Self Preservation (5 page)

Davis woke up and rolled over in his bed to look at the clock. Seven thirty. He was used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but he'd hardly slept as it was. He yawned as he sat up, feeling his stomach flutter with uneasiness, but he was unable to tell if it was nerves or excitement. He got out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He turned on the water and bent over the sink. Beginning his new morning skin regimen, he smiled at himself in the mirror.

If anyone had ever told him that pampering himself could change the way he perceived himself, he never would have believed them. Not on the inside, of course, but on the outside. There was something to it, though. It made him feel like a different person…special. He splashed water on his face and picked up a small tube. He rubbed the lotion like soap onto his face, gently massaging it into his skin. He just felt better looking. He splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a clean white hotel towel.

As he brushed his teeth, he heard Deseree come into his room and rummage through the bags. He rinsed and spat, then wiped his mouth with a towel. He looked over his body and frowned.

“Do you think I should have gone to a tanning thingy?” he asked as he walked back into the room.

Deseree was standing over the bed in a gray men's pajama top. Her black lace panties peeked out the teeniest bit along the sides. Her long legs stretched down to bare feet shuffling over the carpet as she moved around the bed sorting through the clothes. Her hair looked like a mangled mass of abused curls, except where it was mashed down on top by the sleep mask she'd pushed up onto her head.

“No.” She looked up at him. “Hi, naked much?”

“Sorry,” he said as he rifled through a shopping bag for new underwear. He found what he wanted and slipped them on. “I look awfully pale.”

“You are awfully pale,” she said, turning her attention back to the clothes. “But your skin is beautiful. It's a soft, powdery white, not a pasty redneck white. I know women who would kill for your skin.”

“I'm not a woman,” Davis said, standing next to her and looking down at the bed as she picked up a pair of black leather pants and set them to the side. “Yeah, I wasn't too sure about those either.”

“Oh, you're wearing those,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder for balance as she lifted her leg to scratch it. “Along with this,” she added, setting her foot back down and picking up a thin, black button-down shirt and placing it next to the leather pants.

“I think this it too much for daytime,” Davis said, curling his lip.

“I told you I'd make you look like a rock star.” She patted his ass. “Now try it on.”

Davis pulled on the pants, secretly loving the way they hugged his hips. He slipped on the shirt, which hung a little longer than a normal shirt. Deseree buttoned it, leaving the top three undone. She stepped back and smiled.

“Christ,
I
wanna fuck you,” she said.

Turning to look at himself in the mirror, he cocked his head to the side. He lifted his arm, puzzled still by what was so cool about the sleeves being a little too long. “I look like the undead.”

“Vampires are hot,” she said.

He squinted at his reflection and walked closer to the mirror. “Des, you can kinda see my nipples through this shirt.”

“I know,” she said with an evil smile. “You only get one shot at a new first impression. Might as well go in…both guns blazing.”

A knock at the door told them that their breakfast from room service had arrived.

“You're dressed, do you mind?”

“Sure,” Davis said. He was already walking out into the living area and heading toward the door.

Deseree waited in his room until she heard the door to the hotel room close.

“You look a little green,” Davis observed, pouring coffee.

“Must be the moo shu from last night,” she said.

After breakfast, Deseree gave Davis lessons in acting sexy. She showed him how she ran her finger gently from her neck toward her cleavage while she was talking, as if she didn't even realize what she was doing, and how she played with the collar of her shirt while tilting her head. Davis watched intently until she finally had him stand up and try it. She had him do it a few more times before she moved on, showing him simple ways to touch another person suggestively, without seeming creepy.

* * *

As Deseree and Davis waited for Jack to pick them up at the new arrivals area, Davis began to get antsy.

“I feel like a prostitute,” he said, pulling at the formfitting shirt.

“Bitch all you want,” she said, shaking her head at him. “You just watch his eyes when he sees you. They'll be plastered to those pecs all day.”

“I feel nauseous,” he said, placing a hand on his stomach.

“Quit whining, and for Christ's sake, don't sweat,” she said, looking him over. “You'll get all splotchy. Just breathe in and out very slowly.”

Davis began the breathing exercises as he looked over the crowd. He reached over to grab Deseree's hand. “There he is.”

Deseree turned, moving in front of Davis, and faced him. “Gotta turn on the headlights.” She reached up, pinching and twisting his nipples.

“Ouch, what the hell?” he asked, as she turned back around, standing next to him.

“Nothing like hard nipples to make a man think about sex.” She plastered on a smile.

“Right.” Davis smiled as he watched Jack through the crowd. “'Cause it's not enough you can actually see my nipples through the shirt.”

“Don't get snappish with me.” She waved at Jack as he made his way through the crowd toward them. “For the next few days, my little Frankenqueer, you are going to be nothing but hot, juicy eye candy.”

Davis began to fidget as Jack got closer, and Deseree reached over to smack him in the arm.

Only a few months older than Deseree, Jack Monroe still had the same boyish good looks from his college days. He was more beefed up and masculine looking, but he could still pass for much younger than his twenty-nine years. He had the same big brown eyes that always appeared to be smiling, but he walked with slightly more determination, like a man who was very comfortable in his skin. His black hair was parted to one side, slightly falling over one eye and cropped short in the back. As he got clear of the crowd, Jack stopped and his mouth fell slightly open.

