Chapter Thirty-Five
Carina
The flight attendant that had recognized me squealed and clapped her hands when I asked her to be in a picture with me. We ended up taking a couple from each of our cameras, and I even got Jackson in on them. He wanted to ease me into his family… well, I figured I needed to ease him into mine too.
I posted the pictures from my camera to Instagram, and added the attendant, Melanie, as a friend so I could tag her in them. Soon, comments were rolling in, and sure enough, the trolls started picking on me about Jackson. They called me names for selling out and dating a “pretty-boy,” which made me laugh to myself, and even wished heartbreak and loneliness on me for not choosing to date a nerd. I ignored them and put the phone away, but moments later, sitting at the shuttle stop, I heard Jackson mumbling to himself and looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing.
I almost laughed when I saw how upset he was at the hateful and selfish things men had commented on my posts. It was just another day as C.J. Rivers, and I had developed a very thick skin when it came to nonsensical and angry criticisms of my personal life.
“Let it go, Baby,” I wheedled as he typed furiously. “It doesn’t matter what they say.” He shook me off, and I tried again. “What could they have said that is so important you can’t just let it roll off your back?”
“Since when am I just a pretty-boy? I have more technological know-how in my flipping pinky fingernail, than these Reddit-using quasi-geeks have ever dreamed of having.”
I scooted away from him and stared at him until he looked back at me.
“What?”
“They tell me they hope you leave me or die, they call me the worst names for females their pea-brains can come up with, and send thinly veiled rape threats, and what upsets you is that they think you’re a male model?” I made it a statement, rather than a question, and he pursed his lips and slouched on the bench next to me.
“I only read the ones I was tagged in. I didn’t know they were saying those things to you. I always stop reading after the third or fourth guy tells you you’re so hot you should direct message him so y’all can hook up.”
I bumped him with my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It comes with the territory, and I’m used to it. The internet is my food ticket, my best friend, and my worst enemy, all rolled into one giant set of binary code that encompasses the planet and serves to sometimes make life hell.”
He put his arm around me. “So, what you’re saying is, I should ignore all social media unless I post, then immediately start ignoring it again?”
“Pretty much.”
He sighed, but nodded and kept his arm around me until our shuttle picked us up. “When Danny and Rachel come down, I’ll ask if he minds driving the truck so we have it. Doesn’t make sense to rent a car in my hometown when I know my brother’s been putting miles on it for the past week.”
I agreed, but couldn’t really think of anything to add to conversation. I was more nervous in Austin than I had ever been in LA. Back home, I could agree to anything, handle anything, meet anyone, in theory. Once it became reality, well, that was a different story.
I would’ve been even more anxious if Jackson had told me where we were staying, instead of letting me believe we were headed toward a hotel. I knew something was up when we were the last people on shuttle and we were heading into a small subdivision right on the edge of downtown. My first thought was bed-and-breakfast. Then I remembered he had not one, but two brothers who lived in town: Tucker, and George, a vet who lived with his high school sweetheart. Next to Tucker, George was Jackson’s favorite brother, and I’d forgotten he even existed. In my defense, it was a lot of people to keep straight, when none of us had met yet.
“We aren’t going to a hotel, are we?” I asked as we turned down a narrow road.
“Ah, no. didn’t I tell you?” Jackson replied. “I checked in with George, just to make sure he and Callie were okay, and he demanded we stay with them. Callie isn’t sure how much longer she’ll be up to company with the baby coming, so she wanted to have us visit while she knew she could feed us and be a good hostess.
“You agreed to impose on your pregnant sister-in-law, rather than spend the night in the hotel?”
“No, I submitted to the will of my brother and his wife who are waiting for their surrogate to go into labor, which shouldn’t happen for a couple more weeks.”
I knew there was something hinky about it, but I couldn’t really argue since that was when the shuttle shuddered to a stop in front of a cute Austin bungalow, and a pretty woman in a western button-down and a pair of skinny jeans came running out to meet us. Hot on her tail was a cute little hound and a big pit-bull, with his tongue lolling out of a face-splitting grin. Bringing up the rear was a good-looking man with shoulders as broad as Jackson’s, walking with the aid of a cane.
