Operation Makeover

by D. J. Jamison

  They finished her thought in unison: “This is Jace we’re talking about.”

  After laughing at that, Ronnie went on. “Ridley, you should come out. You already look great. And he’s your best friend. Not like you can avoid him until you’re some perfect version of yourself.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not ready to see him tonight,” Ridley said. “Give me some time to adjust and make a plan for how I’m going to make my move.”

  “Ooh, you’re gonna try to be smooth?” she teased. “This will be good.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Shut up, you.”

  She mimed zipping her lip and crossed to the door. “Have fun playing with Legos,” she called on her way out.

  “I will,” he said, sticking out a tongue.

  She laughed as she opened the door, but her eyes softened. “It really does look good, Rid. If Jace can’t see that, it’s his loss.”

  “Yeah, not much comfort, Sis. Go get your paramedic. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  She blew him a kiss and walked out, and Ridley obeyed his rumbling stomach and went to the kitchen to rustle up some food.

  7

  Cole had the mother of all hangovers on Saturday, but at least his corpse-like state received some animation in the form of a call from his cute makeover client. Cole answered the phone without opening his eyes because his head hurt.

  “This better not be Travis.”

  “Uh, hi. Is this Cole?”

  Not Travis’s voice. Cole pried open an eye to peek at the cell phone screen. RIDLEY CLIENT, it read, Cole’s way of coding all his clients’ names to separate them from his regular friends and family.

  “Hi, yes, sorry. I didn’t check the phone before answering. I was afraid you might be my ex.”

  “Oh. Um, well, it’s Ridley. I’m not sure if you remember me from last week? You did my hair.”

  Cole chuckled and shifted on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable. “Ridley with the big brown eyes. I remember.”

  “Shouldn’t you be remembering my hair?”

  “I remember that too,” Cole murmured. Especially how soft it felt as he ran his fingers through it. But he wasn’t supposed to get that kind of pleasure from his work.

  And shit, he’d just tried to flirt with a guy who was in love with his best friend, hadn’t he? Pain pulsed behind his eyes, reminding him he was too hungover to work his mojo properly. Probably for the best.

  “Anyway,” Ridley said tentatively, “I was calling about the clothes shopping. I mean, only if you really want to help. Don’t feel obligated.”

  “Relax,” Cole said, “I offered to help. I’m happy to do it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Okay.”

  A silence lingered, and Cole felt his consciousness sliding from his grasp, when Ridley’s voice in his ear, deep and intimate, jarred him back to the present. “When do you want to do it?”

  Cole attempted to visualize his schedule and failed. “Not today,” he said finally. “I’m hungover. Anita hates me, and so she plied me with tequila all night.”

  “Anita?”

  “My friend. She works at the salon too. Blue-green hair? Mean face?”

  Cole could hear the smile in Ridley’s voice when he answered. “I remember her. Well, her face seemed perfectly friendly, to be honest.”

  “She must have liked you.”

  “If you say so,” Ridley said, before adding, “If you’re hungover, I doubt you want to be talking to me right now.”

  Cole didn’t want to talk to anyone, but if he had to choose someone, Ridley was ranking high in the charts. He had a nice voice, low and smooth. Cole hadn’t noticed it so much in person, but it was raising goose bumps on his skin as they spoke over the phone.

  Still, his head was pounding and there was no reason to prolong the conversation. Before he could formulate a response, Ridley continued.

  “How about I text you my schedule, and you can compare it to yours and let me know what works?”

  “That sounds amazingly logical,” Cole said. “Do that, and I’ll imitate a corpse some more.”

  Ridley laughed. “Just don’t imitate one too well. Take care, Cole.”

  “M’kay,” Cole said, sleep already pulling at him. “Bye.”

  He dropped his phone beside him, and blissfully slipped into a light sleep. When he woke, hours later, he checked his phone and smiled to see Ridley’s text message with his availability. If only he was truly available. Leave it to Cole to finally meet a nice guy, only to have him be in love with someone else.

