4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page

by Knight, Natalie

  The other girls? Sure, he can have them. What the fuck ever.

  But Dana? Fuck no.

  She’s mine.

  I watch while he flirts with her. He turns his back on the others, leans on the bar, and shows off his chiseled chest. Just because he’s showing it off doesn’t mean there aren’t other people here with better bodies.

  Like me. I can show Dana what a real man looks like.

  And I have fucking chest hair. I’m not a naked mole rat.

  If I’m being unfair, I don’t fucking care.

  Dana is smiling and laughing when he speaks. Christ. He can’t be that funny. Not unless she’s laughing at him because he’s failing. I’d fucking love that.

  But judging by the dimples in her cheeks, that’s not the case.

  She reaches into her purse and pulls out a business card, and I down the last of my drink. My head spins a little with the rush of alcohol, and a jealous rage ignites in my chest. I want to do something violent. Instead, I watch him walk away with her fucking card.

  “Someone should take him into a dark alley and strip him of that business card,” I say.

  Mason raises his eyebrows at me. “A little too protective, aren’t you?”

  I shrug. Dana’s face has fallen. The dimples are gone, and she’s not even smiling now. She’s nodding at what one of the others are saying but she looks totally bummed out.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and walk over to her without another glance at Mason. When I get closer to her, I swallow.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, putting my hand on her shoulder.

  She looks up at me, and her eyes are fucking brilliant. “I’m fine,” she says, flashing me a smile that seems forced.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask anyway.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing, Keagan. Really. It’s fine.”

  I look at her for long enough that she gets irritated. She shakes her head at me and shrugs my hand off her shoulder.

  “Really, go back to your friends.”

  Right. She doesn’t want me to crowd her.

  “I’m just asking,” I say, my nerves on fucking edge. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

  She rolls her eyes, irritated. When she gets upset, she does this thing with her bottom lip that looks like a pissed off pout. It makes me want to bite it. To kiss her, rough and hard. It makes me want to do so many fucking dirty things to her.

  Every fucking time.

  I force myself to turn around and walk back to Mason instead.

  He’s watching me with a lopsided grin on his face. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “What?” I ask, waving at the bartender for another beer.

  “You being jealous when someone hits on Dana? I fucking saw that.”

  I shake my head and put money on the bar when the bottle arrives. I suck down a couple of gulps before I come up for air. I want to get wasted. If I can’t get her in bed, I don’t want to remember the rest of my night.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s my sister.”

  “Stepsister. Which doesn’t count. And she’s fucking hot.”

  I glare at Mason, but I say nothing.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Doing her? A piece like that, right under your nose?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Mason,” I growl.

  Mason laughs. “I knew it, you dirty bastard. You have a thing for her, don’t you?”

  I shake my head, but I know he’s onto me. I become transparent when I drink, and Mason has known me since college.

  “So, what are you going to do about it?” he asks.

  “What I always do about it. Jack off to the idea of her body and leave it at that. Come on, man. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  Mason shrugs. “How about you fuck her? You can, you know. You’re not kids anymore, and it’s not like you’re related, technically. It’s just in theory.”

  “Fuck off with your theory. It’s not like she wants me, anyway. She doesn’t see me like that.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  Of course I haven’t. I don’t know how I’m supposed to broach that topic with her. What the fuck am I supposed to say?

  “Just drop it, okay?” I say and down more of my beer.

  Mason laughs, shaking his head. “You’re old enough and established enough to do whatever the fuck you want. You’re twenty-nine. You’re both consenting adults, and there’s no law against.”

  I keep shaking my head until he stops fucking talking. The thought of her naked and writhing against the bathroom wall is branded in my frontal lobe again, and I don’t think I’ll be able to shake it. Not when Mason keeps going on about it.

  “Drop it, okay?” I repeat.

  Mason shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

  But he does drop it, and I’m fucking relieved. It’s bad enough that my fantasies are the only things that make my lust for Dana bearable. I don’t need someone like fucking Mason egging me on to do something I might never be able to do. I don’t need his voice in my ear.

  I already have a little devil on my shoulder, urging me to misbehave. And he’s getting louder by the minute.

  Fucking hell.

  But I have to resist. I do. Right?

  Dana

  “What are you doing here?” my mom asks when I walk into her studio on Monday morning. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

  Her hair is fiery red this time. She changes it every other month. She wears tights and a loose dress. She’s paired it with bohemian jewelry, and instead of looking like a hippy, she looks eccentric and elegant.

  I shake my head. “Jen sent me out to run errands. I decided to take a detour.”

  My mom smiles at me. “Coffee, then,” she says and walks to the small kitchen they installed in the back to put on the pot.

  I sit down in one of the waiting chairs at the front of the studio. I feel guilty about the lie, but I can’t bear to tell her the truth. Everyone knows choosing creativity above a solid degree in business or science makes it harder to succeed. My mom and stepdad started an art studio, and they’re successful. I chose to be an interior designer, and I’m not successful at all.

