Chapter 20 Christopher Sunday
Sunday
It feels like I’ve been walking on eggshells around Alexander ever since I showed him the news article.
His anger at the story leaking was so seismic it didn’t even register on the Richter scale.
I originally thought he was blowing things out of proportion, that he was jumping too quickly to conclusions and that it might not be Paul, but Alexander said only his accountant and Paul knew about the donation.
His accountant had sworn he wouldn’t tell anyone and had made sure the donation couldn’t be traced back to Alexander, which only left Paul.
Things still didn’t fully add up for me, like there was a piece of the jigsaw missing.
After doing a little investigating myself and speaking directly to Caryn, she confirmed that she was the one who had gone to the press with the story.
She’d felt Alexander could do with some good news after all the drama of the last few months.
I wanted to be angry at her, but I could see that her intentions were pure.
She’d wanted to help Alexander, not hinder him.
To try and further rehabilitate his image.
I thanked her for caring, even if she didn’t realize the dilemma it left me in.
And that’s when she delivered the news I had suspected of being true all along.
Paul was the one who had instigated the whole thing. He had told her about Alexander’s secret donation and encouraged Caryn to run with the story, saying it could be mutually beneficial for both Alexander and Brewed. She’d been played by Paul, and in that moment, I understood Alexander’s fury.
Twice, I’ve been a firsthand witness as Paul used other people to do his dirty work.
The first time, I was collateral damage when Connie made me sign the NDA after the footage of Alexander and I kissing leaked.
The second time, I was a puppet in his plan to get Alexander into treatment.
Paul wants to keep his hands clean, yet his fingerprints are always there somewhere along the line.
I understood that Alexander didn’t want to move forward with the rest of the activation events—one in Las Vegas yesterday and two in San Diego and Los Angeles today—but I also couldn’t let Alexander’s actions impact my job for a third time.
I wanted Paul to pay just as much as Alexander did, but not at the expense of everyone else becoming collateral damage.
After a lot of pleading, I convinced him that by canceling, he’d be feeding the same narrative that’s plagued him ever since I met him.
That he needed to take the high road and bide his time.
So we both plastered on smiles, and Alexander turned on the charm at the activation event yesterday at the Brewed store.
Hungover hotel guests and passersby were stunned to see Alexander behind the coffee counter at the Bellagio.
The bespoke Brewed cups had been made specifically in connection with the hotel, and featured a peel-to-reveal chance to win free money that could be spent in the casino, similar to the McDonald’s monopoly campaign.
Word quickly spread about the offer, creating insane queues.
Later at the airport, while we waited for our flight down to San Diego, I overheard Paul thanking Caryn for getting the story out.
That it had created a massive amount of positive publicity for Alexander and added another fifteen thousand preorders to the single overnight.
He also said several of his industry contacts had emailed him about the goodwill Alexander had shown, which was a good sign for the Grammy’s next year.
He said the last part a little too loudly, and I suspected he intended for me to hear it, knowing I’d likely feed whatever I heard back to Alexander.
Instead of being happy about the news, I felt enraged.
But I would not give Paul the satisfaction of getting under my skin.
I decided not to ruin another night by telling Alexander and have him consumed by thoughts of Paul.
So instead, we enjoyed a peaceful evening before resuming the last of the campaign today after this morning’s run.
However, the chill of the ocean breeze is making me regret agreeing to run along the ocean-front walk.
My short-sleeve running top isn’t enough to fight off the chill and I feel it right through to my bones.
Poor Rob had no choice but to join us, and he struggles to keep up on a bicycle as Alexander sets off to the bottom of the pier.
The dark horizon out on the ocean quickly changes as the sun rises behind us.
At the end, I try to catch my breath, resting my hands on top of my exposed knees, buying valuable seconds to work out the best way to answer Alexander’s invite to hang out at his place after we drive up to LA and finish up in the Grove tonight.
“I can’t. I promised I’d spend the evening with my housemate Andrew to make up for missing his birthday last weekend,” I say between breaths. I slowly stand back upright to rest my arm on a wooden piling. “Plus, I thought we were going to take things slower this time?”
Rob finally reaches us, his brakes screeching as he comes to a halt. An elderly couple follows behind him.
