CHAPTER 4
Jordan
I woke up this morning with a really good feeling about today. I'd like to think last night had nothing to do with my excited mood, but that white-hot bathroom fuck with Dimples was definitely a good omen for a great day. With music blaring from my speaker, I danced under the shower, singing off-key without a care in the world. I wonder if anyone else thrives after a big load of cum down their throat? No? Maybe that’s just me. It’s like my version of an energy drink. Orgasms bring great vibes. It’s a good thing I have a ‘one and done’ rule, because I could easily get addicted to this feeling.
I bet that’s how Pete feels when he's with Gavin and why he wants to be with him every second of every day. I can’t imagine working and living with my partner. Pete’s still technically living with me. In reality, he lives in Gavin’s house and his stuff lives here. They should just move in together and be done with it—I want the extra closet space. I’ll miss him of course, we’ve been roommates since sophomore year. As much as it feels like I have a limb missing when I get home from work to an empty apartment, I am happy for him. Pete hasn’t always found it easy to fit in. That’s actually how we met, during one of Pete's attempts to fit in at college.
Walking into Freshman Orientation’s LGBTQ+ mixer, I take a big deep breath and look around at my people. Just by showing up here, everyone in this room is being their true self, open and brave and ready to create a community in a new place. There is no other room a boy like me can walk into with my makeup and femme clothes and feel completely relaxed. A safe no-judgment zone. It’s awesome.
I take a step back and let a guy with a zebra-patterned scarf around his neck pass by. His scarf absolutely clashes with the cheetah print shirt he's wearing, yet we high five as he passes, calling “Nice shirt” over his shoulder and making me smile even wider. A bright personality and a kind soul can wear all of the mismatched patterns it likes and I'm here for it.
The whole room seems to be alive with conversation. Turning around, I spot a short, petite guy with a full head of curly hair and glasses balanced on his pixie nose carrying three cups of water. He seems to be muttering something to himself, and with his eyes fixed on the cups, he is on a collision course with me. I try to step back, but something—I have no idea what, maybe his own two feet—trips him, and the next second he’s falling. Attempting to reach him in time but failing, I wince when he lands on his knees and elbows. Full doggy style in the middle of the room. Water splashes all over the floor and his clothes, and it’s dripping from his face. A few feet away, a group of people burst into laughter, and when I glare at them, they at least try to look remorseful. I guess even in a no-judgment zone, people falling is kinda funny. With optimism I could only dream of manifesting, the curly-haired guy manages to lift his torso straight, look at the mess he made and laugh right along with them.
“At least I haven’t spilled it all,” he says with a smile on his face and a shrug of his shoulders, like this incident wasn’t utterly embarrassing. This guy is actually a legit ray of fucking sunshine.
“Why were you carrying all these cups?” I ask, hooking my arm under his to help him get up.
“Well, I was grabbing drinks for my new friends. I was thirsty and they asked if I could bring them some too.” He shrugs again nonchalantly and waves in the direction of the group of people that were laughing at his fall just seconds ago. I look over at them and notice they’re looking at us, but they don’t return his wave.
“Hey, assholes,” I call over to them, making sure each and every one of them turns my way. “Next time, fetch your own drinks and do better, this is meant to be a community.” I take one of the cups he’s still holding and link my arm with his, turning us in another direction “Come on, Sunshine, let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up.”
From there it was as if we were joined at the hip. The first time I went home to visit my needy folks, I took him with me, and he was instantly adopted into the Bell family clan. My parents treated him better than me half the time and sent him back with lots of goodies.When he took me to visit his family, I became friends with his mom in an instant, and we spent a lot of time going through her closet. His parents say that I’m the lost son they never knew they needed. Mine say that Pete is the son they always dreamed about, but got me instead. So technically, Pete's brother Drew is like my pseudo-older brother, and therefore he is obligated to look out for me and get me job interviews with reputable firms. Otherwise, I’m telling Mama Cliffer.
Speaking of parents, I need to tell my dad about the interview before he hears it through the grapevine. Grabbing my phone from the bathroom vanity, I hit speed dial.
“What’s wrong?” Dad answers my calls this way. Every. Single. Time. There is never anything wrong, so obviously he does it to piss me off.
“Really? No 'Hello', 'Good morning' or 'How are you'?” I'm not even trying to hide the disdain in my tone. Who raised this man? A gangster? Sorry, Grandpa.
