21
MONUFUCKINGMENTAL
“DYLAN, IS IT true you’re moving to New York?”
“Why didn’t Ace go with you on your trip?”
As I headed past the handful of photographers outside my apartment, I was surprised there were any there at all, considering I’d been in New York for a week for a few shoots.
“Not today, guys,” I said, keeping my head down. Once inside the apartment, which was feeling a little less like my temporary home lately, I rolled my suitcase over to the counter and fished my phone out of my pocket. This had been the longest I’d gone without seeing Ace since I met him, and I was anxious to get together now that I was back in the same time zone. Other than missing him like crazy, it’d been an unbelievable week. It’d started with a group shoot for Provocateur on Rockaway Beach in Queens, before I’d headed back to the city for the individual photographs. I’d shot GQ in Central Park by the Bethesda Fountain. Then the Gucci shoot had me at the top of One World Trade Center, taking in the breathtaking views of New York City and beyond. And my favorite part—commandeering what was conveniently named Dylan’s Candy Bar for a sweet shoot that I had a feeling Ace’s friend Ryleigh would’ve enjoyed. I may or may not have ended up back in my hotel that night with an embarrassing assortment of chocolates, gummies, and cake pops. Fuckin’ hell, those cake pops…
“Welcome back, Mr. Prescott,” Ace said, cutting off my thoughts before I could drool too hard. “When the hell do I get to see you?”
A huge grin took over my face at the sound of his voice. “Now. Five minutes ago. As soon as possible.”
“You should’ve come straight here.”
“Nah, I need a shower and some fresh clothes before I tackle you. Plus, I knew you had that meeting today with your agent. How’d it go?”
A long silence descended before Ace blew out a breath. “Uh…you know, not great.”
“Not great? What happened?”
“Just the same old lately. Deals have dried up. We’ve started reaching out about different projects, but no one’s biting.”
“Shit, Ace,” I said, and closed my eyes in frustration on his behalf. “It’s so unfair. This is all so—”
“Hey?” Ace said through the phone, and I bit down on my lip to stop the rest of the words I wanted to say. “It’s okay. I mean, it sucks, but if losing out on a few roles and sponsors means I get to be with you and be happy, then I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat. Okay?”
It always amazed me how Ace had the ability to make me feel like I was riding the biggest high of my life, but at the same time wondering if I should be.
“Stop it,” he growled, and my lips quirked.
“Stop what?”
“Stop feeling guilty.”
Damn. The guy knows me too well. “It’s just—”
“No, Dylan. You don’t get to feel guilty about any of this. Not your career, which you more than deserve. Not the fact that people are closed-minded bigots, and not the fact that I’m madly in love with you. Enjoy your moment. You deserve it. I don’t tell you these things to make you feel bad about what you’re doing.”
“I know that,” I said, letting out a sigh. “But it’s still not fair.”
“Maybe not. But maybe it’s time for me to look into other things.”
“Other things?” I asked, sitting up and running a hand through my hair.
“Yeah,” he said, and I could hear a smile creeping back into his voice. “I’ve always been interested in the indie world. Movies, startup projects. That kind of thing. It’s actually how I got to know Shayne’s boyfriend Nate. Maybe this is a sign.”
“A sign?” I chuckled. “Since when have you believed in that kind of thing?”
And without missing a beat, Ace told me, “Since I met Sunshine Prescott.”
That had me laughing loudly. “Right? She kind of has that whole flower child vibe happening, doesn’t she?”
“Seriously, if anyone was going to make you a believer…”
“Oh, she will be pleased to hear it. Hercules, a total convert.”
Ace’s laugh rolled through me as I kicked my shoes off and wondered just how quickly I could get undressed, showered, and over to the man on the other end of the phone.
“So…did you miss me?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. It was nice to hear sometimes.
“Fishing for compliments, Daydream?”
“Maybe. Would that be so bad?”
“Not at all,” Ace said, his voice dropping a couple of octaves. “And if you could see me right now, you’d know just how much I missed you.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhmm…”
“And why’s that?” I asked, settling back into the couch. The shower could wait a minute. Maybe until after Ace had teased me to a throb-worthy erection.
“Well, I’m shirtless, to start with.”
“Oh…I like that.”
“I thought you might,” he said. “And I’m down on my knees.”
I sighed at that visual, and lowered my palm to press to my pants. “Don’t stop there.”
“Nope, not going to. Because I’m surrounded by…”
My mouth was parted as I waited for whatever he was going to say, but when all I got was his sexy, heavy breathing in my ear, I demanded, “Surrounded by what?”
Then he laughed and said something I did not expect. “DVDs, Daydream.”
Huh?
“I’ve been so fucking pathetic without you I’ve resorted to rearranging my DVD collection. I need you to get over here—fast.”
