Stricken Unveiled (Stricken Rock #2) (9 page)

I throw off the blanket, skip over to the
door, peer out the peephole and on the other side is my date for
the night. James my bodyguard. I unlock the door, opening it
wide.

“Hello friend of mine.” I say letting him in
and locking the door behind him.

“Hey, Miss Bronwyn. Stacy said he was going
to be out tonight so he asked me to stay.”

I wave him into the living room.

“Yeah, he said something about Johnathan
business whatever that means. And I thought we were on first name
basis now.” I reposition myself back on the couch and prop my feet
up. He sits on the opposite side looking uncomfortable.

“I suppose we are Emily.” He smiles and bows
his head. He’s back to the stuffy overly proper James. Way
different than the man I had holding me on the bathroom floor
Friday night.

“Ya know, Calvin James you can take off those
boots and get comfy. If you’re going to stay the night here we are
going to have to make the best of it. I’ve got chips in the
kitchen, popcorn, candy, pop, water, juice, and milk, whatever you
want. I could also bake ya some cookies if you’d like.”

“Thanks Emily.” He looks down at his black
boots. “But I don’t think those puppies should come off. And I know
where the kitchen is if I need anything to eat or drink. Thank you
though.” He smirks and the crinkles near his eyes give away his age
a little.

I sit up and lean over a little to get closer
to him. “If your feet smell I promise I won’t tell anybody. Your
secret is safe with me.” I whisper, with an impish grin.

“Yes, but ma’am it’s in your best interest to
not smell them.” He smiles uncomfortably.

“I have an idea. You wait here I’ll be right
back.” I toss him the clicker. “Don’t put it on the news but
anything else is fine.”

I get off the couch and giddily skip my way
into the bathroom. I know what James needs, and I’m in the perfect
mood to give it to him. I snatch the foot tub out from under the
sink, a fresh mini pumice stone from in the little pedicure station
drawer Stacy has. If you saw his bathroom you’d know by looking at
it he was gay. What kind of man has a pedicure drawer supplied with
nail clippers, toe separators, nail polish remover, individual
pumice stones, lavender foot soak, and a foot tub? A gay one. He
also has a manicure setup and so many other products. I snatch a
white towel out of the linen closet, a bottle of unscented lotion
from the drawer and an extension cord from the hall closet. I go
into the kitchen drop all the stuff on the counter, turn on the
water and get it nice and warm. And I carry a full foot tub into
the living room.

“What’s that?” he asks, his brows
furrowed.

“You’ll see.”

I carry it over and sit it down next to his
feet. I dash back into the kitchen and grab the rest of the stuff.
I lay the towel out and put the foot tub on it.

“I’m not using that Emily.”

“Ohhhhh. Yes you are.” I sit on the coffee
table, bend over and grab his foot. He pulls it back.

“I’m serious Emily. I can’t let you do this.”
His tone is firm.

“I’m serious too Calvin James. Your ex
whoever she is, was a bitch if she had a problem with your smelly
feet and you’re not going to be hanging out with me all-night
wearing those.” I smack his boot. “So I am going to compromise. I
won’t endure the smell because we will clean your feet with this.”
I pat the top of the tub. “You’ll love it I promise.” I produce a
big over-the-top smile.

“I’m a guy Emily not a chick. We don’t do
foot tubs.” He remarks unhappily.

“Yeah, well tell that to Stacy because that
purple tub is his, not mine. And I promise your secret is safe with
me.” I cross my fingers over my heart.

He huffs. “Fine.” Crossing his arms over his
big broad chest.

I bend down and grab his foot again to help
take off his boot.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not touching my
feet too.” He barks less friendly than usual.

I put my hand on my hip and cock my head to
the side. “James, I’m going to be a mother is less than seven
months. I will have to smell baby shit, puke and all the other
wonderful things that come with motherhood. Now I want to help you
get over this phobia and make you realize it’s not all that
bad.”

“You’re really not going to let up are
you?”

“Do you think I give up that easy?” I
tease.

