Infuriating, p.3
Infuriating, page 3
Sadness overwhelmed him. He clicked his phone on, checking how many likes and comments he’d gotten on his Instagram story. He smiled when he noted that Wyatt had tagged himself and shared it to his Twitter. That was guaranteed to bring more people to his social media and his OnlyFans accounts.
Day spent the next several minutes losing himself to scrolling, not sure what else to do. Jackson had disappeared into the big conference room with all the other beefy looking security guys. Even Wyatt was in the room, sitting on a chair in the corner, legs criss crossed, as he tapped away on his phone. Day wondered if he was texting the big guy running the meeting because every few seconds the man would look at his phone and then give Wyatt a dirty look, which only seemed to amuse Wyatt.
Day longed for a relationship like that. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be with somebody who loved him no matter what. Not some sappy greeting card love with hearts and rainbows and flowery speeches about unconditional love, but the ride-or-die love you have through cancer and missing limbs and fifty pounds of stress eating or finding out you didn’t qualify for a lung transplant… That kind of love. But Day didn’t think that kind of love was real. It was just some gimmick used to sell Hallmark movies. Real relationships came with all kinds of conditions, and Day didn’t think he’d ever find somebody willing to overlook his many, many flaws.
“You ready to go, Hollywood?”
Day dropped his phone as Jackson’s voice boomed from behind his shoulder. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Day turned to find Jackson wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a pair of keys with the Mercedes emblem on them. Day kept a death grip on his phone as he followed Jackson to the elevators, feeling like the entire office watched them both depart. Maybe it was just because Jackson was the boss. Day snuck another look at him where he leaned against the back panel of the elevator, ankles crossed as he stared straight ahead. Well, at least, Day thought he did. It was hard to tell with his dark lenses.
As they exited the elevator, Jackson’s hand settled at the small of Day’s back, warmth seeping through the layers of denim, making goosebumps rise along his skin. He led Day to a brand new Mercedes sedan, opening the passenger door for Day. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
Jackson closed the door before walking around to slide gracefully into the driver’s seat. “Seatbelt.”
Day followed Jackson’s command without thought. The engine purred as Jackson turned on the car with the touch of a button. A woman’s voice spilled from the speakers, and it took Day a moment to realize it was a book on tape. The woman had a crisp, melodic tone to her speech, reminding him a bit of Mary Poppins. Jackson went to turn it down, but Day reached out and gripped his wrist. Jackson stared at Day’s hand, and he quickly removed it. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I… You can listen if you want to. I-I like it.”
Jackson examined his face for what seemed like an hour before he gave a single nod. “Alright. I’ll start it over. We have a long drive ahead.”
Day gave him a smirk. “It’s LA. All drives are long.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I rarely am,” Day said in a singsong voice, flushing when he earned another smile from Jackson. He had perfect teeth. He had perfect everything if Day was being honest.
“So, we need to discuss some ground rules.”
Day’s smirk disappeared, and he cut his eyes to Jackson. “Excuse me?”
“No strangers in my house. You can still perform your nightly shows, but you perform alone.”
Day bristled at his tone. “As opposed to the thousands of men I usually let parade in and out of my bed?” he asked, tone snippy.
Jackson raised his hand in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say all that. Jimmy said you were auctioning off your virginity. I don’t know when you were planning on picking a winner, but it won’t be while you’re on my watch.”
“Look at you, guarding my purity,” Day said, deadpan. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
Day stared out the window, skin hot, fuming. He didn’t know why it annoyed him that Jackson knew he was a virgin…at least in the most technical of terms.
“It’s a good gimmick.”
Day tossed another look at Jackson. “What is?”
“The whole virginity thing. I could see guys standing in line for the chance to be your first.”
“Thanks?”
“Is it real, though?”
“Is what real?” Day asked, genuinely confused and already wishing this conversation would end.
“Are you really a virgin? And, if so, are you really going to have sex with some random guy?”
