Just Move In
IT DOESN’T ESCAPE ME THAT I’ve said ‘our’ every time I mention my home and Betsy has not brought it up. Maybe she thinks I have roommates or maybe she’s grilled Don or Marisol about me. It tickles me to think that she’d ask others about me so I’m going with that one. I’ve mentioned Jack to her but who knows what she remembers.
We pull into my small garage that barely fits the truck and I close the door by hand. She follows me to the back of the truck ready to help unload.
“I’m blown away that you guys were so considerate to pack up my things. I know they were mostly compact and ready to go, but still. Thank you.”
I shrug. “You see it as considerate and I see it as an opportunity to peruse your underwear. I’m not going to lie, Bestie, your underwear rocks.”
She shakes her head at me. “My underthings better rock, I’ve spent a small fortune on them. How about you let me do the unpacking?”
“Fair enough.” We unload some things from the truck and I show her to the guest room.
“Wow, Joe, I have to apologize. This house is not what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting? A sleek bachelor lair? A frat boy hovel?”
“A combo of those things? I know, I’m horrible to judge you in that way. I’ve seen other homes you and your company have worked on, not sure why I expected you to not have worked that magic on your own home. Can I see the rest?”
I dramatically bow. “All is forgiven, follow me this way.” I turn and head to the kitchen where we came in from the garage. “This is the kitchen, our favorite place to hang out. Nary a butcher block in sight. We cook sometimes, but there are a lot of nights of pizza, tacos, and burritos, I won’t lie.” I turn to the glass sliding doors by the dining room and take her outside. It’s a cool night as usual but I’m most proud of our outdoor space. “Here is the grill master domain, our outdoor dining experience, and hot tub.”
“Now this is more like what I was expecting, bachelor pad style.” She punches me in the arm and I flex.
We slide back into the kitchen and dining area and I give her a full cheesy smile and wink. “Jack and I try to go for subtlety.”
She bends over in laughter. “Oh shit, do you actually believe anything about you is subtle?”
I shrug. “So, are you going to insult me the entire time you’re living in my house, rent-free?”
Her hand goes to my arm again and I’m not hating it and I flex again. What? My guns are my one of my best qualities. “Joe, you are taking rent. I’m surprised how much I’m looking forward to the next few weeks living here. You don’t need to flex your arm every time I touch it though. I get it, you work out.”
“Don’t I?” I ask and do everything in my power to not wink.
We move our way around the rest of the house, me showing off all the work Jack and I did. When we head up to the bedrooms, I get a little nervous. I really want her to like my space. If I’m being honest, I really want her to like me. I show her my music room first. This room holds all of my instruments, three guitars, a piano, a drum set, and some recording equipment. The walls are lined with Fillmore posters from shows I’ve been to and one special one from the time we played there opening for Florence and the Machine as the local act.
“This has to be your favorite room in the house. I didn’t know you were a musician,” she says gesturing to my guitars.
“That’s my true passion, music. Before my parents passed, I was set to make it my life. It’s still a huge part of me, but I had to make adjustments.”
“Your brother?” she asks.
“Yeah, and it’s been worth it. He’s a kick-ass person and I would have done anything for that result. Even give up my dream of being a full-time musician and producer. I play in a fairly successful local band and that sates my desire well enough. Jack started college this year, and my business is running well. My hope is I’ll be able to dedicate more time to music. My friends think it’s time for me to finally settle down as well.” I say this last part half seriously. I mean, I told Frank I’d try to date but it’s been a challenge to find someone that would fit into my life.
“Settle down, huh? Seems like you were settled for the past twelve years. Did you not date at all?”
“Right to the juicy stuff, Bets?” She shrugs, not looking sorry she asked. “Well, I dabbled here and there but mostly just hooked up. At first, it was a lot for me to handle. I don’t think I could have accommodated a girlfriend and a 2nd grader in my life. Especially one who was devastated after the loss of his parents.”
“Might have been nice to have had someone to take care of you, though. I’m sure you were just as devastated.” She takes my hand and squeezes it.
“I was lucky I had Frank and Sebastian and their moms to support me. I would have been even more of a disaster without them.” I squeeze her hand back and drop it. “All of my focus was on Jack and so no time for the ladies.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She eyes me and I’m overjoyed she thinks I’m hot. “You seem like you’d be unable to at least have hook-ups if not a full-blown relationship.”
“I think I convinced myself I couldn’t handle both. Yeah, I had an occasional hook-up, I’m no saint, and how could I deprive women of all this,” I say my hand sweeping over my body. “Now that Jack is grown, Frank made me promise to try to find a woman for more than one night. I had a lot of fun this summer in Sonoma and I don’t know, it all felt lacking. I’ve always either had short-term flings or friendships with women. I guess I’d like to combine the two.” I raise my shoulders. “What about you, Bestie?” I ask changing the subject. “What’s your passion?”