He admits defeat and places his foot up on
the coffee table for me to have easier access. I unlace his boots
one at a time, tug them off and sit them on the floor next to the
coffee table. I’m going to put them by the door later where the
rest of the shoes go. Then I push up his pant legs and roll down
his white crew socks revealing his giant caramel colored feet. I
tuck his socks into the top of each boot. His feet are rather nice
for a man’s, and they don’t smell as bad as he thought. They don’t
smell of roses or anything but they’re nothing I can’t handle. He
watches me the entire time. Looking almost pained to see me taking
off his boots and his socks. I roll up his pant legs to his knees.
I’ve never seen his calves before, he always wears pants. He has a
large old English style cross on his calf, it’s beautiful. I tug
the towel over with the tub on it and set each of his feet inside.
I plug it into the wall and the bubbles take over.

“See, not so bad.” I say with a reassuring
smile.

He exhales loudly and places his hand over
his heart. “I think I almost had a heart attack.”

“Why?”

“No woman touches my feet.
Ever
. This
girl I dated twelve years ago her name was Susan. She always
complained about my feet smelling. I was in the military back then
and my feet sweat a lot in combat boots. After we broke up like
eight months into the relationship she made a big deal about how
gross my feet are. So now whenever I date a woman I take extra
socks to her house and hide a bottle of Gold Bond foot powder in my
duffle. When we go to bed I always make a point not to take off my
shoes until then and I sneak into the bathroom, scrub my feet with
some water, change my socks and put in some of that powder.”

Talk about skeleton’s in a person’s closet.
Who in their right fucking mind would talk to a man like that? ‘Oh,
sorry I don’t love you and yeah your feet smell bad that’s one of
the reasons I’m dumping you.’ How ridiculous is that? Seriously,
what was that woman thinking? I know plenty of people in this world
who would do anything to be loved and cherished by a man, and I
know James has the capacity to do that. Why somebody wouldn’t want
him is beyond me.

“I’m sorry you dated a dumb bitch James.
You’re my friend. I want you to be comfortable around me. Feet
included.” I shoot him a friendly smile and reach down to snatch up
the pumice stone. I dunk it into the water and lift his foot up a
little. I scrub them nice and good. Then leave his feet to soak a
little while longer.

“You’re a real lover Emily.”

“I try to be. I love taking care of people.
Stacy won’t let me help financially so I do a lot around the house
and cook for him. I think he’s gained a little bit of weight since
I moved in. Keeping him well-fed and I bake cookies for him like
once a week. He’s a cookie-a-holic.”

“I’m a snickers-a-holic.” He says and pulls a
snickers out of his cargo pocket on his leg.

“Well I love food. But let’s not talk about
the kind of a-holic I have been lately.” I wink.

“Oh that’s fine. I’ve heard plenty from Stacy
last night.” He grins.

“Like what? Is he blabbing about me again?” I
roll my eyes with a silly smile and tuck my hair behind my
ears.

“When is he not? I swear if you two were into
each other, ‘that way’, he would have married you years ago. I
don’t think he can breathe without you sometimes. Let’s just say he
wasn’t happy to hear Claire was keeping you overnight. Then this
morning he called me and said you were staying with her all day. I
think she threatens him.”

“How so?”

“She’s your girlfriend. Not lesbian wise but
I mean a girl that’s a friend. He’s always been your girlfriend,
even though he’s a male. I think he worries about you replacing him
with a female version of himself. Plus Claire takes care of you
sexually too. Something he can’t do. So yeah I think she threatens
him.”

Wow, I never thought about it that way. James
is one smart cookie. He is intuitive and has also known Stacy as
long as he’s known Johnathan. They’re all kind of a package deal.
Not that I mind because I love them all. He’s right, Stacy can’t
breathe without me sometimes. He’s told me a few times if I wasn’t
in his life he’d die. A little on the theatrical drama side but I
get his point. I don’t know what I’d do without him either.

“Guess I will have to nip that one in the
butt. Stacy has nothing to be worried or jealous over. I’m not ever
going to choose Claire over him even if she does please me rather
well sexually.” I smile and I can’t help it.