“Well, you usually call your mother. Apparently, I’m just a side piece to your conversations.” He doesn't sound bitter about it, so I don’t bother acknowledging his words.
“You’re in luck today, then,” I chirp. “I’m calling you this time to say that I have an interview for a paralegal job at Drew’s law firm.”
“Huh. You’ve finally decided to leave that bastard Capshaw, and you pick someone else besides me? Why on earth don't you want to work for my firm? Isn't it fancy enough for you?”
I take a deep breath, expelling it in a long sigh. “We’ve been through this already, Dad. I’m not taking any handouts. I don’t want to be the talk of the water cooler. ‘Oh, look. It's the boss's son. Nepotism at its finest.’”
“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me. At least this time you’re aiming for the big guns. Are you going to work for Drew?”
“That would be no different than working for you."
Dad snorts with indignance. "Oh, I'm that bad, huh?"
No shit, Dad. We'd probably end up killing each other.
Ignoring his line of questioning, I press on. "One of Drew's partners lost his paralegal, and Drew thinks I would be a good fit for him.”
“Which one? Novak or Smith?” Of course my dad knows of these guys. We’re talking about one of the biggest firms in Denver.
“Smith.”
“Ah, yes. I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard a lot of good things about him.”
“Yeah, I think he worked at a firm in LA. Anyway, Keep your fingers crossed for me. I’ll text you later.” Hanging up before he can start peppering me with interview questions, I take one last look in the mirror, then head out the door.
Walking through the plush lobby in the building where Smith, Novak & Cliffer law firm offices are, I head toward the bank of elevators and press the button to go up. It’s eight-fifteen a.m. I’m fifteen minutes early, which is perfect. Just enough time to meet up with Drew and get some prep for my interview. Stepping on to the elevator, I press the button for the eleventh floor, then turn to look at my reflection in the mirror on the back wall. I check my appearance one last time. I look both professional and fabulous. Brown-and-black checkered pants with a black shirt and black four-inch boots. My current boss would be horrified if I was wearing anything other than a plain suit. Black, gray or navy. In other words, funeral attire. Fits the vibe of his firm, I suppose.
Drew assured me that his firm does not have a strict colorless uniform policy, and I can wear whatever I want as long as it’s business attire. I’m not sure that extends to men in make-up, but I decided the best way to figure out if I’m going to be comfortable here is to add some mascara, a little highlighter and my smallest set of lashes. It’s not boundary-pushing and over-the-top, but it’s enough to give me a boost of confidence. I would rather know now if it is going to be a problem before I take the job. And I really want to take this job.
The elevator stops with a ding sound. I turn around to enter an elegant reception area. From the high ceilings hang a few sets of round glass globes that probably cost thousands. Hmm… I wonder how they clean those?. The dark marble floors are shiny, and in the center stands a gray marble desk with golden engraved words Smith&Novak&Cliffer. The receptionist is a beautiful woman with a spark in her ocean blue eyes. Eyes that are currently focused on me. She inspects me closely, probably thinking I need a lawyer and not a job. She is giving me Donna from Suits vibes. Her form-fitting black dress and pearls make me instantly like her. She has fabulous taste. If only I’d had the forethought to wear my pearls, we could have bonded.
“Hello, how may I help you?” she asks in a practiced, professional tone. I guess I passed her quality control. I wonder what her real voice sounds like when she isn't manning reception at a prestigious law firm. Bet she cusses like a sailor.
“Good morning. I have a meeting with Mr Smith at eight-thirty, but I am to see Andrew Cliffer beforehand,” I explain. “My name is Jordan Bell.” I’m mirroring her customer service tone and giving her my most sparkling smile. It’s important to be on good terms with the administration in the office, because while they might not be the boss, in reality they run the place.
“Of course, Mr Bell. Please follow me.” She gets up from her chair and—fucking hell—she has legs for miles. I look her up and down and smirk. If I was capable of getting it up for girls, I would definitely be rocking a semi right now.
“A girl wearing a Chanel dress and Valentino heels is my kind of girl.” I hold my hand out. “Jordan, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Maddie. And look who’s talking.” She points at my pants, “Marc Jacobs,” then at my shoes, “Saint Laurent.” She nods with appreciation.
“Thank you, thank you.” I mock-curtsy, which makes her laugh. “I was afraid I was losing my touch. Only two people commented on my outfit today, would you believe it?”
“Oh, I hope Eric hires you. It will be fun watching you ruffle his feathers,” she says, crossing her fingers on both hands.
