Chapter 32 #2
He must be able to hear the panic in my voice. “Are you okay?”
“That shit with Dennis has really fucked with everything,” I continue.
“Seb was almost hurt. Hell, Fiona was hurt.” I pull my hands through my hair painfully.
“Ryan is unhinged, and my dad is on my back about shutting my brother up.” I’m pacing, my boots thumping against the wooden planks.
“And then Regina threw me for a loop today. Everyone is so fucking corrupt, and it’s infuriating. ”
“Whoa, Marcus, calm down. We’re on track for April, just like we planned.
In fact, we got the jump drive sorted this morning.
Courtney said that Ryan is fucked. He’s on tape threatening the board members, and Martin is on thin ice by association.
He’ll want to stay as far away from Ryan after this as possible. ”
My breath catches. “Does he mention them by name?”
“I’m not sure. I have a meeting with Courtney this afternoon.
Let’s hope so. Plus, my lawyers have the paperwork ready, and I’m prepared to step in as the pub’s primary investor.
” He pauses and lowers his voice like he doesn’t want to be overheard.
“This is important to me too, remember? We won’t mess it up.
As soon as Sabrina is on the board, we’ll pull the trigger. ”
I nod even though he can’t see me and take a deep breath, willing my body to come down from the adrenaline rush that’s fueling my panic. “Right. That’s great. I’m sorry.” I rub the back of my head and grimace when I realize my scalp is sweaty. “Shit. How’s your head?”
John chuckles. “It’s healing fine.”
“Good. I know I haven’t said it much, but what you’re doing . . . it means a lot.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re welcome, Marcus.” I’m about to say my goodbyes and hang up when John speaks again. “Marcus?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re under a lot of stress right now. I’ve got this. Go home to Jeremy and try to relax.”
I stiffen. “What—”
“Look, I may be an old guy, but I’m not blind. I saw it when Lincoln, Charlie, and Trey got together—that spark. You two have it. I’ve been in love twice and never got my happily ever after because I was a selfish moron.”
A family walks past me on their way to the aquarium, the little boy babbling about otters, and I turn away and step closer to the railing, lowering my voice.
“I think he’s angry with me,” I say, deflated.
“He’s tired of being a secret, and I can’t blame him.
He knows about the shit with my dad. He knows why I can’t be out yet, but it still hurts him.
Plus, I was going to tell Seb and Charlie when we were all at her house, but I choked, and then the shit with Dennis happened.
Now everything just feels all fucked up. ”
“Do you love him?”
“I think so,” I say quietly.
“Have you told him?”
I hang my head. “No.”
John’s voice is kind when he replies. “I’m going to give you the same advice I gave Link a few years ago: Tell Jeremy the truth about how you feel. Worst case, you lose him, but if you don’t tell him, you’ll lose him anyway. The difference is whether your honesty makes you redeemable.”
My eyes feel hot with unshed tears. “It’s good advice,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, John.”
I hang up and lean my elbows on the rough wood of the railing. Gulls coast on the salty sea breeze, squawking as they dip and sway. The vibe down here is ominous, like everything else in my life.
I need quiet. I need peace. I need Jeremy.
I walk back up the street, texting Jeremy to meet at my place after his yoga class. I need to blow off some steam, which means pottery and sex, not necessarily in that order. Just as I’m about to put my phone away, it buzzes. I expect a reply from Jeremy, but see a message from Norah instead.
Norah
Hey love. I know it’s last minute, but James and I are going to a concert in your neck of the woods. Would love to see you and introduce you to my guy.
I bite my lip to hide the smile threatening to take over my entire face. I can’t reply fast enough.
Of course I want to see you! When will you be here?
Norah
Friday
I chuckle because it’s so like Norah to just drop everything in her life and show up on a whim. I’m glad she found someone who’s obviously in sync with her free spirit.
Consider it a date.
I stop in front of my building as I think about my next reply.
Maybe this is my chance to make up for some of the mess I made.
Charlie is out of the country now, and Seb’s preoccupied with Fiona’s recovery, so it’s not the right time to talk to them about Jeremy or my sexuality.
But as little as we see each other, Norah is like family to me, so maybe this is my chance to make Jeremy feel validated without completely blowing my cover.
Do you want to meet my boyfriend?