Day coughed in surprise. “Have I ever had a dick in my ass? Is that what you’re asking me after having known me twenty minutes?”
“You have very delicate sensibilities for a guy who makes his living in sex work,” Jackson said, tone still conversational. “You obviously don’t have to answer. I’m just genuinely trying to understand.”
“It’s not like I’ve never fooled around with a guy before. But I’ve never lost my virginity in the technical sense. As for fucking some random guy… I don’t know why everybody puts such a huge value on virginity, like it somehow changes you as a person to take a dick. But if some guy is willing to meet my ridiculously high price tag, sure. I’ll fuck him and broadcast it on my OnlyFans.”
Day waved his hand as if the whole conversation bored him, but, mostly, he just felt stupid. Something about the calm and rational tone of Jackson’s questions made Day feel childish and immature.
“Good for you,” Jackson said, sounding sincere. “Just not while you’re on my watch, okay? I need to be able to vet anybody who comes near you just in case the killer knows who you are.”
Jackson’s words made Day’s heartbeat skip. He tried not to think of what he saw that night. He felt bad for Jay. That’s what he called Jansen. It was the only way he’d ever referred to himself. The whole thing had happened so fast it had taken Day a solid minute to understand what he was looking at. He’d never even seen the killer’s face, so Day didn’t know why anybody thought he was in danger.
“I do just fine with my solo performances,” Day said, once more staring out the window.
“I’m sure you do,” Jackson murmured, his deep voice setting off goosebumps across Day’s flesh. “Hey, you hungry?”
Jackson’s question once more caught Day off guard. “Starving.”
Jackson grinned. “Good. Me too. I know just the place.”
As Jackson pulled into a parking space in front of the Gourmet Market, Day’s face took on a disgruntled expression that made him laugh.
“What are we doing here?”
“Shopping. You said you were hungry.” Jackson walked around to the passenger side, opening Day’s door and offering his hand. Once more, he looked on with confusion. “You have gone grocery shopping before, right?” Jackson asked.
“No, my staff usually does all my shopping for me,” Day said, tone breezy, before giving Jackson a pissy look even as he accepted his hand. “Of course, I’ve gone grocery shopping before. I live in a one bedroom efficiency in the middle of the hood.”
Jackson chuckled. “You’d never know it, with that attitude and your wardrobe, Your Majesty.”
Day narrowed his eyes at Jackson, like he wasn’t sure if he was making fun of him or not. Jackson wasn’t entirely sure, either. He found he liked picking on Day. There was something about the boy’s haughty demeanor that intrigued Jackson. As much as he liked his super sexy prickly exterior, he couldn’t help but think it was hiding something more. He wanted to pick at the layers of varnish Day had painted over himself to see what hid underneath.
“You know what they say, dress for the job you want,” Day said as he sashayed through the doors.
Jackson grabbed a basket. “And you’re dressing for the job of…trophy wife?”
Day slid his gaze upward, once more fluttering long lashes at Jackson, who noticed for the first time how bright blue Day’s eyes were, the clear crystal blue of a swimming pool or the waters of the Caribbean. “I don’t know, Daddy. Are you looking for a trophy wife?” he drawled.
Jackson leaned in close so as not to offend the elderly lady perusing the apples. “Not really, but if you keep calling me Daddy, we’re gonna be skipping straight to the honeymoon.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Day purred, biting his plump lower lip and giving Jackson a saucy look.
“Not a threat, just a warning.”
Jackson could swear Day blushed, but then the boy sighed. “My fans would just love you.”
Ah, yes. Day’s fans. The audience that watched him get off every night. The audience that wanted to watch Day auction off his virginity to the highest bidder. “Sorry, gorgeous, but I work strictly off camera, and I don’t do virgins.”