  But Cole would help Ridley out either way. He seemed like a good guy who could use a break. And unlike most of Cole’s exes, he had sweetheart written all over him. That alone would make a nice change of pace.

  Cole edited Ridley’s name to take off the CLIENT label. He might not be a date, but he was more than a guy who’d sat in Cole’s salon chair one day.

  Ridley walked into the kitchen, carrying two grocery bags of supplies his mother had asked him to pick up for a barbecue, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Jace was on the kitchen floor, flat on his back, with his arms and legs spread like some kind of dirty angel sent to answer Ridley’s prayers. He wore only a pair of basketball shorts, which outlined his junk. His chest, lean but defined from frequent trips to the gym, was lightly covered in golden hair, glistening with sweat. It contrasted with the darker hair under his arms, clearly visible with his arms angling up from his sides. Even his feet were bare.

  The smile that had lingered since Ridley’s phone call with Cole vanished.

  “Jace?”

  Jace rolled his head toward him. “Hey, man.”

  “What are you doing on the floor?” Ridley asked. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t bother to ask Jace why he was there; he usually knocked, but he had a key so he could let himself in if no one was home.

  “Floor’s cold,” Jace said. “Feels nice.”

  Ridley blinked, wondering if he should worry. Maybe he’d fallen and hit his head? But before he decided Jace was delirious, his friend added, “I’ve got a wicked sunburn.”

  Ridley’s gaze returned to Jace’s body. He always tried to avoid looking too long because as much as he wanted Jace to notice him, he didn’t want Jace to call him out on ogling him. Not when Jace might feel obligated to explain he didn’t see Ridley the same way.

  Now, he could see Jace’s shoulders were red. His chest was only a light pink, but Jace rolled to his stomach and Ridley hissed in sympathy. His back was practically glowing it was so red. He wasn’t blistering, but he looked like a boiled lobster.

  “Shit, Jace.”

  “Yeah, I came to see if you guys had anything I could put on it, but no one was here.”

  Ridley thrust his bags on the counter. “You do realize you’re a paramedic, right? First aid should be your forte.”

  Jace snorted. “Do you see my kit on me? Besides, sunburn isn’t typically worthy of a 911 call.”

  Ridley rolled his eyes. It always amazed him how capable Jace could be on the job — at least, he assumed he was capable, not like he was riding along — because the guy could barely take care of himself. He was like a big kid sometimes.

  “Come on, let’s get you off the floor. I’ve got some aloe.”

  Jace pushed himself to his feet with a pained grunt. “Thanks, man.”

  “How’d you manage to burn so bad?” Ridley asked. “You’re already tan.”

  “I was out at the lake for hours. Fell asleep on the boat.”

  “Not Tim’s?”

  “Nah. Not him,” he said without volunteering anything more. Ridley’s stomach clenched, and he didn’t know what made him feel worse: the possibility Jace was with a hookup, or the idea that Jace was out with friends and didn’t invite him.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to my bed. I’ll put down a towel and then lotion you up.”

  “Finally getting me in your bed,” Ja
ce joked.

  “As if you haven’t been there dozens of times before,” Ridley grumbled.

  None of those times had been anything but platonic.

  Ridley fetched a towel and laid it out for Jace, who flopped onto his front with a sigh.

  “Fix me up, doctor.”

  Ridley fought the urge to look at Jace’s ass showcased by clingy fabric. Tried and failed.

  He went to fetch the aloe and shake away any uncomfortable thoughts about Jace. Now wasn’t the time. Well, there was never a good time to drool over your best friend without his knowledge. But now wasn’t the time to tell Jace about his feelings.

  Ridley rubbed aloe-based lotion onto Jace’s sunburn, standing beside the bed and twisting uncomfortably to be sure no part of him other than his palms touched Jace’s broad shoulders and muscled back.

  Situations like these were agony because they’d been friends long enough that Jace wasn’t shy with his body. Casual intimacy, like sleeping in the same bed after a night of drinking or roughhousing when Jace was bored or antsy, was commonplace. Ridley just had to deal with it. Luckily, over the years, he’d learned to push down his physical response. He didn’t get hard from touching Jace; in a way, this closeness made him more unhappy than turned on. Under his fingertips, Jace was like sand he couldn’t quite hold. He just slipped away again and again.