“Dancing,” she says without hesitation, her beautiful face shining. “I grew up in a very conservative household and my parents took me to ballet lessons, but I always wanted to take hip-hop or even jazz, and they forbade it. I’d lock myself in my room and dance with headphones to old school hip-hop and then I’d do more expressive dancing to Chevelle or Massive Attack. My dad, who is a pastor, by the way, caught me one day and took all of my music away. Worst two weeks of my life.”
My mind is blown, this is the most information I’ve gotten from her about her life. We are turning a corner and are becoming real friends. I feel a twinge of regret, putting her into a friend category. “Dancing?” I ask and she nods enthusiastically. “How do you fit that into your tech life?” As I say this, it occurs to me that she looks more like a creative person, than a buttoned-up business person. It also explains finding her in odd positions with loud music playing. “Wait, do the spectacular undergarments have anything to do with your dancing?” I ask, eyes wide.
She stands up straighter. “Yes, Joe, your ‘best friend’ is a naughty type of dancer.” She makes air quotes around best friend and it’s a shot to the heart.
“You’re a stripper?” I ask.
She pushes me. “NO!” she shouts. “I’m not a fucking stripper, I’m a burlesque dancer at Lady Marmalade. Most definitely not a stripper.”
“Okay, fancy pants, a burlesque dancer, I can see that about you. Does that mean you take your clothes off when you dance, but just classier and old-timey?”
“Fuck you, and yes. It’s an art though, it’s all about the tease, not the nudity. You should come see us, bring your band.” She runs her hand down the front of her long cardigan and parts it slowly, showing a glimpse of the red lacy camisole underneath. I clear my throat and feel a little hot as she bares her cleavage with all those beautiful lilies and irises calling my name.
“Whoa, bro, is this our new roomie?” Jack says from behind me. I both hate him and love him for interrupting. I was having a difficult time breathing and my dick was feeling confined in his jean space.
Betsy closes her cardigan and smiles. “You must be Jack, I’m Betsy. Thank you so much for letting me stay.”
Jack takes her hand and instead of shaking it he kisses it. I roll my eyes. “Betsy, you are more than welcome. You can’t imagine how boring it is with old Joe here. I can already tell this is going to be a fun few weeks.”
“Take it down a notch, Jackie boy. Betsy is our friend, not someone to make feel uncomfortable. You’re just barely legal and I’m sure she likes older dudes anyway.” I nudge him away from Betsy and she looks amused.
“Want to see my room?” he asks Betsy and she nods.
“Am I still here?” I ask to no one since they’ve already disappeared down the hall.
Jack’s room is a comic book nerd’s wet dream. He’s a talented illustrator and I’ve given him license to decorate his room, including the walls as he sees fit. The result being a whole wall of X-Men, another a desolate space landscape, and over his bed is Black Widow standing legs wide, arms at her side holding pistols. He has shelves full of comics, figurines, and graphic novels.
“This is amazing,” Betsy comments on the X-Men. “I’ve been Jean Grey for Halloween more times than I can count.”
“With that hair, you’d make an even better Storm or Rogue,” Jack says.
“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment. Did you do these illustrations?”
“Yes, all of these are mine. My dream is to illustrate comics, but I am also studying animation for video games.” Jack says.
“You are super talented. Maybe we can collaborate? A friend and I are working on a game. I make bank writing health care software, but it’s pretty boring. We need an artist if you’re interested.”
Jack’s face is beaming. He leans in and hugs her. “Please live here forever.”
She smiles at me over his shoulder and winks. The saucy minx.
“Okay, enough of nerd boy’s room. Want to see a real man’s room?” I ask. Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.
“If I could only find a real man,” she opines and I put my arm around her neck, coaxing her to my room.
“Just this way, madame,” I say and we walk to my room, Jack following right behind.
I open the door and she gasps. I’ve got her now. My room is a sumptuous feast of comfort and sin. At least that’s what Lia said when she saw it for the first time. I took it as a good thing. In the center of the room is my California king with sturdy dark wood frame and canopy. My comforter is off-white and fluffy, topped with a red cashmere throw. The rest of the furniture matches the bed and I know the minute she spots my reading spot because she sighs.
“Joe Davis, is this really your room? This bed is ridiculous. I feel like it’s hitting on me, it’s so aggressive. Oh my god! I can’t look at this chair and ottoman next to the window with the giant bookshelf right behind it without getting tingles in my lady parts.”
“Yes, it is my room. I’m not sorry about the aggressive bed and please elaborate on these tingles.” She smacks my chest and then skips over to the chair.
She settles in and picks up the book resting on the arm. Her eyes light up and then she smiles wide at me. “Quoth, the Flamingo,” she says with a flourish, then puts down my copy of The Raven. “You may regret the day you asked me to move in, Joe, because I may never leave.”
My heart flips and oh crap, I may never let her.