Sugar and Spice Page 3

  Oscar didn’t know if it was a crush or empathy, or just the fact that Jesse was probably the only person who’d actually cared about his well-being in years, but he found himself pausing and replaying all of Jesse’s parts, searching for any threads of deeper meaning hidden under the surface.

  He refused to believe that Jesse was this dumb playboy. Not the guy with the sweet puppy dog eyes and the calm disposition who had spent upwards of forty-five minutes talking him down and holding his hand. Not the boy who kept sending him flowers and a freaking cactus, and never once pressured him to be on his show, even though he had to have already known who Oscar was at that point.

  If Oscar paid close enough attention, he could see that sweet guy hidden beneath the drinking binges and the scantily clad girls he always brought home.

  There was this one scene in episode sixty-five where the whole brood was lined up at a movie premiere signing autographs for the fans who were reaching out to them from behind a partition. The camera was focused in on Leah who was flirting with a cute boy as she signed his abnormally large bicep, but in the background you could clearly see this little girl’s autograph book go tumbling over the partition and onto the red carpet. It was so small, and the crowd was so hectic that it was easy to miss, but Jesse hadn’t. He had casually come strolling in behind Leah, swooped down, signed the book, passed it around to get it signed by all of his sisters and even his parents before handing it back. All of this had lasted only a couple of seconds, but it was easily the sweetest thing in the whole episode.

  Jesse did things like that all the time. After his twin nieces, Skyler and Mariana were born, Jesse was always in the background rocking or holding one or the other while everyone else sat around and talked. The way he smiled at them...it was like he was in his own little world. Then, when they got a little bit older, it wasn’t uncommon to spot Jesse bringing them food or toys, or just making funny faces at them on his way up the stairs. There was even this really cute moment during one of those artsy group shots of the family crossing a busy street where you could see just the briefest glimpse of Jesse holding Skyler’s little hand. Oscar had had to play that back six times to catch it. Also, Jesse always listened to his sisters and gave them a shoulder to cry on, no matter how many times they made fun of him for not having a “thing.”

  It was like a completely different person slipped out whenever he forgot about the cameras. Background Jesse was kind, patient, and grounding; pretty much the exact opposite of what the media made foreground Jesse out to be.

  Oscar kept watching the show until he was all caught up with the most recent season. Then he spent another two hours looking at Jesse Sugar compilation videos on Videotube. There were all kinds: lists of scandals, rants from angry girls calling him a misogynist, roasts, clips of him getting made fun of by his family, etc., but Oscar’s favorites were the ones that managed to capture Jesse’s sweet side, though they were much harder to come by.

  Once Oscar had exhausted that resource, he got up and snatched the notecard with Jesse’s number on it again. He brought it back to the couch with him and sat back down. He worked his lower lip between his teeth and stared down at that ten-digit code until he had it memorized.

  Chapter Four

  Thursday morning Jesse tagged along with his mother to one of Isabel’s modeling shoots. He hadn’t really wanted to come, but she’d goaded him into it. The story of his life.

  “You never spend any time with me anymore,” she’d complained while fanning herself, and even though she was only saying it to get what she wanted, the words were true. As of late, Jesse had been pouring every second of his free time into managing his crew and finding deserving people to bestow lavish gifts upon. His family was probably missing their little cheerleader. Plus, he knew that seeing him there would make Isabel smile.

  The shoot was taking place on an old television lot, the same lot, Jesse couldn’t help but notice, where the last three seasons of Garrett’s Guide to Life were filmed. Isabel was standing in front of a worn and outdated trailer with her thumbs fitted through the loops of her designer jeans and a sultry pout on her face. The way the natural light was glinting off her artificially bronzed skin was making the photographer practically coo with glee.

  It was early, and the lot had not yet come to life with half dolled-up celebrities in various stages of costuming. For now, it was just the four of them plus a voluptuous redhead who was sitting on the steps of her own trailer several feet away, trying—and failing—to make it seem as though she wasn’t paying the photoshoot any mind.

  His mother caught Jesse looking at her and gave him a mile-wide grin.

  “That’s Ava Rose,” she said sounding pleased with herself. “She’s with Hillenbrand too. You should go say hi. In fact, there’s a coffee shop across the street…”

  He caught onto what his mother was doing almost immediately.

  Betrayal settled into his gut. She hadn’t really wanted him to come support his sister. She just wanted him to be photographed out in public with a hot rising young star. Knowing her, she’d probably been in contact with Ava’s people for weeks. Chances were that Isabel wasn’t even doing a real photoshoot. It was all part of Rhianne Sugar’s elaborate scheme to trick her son into staging a publicity stunt.

  “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

  His mom placed her hands on his shoulder. He could tell that her words were going to be ugly before she even opened her mouth.

  “Honey, you bring in virtually no money and you blow through a hundred thousand dollars a week. This is the least you can do for us.”

  The least he could do. As if his time spent babysitting the twins, cooking everyone breakfast and playing the peacemaker meant nothing if he wasn’t showing up on those trashy celebrity gossip websites. Jesse clenched his teeth and said nothing. His mother let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Honestly Jesse,” she continued. “It’s just coffee with a pretty girl. It’s not like it’s hard.”

  That was easy for her to say. She’d married into a rich family when she was eighteen. She’d actually wanted fame and money and attention. Jesse hadn’t asked for any of this. He was just doing his best to be a good person despite it all. His mother didn’t care about that. She didn’t know how degrading it felt to be constantly passed around to different Hollywood starlets like a half-eaten steak.