  “Wanna order pizza?” Jace asked. “We could hang out.”

  “Mom and Dad are having a barbecue,” Ridley said. “Gotta make an appearance.”

  Jace pushed himself up onto his forearms and twisted to look over his shoulder. “And you didn’t invite me?” he asked incredulously. “You know how much I love your dad’s grilling. Man, my mouth is watering now.”

  Ridley grinned. “Since when do you need an invite?”

  Jace settled back down, resting his chin on his folded hands. “Good point. Guess I’ll come along then.”

  “Sure. We’ll be sitting outside ... in the sun ...”

  Jace groaned. “That’s just mean.”

  “Still want to go?”

  There was no hesitation. Jace grabbed the bottle at his side and held it out to Ridley. “Lotion me extra good and loan me a T-shirt, and I’m good to go.”

  Ridley shook his head, not really expecting anything else. Jace was never one to be left out. He used to try to go to school while sick with the flu because he wanted to see his friends.

  He lifted the bottle and squeezed it, letting the cool gel fall with a splat between Jace’s shoulder blades. Beneath him, Jace jolted and hissed, and Ridley felt a sense of satisfaction. Why should he be the only one to suffer?

  Ronnie got home half an hour later, and they all headed out to the cars together. Jace’s pickup was parked at the curb, and Ronnie’s shiny green beetle sat beside Ridley’s more practical Jetta in the driveway. They were a VW family, through and through. Even their dad had an old VW Rabbit in the garage that he took out for an occasional drive.

  “Are we driving separate?” Jace asked.

  “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  Jace shook his head. “Nope.”

  Ridley sighed theatrically. "Then I suppose you can ride with me. I’m guessing you want the freedom to have a few beers to take the edge off that burn.”

  Ronnie strolled up behind them, smacking a hand onto Jace’s shoulder. “How did you get such an awful burn?” she asked with an evil grin. “Didn’t your mama teach you to use sunscreen?”

  Jace winced. “You know you’re usually the one who reminds me to wear it,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re a boy child in need of a keeper,” she said as they reached the car.

  “Shotgun!” Jace called.

  “Like I said, a child,” Ronnie said with a roll of her eyes as she opened the back door.

  Ridley bit down on a laugh. Ronnie and Jace had always acted like bickering siblings. Thank God. Ridley didn’t even want to imagine how he’d feel if Jace was straight and/or his sister was also hung up on him. It was tough enough pining for an oblivious guy without competition at home.

  Ronnie and Ridley, oddly enough, had never really fought much. They’d always been close, more like friends than annoying siblings, based on what he’d seen of how his friends acted with their own family. Maybe it was a twin thing.

  “Oh, hold up. I have something for you,” Jace said, jogging over to his car.

  Ridley looked to Ronnie, but she only shrugged and took the opportunity to sneak into the front seat. When Jace returned, he tossed a bag over the car’s roof to Ridley. “Here. This made me think of you.”

  Ridley grabbed the shopping bag, peeking inside. It was a shirt. Drawing it out, he looked at the front. “When I see Legolas, I’m ready to connect” read the shirt, with a Lego version of Legolas from Lord of the Rings. Ridley snorted. It didn’t exactly fit the new image he was trying to cultivate, but of course he liked it.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Uh, you know it’s not my birthday, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, dipshit. Can’t a guy just buy a dorky T-shirt for his friend?”

  Ridley forced a smile to his face. Once again, he was the geeky friend. Jace meant well. Ridley had always loved Legos. But he kind of hated that “dorky T-shirt” equaled Ridley in Jace’s mind. That wasn’t true-love material.

  Jace looked down and exclaimed. “Hey, I called shotgun!”

  “You snooze you lose,” Ronnie said without remorse.