Day’s mouth fell open, and Jackson realized what he’d just said. Still, he refused to take it back. Day was a shark, and if Jackson backtracked, he’d definitely smell blood in the water. Besides, as much as Jackson hated to admit it, he liked the way Day’s lips curled around the word Daddy. He didn’t see the harm in playing along. He hadn’t flirted with anybody in a very long time. Not for lack of trying on the part of others, but Jackson had been busy creating an empire and dealing with the women in his life, all of whom were related to him.
“That’s really too bad. If we were ever together, I’d want to be able to watch it over and over,” he murmured, leaning into Jackson’s space, bumping their shoulders together. “We’d look so hot together, don’t you think?” He started to walk away before he turned back to face Jackson, voice carrying in the vegetable section. “You’d be shocked at the things I can do and still be considered a virgin.”
With that, Day took off towards the prepared foods section, leaving Jackson and the little old lady gaping after him. The woman smirked at Jackson before replacing an apple in its bin and wandering away with her cart.
Jackson had wandered into this game of sexual chicken, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t sure he’d win. Day might not be everything he seemed, but he was just stubborn enough to push the envelope if it meant he could win this battle of wills. Jackson wasn’t sure he wanted to win. He’d never felt such an instant attraction to another human being before, and his good sense seemed to have taken the day off because, even as his brain reminded him Day was a client, pro-bono or not, his dick was telling him that they were both adults and could do what they liked. It was Jackson’s company, after all.
Jackson walked over to where Day was scrutinizing the prepared food under the heat lamps, like he was a judge on Top Chef. Jackson peered at the food from over Day’s head, liking how the younger man fit just under his chin. “See something you like?” Jackson murmured.
Instead of the witty comeback Jackson expected, Day shrugged. “It’s sort of criminal to charge that much money for fried yuca, don’t you think? I mean, it’s just a bougie fake potato. Who wants fake potatoes?”
It occurred to Jackson then that Day assumed he’d have to pay for his own food, which made sense. Usually the client picked up at least their own portion of the tab and, more often than not, the security staff’s as well. “Well, only the bougiest of fake potatoes will do for my trophy wife.”
Jackson meant it to be a joke but the way Day’s startled gaze shot to his sent a shock of acknowledgement straight to his dick. Jesus, this kid was trouble.
“I’m not really hungry,” Day said, his stomach growling loud enough for Jackson to know he lied.
“Well, this lunch is my treat, and if you say no, you’re gonna hurt my feelings. So, get yourself some fancy fake potatoes or overpriced green juice or a vegan donut that cost the price of ten non-vegan donuts. Whatever you want.”
Day’s teeth worried his bottom lip for a long minute as he examined the food before shaking his head. “You pick. There are too many choices,” he said, sounding far less confident than he had all day.
Jackson wasn’t sure what had triggered this sudden change in attitude, but he was determined to change it back, not at all sure why he cared. “Anything you won’t eat?”
Day made a face. “No mushrooms and no olives.”
Jackson nodded. “Fine. I’ll get the food. But you get the dessert.” He pointed Day towards the bakery.
“Anything you won’t eat?” Day asked, mirroring Jackson’s question.
“I hate cherries,” Jackson said.
Day looked scandalized, but then mischievous. “That’s too bad,” he said, hips swaying as he sauntered away.
Jackson shook his head before going about the task of filling up containers with all manner of food from marinated kale to chicken fingers. If he thought Day might want it, in the basket it went. By the time he met Day at the bakery, his purchase was already bagged, leaving Jackson to wonder what he’d chosen, but he let Day keep his secret. They grabbed juices from the cold case and got in line.
Two customers were in front of them, a younger blonde woman in a flowy floral dress with a toddler in the cart and a baby on her hip and a middle-aged woman with a severe haircut and a scowl on her face. Day immediately set about watching the scowling woman, like she might steal something. It didn’t take long before they realized the source of the middle-aged woman’s rage. The young mother’s card kept declining.
The middle-aged woman sighed heavily, rolling her eyes and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The girl flushed, looking down at her purchases. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with this stupid card,” she said. “Maybe if I put this back?” She handed over the generic cold medication, and once more, the cashier tried the card. When it declined again the girl’s eyes filled with tears, and the cashier gave a nervous look to the line forming behind her.
