Chapter Eight
Absolutely Drive You Wild
Jem was a dream. Jem was a vision. Jem was the romantic ideal of a man, all wrapped up in pretty paper River had chosen—funny and judgy and bitchy and kind and passionate in perfect proportion.
River’s friends were going to laugh at him for the rest of his life because his manager bought him a kindergarten teacher for a babysitter and River went and fell in love with him on the first date.
But River didn’t care because he’d spent the whole week writing music about things he was passionate about.
Currently Jem was at the top of the list, but River didn’t think he could be blamed.
“My nutritionist dragged me out of the music room at ten o’clock one night because I missed a meeting by an hour.” Oops. “I was dialed in. Didn’t even hear my tummy rumbling.”
Jem grinned. “That’s great. I know you were having a hard time with it.” Then he frowned. “Less good that you forget to eat, though. I cannot relate to that. I love food.”
“Food is fine. But sometimes it’s distracting.
” And when River was really focusing on something, he could tune out just about any distraction.
His mother used to worry he’d keep playing guitar while the smoke alarm was wailing and the house burned down around him.
“My nutritionist calls me River the Flat-Assed.”
Jem cleared his throat. “It’s not that bad.”
“I mean, it’s pretty bad. I considered getting those underwear with the butt implants to wear under the dress.”
“I didn’t know that was a thing.”
River clutched at his chest. “What’s this? I know a thing about fashion that Jem Anderson does not?”
Jem gave him a judgmental look, then leveled that look at his own backside. “In my defense, I’ve definitely never needed them.”
“Yes, you are delightfully round back there. But could you bounce a quarter off it?”
Jem rolled his eyes, but he flushed too. “Maybe you’ll find out.”
Maybe he would. “Turnabout’s fair play. What did you do all week?”
“Ugh.” Jem flopped back against the seat. “Boring teacher things. It’s report card season. So, like, drank too much coffee and swore a lot.”
“What do you even put on kindergarteners’ report cards? ‘Asked to use bathroom when necessary’?”
Jem steepled his fingers under his chin and put on a bland customer service voice.
“Tanya needs to learn to respect her friends’ boundaries.
Abbott does a good job sharing toys but should remember that food is for lunchtime and recess.
Leo is learning how to use his inside voice. ” His eyes glazed over as he spoke.
River shuddered in revulsion. “And that actually means?”
“Tanya pantsed a kid the other day, Abbott will try to trade toys for snacks, and Leo only screams at the top of his lungs, like, once a day now.”
“A budding rock star.”
“Do not give that child a guitar. Or a drum kit. At least not until he graduates kindergarten.”
“Or what? You’re gonna make me sleep on the couch?”
Jem snorted. “Are you kidding? I’ll put you in time-out. Something tells me denying you attention is the only punishment that’ll actually work.”
River clutched his heart. “You do know how to hit where it hurts.” He couldn’t think of many worse things than Jem ignoring him. “Promise I’ll behave.”
Jem’s expression said he was skeptical but amused. “Like you, I know my audience.”
It was a throwaway comment, but it was somehow true, despite the fact that they’d only known each other two weeks. Jem understood what made River tick. Not that River thought he was a particularly complicated guy, but it meant something that Jem was putting the effort in.
“All right, smartypants,” River said. “Let’s see how you do with a different crowd.”
The car pulled to a stop and they got out at the producer’s house—a typical Hollywood white stucco ranch with a circular driveway and a fountain and tasteful outdoor lighting.
Loud music spilled out into the courtyard, some pop tune River would have stuck in his head for a week.
When he slid his hand into Jem’s, the metal of the watch brushed his wrist, warm now with Jem’s body heat.
River pushed aside his reaction to deal with later.
“Jeez,” Jem murmured as they breezed inside. There was no one at the door; no one had to be, since they had a gate attendant working tonight. “Did everyone change? There’s a whole new set of fashion crimes.”
River hid a smile. “Now who needs to learn to behave?”
“I’ve seen five-year-olds put together better fits,” Jem grumbled.
“At least they’re not afraid of color. And their parents get rid of the clothes that are too small.
” He added this last bit as they passed a hulk of a man whose shirt buttons were straining across his chest. If he flexed a bicep, a seam would rip.
“I don’t think those jeans leave you any room to throw stones,” River said innocently as he plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing server.
Jem took the glass with a wry look. “And whose fault is that?”
