out yellow bombs of gluey sulfur, two of the plates shattered, and all of it landed on Kellan who hit the ground first.
Brandi tipped her head to the side as she looked at him, recognition breaking across her face. She dropped the last of the plates. “That Kellan? Like Kellan and Kimmie on Get a Job .”
“Yeah.”
“Eighty-six the egg salad,” she yelled over her shoulder before helping him to his feet.
Kimmie, fiancée number two, was a model who’d been trying to break out in reality TV. Her agent got her a spot on a show where famous, rich, powerful and pretty people had to compete by doing all kinds of messy physical work, like mucking stable stalls and hosing down port-a-pots. It was set up so no matter what, the people on the show always ended up covered in crap. Pretty people getting dirty makes good TV, the agent had said. The producers had wanted both of them, so Kellan had gone along for a couple of episodes. It figured that covered in glops of egg salad and surrounded by broken plates would be the way he’d get recognized.
“Holy sh—crap. Is this another show?” Brandi lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are they filming us now?”
“No, I really needed a job.”
“Whatever.” Brandi sighed.
Wow. His dad and Nate weren’t the only ones who could pull that you-disgust-me-Kellan face.
“No. I do need this job.” He got back onto his knees and started loading pieces of dishes and scooping egg salad into the rubber dish bin she’d brought over. “I pissed my dad off, and he threw me out of the house.” Kellan was good at lying, so when he told the truth, it was magic.
While they picked up the plates, Brandi pressed up against him, her breasts rubbing along his arm. “What did you do?”
Kellan’s little soldier knew what that tickle meant. Knew what the soft floral smell and the caress of a ponytail along his neck meant too, no matter how many times Kellan told him to stand at ease. There might be some officer fragging, but Kellan was going to have to say it. “I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. I needed to be honest.”
“About what?”
The I’m gay bit got stuck, but he found an easier way to say it. “About being in love with Nate. My boyfriend.”
“What?” Brandi jumped to her feet with the bin under her arm. “You can’t be gay. You— What about Kimmie?”
“It wasn’t real.” Kellan stood to face her.
“I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. Nate and I have known each other forever. I just got tired of trying to fake it.”
Her face softened in that way Kellan knew meant he was totally going to get exactly what he wanted, which was usually that same face rubbing sweet and slow over his dick before she wrapped her pink-glossed lips around the head, but this time he was pretty sure that was off the menu, damn it.
She put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Wow. That must have been hard.”
Oh, he wished she hadn’t said hard, wished her hand wasn’t warm on his bare skin. Kellan tried to think of something that would cool him down, hit on Nate’s dark, challenging stare, and that didn’t work at all.
“What?” Terrell stomped past them on his way to get fresh plates out of the rack. “You know what’s hard? Doing the whole lunch shift alone while you’re trying to get in his pants.”
“He’s gay.”
Terrell looked at Kellan, who bit his lip and nodded.
“Yes.” Terrell punched his fist in the air. “Sandra! You owe me your cut of the tips.”
“No way.” Sandra stepped back from the counter and peered into the kitchen.
Kellan shrugged, holding his hands open in apology.
“Are you asking where the mop is, Kellan?” Yolanda called back.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed and Kellan went to find it.
He’d had worse happen to him on the TV show, but Kellan didn’t want to get the mop. He wanted to toss his apron in the trash and head right out the back door. It wasn’t the mess—even though he still couldn’t get the last bits
Brandi tipped her head to the side as she looked at him, recognition breaking across her face. She dropped the last of the plates. “That Kellan? Like Kellan and Kimmie on Get a Job .”
“Yeah.”
“Eighty-six the egg salad,” she yelled over her shoulder before helping him to his feet.
Kimmie, fiancée number two, was a model who’d been trying to break out in reality TV. Her agent got her a spot on a show where famous, rich, powerful and pretty people had to compete by doing all kinds of messy physical work, like mucking stable stalls and hosing down port-a-pots. It was set up so no matter what, the people on the show always ended up covered in crap. Pretty people getting dirty makes good TV, the agent had said. The producers had wanted both of them, so Kellan had gone along for a couple of episodes. It figured that covered in glops of egg salad and surrounded by broken plates would be the way he’d get recognized.
“Holy sh—crap. Is this another show?” Brandi lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are they filming us now?”
“No, I really needed a job.”
“Whatever.” Brandi sighed.
Wow. His dad and Nate weren’t the only ones who could pull that you-disgust-me-Kellan face.
“No. I do need this job.” He got back onto his knees and started loading pieces of dishes and scooping egg salad into the rubber dish bin she’d brought over. “I pissed my dad off, and he threw me out of the house.” Kellan was good at lying, so when he told the truth, it was magic.
While they picked up the plates, Brandi pressed up against him, her breasts rubbing along his arm. “What did you do?”
Kellan’s little soldier knew what that tickle meant. Knew what the soft floral smell and the caress of a ponytail along his neck meant too, no matter how many times Kellan told him to stand at ease. There might be some officer fragging, but Kellan was going to have to say it. “I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. I needed to be honest.”
“About what?”
The I’m gay bit got stuck, but he found an easier way to say it. “About being in love with Nate. My boyfriend.”
“What?” Brandi jumped to her feet with the bin under her arm. “You can’t be gay. You— What about Kimmie?”
“It wasn’t real.” Kellan stood to face her.
“I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. Nate and I have known each other forever. I just got tired of trying to fake it.”
Her face softened in that way Kellan knew meant he was totally going to get exactly what he wanted, which was usually that same face rubbing sweet and slow over his dick before she wrapped her pink-glossed lips around the head, but this time he was pretty sure that was off the menu, damn it.
She put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Wow. That must have been hard.”
Oh, he wished she hadn’t said hard, wished her hand wasn’t warm on his bare skin. Kellan tried to think of something that would cool him down, hit on Nate’s dark, challenging stare, and that didn’t work at all.
“What?” Terrell stomped past them on his way to get fresh plates out of the rack. “You know what’s hard? Doing the whole lunch shift alone while you’re trying to get in his pants.”
“He’s gay.”
Terrell looked at Kellan, who bit his lip and nodded.
“Yes.” Terrell punched his fist in the air. “Sandra! You owe me your cut of the tips.”
“No way.” Sandra stepped back from the counter and peered into the kitchen.
Kellan shrugged, holding his hands open in apology.
“Are you asking where the mop is, Kellan?” Yolanda called back.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed and Kellan went to find it.
He’d had worse happen to him on the TV show, but Kellan didn’t want to get the mop. He wanted to toss his apron in the trash and head right out the back door. It wasn’t the mess—even though he still couldn’t get the last bits
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