“Well, girl. Short of changing the locks, not sure what I’m supposed to do. You like him, don’tcha?” She made a low whimper of agreement. The last woman Brenna had set me up with—Gemma—wanted nothing to do with Jess. Wouldn’t pick her up or pet her and brushed imaginary hair off her clothes at every given opportunity. I sighed and started one of the crosswords. Half an hour later, I was bored out of my mind.
I turned on the television and got Netflix working, which I hadn’t watched in forever though I continued to pay the monthly fee. The down time was going to drive me insane, and I couldn’t stand it. I found a baking show to binge watch and Jess hopped up on my chest. At some point I fell asleep.
Sometime later I was woken by the keys rattling in the door. It seemed Jess had been sleeping too, as she woke and bounded off my chest to reach the door. Stuart dragged in two Louis Vuitton suitcases and a large tote bag.
“Hey, honey I’m home.” I grinned only because he couldn’t see me. What a guy. Full of surprises, that was for sure.
“Sure, make yourself comfortable,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I pointed to the back hallway, resigned. “The guest bedroom is on the left.” And away he flounced—for there was no other word to describe it—to the room.
A short time later he came back through. “You need that much luggage for a night?”
“Oh no! I’m here until you’re all better. I’ll take Jess out now, and then we can have dinner together.” I sighed.
Then he handed me what could only be described as a cane. I laughed before I could stop myself, and looked at him. “You have got to be kidding. I’m not an elderly man who needs a cane.” I made a “shoving-away” motion with my hands.
Stuart took one stomp towards me and leaned the cane on the couch. “No, that’s right, because if you were, I would have gone the full way and got you a walker instead.”
Trying to hold in my laugh, I reluctantly grabbed the cane and placed it on the coffee table. “Fine, ‘doctor,’ if you think it will help.”
“Help with what? Your sore ankle or your grumpiness.”
I let out a chuckle. “Well, one I’ve only had for two days, and the other has been with me a lifetime, so what do you think?” I retorted.
Not answering, he continued, “Try getting up, grandpa. I can tell you’ve been cooped up far too long, and the cane will give you a bit of freedom. You could donder to the end of the road with us and then head back?”
Why the hell was he being so nice when I’d basically grunted and been nothing but rude. Most other people would have just left me alone. And I liked it. He was funny and amusing and never let me have the last word.
“Okay.” I swung my good leg off the couch and then lifted the other one more carefully, pushing myself up with the cane. Brenna wasn’t here to lecture me and I needed to get out. At least my upper body strength was still working just fine. Putting on some shoes was a ridiculous task though, and eventually, I let Stuart help me. I even thanked him.
“Come on, Jess. Your dad thinks he’s Superman and can do everything himself and that it’s bad to ask for help.” He looked from Jess to me, then added, “Come on, you OAP.”
As much as I tried to hide my laugh, it just leaked out. The next thing I knew, the heartiest, shoulders-shaking-eyes-tearing laugh emerged. I couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened. It was a bit scary, like I was baring another layer of myself to him, and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.
The steps were awkward to navigate, even with a cane, and after Stuart hooked Jess’s lead around the newel at the foot of the rail, he climbed back up to offer his arm for support. I took it only because the other option was to topple over onto my ass. I really didn’t need a bruised butt on top of the ankle issue.
As we slowly made it down the stairs, Jess sat perfectly well-behaved at the bottom. “Dogs can sense when you’re having a problem, you know. I think Jess knows you’re not yourself.”
I didn’t say much as Stuart continued—he asked me questions and seemed content to ramble on about everything and nothing. Under normal circumstances, it’d have taken me seconds to walk down the ten steps, whereas this time it seemed like hours. In reality, it was probably only ten minutes. I have never had this long a conversation with anyone. And it wasn’t even a conversation. I was barely grunting out answers, and as ludicrous as it sounds, I was enjoying his company. It soothed my soul.