The little conversation dots appear and disappear several times before she finally replies.
Norah
Do you even know who you’re talking to, or do we need to get reacquainted?
Norah
Obviously, I want to meet him, I’d be openly offended if you didn’t introduce us. Please tell me it’s the adorable boy you used to stalk with the red streak in his hair? If it is him, you know I called it, and now you owe me that little favor. . .
I roll my eyes.
I did not stalk him.
She texts me a winking emoji, and I scoff and walk into the building, smile at the doorman, and head up the elevator to my condo.
Once I’m inside, I immediately go to my closet.
I pull everything off until I’m in nothing but my boxers, then grab my denim overalls and pull them on, not bothering with a shirt, then walk through my closet to my studio.
I open a tub where I keep a small amount of clay, take out a mound, unwrap it, and sit at the wheel, placing it in the middle of the plate. I start up the motor, a soft whirring sound filling the room.
If I’m being honest, I’m not really that good at this part.
I’ve only successfully made bowls, and while they’re functional, they have many obvious imperfections.
It’s painting the pieces that really makes them unique.
I wouldn’t even be selling them if Miss Grace hadn’t insisted on putting them in her shop.
I’m just starting to shape the piece, my fingers pushing into the middle of the softening clay, when I hear Jeremy enter behind me.
“I guess the doorman knows you now.” I stop the wheel and spin on my stool to face him.
He’s wearing yoga pants and a cropped T-shirt, showing his tight, flat abs.
His silver hair falls untamed over his forehead, and he has his thumb pressed to his lips, chewing uncertainly on a silver-polished nail.
Jeremy hasn’t seen me work in here yet. I tend to do it when I can’t sleep to quiet my mind.
The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “What’re you wearing?”
I look down. “These are my pottery overalls.”
He approaches me and fingers the fabric, running his hand over the black Dickies label. Then he straddles my lap, wrapping his lithe legs around my thighs and circling his arms around my neck. Our noses brush, and he cants his head to the side.
“Does throwing pottery shirtless help with your creative process?” he asks, his teal eyes mischievous as he trails a finger through my chest hair.
I chuckle, my hands sliding up his legs and around his back. “No, but it does help with my laundry.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “As if you do your own laundry.” I purse my lips. He has a point. “What’re you making?”
“I don’t really know. I just needed to blow off some steam, and the feeling of the clay against my fingers is soothing.” I bring my hand up, pushing some of Jeremy’s hair behind his ear, and wince when I leave a gray streak of clay by his eyebrow. “Sorry,” I murmur.
He smiles softly, and my breath catches at the adoration in his eyes. It makes me feel as high as a kite but also scared shitless—like whatever we have is finite and fragile.
“Will you show me?”
I nod. “Okay, but you have to take off your shirt.” His eyes narrow, and I give him an innocent smile. “I happen to know that you do, in fact, do your own laundry. And I like this shirt, so let’s not ruin it.”
Jeremy scoffs. “That’s because it was yours.”
I eye him hungrily. “You look good in my clothes.”
Jeremy pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it back toward my closet. I turn him around so that he’s perched on my thighs with his back to my front. He shivers when his shoulder blades graze the metal on my overall straps. Then, I turn the stool so we’re facing the wheel.
“Didn’t you say that we shouldn’t recreate that scene from Ghost?”
“You’re still wearing pants, Starlight. I think your dick is safe.”
He elbows me in the stomach, and I grunt before leaning forward to nip his bare shoulder. I flick the motor on, and the clay I was shaping starts to spin.
“The key is to have soft, steady hands,” I explain. “If you’re heavy-handed, you’ll ruin the piece.” I reach around his smaller frame and cup my fingers around the clay. “Watch me first.”
I let it run through my fingers until I’m satisfied the sides are smooth and I have a squat cylinder, and then I take my thumbs and gently hold them in the middle of the material. Jeremy’s eyes widen as he watches the clay shift, flattening into a bowl-like shape.
I stop the wheel and look at him, speaking into his ear. “Do you want to try?”
“Do you have more clay?”
“You can use this.” I flatten it and start rolling it into a ball.
Jeremy gasps. “You ruined it!”
I laugh. “I can make another one.” I place the clay in the center of the wheel again and start it up. “Go ahead.”