Loving and Loathing Vegas (4 page)

The baby clapped her hands.

Cillian smiled. “You really have a way with her.”

Jackson frowned. “I guess.”

“I think I got your phone to work, though,” Cillian said as he handed it over. “I think you got a message.”

Jackson couldn’t contain his glee. This was it. Finally, victory was in his grasp. He unlocked his phone and tapped on the Grindr message—only for the 4G to futz out. “C’mon, c’mon…,” he mumbled. “Load. Load, please, load.”

The baby grunted like an angry cow. The smell exploded into the diner.

“Oh fuck,” Jackson yelped and gagged, without considering his language. He spun on his heel and collided chest to chest with Cillian. The force made Jackson drop his phone, and the telltale crunch of a shattered screen as it bounced across the tiles distantly registered in his mind.

Tending to Jeshebet came first.

He scrambled to the employee restroom and set the basket on the sink. Jackson frantically searched the cabinets, but found nothing but toilet paper, paper towels, and cleaning supplies. His gut sank. The Huggies and baby wipes were in the back room.

Jeshebet continued to wail, obviously displeased with sitting in her own shit.

“Vegas,” Jackson howled out the door. “I need those diapers and baby wipes!”

“What?” Vegas called back over the noise of the kitchen.

Jackson poked his head out the door and held in his panic as he watched Vegas across the kitchen, tending to another order of burgers. “Diapers! Baby wipes! They’re in the back room!” Jackson roared. “Now!”

Vegas turned to him, just as much panic in his eyes as Jackson had seen in Cillian’s gaze. He dropped his spatula on the grill and then snatched it before it could clatter to the floor. He shook his hand, and Jackson frowned, knowing Vegas had burned it on the grease. He shoved the utensil in his apron pocket, then took off for the back room.

Jackson turned back to Jeshebet.

She screamed, her face redder than brimstone on a scorching summer day.

“I know,” Jackson whispered to her. “I know. It’s gross. You’re a little stink bomb, I hope you know.”

Vegas emerged into the bathroom, laden with a bright pink package of Huggies and a box of baby wipes. He coughed. “Oh God, that’s ripe.”

Jeshebet wiggled angrily in her basket.

“I think that’s my cue,” Vegas said, and shoved the diapers and baby wipes at Jackson before vanishing out the door.

Jackson had gotten the hang of changing Jeshebet over the last few days. But not all the YouTube tutorials in the world could have prepared him for this round.

“God, why have you forsaken me?”

He crossed himself and held his breath.

I
T
WAS
two weeks to go before Christmas, and Jackson was no closer to finding a date. His latest round of Grindr dates had proved to be a disaster when the possible suitors revealed they were out in Santa Fe and unwilling to make the drive to “crappy Tez.” The town wasn’t
that
crappy. It had its certain, quiet charm. It wasn’t so bad for being not even a blip on the map. People could find Area 51 easier.

Jackson blinked, bleary-eyed, as he counted out the till. Jeshebet had taken it out of him with all her baby emergencies. It had been a blessing that Cillian stepped up, being able to wing it enough to take orders. He wasn’t
so
bad. He’d make a good employee, if Vegas was up for it. Cillian even did an awesome job decking the place out for the holidays. The happy green and red garland twinkled in the dim light, and the plastic ornaments reflected their surroundings. They still needed a tree, though. They’d have to head to Santa Fe to get it, and assure it would survive the trip back. It just didn’t seem feasible.

Jeshebet slept in her basket, dreaming away baby dreams. Jackson wondered if babies really did dream of fading past lives. His heart softened. At least Jeshebet got more sleep than either of them.

The sheriff would be back in town soon enough, and he’d be on the case to find her parents. Or at least pass her on to someone who could help.

In the kitchen, Vegas had gone quiet in his cleaning duties. He was probably organizing the back room and taking stock, getting ready to do it all over again before opening tomorrow. There was pie dough to prep before they could head home, and it was a two-person job that took another couple hours.

Jackson glanced down at Jeshebet and nodded as she dozed. He hoped she would sleep through the night. He headed back to the kitchen, stifling a yawn. Turning a corner to the back room, Jackson’s breath hitched in his throat.

Vegas stood with his back toward Jackson, furiously jacking off. He curled his fingers tight into the wire shelving, enough to bleach his knuckles as he worked out his passion.