  In fact, I don’t have a job to take a detour from. It’s been nearly a month, and none of my searches have come to fruition, either. I’m here because I’m starting to get desperate. Stress is gnawing away at my insides.

  “Where’s Chris?” I ask when my mom joins me in the waiting area. The sun shines through the large windows, and it feels the same way it always feels at home, calm and peaceful.

  “He’s at a meeting with a prospective artist,” my mom says. “I think we’re going to get this one.” She smiles.

  Chris is a good man, and he supports my mom no matter what, even though he’s less creative and less eccentric than she is.

  I can’t imagine what it must be like to work with your soulmate every day. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a soulmate, period. At twenty-eight, I’m still young enough to find one. I keep telling myself that and ignore the hollow feeling that opens in my chest when I think about a forever kind of love.

  I smile back. “That’s great, Mom. You guys have really built this place up.”

  My mom looks around the studio and nods. She and Chris started the studio after Keagan and I finished our studies and moved out. Until then, they’d both worked dead-end nine-to-fives that drained them of all life to put us through school and college. Now that we’re on our own, they were able to take the risk, and it paid off.

  Chris is my stepdad, and he’s a great guy. He’s the only dad I’ve ever known. Mine took off before I can remember. Chris brought Keagan with him. The two of them changed our lives for the better. My mom was happy, and Keagan and I knew each other from school.

  It wasn’t always easy to live together. At first, we were strangers thrown into a boat called family, but we made it work. We’re so close now, some of my friends with siblings are jealous.

>   Once upon a time, he was the popular guy at school that my friends urged me to date. When he became my brother, things changed. I mean, you can’t date your brother. Even if, back then, I might have wanted to.

  Now he’s a pain in my ass like any big brother, even if we’re practically the same age.

  I glance at my watch. My stomach turns with stress, twisting into a knot of nerves. I don’t think the people from the last interview I went to are going to call me back. They’ve all been dead ends. My landlord is on my case about rent. If I don’t fork it out soon, I don’t know where I’ll go.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” my mom asks. Her eyes are on my face, and she looks concerned.

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  I look out of the large windows. The street is quiet in the Art District. I don’t want to burden her with my problems. Even though the studio is doing well and my mom and Chris are happy together, they have just enough for the two of them. I don’t want my mom to feel like she needs support me again. And she would, because she’s my mother.

  “You know you can talk to me, sweetheart,” she says. “What’s going on?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I put my hands on my knees and try to pull myself together. It’s hard to keep things from my mom. She’s always been my best friend. It stems from a time when all we had was each other.

  “I’m not really here because Jen sent me,” I say, carefully, knowing that I don’t really have a choice. She’s going to keep asking until I tell her.

  Mom waits for me to say what I need to say. Her hands are folded in her lap. She’s the epitome of patience.

  “I lost my job.”

  She doesn’t freak out. She only raises her eyebrows.

  “A month ago,” I add.

  My mom shakes her head. “Honey, why didn’t you say anything? A whole month. What happened?”

  I shrug. “Jen says that I don’t have the right ‘energy’.” I make sarcastic quotation marks with my fingers in the air, and my mom rolls her eyes.

  “That’s just a hippy way of saying she’s intimidated by you. I told you, you’re so much better than she is.”

  I nod. “Yeah. The problem is that there’s a very small demand for interior designers in LA. Apparently, the market is pretty saturated, and I can’t find another job.”

  “So, start your own company!” my mom says and smiles at me. “You have your mother’s business mind. I know you can do it.”

  Thanks, Mom,” I say. I know she believes in me. “It’s a great idea. It just won’t happen fast enough for me to pay my bills.”

  I swallow, trying to get rid of the nerves that have become a constant fist in my stomach.

  “How much do you need?” my mom asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m not here to ask for money. I was just feeling lost. Really, I need a lot more than you can afford to give me, and I really don’t expect anything.”

  My mom looks concerned again, and the words tumble out.

  “If I don’t come up with my rent by tonight, I have to move out.” A lump rises in my throat. “I don’t know where to go.”

  I didn’t want to cry in front of my mom. Not because she would mind it, but because I’d told myself I would be strong. Tears well up in my eyes anyway. I’m angry at myself for buckling.

  “Sweetie, don’t cry,” my mom says, leaning over and squeezing my hand. “It’s going to be fine. Everyone has dips. Remember how bad things were for the two of us just before we met Chris? And look how good things are now. You just keep the faith.”

  I nodded, sniffling. Faith. It’s easy to talk about faith when things were going well. Not so much when times are desperate.

  “Why don’t you call Keagan?” my mom asks. “You know he’ll help you.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t do that. I don’t think he’ll like me invading his space. You know what he can be like.”

  My mom laughs. “He’s not that bad. Sure, he’s full of shit sometimes, but he’s just like Chris. And it’s more than lovable.” She smiles at me. “Give him a call. You know he adores you. He’ll be more than happy to help. You two have always had a special bond.”

  I nod. “I was a bitch to him on Saturday,” I say.

