Perfect Imperfections

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Feeling light and happy, Jeremy smiled broadly. “And I won’t even make you suck my dick.”

Chapter 2

EVEN WITHOUT the added bonus of going down on Jeremy, the offer wasn’t something Reg could refuse. Going just over the border to Nogales was as far as he’d gotten in his goals; if he went on tour with one of the most successful rock stars of all time, he’d see more of the US and other countries too. Plus, he could do it right away, without spending another two to three years saving. And Reg was sure Jeremy’s method of travel would be more plush than his plan of bumming rides or taking Greyhound. Bottom line: what Jeremy was offering was as good as winning the lottery, and just like the lottery, Reg didn’t figure it would ever actually happen.

“You’re wasted, man.” He shook his head and grinned, the initial thrill of possibility being replaced by amusement. Who knew The Jeremy Jameson would be such a goofy drunk? “I thought I’d heard it all from guys who’ve had one too many, but you win the prize for most creative drunkery.”

“I’m not drunk,” Jeremy huffed.

“Dude. You are totally smashed.”

“Am not.”

“Fine, then, prove it,” Reg said. Dealing with people who didn’t realize they were no longer sober was part of his job. “Walk the line.”

Jeremy’s forehead creased. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never been pulled over and given the walk-and-turn test?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay.” Reg stood up, wiped his hands on his baggy jeans, held one hand out to Jeremy, and yanked him to his feet. “See the line where the linoleum changes colors?” He pointed toward his kitchen. “Start on one end and walk it, heel to toe. Then keep one foot on it, turn around, and go back to the beginning the same way.”

“Pft!” Jeremy waved his hand dismissively. “My trainer’s big on using steps. I do that for hours when we’re working out. And all you want me to do is walk across a room on one level? Done.”

Swaggering over to the starting point, Jeremy shook his head and said, “We should bet on something because I’m so going to win.”

“All right.”

Snapping his gaze toward Reg, Jeremy stopped with one foot above the decided line. Immediately, he tipped to the right and had to plant both feet on the ground and hold his arms out to the side to get his balance. “You want to bet?”

“Sure.” Reg arched his eyebrows in amusement. “Why? Did you already change your mind?” He crossed his arms over his chest and started squawking like a chicken.

“You are not making chicken noises right now.”

“Hey, if the poultry fits.”

“Fine.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. “What’s the bet?”

“If you can walk the line both ways, heel to toe, without stopping and without using your arms to balance, I’ll accept your offer.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re too drunk to know what you’re saying, and you’ll have to ask again after you sleep it off.”

“That’s it? That’s all I lose?” He scoffed. “You need to learn how to place a wager. That’s—”

“There’s more,” Reg said.

“Oh. What?”

“I want a year instead of seven months.”

Jeremy’s face crumpled, reminding Reg of his nephew’s expression when he had to take a nap. “I would, but I can’t. The concerts are already scheduled. All the arenas are booked. Does that mean you won’t do it?”

Keeping himself from ruffling the purple hair took effort. In magazines, Jeremy’s mop was always a different color, styled in intentionally random spikes. But after wearing a cap all night in a stuffy space, the locks were stiff with sweat and matted to his head in spots while sticking out in a very nonartful way in others. The look added to the little-boy image, and it made Reg smile.

“I’ll do it,” he said, clenching and releasing his fists to keep himself from reaching for the other man to smooth away that disappointed expression. “But when the tour’s over, we can keep traveling; only we go where we want when we want. No agenda.”

Jeremy widened his eyes and parted his lips. “An adventure?” he gasped.

Sure, they could call it that. Reg nodded.

“Just the two of us?” His eyes took on a dreamy quality, and he lowered his voice. “No manager. No groupies. Nobody who needs me to do anything.”

Not sure if Jeremy was talking to himself or asking a question, Reg stayed silent.

“It’s a deal,” Jeremy said. Looking determinedly at the linoleum, he took the first step, immediately throwing his arms out to the sides to keep his balance. He walked toe to heel after two steps, stumbled off the line after three, and on the fourth step, he fell flat on his butt.

Laughing deeply, Reg hustled over and helped Jeremy get to his feet. “Dude, you are so fucking trashed right now.”