Jess wagged her tail as she patiently waited for me, but by the time I made it to the bottom step, she walked right up to Stuart on the sidewalk instead. “Thanks, Jess, you traitor. On his side, are you?” She let out a small bark then went off to sniff a section of grass by the steps. A sure sign she wanted to get going.
We hadn’t gotten very far when there was a tap on my shoulder and a young girl made eye contact with me. “Mr. Easton, could I get a photo with you?” Shit, I hadn’t put on a cap of any sort. Then again, I probably had bags under my eyes and looked like death warmed up since I’d not been outside or exercised. How she recognized me at all was a mystery.
Sighing, I was about to deny any inkling of this “Mr. Easton” when Stuart swooped in.
“Sure, what’s your name?” Jess panted beside him, looking like she was smiling at my uncomfortable situation. Again. Traitor. “Stand in close to Marshall, and I’ll take the photo for you.”
“It’s … ah, Lucy. Thank you.”
“Now, say cheese!” I looked down at Lucy, who was grinning, and then faced the camera without even cracking a smile.
“Oh, Marshall, it won’t hurt you to smile.” My lips moved. Dammit. “Stuart Little would.”
And then I did smile and he took the photo. Bastard.
“Thank you so much.” Lucy was grinning and thanked me profusely as she walked away.
“That wasn’t too hard now, was it?” Stuart asked.
I never said anything in reply to that. “Look, I’m actually exhausted. I’ll crawl or hobble back up and see you guys when you’re back. It’ll surely be easier going back up.”
“Is this because I made you smile in a photo with a fan?” he questioned.
I rubbed my neck. “Ah, no … really it’s not.” Then I looked directly at him. “I’m actually just worn out from coming out here. I thought I could do it, but I need to rest.”
He must have heard the sincerity in my words. “You head back up. Take your time though, and we’ll be back soon.”
I nodded and Jess looked back at me as they trotted away. I waved to them though they couldn’t see me, then I hobbled back to my place. The stairs were a nightmare, but not as bad as going down had been. When I finally made it inside, I collapsed on the sofa.
My phone rang and it was Brenna. “Hello?”
“I’ve tried a few times and no reply. Are you okay?” she asked me.
“Yes, of course.” I wasn’t going to tell her I’d tried to go out, but it was obviously too much. “How is the photoshoot going?” I said, changing the subject. Just then my ankle slipped off the pillow and I gritted my teeth, trying not to scream out in agony into the phone.
“What just happened. Shit, I should just come back. Do you want me to?” she asked. “Forget the photoshoot for now.”
“No. Don’t you dare. I have it all under control.” I didn’t give much thought as to why I didn’t mention Stuart or how he’d invited himself to stay. Or the fact that I hadn’t really cared to stop him. “Yeah, so pass on my apologies.” I cleared my throat. “See you when you’re back.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, but your mum wanted me to remind you about the gala she’s hosting next month and that you said you’d be there.”
“Oh, wow. The ankle and now this. Joy,” I said sarcastically.
“I could say you’re busy? Have another engagement?”
“Thanks. But no. You know what she’s like. I’m expected there. I’ll figure it out.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself, Marshall.”
“Than
ks.” Then I hit End and picked up another of the word books Stuart had bought, only I couldn’t focus on it. I thought about the gala my mum was hosting next month and wanted me to be there. Ah, another mother-son bonding session that sounded more like a business transaction. If it wasn’t a month away, I could’ve used my ankle as an excuse to get out of it. No, she’d expect me there unless I was on my death bed. Fuck.
Or I could tell her I was gay. I was sure that would get me out of another torturous, faux-smiling, social event. For years, I’d never contemplated telling her. We’d been close when I first started modelling, but then we’d both gotten so busy that it seemed we only saw each other at these preplanned social gatherings. Heck, even at Christmas last year, I was in Colorado to shoot a magazine spread.
She hadn’t necessarily made any homophobic remarks, but with each woman I dated, she acted like it was the best thing ever, and then she’d weep over the phone when I’d make the obligatory phone call announcing we’d broken up.
