Chapter Twenty

Paint the Town Red

After running our errands by filling out a few job applications and delivering paperwork to the police station, Evan drops me back off at home to get ready for our night out. The DND setting on my phone is working perfectly. Now, it only rings with welcomed calls. Texts still come through, but at least they are silent and I’m not constantly reminded of this dreadful situation.

I have a new routine as I enter my house. First, I secure the front and back doors. Once I am certain the doors are safely locked, I check the windows. After scanning the rooms for any signs of trouble, I can relax. I accept this new reality, knowing that this, like all undesirable situations, is only temporary.

I haven’t had much alone time lately, and I’m glad to have it now. Dinner’s not until seven and that leaves me plenty of time. I grab my iPod to keep me company while I shower. The first song to come on is the Script’s “Hall of Fame”.

Tonight’s a special night, so I decide to spend a little extra time fussing. I pull out a curling wand from the bottom drawer and opt to give myself some loose ringlets and curls.

The last time Emmy and I went shopping, I bought an ivory asymmetric one-shoulder top at Victoria’s Secret that I could pair perfectly with my black mini skirt. The top is flirty and flowy and the crepe fabric feels amazing against my skin. All that’s left to do is strap on some heels, throw on a few accessories and head over to Evan’s.

It’s a short drive to Evan’s house. When I arrive, he’s got his bare feet propped up on the coffee table with an open playbook in his lap. He didn’t shave today and the resulting sexy stubble makes me hungry for his attention.

He notices my empty hands immediately. “Hey, beautiful. Didn’t you bring anything?” he asks. I guess he thought I’d be carrying an overnight bag.

“I brought myself. Isn’t that enough?” I pluck the playbook from his grip and plant myself on his lap. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I squeeze him hard. Snuggling up closely, I inhale his unique scent, both clean and manly. He presses his cheek against mine and hums in my ear, “More than enough.”

Evan tilts me back just enough so his eyes can travel down my body, closely inspecting and appreciating. His eyes alone can make my temperature rise. His lips curl devilishly and I melt in his arms. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you tonight,” he declares.

“Right back at you, chief.” Pulling back just enough to look into his face, I confess, “I didn’t bring anything because I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight. Are you mad?”

He’s quiet for a moment, clearly considering his options, and then asks, “How big is your bed?”

We drop off my car at home and arrive at Moonstruck in Asbury a few minutes before seven. Evan had me reserve the private VIP Room tonight for our group. It’s nice to be able to make plans and reservations for Adam, rather than have him make them for us. This is the very least I can do to show my appreciation for everything he’s done over the past few days.

Situated right on Lake Avenue, the restaurant is located in a large three-story Victorian home completely updated with a quiet ambiance and tasteful décor. There is a lovely view of the eclectic homes of Ocean Grove just across Wesley Lake.

Evan and I are escorted to a private room on the third floor. The waitress takes our drink orders while we wait for our friends to arrive.

Bounding up the steps first is Auggie, looking as handsome as ever. Tonight, he’s sporting a black button down shirt and a pair of old faded jeans that look positively wonderful on him.

“Did you get a haircut, Auggie? You look so handsome tonight. Where’s Brandon?” I ask him. I was really hoping to see him again and thank him for helping me get ready last night.

“Brandon can’t make it tonight, family stuff. But I’m here with my new haircut – thank you for noticing, my Pet.”

As our drinks arrive, so do Marcus and Camilla. Introductions are made, and I can see that Camilla is star struck. She is speechless, just gazing at Evan in a petrified stare. I try to remember that just last night I was in the same position when I first met Ben, Christine, Jason and Olivia.

“Evan, did I ever tell you that Camilla’s brother Mateo plays football for UMD just like you did?” This gives Camilla a chance to talk with Evan about some common interests. Quickly, I can see her become more relaxed and at ease.

Derek and Emmy show up exactly on time, and Emmy looks amazing. She’s got her long blonde hair lying perfectly straight on her bare shoulders, thanks to the strapless black corset-style top she’s wearing. She still has that one tasteful strip of pink hair that peeks out from beneath. She’s going to get a lot of male attention tonight.

The last to arrive is our guest of honor, Adam Cooke. Adam hasn’t met most of my friends, so I quickly make the necessary introductions.

Emmy wastes no time at all in giving me the third degree about my night out in Manhattan. Camilla and Auggie gather around, anxious to hear every detail of my night in the limelight.

Evan, Adam, Derek and Marcus have no interest in gossip, so they quickly join ranks at the opposite end of our dining table to carry on their own discussion.