  I feel bad. I was rude to him when he kept asking me what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell him why I was in a bad mood. Julie, one of my friends, was already paying for my alcohol because I had no money. It’s hard for me to accept cash from others.

  “So, apologize,” my mom says. She’s got answers for everything. Like it’s just that fucking easy. “Don’t let your pride get in the way. We can’t always be strong all by ourselves.”

  That’s easier said than done, and my mom knows it. She’s as stubborn as I am, although she’s not as independent.

  “Keagan’s life is just so put together,” I say. “Especially with the company, now. I don’t know how to call him and tell him my life has fallen apart.”

  My mom shakes her head. “He’s not going to turn you down. Trust me.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I ask.

  She smiles at me, and I don’t like her expression when she does. Her smile is secretive, and I hate it when she gets like that.

  “Just a hunch, honey. Call him. You don’t have other options, anyway. And he’ll help you. I’m not saying you should mooch off of him. Just stay with him until you get back on your feet. Some bonding time might do you good, anyway.”

  She smiles at me again. I shake my head. Stay with him? I don’t want to call him and admit defeat, much less stay with him. That opens up a whole other can of worms.

  It’s hard to admit I’m not doing so great when he’s so damn successful. But my mom is right. I don’t have much of a choice anymore. I don’t have anyone else I can turn to.

  When I leave the studio, I get in my car and dial Keagan’s number. It plays over the car’s stereo so I can talk while I drive. The phone rings for a while. I expect the call to roll over to voicemail, but then he answers.

  “Johnson.”

  “You sound so professional over the phone,” I say.

  “Dana,” he says, and his voice is immediately warmer. “What a surprise. How are you doing?”

  I swallow. I can’t do this over the phone.

  “Fine. I was wondering. Are you free tonight?”

  “Why?” he asks without giving me an answer.

  “Do you want to go out to dinner? Catch up? We haven’t really spent time together in a while.”

  I hear him turning pages. He’s checking his schedule to see if he can fit me in.

  “You can’t be that busy,” I point out.

  “Says who?”

  He’s teasing me. I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s always teasing me, getting on my damn nerves.

  “You haven’t said no yet,” I point out.

  Keagan chuckles.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tonight. Where are we going?”

  “We can go to Far Bar again,” I say. “It’s casual, and the food is good.”

  “No,” Keagan says immediately. “Let’s do something nicer. I don’t want to spend my life in a bar. Meet me at Bestia.”

  “The Italian place?”

  “That’s the one.”

  I drive when the light turns green.

  I hear more page flipping. “I have a meeting with some technicians after work, but I’ll meet you once it’s finished. Let’s say seven? I should be done by then.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”

  I hang up and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The call went better than expected. At least he’s willing to see me.

  I don’t know how I’m going to ask him for help, but I’m going to have to do something. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

  Honestly, I just want to be able to relax for a change and not worry about the future.

  But relaxing around Keagan is easier said than done, for
reasons I don’t even want to admit to myself.

  Keagan

  I manage to get home before I need to head over to the restaurant. The meeting with the technicians threatened to take forever. That brainy bunch has all the time in the world. Night-time is their favorite, and they could go on arguing algorithms until fucking dawn.

  I wanted to get home to get ready for my date with Dana.

  Dinner, I remind myself. A catch-up session. Not a goddamn date.

  I jump into the shower. I soap up my body and my hands slide over my cock. I’m already rock-hard. I palm myself and slide my hand up and down my throbbing shaft a few times, but I let it go. There’s no time.

  I rinse, get out, and dry off before I pull fresh clothes from my closet. Black jeans, an aqua shirt, black shoes, and the chain around my neck she bought me for Christmas. I finger comb my wet hair to the side and let it dry by itself. I run a razor over my chin, pat on aftershave that stings like a motherfucker, and leave my apartment again.

  The drive to Bestia from my apartment at South Park by Windsor is quick, and I pull into a parking spot just after seven. I’m only a couple of minutes late. I’m nervous. I’ve grown up with this girl, and she still gets me tongue-tied and hot and bothered without doing anything at all.

  When I walk up to the front door, a flash goes off in my face. Then another, and another, and I sigh. Fuck.

  They fucking follow me around sometimes. I smile and pose for a photo or two. This is my life now, famous and frustrating whether I ask for it or not. When I’ve done my part, I walk into the restaurant where the paparazzi isn’t allowed to follow. Thank God.

  The restaurant has an industrial vibe, but it’s a cozy place. When I walk in, I see Dana sitting at a table already. I tell the hostess I’m meeting someone and walk straight to her. I only have a second to study her before she looks up and sees me, and she’s fucking breath-taking. As always.

  She gets up, smiling. She’s wearing a dress that hugs her curves in all the right ways. It catches her leg mid-thigh. Her legs are long and tan. I want so badly for her to wrap them around my hips. Heels made her ass look fucking fantastic. I can’t see it now because she’s facing me, but I’ve looked at her ass enough times in my life to know this for a fact.