Chapter 17 – Pookie #2
Cameron leans into Gunnar and whispers in his ear, but it's loud enough that we can all hear, "It's okay, babe."
I don't know what makes me more nauseous—Cameron pretending to be someone he's not or calling Gunnar babe. He glances at me and the sonofabitch can't even pretend to hide the sly smirk forming at the corner of his lip.
"It's not okay." Gunnar pushes Cameron away, which is all the confirmation I need to know that this whole thing is a sham.
This is a storyline and nothing more. "You know what I think happened?
" He leans back in his chair and points at me.
"I think you got into Braxton's head and filled it with lies. "
Braxton crosses his arms and laughs. "Here's my apology. I'm sorry I punched you, Cameron." He uncoils his arms and points to Gunnar. "I was aiming for the momma's boy."
Gunnar's face reddens. "What the fuck did I tell you?"
"I don't remember." Braxton shrugs. "Bullshit goes in one ear and straight out the other."
"What are you two, anyway?" Cameron wags his finger between Braxton and me. "Roommates? Best friends?" A satisfied chuckle rumbles past his lips. "Lovers?"
Braxton's thigh bumps into me, his leg vibrating like a motor. I notice the coloring in his face lighten.
"We're friends," I say deadpan, and I don't know if anyone listening is actually going to believe that for a second—Gunnar, Cameron, Jules, the crew, the audience. I certainly don't, and I know Braxton doesn't either. "That's also none of your business."
"Braxton, I'm just going to tell you the truth," Gunnar says. "I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore. You should know who you're living with."
Braxton aims his thumb at me. "I'm living with Pookster."
"He's a liar, a fraud, and is not who he pretends to be." Gunnar straightens himself in his seat and passes me a satisfied grin. He's about to push me into a corner. "Pookie stole ten thousand dollars from Cameron, and that's why Cameron left him."
The table goes silent.
Braxton latches onto my thigh and squeezes. I know he's just waiting for me to give him the signal, a tap of my foot against his, so he can throw another punch. It's not going to happen.
I nod at Cameron, peel the sunglasses from my eyes, and place them on the table in front of me.
In the same way he wanted me to see his eyes, the same eyes that used to boss me around, I want him to see mine.
"If I stole that much money from you, I wouldn't have been living on the streets when I left you. "
Gunnar recoils in his seat, apparent confusion washing over him. He tilts his head just slightly to the right. "Wait, what?"
"He's lying," Cameron growls, narrowing his eyes on me. "A leopard can't change his spots." He unclips his shades and places them over his eyes. "Isn't that right, Pookie?"
"You weren't homeless," Gunnar says flatly, but it comes out more like a question. "You stayed in Cameron's penthouse until you moved in with Braxton."
I collect my sunglasses off the table, stand up, and smirk. "Someone is clearly lying."
Braxton gets up from the table and scoots his chair beneath it. He follows me past the camera crew and out onto the sidewalk of Ocean Drive.
The fuse has been lit, and now, I'm simply waiting for it to blow.
Braxton and I are chilling in our hotel room, sipping on raspberry seltzers. We have about thirty minutes until we need to be at the beach for a group scene with the whole cast when I get a text from Gunnar.
Gunnar
Can we talk?
Pookie
I think you've said what you needed to say.
Pookie
See you at the beach.
Gunnar
Off camera...
Pookie
Are you alone?
Gunnar
It's just me
Pookie
Come up.
I toss the phone onto the bed and begin to pace, chewing on my thumbnail.
"You're making me nervous," Braxton says, his eyes following me as I continuously pass him on the bed. "Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?"
"I'm scared how he'll react."
"Gunnar?" He grabs my hand and pulls me to the bed, to stand above him. "You don't have to tell him anything you're not comfortable with. But we both saw his reaction when you mentioned being homeless. I think he's piecing it together on his own."
"Right." I nod. "But he's never given a shit about Cameron. He's just been a prop to rile me up. How does this change anything?"