“Jette, you were on ET last night, and E! News. Ryan Seacrest said your name on TV,” Emmy blurts out with delight.

“Marcus and I saw you guys at the Knicks game on TV. Were you really hanging out with Ben Stiller?” Camilla begs to know more.

I take out my cell phone and show them pictures I took during the game. Evan took a picture of Olivia and me chatting privately and forwarded it to me, so I showed them that one, too.

“Jette, you looked more beautiful last night than both those girls put together,” Auggie compliments me.

“That’s only because you dressed me last night. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jette, was Averee DeVeau really there last night? We saw pictures of her flirting with Evan last night. You looked like you wanted to rip her throat out,” Auggie shares.

“Oh my God, Aug, you should have been there. You would have bitch slapped her! She was a total shrew. Everyone in this room is banned from listening to any of her music ever again!” My friends readily agree.

Emmy has question after question about Jason Sudeikis and Olivia Wilde. Camilla almost fell off her chair when I tell her how I met Joey Griffin. Through all the chatter and gossip, we find time to order dinner and a second round of drinks.

Auggie fills me in on all the online gossip sites, like Perez Hilton and TMZ, and how they covered all things Evan “Big Mac” McGuire.

I look over to see the four boys engaged in a very engrossing discussion. Evan and Marcus are hotly debating something and Evan is definitely not winning. I watch him intently, lost in his dazzling blue eyes. Sensing my attention, he turns to me, winks and flashes me his sexy smile.

“Jette, stop staring at him like that. You already know what he looks like naked. Isn’t the mystery gone?” Emmy demands.

“Oh, Emmy, the real thing is so much better. You have no idea,” I proudly proclaim.

The waitress arrives with a bottle of champagne and begins to pour everyone a glass. Evan stands to make a toast. “I just want to say thank you to Adam for being the best damn turd polisher on the east coast.” He holds out his glass and ends with a dramatic, “To turd polishing.”

We all clink glasses and join in with an enthusiastic “Turd Polishing!” Evan refills the ladies’ glasses, finishing off the bottle of champagne.

Before dinner arrives, we rearrange our seats so that Evan and I can be seated together as well as Marcus and Camilla. At the conclusion of our strange version of musical chairs, Emmy and Adam wind up sitting next to one another. Adam appears to be hanging onto every word as Emmy talks about work and roller derby.

I’ve never heard Evan talk about Adam’s personal life. Honestly, until now, I never even considered the fact that he might have a life outside of Evan. Given the fact that he’s strikingly handsome, nearly rivaling Evan in that department, he must surely be interested in dating.

Of course, it’s always possible that Adam doesn’t date women. I’ve been surprised more than once to meet some of the men that Auggie dated. However, the first time we saw Evan and Adam, he knew immediately that they were both straight. Auggie’s gaydar is very reliable.

Emmy invites us all to one of her derby bouts. They play here in Asbury at Convention Hall. I’ve never been to a roller derby bout before. In fact, no one in our group has ever been. It sounds like fun.

“So Derek, I saw you leave last night with some girl. What happened?” Marcus opens up a new line of conversation. I hope Derek is moving on. It would make me happy to know he’s found someone.

“Nice girl, but she waves her freak flag a little too proudly, even for me. I won’t be raiding that refrigerator anymore.” Everyone laughs at his choice of words, especially the boys. Emmy is the one to push the issue, though.

“Oh, my God, Derek. You have to tell us.” Emmy is clapping her hands together frantically in a prayerful plea. She really does love to gossip and dish the dirt.

Derek scans our faces to gauge our interest in hearing the sordid details. Everyone, including Camilla, is eager to hear every delicious morsel.

“Well, we get to her place and she leads me into her kitchen. She tells me she’s into role-playing and wants me to be the repairman who shows up to fix her sink. She actually had me get down on the floor and climb under her sink. Then she goes upstairs and leaves me in her kitchen with my face in her cabinet, literally. She comes down stairs wearing nothing but a ratty old t-shirt carrying a very special tool box and asks me to snake her drain.”

The boys are laughing so hard, there are tears streaming down their cheeks. Camilla is too polite to laugh, but she wants to, I can tell. Instead, she asks with a perfectly straight face, “So what did you do?” I can’t believe she, of all people, wants him to continue.

“I looked through her toolbox and I ... I used ... I ahh ... I found a ... let’s call it a plunger.” That’s it. The table erupts again.

We go around the table sharing our bad dates and bad sex stories. Marcus once dated a barker. She actually barked during sex. Adam once hooked up with twins. Emmy got so drunk one night, she had sex in public on a train coming home from the city. Even Auggie and Camilla have horrible date stories to share.