Jackson slapped his hands over his mouth and ducked out of sight. He trembled, equal parts mortified and completely turned on. What had happened to Vegas’s vow of celibacy? When did he break it?

He listened to Vegas groan under his breath. Jackson tightened his thighs in response. Fuck, he wanted Vegas. He was right there, caught in this moment, and Jackson was the dirtiest of voyeurs. Apparently, Vegas understood that old habits died hard and, being pure embodiments of Viagra, needed release.

Jackson’s whole body ached, not just his cock. He gnashed his teeth and got bold enough to sneak another peek. Vegas had his head tilted back, hissing with each heated breath as he fucked his hand. Jackson’s lip quivered. How he wanted Vegas down his throat, creaming into his eager mouth. Vegas’s mouth dropped open as he took down large gulps of air. Jackson recognized the sign of the rise of his climax. He held his breath when Vegas spilled himself, his knees buckling with the release.

Vegas shook his head, seemed to mutter something to himself. Was he embarrassed? Jackson didn’t understand.

Jackson made a quick getaway to the manager’s office, trying to force away the heat and need in his body. He didn’t see anything. Jackson would remind himself of that. He was just tired, and his obsession to win the bet mixed with his feelings for Vegas were running together. That was all it was. Vegas was probably spanking off over Cillian, anyway.

That thought was worse than a cold shower. His erection fell in an instant. He could deal with this. Jackson shook as he worked through the Excel spreadsheets. He had to make peace with the fact that Vegas’s attraction to Cillian was something he couldn’t compete with. Even in all of their years in the Seventh Circle and learning about humans, Jackson would always be the snarky friend. Maybe Vegas had denied his thing with Cillian as a way of softening the blow to Jackson’s ego.

His eyes went blurry and he scrubbed his fingers over them. He sniffed away the stuffiness in his sinuses. Jackson wasn’t crying, or so he told himself, as he managed the work-hours spreadsheet.

“Hey,” Vegas said as he came around the doorway.

Jackson screamed, nearly toppling back in the office chair. He clutched his chest. “Fuck, you scared the piss out of me.”

“Sorry,” Vegas grinned, and Jackson noticed him wiping his hands. “Um…. What do you think of hiring Cillian?”

Jackson shot his attention back to his spreadsheet, then smeared the wetness from his face again. “Oh… um… sure,” he croaked.

“You okay?” Vegas asked.

“Allergies,” Jackson lied. He didn’t look up.

“It would be part-time, of course,” Vegas said. “He’d work with you. He seems really good at waiting on tables.”

Jackson dug his fingernails into the computer mouse. “Uh-huh.” He kept his tone neutral.

“He really likes you, you know.”

“He’s nice.” Jackson clicked through the different windows.

“See? He’s not at all weird.”

Jackson smirked.

Vegas went silent. Only the sound of Jackson clicking through the windows filled the space.

“Hey, um, I need to tell you something,” Vegas said, and Jackson didn’t mistake his flustered tone.

It was probably about him spanking off, but Jackson wasn’t going to call him out on it. And his impenetrable pride kept him from admitting his heartbreak. Merry fucking Christmas.

Jackson refreshed his e-mail window and blinked owlishly at a Craigslist message. “Holy shit…,” he whispered and clicked it open. A photo of a studious, somewhat surly blond man slowly loaded on the screen. The guy’s spiky hair wasn’t really his thing, but it would do in a pinch. His peculiar half-rimmed glasses were a bit charming.

And the guy was located in Tez.

Jackson grinned up at Vegas. “Eat it. I have a date for Christmas.”

But Vegas’s somewhat crestfallen expression hit him in an odd way. After a moment, Vegas smiled kindly, but it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah. Awesome,” he said. He snapped his fingers and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “Anyway, I’m going to get the pie dough going.”

T
IME
WAS
of the essence to score a date by Christmas, and Jackson’s choices of available men in Tezcatlipoca had dwindled to next to nothing. He had to make this one count, and Christmas was only a week away. Things would have been easier if he could have made it out to Santa Fe. He’d have his pick of young available bucks in rutting season. His eager Grindr hookups missed out on his prime real estate when they rejected him because of a stupid thing like a ninety-mile drive to Nowheresville. But Vegas had stipulated they had to be in love. He didn’t exactly specify if the love had to be mutual.