“Hey Brother, man is it good to see you!” Jackson grabbed his big brother in a bear hug while I stood next to the woman, watching quietly. Finally, Jackson spun around, and I started to smile, thinking he was about to introduce me, but instead, he picked up his sister-in-law and swung her around, as the dogs jumped up and barked at them. I looked over at the bearded man, and he chuckled and limped forward.
“I’m George. I’m the middle child, which still makes me older than that young buck.” He snorted, jerking a thumb toward Jackson and his wife.
“George, this is C.J. Sugar, this is my brother, George, and his wife, Callie. Callie’s been a part of our family so long, when I was little, I thought she was my sister.” He glanced down at the woman under his shoulder. “I guess I was right.”
I felt more out of place than I had in a long time, but it was George who seemed to pick up on it. He held out his arm and I took it, gratefully. He walked me into the house with the pit-bull prancing around our ankles. When he stepped through the door, the pit stopped and watched him, muscles quivering. George lifted the cane over the threshold, and the pit hovered under him, just in front of his legs.
I glanced back at his wife in alarm, wondering why neither of them made the dog move, but as Jackson’s brother set the foot of his weaker left leg down on the tile inside the door, the burly dog moved into place, directly at his side, pressed against the leg until George moved his other foot inside and was steady again.
“I have never seen anything like that before. Does he just do that, or did you train him to?”
Callie laughed and George smiled at me briefly, before giving all his attention to the soft grey boy at his feet. “That, he just does. He is my trained service dog, but part of that is because he was just meant to be a service dog. Xavi’s my boy, aren’t you, Xavier?”
Jackson grinned. “You are now in the home where all things broken or stray are welcome,” he teased as he patted his brother on the back and reached down to pet the little hound mutt, who instantly rolled over on her back for a belly rub.
“So, they let you spend a lot of time here?” I retorted.
“Oh yeah. We got to watch you play when he was down here too. Almost feel like I know ya,” George drawled.
I felt the heat of embarrassment crawling up my neck and chest toward my face. “Um, was the volume up?” I squeaked, then cleared my throat. “I mean, could you hear the game, or me streaming?”
“Oh, we heard enough.” Callie replied as she handed me a beer. “It was almost like George’s voice had lifted an octave,” she said drily, giving her husband a sideways glance.
“I was in the Marines Corps,” he grumbled.
I shrugged. “I was a professional model. I’m just glad that’s the only habit I picked up.” Callie laughed, and Jackson looked worried. “I eat and I don’t do coke or speed. You’re good.”
He put his arms around me and set his chin on my shoulder. “You are something else, C.J.” He squeezed tight and released me so fast, I thought maybe I was imaging the wet shine to his eyes as he reached out and accepted a beer.
Callie led us to the living room where George took up what I took to be his usual spot in the recliner, based on the dogs waiting for him there. Slinky was the little one’s name and, as she jumped up on the arm of the recliner and rolled down George’s legs just to bound up and slide down into his lap the way she had originally planned, without hesitation, I realized she suited the name perfectly. Xavi, the pit, sat by George’s side, and I watched George automatically reach out with his hand and set it on the big boy’s square head. He set to rubbing the dog behind the ears, and Xavi started blinking slower, but he never stopped watching out for his man.
Jackson was a lot like Xavi, I thought, though I’d never have said so to him. He was loyal to a fault, but never overbearing. Just, there, to catch you if you stumbled, or make your way a little easier. I leaned in closer to him, and he put his arm around me while I rested my head on his shoulder.
Callie fussed in the kitchen and I felt honor bound as the only other female in the room to get up and help, but the early morning and the flight had caught up to me. My legs were leaden and numb, and my eyelids sandpaper, more painful every time I opened them. I felt myself falling asleep, but couldn’t make myself move or speak to break the hold fatigue had over me. Even the sound of my own breathing was as calm and rhythmic as a lullaby, I drifted off to sleep in Jackson’s arms, as in the distance, Jackson’s voice told the story of how he had gone from Texas to California, and had now brought me home.