When it’s my turn, I tell them how I got hit on at the bar last week by a girl who wanted to take me home and teach me a few things. I thought Evan was going to choke on his beer.

“Hey, Mac, how about you? You must have some pretty wild stories,” Derek probes.

“My stories have all been told, over and over. I’m sure you’ve heard them all.” It’s a subject I know Evan doesn’t want to talk about. The only person who knows that better than me is Adam.

“Oh, come on, Mac – tell them about the night after the Rose Bowl,” Adam suggests.

“I can’t believe you brought that up. I’m NOT telling that story,” Evan says adamantly.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to tell it.” Evan just shakes his head, closes his eyes, and runs his hands through his hair. He’s using both hands, so I guess it’s pretty bad.

“It was the night after the Rose Bowl. We were in Pasadena and decided to go bar hopping. Evan was completely wasted, everyone was buying him shots all night. There was this pair of girls, really tall, long legs, hot as hell. Had it bad for my man here.” He gives Evan a congratulatory pat on the chest. “They were laying it on pretty hard. Evan was about to go in for the kill. That is until I noticed the blonde had an Adam’s apple.”

“Yeah, well ... I’ve already thanked you for that one. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.” That’s too much for me – I’m laughing so hard, it hurts. Just the thought of it is painfully funny.

Evan excuses himself to use the bathroom and gives me a kiss on his way past. Poor guy. This is the exact type of night I need. Silly stories, laughing, everyone getting along, even Derek.

When Evan returns, he makes an announcement, “Is everybody ready? Let’s head over to the Pony.”

Marcus interrupts, “We haven’t paid the check yet. I’ll go get the waitress.” The men all start reaching for their wallets.

“I took care of it. Come on, let’s go.” All the guys try handing Evan money, but he won’t take any of it. Eventually, they all give up trying and we get into our respective cars to make the short drive to the Stone Pony.

Maybe it’s because tonight’s a weeknight, but there’s no line outside. For some events, all ages are admitted. This is one of those nights. We show our ID and get our wrist bracelets so we can drink. The name of tonight’s band is “Tramps Like Us” and they sound great. They’re playing “Born to be Wild”, and the bar is rocking.

I haven’t been here in nearly a year, but in this place, time stands still. It’s hard not to be affected by the rock history that took place for so many here. The black walls are covered with signed guitars from performers that have played here. The pitch-black rafter ceilings and cement floors give it a true rock and roll vibe.

The floor in front of the stage is crowded, but not overly packed. The band just started its first set a few minutes ago, and the night is still young. While the band is playing, a few of the tables are empty. We navigate our way through the sea of people, pull two tables together, drag over a couple of extra chairs, and settle down to enjoy some great music.

Marcus insists on buying the first round and Evan goes to the bar with him to help. There are eight of us, and that’s definitely too many beers for one person to carry alone.

I watch as my man makes his way to the bar. Young and old alike are assembled here tonight, and none seem any the wiser that Evan is someone to notice. His good looks are certainly turning a few heads, but so far, no one has recognized him. I’m glad. He needs a night to be just another hot guy in a room full of hot guys.

Up on stage are five performers that range in age from early thirties to early fifties. There’s a drummer, a sax man, a keyboard player, and two guys on guitar, one of which is the lead singer. They really capture the true sound and presence of Bruce. I’ve been to lots of live concerts, but my favorite, without hesitation, is Bruce Springsteen. He puts on an incredible show and never disappoints.

Marcus and Evan are back quickly and waste no time handing out everyone’s beer of choice. As I pass Emmy her beer, I can’t help but notice Adam’s enraptured attention focused one hundred percent on Emmy. She’s oblivious and he’s enthralled.

Emmy is in a serious relationship with Grant, and I’m feeling very protective of Adam right now. Evan and I owe him so much. I knew Emmy would get a lot of attention, but it never occurred to me that it would be Adam who’s smitten.

“Hey, Adam, any success on my Craigslist ad or e-mail?” I ask him, hoping to redirect his attention.

“Jepetto, you trying to sell something on Craigslist? You have to be careful not to give out too much personal information, you know, kiddo,” Auggie warns.

I can’t help but chuckle at the irony of that comment.

“Actually, Auggie, someone set up a fraudulent ad with Juliette’s personal information. Adam’s helping us track it down and get it removed,” Evan clarifies.

I hand Auggie my cell phone and show him the texts that I’ve received just since dinner. It’s slowed down quite a bit, there’s only 5 new texts and 8 new calls. All the texts are very descriptive, and some of them even have pictures. What is it that causes a man to think that sending a woman a picture of his dick is ever a good idea?

