The man busied himself at the door for a minute, then left the package waiting with a slip. “Have a good day,” he said to Gray with a friendly smile on the way back down the drive.
Which was when Gray spotted something: a flash of paper tucked in at the waist of his uniform that wasn’t there when he arrived, what looked like the flapping end of a few envelopes.
He turned to the house and noticed the small mailbox by the door, which was flipped open. He hurried a few big steps forward, then placed himself between the truck and the delivery person. “Excuse me, what’s that?”
The man paused. His eyes were wide to begin with, and they went wider when Gray stared at his waist. “Just one delivery or the next,” the man joked, patting his side where the papers were. “I forget what day it is sometimes,” he added with a laugh. “Let alone what house I’m supposed to be at!”
Gray narrowed his eyes. He knew bullshit when he smelled it. And why would Jameson receive scripts anyway? He hated acting. “Let me see,” he said, extending his hand and staring expectantly at the papers.
The man stared back, then made his move. He dived to the side, then kicked himself up. Gray spun as the man jumped toward the open truck door, then threw himself against the intruder, crashing into him midair. The tackle sent them both sprawling, but Gray managed to knock his elbow into the man’s side and force him back enough to grab the envelopes on the way.
He stood in a half-squat, then glanced at the papers. Exactly like Gray had thought: Jameson’s mail.
“Fuck,” the man groaned. He was grass-stained and torn and on his way to showing some serious bruises.
“Get the hell out of here,” Gray hollered, his pulse pounding with anger. He kicked his boot against the grass, sending a clod of dirt flying. “And don’t even fucking think about coming back!”
The man groaned and cursed a little more, then pulled himself into the truck and took off. Gray made a note of the license plate, repeating the numbers to himself a few times as fire flashed through his vision. A fierce, protective spirit had risen up inside of him, and he was ready to raise hell to keep Jameson safe from those assholes.
“Damn it,” he grunted. He noticed the jolting of pain that radiated up his arm and realized how heavy the fall had been. He held his elbow above his head and rubbed it, aching at his side. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
Gray paused in the driveway to flip through the mail. It wasn’t even anything interesting, just a water bill and a couple of pieces of junk mail. He was ready to throw it all aside when he spotted one of the colorful, floppy advertisements, shouting about new spring eyeshadows in bright letters.
Gray held it in the air. It was funny, but there wasn’t a full name on that one, just aJJwhere the name would normally go. “Justin Jameson,” he muttered to himself.
He stood there, clouds passing through the gray day. He rubbed his smarting elbow and then snorted a puff of air out his nose.
“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. Not only was Jameson gay, but maybe the guy was into makeup, too.
Gray’s heart jumped. Maybe he was just fooling himself, he considered. Maybe it was wishful thinking, because when he thought about the way Jameson’s lips would look if they were wet, red, and plumped up for him, he practically came in his pants. Gray imagined how much the superstar’s eyes would sparkle, how his cheeks would look if they were even pinker.
“Fuck,” he cursed again.
With a little makeup on, Jameson would be an incredibly pretty man.
And absolutely nothing made Gray lose his chill like a pretty man.
JAMESON
Dee sat on the edge of Jameson’s gigantic circular bed. She was wearing a silver dress shirt, buttoned all the way to the collar, with a ridiculously pink tie hanging in a skinny line, a look just as bright as the colorful room. She scratched the top of her shaved head, frowning, while Jameson sat at his makeup table, watching her in the mirror.
“I don’t know,” Dee said. “Even if someone saw that you got a makeup advertisement, is it really that big of a deal?”
“But it could have been anyone! Gray hasn’t been here long enough to know which paparazzi is which,” Jameson complained. “Some of them would have a field day just from that ad alone.” He didn’t even mention the other horrifying thought: that Gray himself had possibly seen the mailer.
“I think you’re overreacting,” Dee said gently. “Everyone gets junk mail. It’s not like ordering makeup online is such a scandal anyway.”
Jameson rolled his eyes, glancing at his best friend over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Dee laughed. “I know. When it’s you, people think everything is a big deal.”
“Except for my best friend from before I was famous,” he replied, fluttering his eyelashes.
“The only two gays in small town Kansas. That’s how I knew you were going to be a famous actor. You convinced the whole town you were straight.”
Jameson laughed, his honest laugh pouring out of him with Dee there. It was light and silly, and it bounced all over the place, and honestly, Jameson loved the way it sounded.
“I know, I know,” he agreed. “I’ll try not to worry myself over it.”
