Perfect Imperfections

“Mother,” Jeremy said, trying to stay calm. “You said there’s an issue?”

“Oh. Yes. Right. Harold claims to have a film.”

“That’s not a surprise, yeah? The man’s a filmmaker.”

“Yes. But this film stars you, darling. You and Reggie.”

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? Reggie and I never made any movies.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Harold procured footage of you in a compromising position.”

“Compromising positi—what are you talking about?”

“A sex tape, dear. He has a sex tape of you and Reggie. He sent me a short clip, and he said he’d go public with the whole thing if I didn’t agree to perform in his project. Of course I want to help you, but you know I can’t. It’s simply not possible for someone of my—”

“I know, mother. Someone of your caliber can’t be in a Harold West movie even though he’s been sharing your bed for—”

“Jeremy, there is no reason to be crass. I didn’t have to call you with this information. I would think you’d be grateful.”

Yes. He was thrilled his mother had fucked over yet another up-and-comer with her version of the casting couch and he was the one taking the hit. After taking a deep breath he said, “I apologize. Thanks for letting me know. I have to talk to Reg now.”

“Of course, darling. Let’s talk soon and schedule a lunch.”

She hung up before he could say good-bye. Not that he cared.

“Damn it!” Jeremy shouted as he leapt from Reg’s lap and threw his phone across the room. “Of all the stupid, selfish”—he kicked the coffee table—“things she could do, she had to fuck over a guy with a camera”—he walked over to the wall and started punching it—“and nothing to lo—”

“Stop.” Reg circled his muscular arms around Jeremy’s chest and yanked him back. “Tell me what happened,” he said quietly.

“My mother!” Jeremy shouted. “That’s what happened!”

“Okay.” Reg pulled him to the couch, laid him on his back, and covered him with his bulky body. It was a little hard to breathe, but it made Jeremy feel better, safer, calmer. “What’d she do?”

“She pissed off that guy she was with—Harold West—by refusing to do his movie. I told you that’s what would happen.”

“Yup, you did.” Reg buried his fingers in Jeremy’s hair and massaged his scalp.

“Well, it turns out this guy has some balls but no common sense, and he thought he could blackmail Paula Radcliffe.”

“How? Does he have dirt on her or something?”

Jeremy laughed, the sound high-pitched and bitter. “There is no dirt to be had on my mother. She is way too careful and way too… plastic for that. Nope. He did what he figured would be the next best thing—he got dirt on her son. Too bad he didn’t realize that wouldn’t do shit to help him because she doesn’t care.”

“What kind of dirt?” Reg growled, his expression stormy. It was hot and would have been arousing if the situation wasn’t so horrible.

“A tape,” Jeremy said. “A tape of us having sex.”

Reg was quiet for a few seconds, and then he tilted his head to the side and said, “How is that possible? We’ve never recorded ourselves having sex.”

It was a good question. “I don’t know. I guess he could be lying, but I doubt it. My mother said he sent her a clip of it, and there’s no way he would think she’d agree to make his movie without getting a copy of the whole thing.” Jeremy bit his lip. “Maybe he filmed us.”

“Where? I know we get carried away sometimes, but it’s not like we’ve had sex in public, JJ. We’re careful.”

Careful was an understatement. Reg took Jeremy’s privacy and security to level-red seriousness, always making sure Jeremy was protected and stepping between him and any paparazzi they encountered. That problem had thankfully improved significantly since Becky replaced Francis.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said. He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m calling the police.” Reg got up. “This guy is trying to blackmail your mother. That’s criminal. Plus, there’s no way he could—”

“Reg, you can’t.” Jeremy grabbed his hand. “If you go to the police, my mother will be in the middle of it, and she’ll be furious. You know how important her public image is to her.”

“But it’s her fault,” Reg said in frustration. It was so rare for him to lose his cool that Jeremy was rendered speechless. “She acts like a… she doesn’t handle things well, and you’re stuck with the consequences, but you can’t do anything to help yourself?”

Yeah. That was about right. “She’s my mother.” They weren’t close and never would be. She wasn’t a mother like Reg’s mother. But she was the only family he had.

“Okay,” Reg said, immediately calming down. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that.” He rubbed his palm over the back of his head and took a deep breath. “I’ll call Bill and Becky. They’ll know how to deal with this.”