Auggie passes the phone around the table.

Adam looks pleased. “Well, we got the ad removed. You shouldn’t be getting any more calls. We’re still working on tracing the IP address, though.”

“That’s awesome, Adam. Thank you! Isn’t that great, Evan?” I turn to Evan, but he’s busy texting. “Baby, did you hear? Adam got the ad taken down.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry! Thanks, buddy. I’m sorry about that, Juliette, I have that Sports Illustrated interview tomorrow and I was just coordinating some lunch plans. Are you sure you don’t want to join me in the city tomorrow? We could make a day of it again. Maybe see a play this time.”

“Evan, you know I’d love to go, but I can’t. I have to work. I can’t take off another day. You go ahead and make lunch plans. Have fun,” I tell him.

As I scan around the room, the bar is getting more tightly packed. The dance floor in front of the stage is quickly filling up. There is still enough room to dance, so before it’s too late, Evan stands up, offers his hand and asks, “Ready?” I take his hand and allow him to lead me towards the dance floor.

His right hand is placed on my lower back, assuring a constant connection between us. They’re playing a beautifully soulful song, “Secret Garden” from the Jerry McGuire movie. It’s much warmer on the dance floor than by the bar, no doubt from the bodies pressed closely together. We find an open spot, and I turn around to wrap my arms around Evan’s neck. Evan places his hands on my hips, and we sway rhythmically to the song.

“Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?” Evan asks.

“Why, yes, I believe you did. But feel free to tell me again,” I tease.

I love the way Evan looks at me, like I’m the only person in the world. The dance floor is filled with women, many of which are strikingly beautiful. They have all noticed him. I can see by the look in their eyes that they would love to be where I am right now, in his arms. But Evan doesn’t seem to notice any of them.

I move my hands from his neck to his hair, playfully pulling and twisting the strands as he closes his eyes, enjoying my touch as much as I am. His hands travel from my waist to my backside, pulling me close, as he leans in for a kiss. I moan into his mouth, with the heat between us building and my desire to tear his clothes off growing exponentially.

Our tongues engage in a slow dance while his hands move up my back and under my loose top. The skin-to-skin contact is almost too much. I feel naked in a room full of people. If I close my eyes, I can imagine we’re home in private. Our breathing becomes more rapid and I can tell he’s every bit as turned on as I am.

I’m snapped back to the present by a nudge from Auggie. He hollers into my ear, “I’m outta here, kitten. I have an early call in the morning.”

I release Evan and give Auggie a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks for coming out with us tonight. Did you have fun?” I really hope he did.

“It was a blast. You guys are great. See you at home?”

“Yeah, I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight. Love ya!”

Auggie slips through the crowd and makes his way to the exit. I’m so glad he had fun.

The song changes, and now “Rosalita” is playing, an exuberant showstopper that every true Bruce fan knows word for word. Everyone is singing along, throwing their hands in the air and dancing. In the middle of the song, the rest of our dinner party is with us on the dance floor. Evan and I are surrounded on all sides by both friends and strangers. Hands are waving in the air, and fists are pumping to the beat, while fans of every age sing along chord by chord. There’s not enough room to actually dance, but most of us are finding our own rhythm as we move along with the tempo.

Evan is directly behind me, always staying close and maintaining our unbroken link. I take a few steps back to feel the perfection of his tight body against mine. Evan places both hands around my waist, locking his wrists around my belly, and presses me against him. Instinctively, I lean back, rest my head on his chest and lay my hands on top of his. He brushes my hair to the side and nibbles on my ear. No one pays any attention to us, we are just two people in a mass, enjoying the music.

None of us are willing to give up our spots on the dance floor, despite the growing crowd. “Glory Days” is next in the set, and the dance floor explodes. Everyone, including Evan and me, is scream-singing the words right along with the band. As I sing, I can feel all my troubles floating away with each note that leaves my body.

One of Bruce’s slower, older songs, “I Wanna Be With You” is next up. Evan turns towards me and takes me into his arms, arms that make me feel protected and cherished. He takes my right hand into his and laces our fingers together. He holds our hands up against his chest, and I can feel his heart beating. He places his other hand on my hip and I place mine on his. Together, we sway and move to the music. I don’t know who taught Evan how to dance, but I must find out and write them a thank you letter. He moves with such grace and agility.

I look up into his dazzling blue eyes. I still can’t believe this impossibly gorgeous man is in love with me. Love isn’t strong enough a word to describe how I feel about him. I whisper three words to Evan, “Take me home.”

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 616