Chapter 16
Zane
“Jett Navarro can pack his bags, even if it is all underwear. Because Zane Calloway is officially the most searched male model on the web,” Nigel says, handing me a glass of whiskey. I hold on to it, but I don’t take a sip. For one, whiskey is sugar, and it’s not even nine in the morning.
“What can I say? Women like consistency,” I say, setting the glass down.
“They also like a man they can call daddy,” Nigel says, and I’m glad I’m not drinking because if I was, I would have just spit it out in his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Older men. Men who are settled down, mature, and stable but still have better abs than Ryan Gosling,” he says. I get where he’s going with it now.
“Does Ryan Gosling still have good abs?” I ask, trading my whiskey for my coffee mug.
“He does look like he’s been photoshopped,” Nigel says.
“Fair enough.” I say. I’m in a good mood. I also can’t stop smiling.
Women like older men.
Her words, not mine.
I know she wasn’t exactly sober, but there was honesty in her words. While I’m not going to read too much into them, they were satisfying.
“So I’m thinking we get some villa shots,” he says and again, I’m lost.
“Villa?” I ask.
“Okay, not villa per se, but shots on your back porch. Or, better yet, we go to the beach. Ever since your little, unexpected publicity stunt, I’ve been getting contacted by companies that want to partner with you. Just this morning De Agua called me,” he says.
“The cologne company?” I ask.
“Yep. They want to make a new cologne inspired by you. I think they’re going to call it Depths of Dios Del Agua,” he grins.
“They’re comparing me to–”
“Adonis,” Nigel says with more excitement than I’m feeling. Not that cologne isn’t cool, but still.
“Sure,” I agree. At this point, turning down anything would be a bad move.
After my last encounter with Jett, I am high on the idea of outshining him in every way.
Normally I don’t give a fuck what these kids do or say.
I just ignore them and do my thing. Normally they aren’t threatening to get between me and a girl either.
“So how’s the misses?” Nigel asks, ripping me out of my thoughts.
“We aren’t married,” I snap.
“Considering the waves this whole thing is making, you might as well be,” Nigel says.
I ignore everything he’s implying and answer the original question. “Things are good,” I say. “I really like her.”
“Like her?” he asks. “What is this middle school? Did you pass a note to Cal in class and have him give it to her during passing period? You need to be in love!”
“It’s a little premature for that, don’t you think?” I ask.
“In this industry, you could already have three kids and a golden retriever and the world wouldn’t think you were rushing it,” he says, and I let out a sigh.
“So does she still work for Sigma Magazine?” he asks. He is really putting me through it this morning. I know we need to talk work, but it would be nice to at least finish my coffee before we map out my life.
“As far as I know, yes,” I answer.
“Does she take photos of you?” he asks.
“Of course not. Why?” I snap.
“That’s a shame. If she was snapping photos of you candidly and turning them in, that would look even better,” he says, but I beg to differ.
“It’s bad enough that every time I walk out my door people are holding up their phones. I’d like to think my house could be a safe zone from that. Clocking out is a thing, you know.”
“Not for salary workers,” he says, brushing off everything I am telling him. “And God knows I pay you enough. Let her take some photos; nothing wild. Just like a sneak peek into the underwear god’s drawers sort of thing,” Nigel chuckles at his own quote-unquote cleverness.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, clearly not getting that I was being sarcastic. “A public statement would really ice the cake.”
“A public statement? Of what?” I ask.
“Your relationship status,” he says. “Zane Calloway is officially off the market, and women have never wanted him more.”
* * *
I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not really a public statement kind of guy. When I mention to Ashlyn that Nigel wants us to be more obvious that we are a couple, and going on a date wouldn’t hurt, she suggests making it a double date.
“A double date?” I ask. “With who?”
“My friend Demi and I had plans to go to that cute little tapas place tonight. Her schedule is a bit wild, so I don’t want to blow her off,” Ashlyn explains as she struggles to put an earring in.
She’s wearing a peacock green summer dress that is layered and flowy and ties in the back, showing off most of her back.
She looks amazing. “If you can think of a friend you could invite, it could be fun. And what says look at us, we are in a relationship more than a double date?”
She’s not wrong. Honestly, I am kind of impressed.
“I guess my friend Caleb would probably be game,” I say.
“Caleb. Wait. As in Cal Flynn?” she asks.
“You’ve heard of him.” I say. It’s not a question. I can tell by her tone.