The past day was freaking awesome! I haven’t
had to flick the bic since. Which is a new record I think? Four
hours, no orgasm. Okay, maybe it’s not a record but it feels like
one with the way I’ve been dealing with my body lately. But that
almost full twenty four hours with her I didn’t worry about
Johnathan, Stacy or anything else at all. It’s was my own little
escape. If things get too hard in life I will be doing that more
often. Maybe the hotel can be our spot to do ‘the nasty’ away from
it all. The view sure is beautiful and the hotel service is
perfect. My own home away from home. Okay, I don’t actually have a
home. So it’s my getaway from Stacy’s place.

I towel off James’s feet, apply a thick coat
of lotion, massing the the arches of his feet. For a man his feet a
gorgeous. And we both lay on the couch all night long talking and
watching more Friends. Which turns out he loves almost as much as I
do. I love Joey and Phoebe. He’s a Ross and Rachel fan. Romantic at
heart? I think so. Mr. James rough and tough has a soft interior.
If a woman commenting about his feet twelve years ago has shaped
him into the man he is today. I can’t image what other things are
lurking under the surface. As long as Stacy or Johnathan doesn’t
fire James or have him bodyguard for somebody else I will have
plenty of time to get to know him. He’ll be my manly version of
Stacy. Except that this one likes Friends. Stacy hates the show and
most sitcoms. Boo Stacy!

“Emily get up. Get up Em.” A familiar voice
says softly pushing my side to wake me.

I open my eyes and reach above my head for a
good stretch. I can feel all my muscles pull and damn it feels
nice.

“Hi Stace.” I smile wide with my sleepy
morning eyes.

“I let you sleep in crazy woman. It’s ten. We
should probably head out in fifteen to get Johnathan. The group of
news people will be staked out so it could take a bit to weed
through the gate.”

I sit up and stretch some more, cleaning the
sleep out of my eyes. I toss back the covers, slip out of bed and I
already feel like dog shit. Two rather good days and Monday morning
rolls around and I feel like I’ve been dumped into a vat of
suck
. It’s awful. I’m going to finally have to face the
music, quite literally. He’s going to be all happy to leave and
then the big bunch of us fuckers are going to rain all over his
parade. I wish he could get one day out of rehab without finding
out. I know he needs to know. Just like he needs to know about our
babies, but I don’t see why one day of freedom back into the world
is too much to ask. Apparently, it is though. The stupid media
never sleep, they’re like a bunch of rabid dogs fighting over who
can get the first picture, the first exclusive...
etcetera…etcetera…etcetera.

“So what were you doing last night?” I ask
Stace who’s sitting on my bed, I’m going through my closet to find
an outfit that hides my tummy but makes me sexy enough to see
Johnathan for the first time in over a month.

“Seriously? I was hashing over late night
with Johnathan’s lawyer and Cassandra’s new lawyer through
videoconferencing. Kind of a last minute thing I requested before
today.”

“What!” I shriek, whipping around quickly and
adverting all my attention to him. This doesn’t sound good. Not
good at all.

“Yeah, well since she claims the baby is
Johnathan’s there’s a lot of be hashed out.” He runs his hair
through his hair, looking overly stressed.

“You mean money? The woman wants money?”

Son of a bitch! How could I have been so
naive to not have seen this coming from a mile away or a whole
country away, as it is? Of course she’d want money and probably
lots of it. Jesus, how much will Johnathan be forced her pay her in
child support? Since it goes by income hers will skyrocket into the
thousand’s a month. I’m glad I’m not like that. I could care less
if Johnathan pays me a damn cent for my kids. I was going to keep
them regardless. So why in the world should he have to pay an
obscene amount of money to me? I can see normal support like
average blue collar working Americans pay, but not ten grand a
month. That’s a fucking car! Anybody who needs that kind of money
to survive and raise child monthly, needs admitted into a mental
hospital, like yesterday.

“Of course she does. We’re also paying her
for the rights to the photos that were taken with her cellphone.
And we have to establish boundaries in writing. So she can’t be
interrupting Johnathan’s life whenever it tickles her fancy. It’s
just a lot of paperwork to be drawn up and big fat checks to be
written.”

“Why in the world would someone do that?
Seriously, Stace. Why would you demand money for being pregnant
with a man’s baby? You’re its mother! You should be happy you’re
pregnant. You shouldn’t be using it as a ploy to dip into a
checkbook for a little doe-ray-me. I hope her child hates her when
he or she is older, for doing this to his or her father.”