“Mine,” River replied, “but if you want an apology you’re going to be waiting for a long time. I’m not sorry at all.”
They clinked their glasses together, but as River suspected, they didn’t get past the first sip before the sharks smelled fresh blood in the water and came out to investigate.
“River,” purred a B-list Hollywood starlet River had once presented an award with. He couldn’t remember what now. Kiana swooped in on tottering heels and kissed his cheek. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” She glanced slyly over at Jem. “And you brought a party favor.”
She meant it in a teasing way—no one could argue the fact that Jem was sweet—but River bristled anyway. “Get your own, Kiana. I’m not sharing and I didn’t bring enough for everyone.”
Kiana held up her manicured hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Touchy. I’m sorry, I’ve had one too many already.
” She heaved a sigh, and for a moment the mask slipped and River saw the exhaustion behind her makeup.
“Let’s start over.” She turned to Jem and offered her hand. “Hi. You’re handsome. I’m Kiana.”
Jem shook it, looking more bemused than anything. “Hi, Kiana. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jem.”
“Oh my God, you’re not even looking at my tits. Aren’t you a gentleman. River, where did you find him?”
“You would not believe me if I told you.”
“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, teasing, and then returned her attention to Jem. “You’re going to be very popular. Not just because you’re handsome. River never brings a date.”
River released Jem’s hand and put his arm around his waist instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.”
Kiana giggled. “I’m sure you will. Nice meeting you, Jem.”
She wobbled off, and Jem and River moved farther into the house, skirting along the outside of the cavernous great room.
“Sorry about that,” River said quietly as they meandered along.
“I should’ve warned you. People can get—well.
When you’re a commodity, it’s easy to start treating other people the same way.
It’s not as bad as it was, but let me know if anyone gets handsy. ”
Jem looked down and to his left, where River’s ringed fingers had tucked up against the waist of his jeans. “Anyone other than you, you mean?”
River made to pull his hand away, only to find Jem’s fingers on top of his own, holding them in place. “Joking. I am 100 percent capable of telling you and everyone else where to put their wandering hands. Or removing them myself.”
“Hot.”
Jem laughed. “I told you, I was an NCAA athlete. But I’ll tell you if we need to book it.”
“That’s all I ask.” River paused. “I should guess the sport thing.”
“You never will,” Jem promised lightly.
“Hmm.” River never could resist a challenge. “Is chess an NCAA sport?”
“You think I got this ass playing chess?”
“I don’t know,” River said easily. “Maybe there’s a variant that involves a lot of squats. What do I know about chess?”
“I have played the variant that involves taking shots whenever you lose a piece.”
River bet he had. “Benefits of a college education.” He gestured toward the backyard. “Shall we?”
Jem hadn’t been lying when he told Amanda he had experience with fancy parties. When Jem and Andrew had been young golf stars, before he knew they were half brothers, his father liked to parade his proteges around at his high-brow gatherings.
But even Jem’s father had never had quite so illustrious a guest list, and he’d definitely never have let Jem bring River as his date.
He took a moment to lament the change out of the dress, because imagining his dad’s reaction to the tattoos and nipple piercings playing peek-a-boo as River, a man, wore the hell out of that dress could have gotten him through ten report card seasons.
Well. Okay. Maybe just one.
In any case, this party was a different animal. Most of his dad’s people saved their cocaine for the bathroom, for example. Here they just did it on the coffee table.
River twitched his thumb over the skin on Jem’s hip. “You good?” he murmured.
“Long as no one asks me to do a line.” Jem was pretty sure you couldn’t fail a drug test just because you’d been around people who were snorting coke. “What exactly do you do at these things?”
“Usually?” River gave a quarter turn, just enough to catch Jem’s eye. “Schmooze for half an hour—longer if there are actually people I like here—then look around for a pretty distraction, flirt with him for a while, take him home, and fuck him.”
Right. Duh. Jem knew that; it was the reason he’d landed this gig. “What about when you’re already here with someone you like?”
“Hmm.” Jem stumbled a little as River pulled him closer by the hand around his waist and bent his head to answer in his ear. “Show him off a little, find a dark corner and get him all worked up until he begs me to take him home, and then take him home and….”
Jem snorted. “So this whole thing is just foreplay?”
“Depends.” River glanced over again. “Is it turning you on?”
“What, in these pants you can’t tell?”