Quirks & Kinks (32 page)

Reeling her in slowly, I wrapped her back in a hug and whispered directly into her ear.

“I’m sorry.”

She tried to wave me off, but I could hear the uneven waver in her breathing.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” I ushered her forward, careful not to rush her up the steps and then handed her off to my dad. Once he had her settled under his arm, he reached out with his other hand to shake mine.

“Son.”

My throat spasmed on the word. “Sir,” I replied respectfully. A tiny smirk engaged a half-dimple in his cheek.

Conversation lulled as I followed the two of them into the dining room and sat down at the table. My dad sat down with me while my mom shuffled back and forth from the kitchen with dishes of all varieties.

Normally, my dad would have been helping, but judging by the uncomfortable way he sat in the chair and watched her, I was guessing my mom had given him strict orders to stay in the dining room and keep me company.

Or make sure I didn’t escape.

It was slightly funny, but I was the one who had caused it, so that pretty much negated every last ounce of humor.

The table finally weighted down with too many pounds of food, my mom took her seat beside my dad.

“Let’s pray,” my dad commanded, making me bow my head and fidget my uncomfortable hands in my lap. I’d largely given up organized religion six years ago. And I hadn’t been that stringent to begin with.

“Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Thank you for the blessing of our son, Anderson, and we humbly ask that Evan may rejoice in Your kingdom, where all our tears are wiped away. Unite us together again in one family, to sing Your praise forever and ever. Amen.”

“Amen,” I mumbled, looking up into the eyes of my expectant mother.

I knew I’d created this awkwardness, so I hoped with all I was that I could set it right again.

I would. It would probably just take time.

“We’ve been watching your show,” my mom chirped, holding out a plate of pot roast for me to take.

As I took possession of the offered plate, my dad’s eyebrows climbed all the way into his hair line.

More awkwardness.

But, this time, it was the fun kind.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” my mom confirmed, blushing. “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And your costar. She’s pretty spunky, huh?”

Hah! She had no idea. “Easie,” I said, feeling like she deserved to be known by name. “And yeah, she’s great.”

My dad’s expression turned from traumatized to knowing.

I cleared my dry throat. Took a sip of water. “She’s actually the reason I’m here.”

My mom’s face caught up with my dad’s.

“She’s the reason I’m ready to move on.”

“You’re together?” my mom asked, trying to be nonchalant.

“Not at the moment,” I answered honestly.

But we would be.

Pursed lips worked at each other before flattening out once more. She glanced to my dad and then back to me. “Well, we’d like to meet her one day.”

My next words were a promise. “You will.”

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” my mom asked as I stepped over the threshold and onto the stoop an hour and a half later. Conversation was stilted but there. We’d get better at it every time. Of that, I was sure.

Confidence influenced my smile, curling up the edges and turning it into a full face experience. Cara Aranda came alive at the sight of it.

“I’m gonna go get ready to claim my woman.”

TODAY WAS THE DAY.

It was time to take back my man. We’d been separated for four weeks now, and that was enough. I couldn’t stomach even one day more.

I mean, we’d been happy on our own for nearly a month. I knew self-discovery took time. I was rational. I, however,
wasn’t
a masochist.

And I missed his touches so bad it was starting to hurt.

And, as a bonus, I’d seen on the news the night before that Ryder had been arrested. Something about Public Misconduct and Resisting Arrest. I couldn’t help but feel like it was a sign of good things to come.

“Are you ready?” Ashley asked, startling me enough that I made the makeup lady make an unplanned streak of eyeshadow across the apple of my cheek.

Annoyed, she sighed, reaching for a makeup remover wipe and starting over again.

Paying little attention to her, I studied Ashley, wide-eyed, until she grew impatient and prompted me again. “Well? Did you read the script?”

Right.
She wasn’t talking about my little internal love affair. She was talking about the show. The huge, enormous, all-important finale that we were set to start filming in the next twenty minutes.

Vegas, baby.

She was talking about my job.

“Uh, yeah, I’m ready,” I semi-lied. I’d done my best to prepare, but when there were as many crazy things going on in two days as there were during today and tomorrow, you could only really be ready for a little at a time.

‘The ten most popular fetishes,’ Larry claimed. But I chose to take it with a serious grain of salt. There was no telling where he got his information.

Dressed in my outfit for the intro, I was thrilled to be starting from number one and working our way down the list instead of the other way around.

In popularity order, we planned to explore the following:

1. Domination and Submission

2. Sexual Role-play

3. Rubber/Latex/Leather

4. Voyeurism and Exhibitionism

5. Spanking

6. Foot Worship

7. Cross-Dressing

8. Water Sports (Including, but not limited to, Golden Showers)

9. Swinging and Group Sex

10. Adult Babies

You can see how an outfit from number one might be more appealing than one from number ten.