The woman sighed once more then sneered. “If you can’t afford to shop here, maybe you should try the Save-A-Lot downtown with the other poor people.”
The girl sucked in a breath, tears spilling over. Before Jackson could defuse the situation, Day fixed the lady with a look Jackson hoped to never be on the other side of.
“I’m sorry? Where are you going in such a hurry, Karen? Is there some kind of grumpy California cunts meeting you’re late for? I see you’re wearing yoga pants, but given that the size of your ass is even bigger than your sour attitude, I doubt you’re on your way to the gym. So, why don’t you calm your tits and stop huffing and puffing before somebody thinks you’re having an asthma attack and shoves a paper bag over your head and accidentally smothers you with it.”
The woman turned on Day with murder in her eyes. “Why don’t you mind your business and put on some boy clothes?”
Jackson’s eyes went wide, and he put a hand on Day’s shoulder, but he shook it off, cocking his head and his hip in a stance that made both Jackson and the cashier slightly nervous.
“You know what they say, all clothes are boy clothes if you just stop being a little bitch about it. You should try it, or maybe you could just try pulling the stick out of your ass and shove it up your—”
Jackson slapped his hand over Day’s mouth, pulling him back against him. Jackson thought Day might actually chew through his hand as his mouth was still moving, his words muffled.
“I’m reporting you to the manager.”
Whatever Day said behind Jackson’s hand came with two middle fingers aimed directly at the woman. Jackson couldn’t stop his laugh as the lady hurried towards the counter at the far end of the store. “Easy, killer. You’ve made your point. She’s gone.” He dropped his hand from Day’s lips.
“Fucking twat,” Day muttered before realizing the cashier and the woman both stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry,” Day tacked on almost as an afterthought, not sounding sorry at all.
Jackson pulled his AmEx card free and handed it to the cashier. “I’ve got her purchases.”
The girl shook her head vehemently, adjusting the baby on her hip. “No. I’ll just come back later. My husband is just being a jerk. He does this sometimes. He turns off the card to teach me a les…” She trailed off. “Sorry, you don’t care about any of this.”
Jackson nodded to the cashier who rang up the girl’s purchases and then theirs, ignoring her protests before handing back the card and the receipt. Before the girl left, Jackson handed her his business card. “I do care. If you need help, call the number on the card. It’s my cell phone. I always have it on me.”
She gawked at him for a minute before nodding and hurrying from the store with her purchases. Jackson took the bags, but Day took his bakery bag back, like he was guarding it from Jackson as if it was a surprise. Day was mercurial to say the least and Jackson couldn’t get enough.
“Come on, crazy. Let’s get you out of here before you get arrested for beating up an old lady,” Jackson said.
“Wow, you’re, like, a knight in shining armor,” Day said with a smirk as they walked through the parking lot.
“Yeah, and you’re like a rabid poodle,” Jackson said, nodding towards his car.
“A rabid poodle?”
“Yeah, all frills and bows on the outside, but snarling and vicious deep down.”
“Sorry, but I refuse to be somebody I’m not.”
“Did I ask you to?” Jackson asked, enjoying how easy it was to rile Day up.
“You just called me a rabid poodle.”
Jackson grinned. “Yeah, but I’m a dog person.”
Day stayed silent most of the way to Jackson’s place. He had no idea why he’d agreed to this farce of a security detail because he’d wanted to jump Jackson the moment he’d seen him and let him do things to him he’d never even considered letting anybody else do. The worst part? It seemed like Jackson was definitely down to fuck. Or whatever might be fuck adjacent. At least, until after he sold his virginity. All these wannabe Daddies all thought they had a shot at being the one who fucked him for the first time, as if being the first one to stick their dick in him was some kind of fucking prize. But Day was the one who’d made it a prize.