A few times I tried to direct her fundraising efforts towards LGBT groups, but she never took it to heart and I never pushed very hard.
It was difficult to figure out what her reaction would be. And then there was Brenna. Years had passed and I hadn’t told her. She’d probably be insanely mad that I’d kept it a secret. It was better for my career and, in turn, hers, or so I tried to convince myself over the past ten years. Honestly, it was becoming tedious.
Jess and Stuart returned, snapping me out of my thoughts. I let Jess jump on top of me and began petting her. Licking my lips I looked up, trying to be kind to Stuart. “Thanks. How was she?”
“Great little girl. As always. You got a good one there,” he said, sitting down on the seat across from me. “How long have you had her?”
“Ah, I adopted her from the In Pawspective Dog Society about eight months ago. Brenna, who I’m sure you’ve talked to”—I looked over at him for confirmation as he nodded his head—“thought I was crazy to adopt with my schedule and everything, but as soon as I held her, I had to have her. It was love at first sight.”
“Awww, so the Ice Queen does have a heart of gold,” he said. “Just kidding. That’s really sweet and I can see why it was love at first sight.” Jess seemed to know we were discussing her and left me to jump up on Stuart.
Under half-open eyes, I admired them both. Beautiful Jess and just-as-beautiful Stuart. Never in all my years had someone managed to work their way into my life like that and make me happier for it.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a charge in the air—something not smothering, but an easiness instead. I’m not sure if Stuart felt it too, because right then, he suddenly lifted Jess off of him, put her on the floor, and got up.
“I’ll make us some pasta. Does that sound okay?”
“You don’t have to do that. We can order in.” I sounded meek even as my stomach growled. “I don’t want you to think you’re my servant.”
“Your stomach is telling me otherwise.” Stuart smiled and continued to move towards the kitchen. “No, come over here. You can learn too.”
“You’re going to teach me to cook? This is the first time off I’ve had in years. I don’t need to learn this.” I didn’t let on that I actually had no clue what to do with my time or that I was bored out of my mind and needed something to do.
“Actually, I am. Then, maybe one day you’ll return the favour and make something for me.” Then he winked and walked over to get a pot out of a drawer by the dishwasher.
“Wow, ah, you sure know your way round my kitchen.” Watching him at home in the kitchen was reassuring and also nerve-wracking.
He looked at me and fluttered his eyelids. “Let me ask you, Marshall. If I asked you where”—his hands flew around to encompass the kitchen—“there, or if there was a pasta strainer in here, would you be able to tell me?”
I looked around, bewildered. How could he trick me already? “Sure. Yeah,” I said, pointing vaguely to the wall of cupboards that ran along the length of the kitchen under a window. “Just there.” I pointed. Then I looked down at the floor and back up to him. “No idea.”
“Well, I’ll let you off this time,” he said. “Now, first we’ll boil the water. You can do that, right?”
“Without burning it?” I retorted. “Hopefully.”
He laughed. “Oh, a sense of humour. This is good, really good.”
I swatted him across the arm. “I most certainly do not. Don’t ruin my persona. I’m a broody male model.”
“Yeah, all the magazines paint a bleak—” He stopped talking, clasping his hands over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Confession time. My roommate, you know, you met him the other morning”—a red hue creeped up his neck and cheeks—“kind of asked me when you left, how I knew you. Of course, I was utterly confused. Then he showed me a magazine …” He trailed off.
I should have been annoyed. Usually, I would have been, as if it was an invasion of my privacy. For some reason, I just found him endearing. This was the first time his confident, cheeky attitude faltered. He added the pasta to the water, but the teaching element had vanished—for another time, I suppose.
Suddenly and for no reason, beads of sweat popped up on my forehead and my palms were sweaty. That wasn’t true; I knew perfectly well what the reason was. But I couldn’t do this. A scenario like this had never occurred before. I never saw the same hookups twice or had to ask them to keep the truth a secret. Is that what I was contemplating doing?