“I told you,” Deseree whispered under her breath. “Never doubt me again.”

As Jack reached them, he looked briefly at Deseree and smiled before wrapping his arms around Davis, squeezing him tight. They still fit into one another perfectly, and Davis felt Jack noticed as much as he did.

“It's good to see you, monkey face,” Jack said.

Davis could feel the heat from Jack's body. He felt the warm tears collect in his eyes. “You too,” Davis said, breathing in the scent of soap mixed with a hint of cologne and leather from Jack's jacket.

They separated and Jack smiled, reaching up and wiping a little tear off Davis's cheek with his thumb. He turned and gave Deseree a hug.

“And you, you crazy woman,” Jack said. “Everywhere I go in New York I see your name and clothes in display windows. We really should hang out more.”

“When you got it, market it and sell the hell out of it,” she said with a sharp nod into his shoulder. She patted his back.

“I'm glad you came,” Jack said, pulling away from her.

“Someone had to come and beat the guys off him,” Deseree said, nudging her head at Davis.

“I see that,” Jack said, walking around Davis, looking him up and down. “I can't believe it, monkey face, you look…”

“Nutritious?” Deseree asked.

“I was going to say fucking hot, but…”

“Yeah, no…that works for me,” Davis said, beaming from ear to ear.

As Jack and Davis exchanged small talk about Candace, luggage, and where they were heading from the airport, Deseree moved around and positioned herself behind Jack. Getting Davis's attention, she began puckering up her lips, shaking her shoulders, and making faux-sultry expressions. Bringing her hand up to her neck and letting it run slowly down between her breasts, she mouthed the command, “Think sex.”

Davis took her cue and reached up to his neck, running his fingers slowly down through the center of his chest and across his stomach. Tilting his head to the side, Davis watched as Jack's eyes followed his hand.

“We should…” Jack started to say. He wet his lips with his tongue.

Davis moved his hand back up to his chest, slightly lifting his shirt so just a tiny bit of flesh peeked out above his belt.

“I'm sorry, Jack, what was that?” Davis asked as Deseree held up two thumbs behind Jack's back and mouthed, “Score.”

“Huh,” Jack said, snapping his eyes back up. “Uh…go. I was saying we should probably go.”

* * *

In the car on the way to Candace's apartment, Jack filled them in on plans for the rest of the day. They had a couple of hours to talk over cocktails and dinner, and about an hour to get ready for the party. Jack said it was kind of the gay equivalent to a bachelor party except that since there were two grooms, they had just decided to throw one huge party.

The whole thing seemed very disturbing to Davis. He'd imagined just being in a room alone with Jack, the two of them simply talking about what they loved about each other and privately exchanging their vows to one another.

When they reached Candace's apartment, Davis dropped his bags, and Jack pulled in two wheeled suitcases.

The apartment was spacious with high vaulted ceilings. There were large windows looking out over the Chicago skyline and the blue water of the lake in the distance. There was overstuffed furniture in tone-on-tone shades of cream with splashes of sage green accent pillows. Huge tropical plants in ornate pots were scattered about. The floors were a dark wood plank and the walls were painted a dark cream. A black grand piano covered with framed photos sat to one side.

“Welcome home,” Jack said, gently squeezing Davis's shoulder.

“Everything's different.” Davis looked over the room in mild shock.

“Candace has redone the place.” Jack patted him softly on the back.

Davis turned to look at Deseree as if he was about to cry. She smiled at him and said, “It's lovely.”

“My, my,” that seductive Rita Hayworth-like voice called out from behind them. “Turn around and let me look at you.”

Davis turned and smiled, looking over the voluptuous woman standing before him. Candace was leaning against the wall at the edge of the hallway wearing a formfitting dark green dress. As ever, she was perfectly made-up and coiffed, as if ready to go onstage and belt out a couple of Cole Porter standards. Davis walked over to her, and she stood up as he leaned into her.

“I can't believe you're actually here,” Candace said, closing her eyes. She grabbed Davis by the shoulders and pushed him back. “What in the name of Cher have you done with the shy, skinny little boy that showed up on my doorstep all those years ago…and who is this extremely handsome imposter here in his place?”

Davis hugged her again, trying to hold back his tears. Even though they talked by phone all the time, it had been years since he'd actually been in the same room with her.

“Sweetheart,” Candace said, “I can't look at you when you're wrapped around me, and you are, if nothing else, a sight to behold.”

“Candace, you look ravishing.” Davis pulled away.

“I know,” she said, walking around Davis and looking him up and down. She started fanning her face with her hand and added, “I bet you're sorry you let this one get away now, Jack. Davis, you look absolutely…”

“Luscious?” Deseree asked, sticking out her hand and walking up to Candace. “Hi…Deseree…the houseguest you weren't expecting.”

“We all went to college together, Mom.” Jack glided up behind Davis and wrapped his arms around his waist. “She's actually the one to blame for introducing me to the one that got away here.”