“We did, but I thought we could celebrate the end of our time working together.”
He cocks an eyebrow as he attempts to pull me into him.
I know Andrew would do it if he were in my position. He’s always the first to drop plans anytime a new guy appears in his life, but he doesn’t know about Alexander and me. Plus, I don’t need to give him another reason to be pissed at me.
“Don’t you have laundry to do? Life admin to catch up on?” I pull away and nod at the gaggle of runners heading up the pier toward us.
“That’s what Valentina’s for,” he says nonchalantly.
“Valentina?”
Alexander acts like I know the name, though it’s the first time I recall hearing it.
“My housekeeper,” he says as if it’s so obvious. As if everyone has one.
“God, it’s alright for some.” I whack his arm. “I thought maybe we could meet up one night next week, before your family comes down for Thanksgiving. Give you a chance to miss me. For me to miss you.”
“Oh.” Alexander bends his leg up to stretch out his calf muscle. There’s disappointment in his eyes, but then he shakes his head like he wants to clear it of bad thoughts and lets his foot back down. “What do you have in mind?” He looks down toward my shorts and the right side of his lips rise.
“I’m free Tuesday evening. I’ll let you figure out the rest.” I whack him in the balls and shoot back the way we came, searching for a spot to relieve myself in.
By the time my eyes land on a Starbucks store five minutes later, the only thing open this early in the morning, and step inside, Alexander has caught up with me. He gets Rob to order our drinks and encourages me to let him inside the single-use toilet as I use it.
He pulls down my shorts with more haste than finesse, and I force him back.
“Jesus, let me at least piss first.”
He laughs and I attempt to piss fast and vigorously.
I miss the toilet completely as Alexander kisses at the back of my neck and my cock hardens.
His hands are already yanking down his shorts and briefs, and he spits on his hand and rubs his saliva on my cock as soon as I finish, then pulls me round and turns his ass toward me.
He widens his stance as he guides my now throbbing cock inside him. Alexander’s eyes catch mine in the mirror as I begin to thrust into him.
“Less Starbucks, more Starfucks,” he moans, pushing his ass back into me.
I thrust faster and deeper as my mouth meets his neck, passionately biting into it.
I wrap my left hand around the front of his waist and put my right up against the wall to brace myself.
My shorts hold my legs firmly in place around my ankles.
Alexander vigorously pumps away at his cock with his hand.
“Fuck the cum out of me,” he growls.
Passion swirls in his eyes when they return to mine in the mirror.
His ass cheeks close around my throbbing cock and his wrist moves double the speed of my thrusts.
He shoots his load all over the mirror as his hips buckle once, twice, and then a third time.
The cum drips down, leaving stain marks as it hits the floor.
“Don’t you dare pull out.”
He reaches behind me and his nails dig into my ass.
“I wanna feel your babies inside of me.”
My hips pick up speed again as Alexander pushes back on my cock. His ass meets my dick, thrust for thrust. Sweat beads on our exposed skin.
“I’m gonna cum,” I say.
My legs stiffen as my load comes shooting out. Alexander’s ass cheeks tighten once more as they milk the successive bursts. He moans in pleasure.
“Keep it in there. Just a little longer.”
Alexander pulls my arms into his chest, turning his neck so he can kiss me. My cock remains hard inside of him as I slowly glide up and down, my cum acting as extra lube. Our breaths intertwine as our panting slow in unison.
If the ocean air hadn’t woken me up, that sure as hell did.
“We better head out before anyone else sees us,” I say, pulling my boxers and shorts up while Alexander does the same. He reaches for the toilet paper and wipes the cum off the floor and mirror, throwing it into the toilet and flushing it.
“I’mma need my iced Americano after that,” Alexander says, kissing me, before slowly opening the door to check that the coast is clear before ushering me out.
My leg twitches as I stand and watch the last of the activation events unfold at the Brewed store in the Grove.
Brewed has never shied away from leaning into provocative marketing, but I’m mindful that this one skates on very thin ice.
A biracial Jesus, standing in a white robe and ordering a coffee from Alexander, is definitely going to raise some eyebrows, that’s for sure.