Now, I had this wonderful man in front of me, who didn’t deserve to become immersed in my shit show of a life, and yet somehow he was … wait … massaging my shoulders? I must have been dreaming. No. No, I wasn’t.
“Hey, hey. You’ve had a panic attack or something. What is it?” There was a buzzing in my ears and I could sense words from all directions.
“Wha—what happened?” I asked in a daze. Opening my eyes, I could see I was on the sofa, but had no idea how I ended up there. I took deep cleansing breaths, trying to control my breathing again.
Stuart handed me some water. “It’s me, Stuart. I think you blacked out. Should I call a doctor?”
“How did you get me over here from the kitchen?” Why I thought knowing that was my top priority, I had no idea.
“Well, yeah, you are heavy, but I have these strong muscles,” he said and proceeded to lift up one arm as if he were Popeye.”
“From eating lots of spinach?” I asked. He laughed and as I started to laugh with him, Jess pawed on my trousers. “Hey, I’m okay.” Scooping her up into my lap, I did most of the talking for once. “Sit down. This will take a while.”
“Okay, just let me turn the stove off.” He got up, ran to the kitchen, and then returned.
“I don’t even know exactly what just happened, but I’m okay. Ah, no one knows I’m gay, Stuart. Not even my mum. Or Brenna. Now, you and your roommate are the sole holders of this knowledge. Maybe this all sounds very cliché, but whenever I need to let loose, I go and find hookups in the dark of night, then never see them again.”
“And the women. The dates?” he asked.
“It’s all for show. A cover-up. I hate it, I really do. Maybe I’m an asshole or selfish, but somehow I listened and it got in my head when Brenna said having a woman in my life or bringing a date to different events looked better for me because it came with the territory. It made me more relatable or some shit.” Glancing up at him, I tried to guess what he was thinking. “You see, I’ve debated broaching the subject a couple of times. Granted, not very strongly.” I sighed. “And it’s true. I have no idea what would happen if it got out.” I took a sip of water. “It’s been risky, I know. But I’ve just kept going in the same manner, I guess.
“When you came in, I was taken aback, as I’m sure you were. And I wanted to—or thought I would—be my grumpy old self and send you on your way.” I looked at him and he was sitting forward on his chair, listening intently. “Don’t be surprised if that still happens, by t
he way.” I continued rubbing Jess’s head.
“Anyway, so just now when you started talking about the magazines and Jamieson knowing and everything, I freaked out at the possibility of having to tell someone I’m gay. To confide in someone.” My mind still felt like a hamster in a spinning wheel as I talked, and yet a huge weight was lifted just by telling someone. It was a strange juxtaposition of feelings. I’d technically just told someone, hadn’t I?
“And I need to ask you and Jamieson to not tell anyone.” Awkwardly, I sat up so I could look at him and took a deep breath. “I know I have no right, but please—” My eyes opened wide, not above pleading. “For now.”
He surprised me then as he leaned forward. “Marshall, I swear your secret is safe with me and Jamieson. He already told me he wouldn’t say anything—well, for an autograph—but we won’t say a word. Everyone comes out when it’s right for them.” He crossed an X over his heart. “Cross my heart.”
“You really don’t think I’m an asshole for putting my career first and keeping it as my little secret?” Gathering him to me, I hugged him and leaned into his shoulder. It was overwhelming and scary and freeing all at the same time. I was frozen in place and started to sob because I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.
When Jess let out a whine, I straightened back up and lifted her onto my lap.
“Wow, you do go to great lengths to get out of learning to cook, don’t you?” he said. I wiped away my tears and laughed. “The asshole part is still up for debate.” I smiled at him. “No, really. Thank you for telling me.” Then he moved his fingers from one side of his mouth to the other. “Lips are zipped.” And I knew I could trust every word.
Stuart finished making the pasta and we sat at the table together to eat it. It was all very domesticated and surreal.
“Mmmmm. This is so good. I might even go as far as to say it’s better than the Italian place down the street.” I put another forkful into my mouth and licked my lips.
Marshall: Mayfair Model Series Page 4