Chapter 14 - Porn on the Fourth of July
Bunny and I are standing in front of a Spanish Inquisition that consists of a make-up artist with an unhealthy obsession with hair dye and an adult movie producer wearing a t-shirt that says 'Always gargle after teabagging'.
Alice twirls a piece of orange-dipped magenta hair around her finger as she appraises us. She turns to Jasper who has gotten sidetracked with the conversation and is making a meal out of eating a pistachio. "What do you think?"
"I think it's a brilliant idea." He goes back to trying to pry the shell open, resorting to using his credit card as a lever.
"It's the worst idea." I remind everyone in the room for the three hundredth time.
"It's only for a few days." Bunny responds, his eyes bugging out at Jasper, who he's trying to send a subliminal message via the use of his eyebrows. He's not catching on.
"I suppose it would be nice to stay in the big house." Alice still addresses Jasper, who fist pumps as half of the shell pings across the room, but then grimaces and spits out the rotten nut into his hand.
"That would definitely be nice." He grins at her and winks, pulling a giggle from Alice and sending her totally off track.
"We can go in the hot tub whenever we want!" she squeals.
"Do you know how many diseases are in there?" I look at her like she's certifiably crazy. I wouldn't go near that thing with a barge pole.
Bunny huffs and turns to me, glaring. "Look, Fluff, this is all your fault. I'm moving in. Alice doesn't have a problem with it. We're going to play Happy Fucked-Up Families and you are going to be the best roommate any man could ask for, and incidentally, there are no nasties in the hot tub. If there are, you can blame your dad."
Alice squeaks, slapping her hand over her mouth, Bunny's eyes widen and Jasper pauses mid-nut-shuck with his mouth hanging open, while Bunny's words seem to echo around the room like a death knell.
Bunny's death knell.
Dad was in the hot tub.
The hot tub at the Palace of Porn.
The one swimming with women whose names were as ridiculous as their bra sizes.
Dad was in Bunny's motherfucking hot tub.
I cross my arms over my chest and turn to face Bunny, who looks like he's about to have a panic attack. Scrabbling noises and curses alert me that Alice and Jasper have managed to escape from the shitstorm that's about to hit.
"Was there an issue with the filtration system?" I ask him calmly. There must be a simple explanation.
"Erm … no."
"Was someone drowning?"
"Erm … well, I—"
"Bunny." I growl his name out, mollified for a second by the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps.
"Nope ... no one was drowning."
"So he didn't need to rescue anyone to give them the kiss of life." I'm rapidly running out of genuine reasons my dad would have felt the need to get into a boiling tub of jizim.
"Well … not while I was there." He backs up against the breakfast bar.
I stalk after him, enunciating each word with a stab of my finger into his firm chest. "Tell. Me. What. Happened."
My body's responses to the information Bunny spews out of his mouth range from murderous rage, embarrassment, disbelief and finally horror—then I lose my shit.
Once I calm down enough to think straight, a dastardly plan begins to form. I swallow the maniacal Cruella de Ville laugh and calmly tell him, "You can move in this afternoon."
Then I walk into my bedroom and close the door with an evil grin on my face, until a vision of my dad canoodling with Beverly Hills nearly brings my dinner up.
Bunny lines out at least fifty bottles of toiletries, making my paltry skin care selection look positivity pathetic.
"You can't seriously use all that stuff." I scoff over his shoulder. I was following him around the apartment like a prison warden, watching his every move to make sure he didn't touch any of my stuff, and because he smells really nice.
"It's better than using soap and water." He waves at mine with a look of distaste. "and whatever that is."
"Some of us don't need products to make us look good." I did. I really, really did, but there's a difference between having a nice selection and a whole frigging department store in your bathroom.
He anally organizes them into sections.
"What are you doing?" I peer around his shoulder. Spotting our reflections in the mirror, I cringe a little. He's definitely too good looking for his own good, and I'm already planning to lock myself in the bathroom and use every single one of his products to see if I can at least look like a human being stood next to him.
"Hair, face, body." He points at the three distinct sections.
"Hair?" I scrunch my nose at him. "You actually take time to make it look like that?"
"Why what's wrong with it?" He dips down into the mirror and rearranges a few hairs into place. It looks exactly the same.
"Nothing. It just looks like you climbed out of bed and left it like that."
He points to his fucked-up hair and gives me a look like I'm the biggest idiot on the planet. "It takes time and patience to get it to look this good."
And it did look good. In fact, it was fucking awesome. "It looks like you've been stuck in a wind tunnel and people have been holding onto to your hair to stop themselves from being blown away."
"I have a feeling you meant that to be an insult, but the look I'm aiming for does involve people hanging onto it for dear life, but they're definitely not in wind tunnel, and I'd prefer if it's me that's getting blown." He winks and walks past me to implant more 'Bunny things' around our apartment.
"Oh my God, I can't do this." I talk to the reflection looking back at me but her red cheeks, glowing skin and dazed brown eyes mock me. I am so fucked.
He's got to go out this evening to some industry event but I hide in my bedroom. The smell of his cologne wafting under the door is enough to make me want to strip off and jump him. If I see him in a tuxedo, I can't be held responsible for my actions.
The minute I hear the door close, I peer out into the silent apartment and tiptoe into the bathroom. I spend the next hour slathering every single lotion and potion over me, careful to place his bottles back exactly as they were. By the time I go to bed, I'm totally off my tits on his scent and I don't look half bad. My skin is as soft as a baby's bottom and my hair is almost as shiny as Jai's.
A loud crash and a familiar bass line shocks me out of my sleep, the glowing alarm clock tells me it's too fucking late for this interruption, so I jump out of bed to find out why the hell Bunny is playing Funky Cold Medina at full volume in MY apartment in the middle of the night.
I fling my door open and stalk into the hallway, knocking on the living room door. There's no answer so I rap my knuckles harder and call his name. Still nothing. Fucking hell.
I shove the handle down, ready to give him hell. When the door swings open, Tone-Loc blasts over me in a wave, and the sight that greets me steals the words right out of my mouth.
Holy fucking hell in a hand basket.
A/N Thanks to A-Jasper-For-Me and Grnidgirl for their beta'ing and pre-reading skills.
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