“Do tell. Is he a stiff old man with a balding scalp?” I raise an eyebrow and she laughs out loud. “No? Please, don’t tell me he’s an asshole with a stick shoved so far up his anal cavity he can’t sit down.”
“Oh, my god, please stop.” She has tears in her eyes and she’s holding her belly while she keeps laughing. “Fuck me, you’re hilarious.” Maddie wipes her tears away carefully so as not to smear her mascara, and I mentally pump my fist. Called it on the potty mouth. “You know, I think I’ll let you see for yourself.” She takes a calming breath, getting back to professional mode.
“Now I’m really curious. But you’re right—don’t tell me. I love a good surprise.”
My new friend claps me on the shoulder and I beam brightly at her.
“Oh, Jordan, I have a good feeling about you—you’re just what Mr Smith needs.” She rubs the spot she clapped me on, leaving me with that ambitious statement.
“I like you too, Maddie. And I am a great judge of character. I must warn you, I already have a best friend, but the position for my platonic soulmate is still open. One condition, though. Clothes over bros .” I pause for her reaction and when she laughs, I know she's got my reference. I mean, One Tree Hill is only the best series ever.
“Only if I’m the Brooke in this friendship.”
"Of course, darling. You are definitely more Brooke than I am."
We shake hands to seal the deal. And that’s when the door to Drew’s office opens and he steps out.
“I thought I heard you laughing, I can see you’ve already impressed the beautiful Madalyn here. I should have known you two would hit it off.”
“What can I say? I’m charming like that.” I smirk and lean in to give him a hug, to which he grimaces. He always pretends to hate my hugs, but I know he loves them, really.
“Okay, that’s enough affection for you today. Let's get this show on the road.” He closes his office door behind him and starts walking further down the hallway. I wave at Maddie and jog after him. He looks up at me with suspicion. “You’re joyful today. One might think you got laid or something?”
“Who, me? I’m still a virgin,” I chirp out, feigning offense with my high-pitched tone. I even clutch imaginary pearls to my chest for dramatic effect.
“And I’m a fan of DC Comics,” he throws back at me, and I laugh. I’m surprised he was able to even joke about that shit without shuddering in disgust. His aversion for Justice League is well known among our group of friends, so is his fiance’s.
“I’m going to tell Ryan that you're a cheater who cheats. How could you betray Marvel like that? I bet you secretly get off on fanfic of Superman and Aquaman docking.” Come to think of it, I wouldn’t say no to watching that.
“I certainly do not. And you’re certainly not a virgin, not since you were sixteen.
“Damn it. You’re right. And I did get laid last night. Best bathroom hookup ever! Just thinking about it gives me a semi. Maybe I should reconsider the ‘no repeat’ rule. But I don’t know the guy, and the chances of meeting him again are close to none.” My chest collapses into a sad sigh. “Do you think Jack would let me watch the CCTV? Maybe if I can get a close up of his face, I can do one of those Tik Tok posts ‘Help me find my hookup!’” Hmm... I may be half joking, but it's really not a bad idea.
“Oh, dear God. Please contain yourself for a little while longer. No inappropriate boners. I told Eric you’re the best at what you do, so think of gross things. Breaking a nail or some shit.” He stops in front of Eric Smith’s office and looks me in the eyes like he’s giving me a few moments to calm my dick down. It’s not even noticeable. So I nod toward the door for him to knock.
“I’m sure I can find some dose of professionalism in me for… let’s say, fifteen minutes?” I whisper playfully.
Drew rolls his eyes and knocks on the door. I hear a bored, rumbled “ Come in ” called from the other side. I have no idea why, but that voice goes straight to my dick. I look down quickly to make sure that I'm not indeed sporting an awkward boner. Clearly, there are some residual submissive tendencies lingering from last night.
Taking a deep breath and picturing the crackhead that I saw this morning making out with a fire hydrant, I follow Drew inside. My eyes drift around the office. It's just as elegant and plush as the rest of the floor, and just as impersonable. It tells me nothing about the man who works here. The typical law degrees and commendations hang on the wall, along with his bar certification and a few small framed pictures that I can’t quite make out from here. Guess I’ll have to get my measure directly from the man.
“Good morning, Eric. I have somebody I would like you to meet. Hopefully you have already had your morning coffee—you might need it with this one.”
Drew’s jovial words pull my attention back to him and I flick his arm playfully. He steps to the side so I can greet the man who will hopefully be my new boss...