  When they’d finished bickering over seating arrangements and driven to their parents’ house, they found Ridley’s mom in the kitchen, putting together a garden salad. Through the window, Ridley could see his dad — a man who looked much like him, but with gray edging his temples and a salt-and-pepper beard — standing by the grill. He wasn’t doing much other than drinking a beer and staring off into the distance, but Ridley’s dad had always been the strong, silent type. He enjoyed quiet time to think.

  His mother, on the other hand, was a force of nature.

  “You cut your hair!” she exclaimed. Throwing her hands in the air and tipping her head toward the ceiling, she added, “Hallelujah, my prayers have been answered!”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Ridley said dryly. “No one gives backhanded compliments like you.”

  “Oh, hey,” Jace said. “You did cut it. Huh. Looks good.”

  Ridley and Ronnie exchanged an exasperated look. As usual, Jace was oblivious. Ridley pushed down his disappointment that Jace hadn’t noticed the change sooner. This was only one phase of the makeover. By the end, he’d be a whole new man that Jace couldn’t miss. That was the plan anyway. Ridley wasn’t so sure he could pull it off.

  His mom spun to plant a kiss on Jace’s cheek. “It’s been too long since you’ve been over.”

  “I know, Patsy,” Jace said with puppy dog eyes. “They never invite me.”

  She turned to Ridley, eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

  Ridley unloaded two grocery bags onto her counter. “You know he has a crazy work schedule. It’s not my fault he wasn’t around the last few times we came for dinner.” Ridley held up a package of hot dog buns. “Your supplies delivered as ordered.”

  “Are you waiting for a thank-you?” she asked. “You’re welcome for nearly thirty years of feeding you.”

  Ridley was twenty-six, so not that close to thirty, thank you very much. And she hadn’t fed him regularly for about six years, but he knew how to pick his battles. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Ronnie laughed at him. “You’re such a mama’s boy.”

  Ridley flipped her off, and his mother ignored them both by turning back to Jace, who she treated like an honorary son. Which was only natural, since he’d practically lived at her house all through high school. Jace hadn’t had the best relationship with his dad. It had nothing to do with his sexuality. His dad had accepted that easily enough, but the man poured on the pressure. He’d wanted Jace to go to a four-year university and pursue a law degree, as he had, but Jace was too athletic and physically
inclined to go the academic route. His paramedic training was challenging for him, but at least on the job, he got that rush of adrenaline he craved. Ridley had always secretly thought that Jace might have ADD or even ADHD, but he’d never been diagnosed.

  “That’s an awful sunburn,” Ridley’s mom said once she was focused on Jace again. Even though he now wore a shirt, the burn was evident on his face, neck, and arms. “As a health professional, you really should know better. You may be young, but you’re not invincible, and skin cancer is no joke.”

  Jace nodded. “You’re right, but I didn’t have my Ronnie to keep an eye on me,” he said, tossing an arm around her waist and dragging her away from the refrigerator where she was attempting to pull out drinks.

  Ronnie struggled, but Jace was too strong for her to break his grip. “I swear to— Jace! If you want beer, you will let me go.”

  Jace released her so quickly she nearly face-planted on the tile floor.

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly when she shot a glare. “Please don’t withhold my beer. I’m hurting here.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled out three Sam Adams beer bottles and handed Ridley one. Then she stepped in close and pressed the other against Jace’s neck.

  He lurched, squeaking, and everyone broke into laughter. Apparently Jace brought out the urge to torment him in both Massey twins. Hopefully for different reasons.

  The door opened, and Ridley’s dad leaned in. “Bring me the brats,” he said.

  “Are they the jalapeño cheese ones?” Jace asked hopefully.

  Ridley’s dad grinned. “Is there any other kind?”

  “Yesss,” Jace said, turning to Ridley with a heart-stopping grin. “This day just got a whole lot better.”

  8

  Cole parked his car in front of a cute cottage painted a cheerful yellow with white trim. It looked small but cozy, with a nicely kept yard. It wasn’t necessarily what he’d expected — most single guys around his age lived in an apartment — but somehow it fit Ridley. It was well maintained without a lot of frills, like the man himself.