“Please tell me you’re arranging them by size.”
“Contrary to what you seem to think, I haven’t seen all of Hollywood naked. So, no. Sorry to disappoint, but they’re getting arranged by genre and then alphabetically.”
My hand left my pants, and I screwed my nose up. “So let me get this straight. You miss me so much that you thought rearranging your home theater was a good idea? I would’ve preferred masturbation in the hot tub.”
“I’d prefer you in my hot tub.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Good. You’ll be dessert. Want me to call in anything for dinner? A new Thai place just opened down the street.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food. “Yeah, that sounds great. If you’ll call it in, I’ll swing by and pick it up on the way. Anything and everything sounds good right about now. Fucking starving.”
“Two of everything comin’ right up.”
“I feel like I’m a bad influence. You were all chicken and kale when I met you, and now I’ve got you sending out for Thai. Should I apologize?”
“Nah. I think I deserve a few cheat days.”
“Damn right you do. Especially after a long, hard day of rearranging DVDs,” I said, chuckling.
“All right, all right. I’m walking away right now. See? I’m not an addict. I can quit anytime.”
That just made me laugh harder as a knock sounded at my door. “If you say so. Hey, I think Lloyd from down the hall needs quarters for the washer again, so let me run and I’ll be over there in an hour.”
“Can’t wait.”
As I ended the call, the knock sounded again.
“Just a sec, man, lemme get some change,” I said, opening the jar of quarters I kept on the counter. Another thing I’d had to get used to in L.A.—sharing a washer and dryer with dozens of other renters. I pulled out a couple dollars’ worth and then went over and unlocked and opened the door. “Here you—” My words died in my throat as I came face to face with a woman a few inches shorter than me.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”
The woman’s lips curved into a sad smile. “You don’t recognize me?”
The words should I? were on the tip of my tongue, but I stopped short when I saw the way her eyes, the same sea-green shade as mine, gave me a once-over. My hand went to the doorframe as I looked at her again. Light brown hair, the same shade as mine, and instead of the thick makeup and red lipstick that used to cake her face, she hardly wore anything now at all.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, as I realized who the woman standing in front of me was. The one I’d escaped all those years ago. The same one who’d used me for money, who’d been verbally abusive, and who’d thrown me into the lion’s den with a man three times my age just to pay her rent.
Brenda beamed. “You’re so much taller than I remember, Dylan.”
I gripped the door beneath my hand to stop it from shaking as I stared at the smiling face tipped up at me. God…it can’t be. But as I stood there paralyzed, it was as if I was transported back to that old, grungy living room, with the orange couch and stale air.
“Aren’t you going to invite your mom inside?”
I was pretty sure the words fuck no were on the tip of my tongue, but I’d be damned if I could work out how to get them out. Visions of my childhood with this woman were long buried under a shitload of hurt, denial, and self-loathing, and it had taken years to banish the memories that, until recently, I’d forgotten were lurking inside of me. But they were there. They did exist. And so did she.
As she took a step forward, I came back to myself, to my current situation, and I blinked her into focus and straightened off the door, blocking her progress. “How did you find me?” I had to know. There was no way Sunshine or Ziggy would’ve told her, so that only left—
“Why, the TV, of course. You’ve become somewhat of a celebrity these days. Every time I turn on the tube, there you are. And your apartment.”
My stomach knotted, and then dropped like a bowling ball into my gut as I white-knuckled the wood. I gulped in a much-needed breath of air and felt it get stuck when it hit the huge lump in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening, I thought, but no matter how many times I blinked, each time I refocused she was still there.
“Can’t we talk inside?” she asked. “I just want to—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. If I could’ve screamed no, no, no, then I would’ve. But that one no had been a stretch in my current state. Anything else would’ve been monufuckingmental.
“Son, please. I just want to talk to you. I’ve changed—”
“Don’t call me that,” I said. The smile on her face dropped then as she reached for my arm, and I stumbled back, hitting the door in my haste. “You need to leave.”
“Dylan—”
“Leave. I don’t want to see you,” I forced out as I took another step back to grip the door handle, and as I began to shut it, I added, “Ever.”
Her face vanished in the sliver of the opening provided by the door, and then it disappeared as it slammed shut. I made sure to lock the latches, and then added the chain for good measure, before I turned around, leaned my back to the door, and then slid down it until my ass was on the floor and my knees were pulled up against my chest.
She can’t hurt me, I thought, as I wrapped my arms around my knees and fought to hold back the tears blurring my eyes. She’s nothing. She can’t hurt me. But even as I said the words on repeat in my head, the fact that I was curled up, frozen in place, told me one very hard truth. And that was that I was a fucking liar.