“I mean, who hasn’t? He models for firefighter calendars,” she says. A tinge of something hot runs through my veins. Is that jealousy I’m feeling?
“Well. Let’s do it,” I say.
“Cool, I’ll text Demi and let her know,” she says, and I can’t help but smile. She seems excited, and that makes me feel good in more ways than one.
Later, we are at Little Madrid, sitting on the patio together, Cal across from me and Demi across from Ashlyn.
I was honestly a little unsure about all of it, but the energy between the four of us is great.
Demi and Cal are similar in the same way Ashlyn and I are.
She gives him a run for his money, which is entertaining as hell for me.
“So let me get this straight,” Demi says to him as he loads a chip with salsa. “You’re not a real firefighter.”
“I am not,” he says. “And from my understanding, I start a lot more fires than I put out,” he winks.
Demi rolls her eyes, Ashlyn laughs, and I just smile.
This is fun. I’m not blind to all the people whispering and taking photos of us. Nigel will be tickled pink when I go into work again, I am sure. After all, what’s a better surprise for the restaurant patrons than seeing two supermodels and two gorgeous women having a casual dinner together?
“So let’s talk about you two,” Demi says, turning the attention over to Ashlyn and I.
“Yes, let’s,” Cal agrees. “I think you guys are adorable together.”
I give him a look that he swats away like a fly, and Ashlyn blushes.
“I don’t buy it,” Demi says, and all of us look at her as she takes a sip of her margarita. “What? I don’t.”
“Why not?” Ashlyn asks.
“You’re not convincing enough,” Demi says casually.
“The only reason you don’t think it’s convincing is because you and Cal know it’s not real,” Ashlyn whispers.
“That and the two of you got the seven-year gap between you,” Cal says and Demi nods.
“Exactly!”
“The seven year what?” I ask.
“The three-year gap,” Demi explains. “When couples first get together, they’re all over each other.
Practically sitting on each other’s laps.
After a while, they still sit close, but it’s more touching than actively crawling all over one another.
After more time, there’s an inch or two between them, nothing bad. But after that–”
“About three years typically,” Cal adds in.
“There is a bigger gap. Almost enough for another person to squeeze in if they wanted to. The three-year gap,” she concludes.
“That’s ridiculous,” I snort, taking a sip of my drink and a bite of my salad. Normally, I have a couple of cheat days saved up for special occasions. I do love me some enchiladas or a smothered burrito. Considering I might be modeling cologne on the beach soon; I need to stay a little hungry.
“I hate to say it, Demi, but I kind of agree with Zane,” Ashlyn says, and I smile.
“See?” Demi says. “That’s what I’m talking about. You hate to agree with him. You aren’t batting your eyes at him. You’ve got less tension flowing between you two than Smoke Boy and I do.”
“Excuse me. I prefer the term ‘Hose Jockey’ if you’re going to slam my profession,” Cal cuts in.
“You mean your faux-fession,” she says.
“She’s not wrong,” Cal says. “You didn’t kiss when we got here.”
“We rode together,” Ashlyn says.
“You haven’t touched her once,” Demi goes on.
“You don’t know where my hands are under the table,” I say defensively.
“Given the rest of the context clues, I am pretty sure we know where they aren’t.” Cal says. Ashlyn bites her lip, and I clench my jaw. Then I put my arm around her.
“Better?” I ask.
“Well, now it looks forced,” Cal says.
“It feels forced, too,” Ashlyn mutters.
All of this is getting under my skin. I might be a model and I might pose for a living, but when I’m not at work, I’m not forced or fake.
I turn to Ashlyn, and when she looks over at me, I pull her against me.
My mouth crashes into hers, and that’s that.
I ignore the gasps and laughs, the ooos and ahhs, and the photos I know people are snapping.
I’m not doing it for them. I’m not even doing it for publicity.
I’m doing it because no one is going to tell me I’m not authentic. And because I fucking want to.
When we pull apart, Ashlyn’s face is flushed red, and I go back to my food.
“You alright over there?” Cal asks her, and she nods with a goofy smile, pushing her chair back.
“Yeah. I uh…just need to use the restroom,” she says.
“I’m going to grab another drink at the bar,” Demi says.
I don’t look at Cal. I don’t have to. I know he looks smug as fuck.
“Now that’s more like it,” he says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Oh, no?” he asks.
“Nope,” I answer.
“Then why are you smiling like an idiot?” he asks, and I pause. Honestly…I was kind of wondering the same thing.