"Because..." He stands up and places a gentle hand on each of my cheeks. "Gunnar is a prick. He's not a monster."
"What if you're wrong?" I ask quietly. "What if he runs straight back to the cameras?"
Braxton's lips hitch into a mischievous grin. "Then I'll beat his ass too."
"No offense," I steady my palm on his chest, "but I'm pretty sure Gunnar would kick your ass, and I'm afraid it wouldn't even be close."
He arches a brow. "These words you say sadden me. It almost makes me think I have something to prove."
"The only thing I need you to prove right now is that you have restraint."
"Never," he whispers, a familiar smile creeping over his lips. He lifts me by the chin and kisses me. And it never ceases to steal my breath.
"Please don't stop kissing on my behalf," Gunnar's voice lands like a shot through the heart.
"Fuck." Braxton gasps, prying his lips from mine. "It's not what it looks like. I'm not gay."
Gunnar's eyes practically roll into the back of his skull, which is about where I find my own eyes.
"I mean, I kind of figured it out after I watched you exit the bathroom at Mr. Pinks with cum on your boots, so this is just clarification.
" He leans with his ass against the long dresser and crosses his arms. "I'm not here to discuss your sexuality, though. "
For once, Braxton is speechless. All he can do is pass Gunnar a timid thumbs-up as he buries his face in his hands and lies down on the bed.
Gunnar's cold glare lands on me. "What did Cameron do to you?"
The claws of panic settle at the back of my throat, dragging the words I want to say down the length of my esophagus and trapping them there. Something comes out of my mouth, but it's not words.
Gunnar's gaze lingers, waiting, but there's a feeling deep inside that he already knows the answer. "Pookie," he demands, "what did he do to you?"
I exhale and duck away, looking anywhere but at him. This anxiety that has drowned me my entire life won't let me look at him. "He..."
Nope, the words won't come out. It was so much easier confessing to Braxton than Gunnar, but Braxton has always felt safe, and Gunnar feels anything but.
"I'm so fucking stupid," Gunnar mumbles with a shake of his head and presses his lips together.
"My father used to beat the shit out of my mother when I was younger.
I was a kid, and I made excuses for it. Did whatever I could to stay on his good side, but I don't think he ever would have hit me because it wasn't about being violent. It was about jealousy and control."
I stare at Gunnar, stunned. He really did piece it all together on his own. He's smarter than Braxton would give him credit for and more empathetic than I would have ever believed.
Gunnar tongues the inside of his cheek and sighs. "Why didn't you say anything?"
I shrug, but I know the answer. "Because I don't feel comfortable with the whole world knowing. It makes me feel small."
"Not small." He shakes his head and approaches, placing a strong hand on each of my biceps. "You're not responsible for the things men like my father and Cameron do."
Braxton shoots up in bed, eyes narrowed on Gunnar. "Watch your hands, bro."
Gunnar passes Braxton a sideways glare, to which he counters with a roll of his eyes as he lies back down but stays propped up on his elbows. Braxton keeps a watchful eye on Gunnar, showing a hint of jealousy that would be cute if I hadn't experienced the dark side of the violent emotion before.
Gunnar takes a measured step back and sighs. "I'm going to go take care of Cameron. You won't have to deal with him anymore."
"What are you going to do?" I ask sheepishly, my mind running through all the possible scenarios.
Braxton jumps to his feet and punches his fist into his palm. "Yeah, if you're going to fight him, I'm coming with you."
"No fighting," Gunnar says. "That'd only cause a scene, and we need him to leave without saying a word."
At his core, maybe Gunnar is a good person. I don't want this to become any more of a storyline than it already is, and he heard that loud and clear.
Still, I ask, "Why are you doing this for me?"
He pauses at the door. "Because I'm an asshole, not a monster."
"See?" Braxton shouts excitedly. "That's what I said."
"Watch your mouth," Gunnar grumbles, pointing at Braxton. "Your ass is fair game."
"And what about us?" I ask. "You're not going to tell anyone about what you saw?"