Throb (Life on Stage 1)
“Okay,” I say with trepidation.
“I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes … but …”
He holds up his hand. “Let’s take baby steps. I’ve thought this through all morning.”
“Okay.”
“So we’ve got the most important thing established. We want to be together. The rest will take some negotiation.”
“I think you’ve figured out something we both already knew. The hard part is how to get through the next five weeks.”
“I’d like you to quit the show today. I understand you want to help your family. I find it noble actually. But my first preference is to pay off the debt for you. I have the money and it would make me happy to help.”
“I can’t do that, Cooper.” It’s tempting, truly it is. Even the thought of having a little of the load I shoulder lifted, makes me feel like someday I really will have my own life back again. But I need to take care of my family before that can happen.
“That’s an impasse. We’ll play a hand for that decision.” Cooper removes the cards from their box.
I squint my eyes, watching him. Something in the way his jaw flexes lights the bulb over my head. “I’ll shuffle and deal,” I say, extending my hand.
“Are you concerned I might cheat if given the opportunity?”
I don’t respond verbally. Instead I deal out five cards each, suits facing up. Cooper’s hand miraculously has four queens. “Did you think four aces would be to obvious?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Maybe.”
I scoop up the cards. “You want to settle things this way. We’ll do it, but we’ll do it fair and square.” I shuffle the cards with one hand like a pro.
Cooper loses the first hand. “You even beat me without your lucky chip.”
“You’re probably one of the few people I can beat without my lucky chip.”
“You really believe in superstition that much?”
“No, you’re just that bad.”
“Maybe your brand of superstition just doesn’t work for me.”
“You prefer blowing on dice to a lucky chip?”
“Dice is definitely not what I prefer you blowing on.” Cooper’s hand drops and my eyes follow the firm stroke of his hard on.
“Stop that,” I scold.
“Fine. But we need rules then. If you’re going back to the show.”
“What kind of rules.”
“Rule one—No sex with anyone but me. That’s a given.”
“Done,” I say. Easy decision there.
“No kissing.”
“But at the ceremony … we always have to kiss him when we get picked.”
“So I can stick my tongue in Tatiana’s mouth?”
“Has it been there before?”
“That’s not the point. If you’re okay with kissing, you won’t mind if I say hello to Tatiana with my tongue.”
“Rule two—no tongue kissing,” I grumble.
“You make it through to the final four, collect the prize money, then quit. I’ll loan you the money to pay off your mother’s debt, and you can pay it back after your student loans are paid off.”
“That’s ten years.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“Impasse.” I hold out the cards. “Can I trust you to deal this time?”
“Maybe you should deal. My hands have better things to do.” He strokes himself, then reaches out and pinches my nipple.
“It’s not going to work.” It’s totally working.
I deal quickly.
I win again. I would never have guessed I’d be happy to win paying off my own student loans.
“Miles wants to use our family home in Barbados to house the contestants the last two weeks. I’m going to let him. The contestants will stay in the guesthouse. I want you to be comfortable; there’s a room I want you to stay in there. Dickhead will stay at a hotel.”
“I’d love that.”
“There’s more.”
His face is apprehensive. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. One minute I’m riding high, packing my imaginary bags for a week in Barbados. The next minute, I’m perched at the top, my stomach hurling to a nervous drop as I wait for the free-fall that’s about to come.
“You took your brother out of therapy.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “A light background investigation, huh?”
“The investigator might have gotten carried away.”
Sure, the investigator got carried away. “The therapy is still considered experimental. The insurance doesn’t cover it.”
“I want to pay for the therapy.”
“I can’t let you do that. But it’s sweet of you to offer. Really.”
“Impasse.”
“This doesn’t even have to do with me or the show.”
“Does it cause you stress that he’s not going to therapy?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s related. Deal.”
Not even the best players can win every hand. I try in earnest, but lose.
“Good thing I won that one.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I paid the therapist over the phone before you got out of bed this morning.”
Chapter twenty-four
Cooper
I’ve never understood why people slow and stare at a bad car accident. They know they’re going to witness something horrible, something the mind won’t be able to rewind and unsee. Yet the more gore, the bigger the traffic backup. I’ve always been the guy to curse the idiots in front of me riding their brake lights as they passed the mangled pile of steel. I refuse to let unbridled curiosity get the best of me, never allowing my head to turn despite the powerful pull of the wreckage.