“She’s ready?” Ashley asked the makeup artist, pulling me out of the chair as she did.

“She’s as good as she’s going to get.”

“Ack,” I choked on a scoff.
Excuse me?!

Ashley immediately slid into damage control, dragging me down the hallway before I could get into a hair-pulling cat fight with the makeup lady.

“What a little bitch!” I shrieked while Ashley did her best to smother me. “Can you believe her?!”

“Easie—”

“I mean, what does she expect? I know I didn’t talk to her, but she’s new and I have a lot on my mind!”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Simone’s not new. She’s been here for the entirety of the show.”

My head jerked back and my mouth fell open, agog. “Well,
shit.
I guess I’m the bitch, huh?”

“You’re both bitches, really. But I’m pretty sure she’s mad at you for two reasons.”

“And those are?” I asked as she pulled me around a group of crew members and pushed me toward the set. A window on the left revealed the lights and life of the strip.

“Your resting bitch face—it’s bad—and the fact that Anderson has such an obvious boner for you.”

“What’s she want with Anderson’s boner?” I snapped, instantly jealous.

“I’m pretty sure you can answer that for yourself.”

Back to blaming her, I repeated myself. “That little bitch!”

“Let it go,” Ashley commanded. “Focus.”

Before I could say anything else, she shoved me forward on my tiny heels, careening and tripping my way onto the wood floor of the set.

Anderson stood waiting for me, and when he noticed the gracelessness of my entry, he moved to make sure I didn’t eat it.

“Thanks,” I murmured, pulling my hair out of my face and unsticking it from my red lipstick.

His eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, and the tan of most of his skin was hidden underneath the line of his neatly-pressed tuxedo. A bow tie sat perfectly at the base of his corded throat, and a million watt smile nearly made me cover my sensitive eyes.

He looked dapper and dashing and happy and like everything I’d ever dreamed of. And I . . . well, I was in a corset and handcuffs.

It was a romantic setting for the most timeless of story books.

Both of us opened our mouths to say something when Howie stepped right between us.

“Hey, kids.”

Taking disappointed steps back, both of us mumbled some form of, “Hey, Howie.”

“Anderson, I want you to face camera full front. Easie, you’re going to hook your arms—”

He grabbed them and put them where he wanted them.

“—here. Like you’re cuffed through the curve of his arm, okay?”

I nodded.

“Keep your body angled toward him, but make sure to give the camera your face.

I nodded again.

“Okay,” he said cheerfully. “Just let me do a lighting check and we’ll be ready to roll.”

He disappeared quickly, walking to the edge of the set and talking to several of the guys.

Alone again, Anderson and I both started to talk.

Him: “Easie—”

Me: “Anderson—”

Simultaneous: “Go ahead.”

Him: “I—”

Me: “I—”

I sunk my head in my hands. “Fuck.”

Cycling one breath in and out, I looked back up again, and we met each others’ eyes. We weren’t just looking at one another, we were
seeing.

Once more, we spoke at the exact same time, except this time, I didn’t mind.

“
I love you.
”

“
I love you.
”

I’d never seen Anderson smile so big, and I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t the only clown-faced party in the room.

Our minds still moving as one, we met in the middle, lips to lips. Lips turned into tongues, and with each second that passed, the kissed deepened even further, Anderson’s hands coming up to cup the back of my head and tilt it the opposite way as his.

By some stroke of luck, everyone must have realized what a pivotal moment for us, the absence of catcalls and invasive questions giving us the time to not only finish our kiss, but get out the vomit of words that had been climbing in our throats since the moment we’d laid eyes on one another.

“I know exactly who you are, and that’s because you haven’t hidden that. You’re open and kind, and you’ve been nothing but supportive of me. Even when I was a judge-y bitch. And everything you’ve done for your brother may have been about him, but the fact that you cared enough to do each one says something very specific about
you.
”

Carrying on his own, very separate conversation, Anderson purged all the thoughts crowding each other on his chest. “I should have been honest from the beginning because I knew early on that you were going to be the one. Evan became an excuse instead of a beloved memory, and I’ll regret the time I wasted between us for the rest of our lives.”

“No,” I demanded. “No more regrets. Not for me or for Evan or for anyone else. The three of us are moving forward together.”

“Three?”

“Evan is always going to be a part of you, and you’re a part of me. Package deal, baby. Luckily, I’m little so the shipping cost shouldn’t be too outrageous.”

“Ahem,” Howie cleared his throat from frighteningly close.

Both of our heads whipped toward him.

“I’m loving this reunion, guys, truly. But do you think we can move on to the show? As much as I hate it, none of this heartfelt conversation is filmable material. And according to Larry, the studio bills by the hour.”