Jackson sighed. The love definitely wasn’t mutual between him and the incubus of his dreams. He couldn’t think about that now. He was about to make someone’s dream come true of dating a hot stud… with a baby.

It would be an awkward date while carting a baby around. Jeshebet lost her mind around Vegas, and with her sobs that could shatter glass, it was clear that she had a strong dislike for him. Hate was a strong word. She was just a baby. And according to his Internet research, children are taught how to hate.

Vegas named her. Did she not like her name? Who knew how human babies worked? Jackson didn’t have a fucking clue.

Hopping up the creaky wooden steps to Gary’s Grub Shack, Jackson summoned his confidence. He’d have a date out of this rendezvous for sure. He adjusted his grip on Jeshebet’s basket, and she cooed at him.

“No crying, okay?” he murmured to her. “You really need to work with me here.”

She blew a spit bubble in response.

Guh. She was cute. But.
Guh
.

Jackson opened the café door, and the bell chimed overhead. Old Gary regarded him with his perpetual scowl and then resumed wiping out a coffee cup. Jackson gave him a thin-lipped smile, playing it cool while visiting Eaven’s competition. Old Gary gave Jackson a once-over, and Jackson swallowed. He stood a little straighter as Jeshebet giggled. It was no big deal. Just a guy with a baby. A baby who’s not his, but just suck it up about the assumptions.

Just as well that they didn’t exchange a single word. Jackson found his date sitting in a corner booth, his attention buried in a notebook. Okay. Intellectual type? He could work with this.

“So, you’re Ennis, right?” Jackson asked as he put on his best smile. Kindness and innocence should be the trick. He slid Jeshebet’s basket onto the plush seat next to him.

Ennis closed his notebook and sealed it with the elastic band. He nodded. “And you’re Jackson.” He smirked. “Is this the part I tell you that you look just like your picture?”

“Ooh, a sassy one. I like that,” Jackson purred. He had this. Maybe adjust the innocent act into sultry. “I could say the same thing about yours. That barcode tattoo is definitely a mystery.”

Jeshebet squealed a note that pierced through Jackson’s eardrum.

Ennis glanced pointedly from Jackson to the baby.

Jackson shriveled and then tried to smooth things over with an apologetic smile. He reached around in his messenger bag and pulled out a vinyl baby block for her to chew on. “Shh, shh, Jackson’s talking to his new friend, okay?” he told her as she gnawed on the block.

“This might seem like an odd question,” Ennis said.

“I can explain,” Jackson offered timidly.

“Why is she in a grocery basket?” Ennis asked.

Jackson relaxed and thanked the Almighty that Ennis didn’t make a big deal of how he failed to mention a kid in his profile. But he still had to come up with something. He chuckled, chagrined. “She loves the thing. Can’t stand her stroller for more than five minutes.”

He hoped Ennis wouldn’t pick up on his lie about a nonexistent stroller. But Ennis kept watching her, as if inspecting the baby like a bug. This date was going down faster than that time he and Vegas met that screenwriter in Los Angeles more than willing to do whatever it took to win an Oscar. Jackson lifted the menu to his face before Ennis could catch his expression. That screenwriter gave such shit blowjobs.

“So, you’re new in town?” Jackson asked, trying to turn on the charm. He lowered the menu and found Ennis still watching the baby. He tightened his grip on the laminated cardboard.

At this rate he’d lose the bet for sure.

Ennis nodded. He watched Jeshebet as she made a telltale grunt.

Fuck. Parenting, even temporarily, was a trial by fire. And Jackson knew a thing or two about fire trials. But he was quickly learning parenting was worse than what Dante had imagined.

“Shit, sorry.” Jackson slipped out of the booth and scooped up Jeshebet’s basket. Her baby block bounced over the floor, squeaking with each impact and landing on Ennis’s foot. “Seems the little miss needs a changing.” God, this was awkward. “Um, if you want to go… I’ll understand.”

Well, that was one date off the list. Now the available men in town had been rendered nil, and fuck it all if he’d seduce Old Gary. Though he seemed the family-man type. Jackson violently shook his head and slapped his face. No. No way. He couldn’t be that desperate.

Jackson’s stomach sank. He was Sisyphus after all, doomed to clean out grease traps for all eternity.

He gagged at the thought.