine and sushi, and the evening was filled with fun and laughter that was even better than their night of Truth or Dare.

  They negotiated schedules and domestic duties. Julian would do most of the cooking, but Cody conceded he’d have to make a few meals every now and then. Although it was fair, he warned Julian that any future gastrointestinal distress would not be Cody’s problem.

  Naturally Julian shifted the conversation to sleeping arrangements. He fully expected them to share a bed for the entire trial period. Cody wasn’t too keen on that idea.

  “What do you have against sleeping with your husband?” Julian waggled his eyebrows over his spicy tuna roll.

  “I don’t have a problem with sleeping with him.” Cody pointed to the leer that had taken up permanent residence on Julian’s plump, kissable lips. “It’s what said husband is going to try while we are in bed together.”

  Julian pointed at himself as if he were the most innocent individual in the world. “Who said I’m going to try anything?”

  “Let’s look at the evidence.” Cody held up his index finger, and Julian groaned. He did that every time Cody counted off one of his lists. “First, you dared me into marrying you.”

  “Hey—”

  Cody shot him a blank stare. “I have the floor, Senator Canales.”

  Julian shoved his seaweed-wrapped morsel into his mouth.

  “Then you begged me not to get a divorce so we could give this partnership, without romance—a caveat you insisted upon—a chance. After I agreed, you start talking about being naked together. You start being sweet, which wasn’t like the man I first met at all! You practically molest me on the dance floor of my best friend’s wedding reception, and afterward, when we were asleep in bed, you….” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Fondled me.”

  “That was not my fault!”

  “How is your hand on my junk not your fault?”

  “You were the one trying to find the Incredible Bulk a home for the evening. I was just trying to help him out. If you recall, I had been minding my own business on my agreed-upon side of the bed.”

  Cody held his chin high. “I recall none of this. It’s a lie. A lie, I tell you!”

  After their laughter over the fondling fiasco fell to a dull roar, conversation turned to more serious subjects. They discussed how often they’d be on the road for the campaign come September. Until then, they would attend fundraisers and take trips to DC as needed for Julian’s work.

  The schedule gave Cody tons of free time to write, and he even discussed the latest manuscript he’d been working on. He never talked about his writing with anyone. Cody always felt that if he talked about it, it might lessen his desire to write, but that hadn’t happened at all, especially not with all the questions Julian posed about the plot and the characters. He took a genuine interest in Cody’s work, and in just one evening, they even jotted down some plot notes together.

  That had led to a discussion about whether Cody would find gainful employment or write full-time. He eventually agreed to take advantage of the time he’d been given and just write. Still, he couldn’t help but worry what would happen to him if their arrangement didn’t work out.

  Julian, of course, had an answer. He agreed to pay Cody’s lease in Austin for their trial period. That way, if things didn’t work out, Cody could come home and pick up right where he’d left off. Naturally Julian believed that wasn’t going to happen. He discussed the two of them living in southern California and traipsing the country and the world together. He had faith in what they could accomplish.

  Cody still had reservations, which once again came to the forefront as they packed.

  “I can’t believe you don’t like this lamp.” Cody held it up close to Julian, who snarled and backed away. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It would be easier to ask me what’s right with it.”

  Cody glanced down at the eight-inch stuffed squirrel that held a lightbulb in its open mouth. He loved that critter. It had been in his bedroom since he was ten, a gift from one of the men his mother had married, a man he’d actually liked. “His name is Rocky, if that helps.”

  “It does not.” Julian gingerly took the lamp out of Cody’s hands and placed it back on the floor. “Besides, I’m sure Rocky would rather stay here in the home he’s grown used to.”

  “If that’s a reason to stay, then that means I should too.”

  Julian frowned at him. “Now you’re just being difficult. Again.”

  “And you’re being mean. Rocky’s been my nighttime friend for years.”

  Julian ran his fingers over the curve of Cody’s jaw. “Well, that’s my job now.”

  It took him several minutes before his lungs restarted. The clear-cut lines of their arrangement blurred too often with the way Julian touched him, looked at him, or even said his name. His rational side reminded him Julian was trying hard to show Cody this would work. Julian had told him as much in their hotel room.

  The problem wasn’t what his mind said. It was what his heart heard that might be the deal breaker.

  A FEW days later, after Cody had crossed the threshold into Julian’s house in Kensington, an affluent area of San Diego, he found himself breathless yet again. He longed for the days when he could breathe without consciously willing himself to remember.

  Julian’s house looked as if it belonged on the cover of some magazine for the rich and famous. Even though the furnishings were minimal, the house had been immaculately decorated. Each room showcased a piece of art. In the foyer, an ornate white vase with golden trim stood on a round mahogany table. A sapphire-and-turquoise-colored Persian rug dominated the floor in the den, huge stainless-steel appliances Cody had no clue how to operate filled the kitchen, and what looked to be an original Frida Kahlo hung on the wall in the living room.

  Was this a house or a museum?

  “How many people live here?” he asked as he meandered through the four-bedroom, thre
e-bathroom dwelling.

  In the master suite, Julian placed his keys on the cherrywood dresser, where he also emptied his pockets. “Just me. Why?”

  “Are you kidding? This place is bigger than all the houses I’ve ever lived in combined.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  Julian’s ringing phone interrupted them. Judging by the rolling eyes and the tone of his voice, it was Adria again, probably checking up on their travel and getting him up to speed on the campaign.

  While Julian talked, Cody traveled back through the house, room by room. He found a picture with Julian that was a few years old, judging by the facial hair that clung to his lips and chin. That clearly had been taken prior to his entrance into the political arena, where clean-shaven faces were the norm. In the picture with him were five other people who had to be Julian’s parents, his siblings, and his grandmother, all of whom Cody would likely meet soon.

  Just thinking about it terrified him. Although Cody was used to turning on the charm, he had a feeling Julian’s wealthy family wasn’t going to be too keen to meet the poor husband he’d picked up in Vegas. They’d likely see him as a money-grubbing social climber they’d best eliminate either with money or threats. He’d watched enough Days of Our Lives to know what happened when different socioeconomic levels were suddenly thrown together by marriage.

  His mother certainly fit that bill.

  After the brief dinner they’d shared with her in Austin before leaving for California, she’d pulled Cody aside and given him her sage advice. “If you want to hang on to him and his money for as long as you can, you’ll need to show him who’s boss in and out of the bedroom.”

  Who was she? The Wife of Bath?

  He was thankful Julian hadn’t overheard that comment, but it wasn’t like Julian hadn’t sized up his mother already. When it came time to order dinner, good old Linda Hayes ordered a caviar appetizer, the steak-and-lobster entrée, and the best bottle of champagne to enjoy with the meal.