  Sometimes the girls were charming and fun to be around, but that wasn’t the point. They weren’t interested in him aside from what his presence in their lives could do for them, and he wasn’t interested in them at all. Still, the media was happy to eat up the impressive string of girls and continue calling him a womanizer when in actuality, he’d never even had sex with a girl. He didn’t want to. He was about as straight as a curly fry, not that anyone bothered to notice.

  Jesse tore his body away and glowered at his mother.

  “Did Angie put you up to this?” He asked.

  Rhianne rolled her eyes.

  “No. It was my idea, but Angie agreed.”

  “Of course, she did,” Jesse murmured bitterly. “I’m going home. I’ve got work to do.”

  His mother cast her arm out in front of him like a blockade.

  “Jesse Ray Sugar. I have already paid the cameramen and Miss Rose has taken time out of her busy schedule for this. Go! Say! Hi!”

  Jesse clenched his fists. He was suddenly seeing red. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to hit someone so badly. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way about his own mother, but he couldn’t help it. She and her one-track mind were absolutely infuriating. He closed his eyes and counted to ten like his therapist taught him and waited for the feeling to pass. Then he roughly shoved his mother’s arm aside and walked in the direction of Ava Rose.

  Ava brightened upon seeing him. She had a mask of makeup covering her rounded face in an attempt to make her look more grown up, but it wasn’t doing much. She still looked no older than fifteen. No doubt this little arrangement was inte
nded to roughen up her reputation a bit so that she could land some more adult-oriented roles. He could practically see the headline now: Ava Rose is all grown up and dating Hollywood’s most notorious bad boy!

  It was always either that or some poor girl involved in a scandal who needed to mask it with some hot gossip, AKA a less scandalous scandal. Honestly, it was ridiculous that nobody ever seemed to catch on to the pattern.

  “Hi there,” Ava said, lashes turned down. She had a light southern drawl and he couldn’t quite tell if she was faking it or not. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve been a fan of your sisters for years.”

  Jesse gritted his teeth. He was not in the mood for pleasantries or singing his sisters’ praises.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” he said.

  He plastered on his smug smile and took Ava across the street for coffee just as his mom had suggested. He held her hand the entire time and played with her hair while she stood at the counter and decided what to order. He kept leaning into the crook of her neck like he was whispering something and each time Ava would cover her mouth and giggle like a flustered girl who had sex on the brain. The whole time Jesse was careful to keep both of their faces in view of the open floor-to-ceiling window without making eye contact with the hired paps who were taking pictures from across the street.

  They got their coffee, both sugary iced monstrosities, and headed outside with their fingers intertwined. Out on the sidewalk Ava’s phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and said hello. Jesse wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on top of her head while she had her completely staged conversation. A few minutes later she hung up.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she sighed. “See you later?”

  Jesse nodded.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, sounding reluctant to see her leave just in case someone was taking video of them in addition to the pictures.

  Her tiny silver sports car was parked at a meter a few blocks away. Jesse couldn’t see the paparazzi, but if he squinted he could make out the shapes of camera lenses poking out from the nearby bushes. He expertly grabbed a hold of Ava’s wrist and playfully spun her around so that the cameras could get the best angle. Then he leaned in and kissed her overly pink lips.

  Ava instantly melted into the kiss, eyes closing and arms reaching up to wrap around Jesse’s neck. Jesse counted to ten and then pulled away, smiling at her. She was smiling right back. There was even a slight blush creeping up her neck. They looked every inch the hot young couple in love.

  Jesse reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Ava bit her lip and pulled him into one last embrace.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his neck.

  Jesse nodded and rubbed a couple of soothing circles into the girl’s spine before pulling back, opening the car door for her, and watching her drive away.

  He stood there for a moment after with his hands in his pockets trying to channel all of his sadness and anger into something resembling a longing gaze. Anyone who thought he and his family were just worthless reality stars with no real talent was a fool. He had no credits to his name, but Jesse’s life was one string of Oscar-worthy performances after another.

  Later, he, his sister, and their mother gathered in the back of a sedan and rode back to their estate. Isabel was scrolling through pictures on her phone, completely unaware of her complicity in all of this. That was another thing their mother was great at. Using her kids against each other without them even knowing. “The key to good television,” she called it. Right now Jesse was glaring at the back of her head, seething with silent rage. She had to feel it, but she didn’t turn around or even acknowledge that he was there.

  When they reached the estate, Jesse was the last to get out of the car. He wanted to get in his mother’s face and threaten her, to say that he would leave if she ever tried setting him up like that again. Deep down he knew that it was an idle threat. At the end of the day, his mother was right; he did spend a lot of money, on good causes sure, but also on clothes and food and entertainment. He had to make sacrifices in order to keep living the kind of life he was used to, and despite all of the conciliatory “yes men” who would tell him otherwise, he knew he was nothing without his family. Sure, he’d still be able to get work even if he was cut off, but it wouldn’t be fun work. Chances were it would be much the same as what his mother was making him do now, possibly even worse.

  So he kept his mouth shut as he always did and headed up to his room on the second floor. It looked much the same as it had eight years ago when the show first started. Jesse had no desire to dress it up or make the space his own. He had his own apartment in the valley for that. He only stayed at the estate during filming season because the producers liked to have as many Sugars at the house as possible to “increase the chances of drama.”

  Jesse longed to show them some real drama, to unleash the emotions he kept hidden inside. He longed to tell them all the things they had misread or gotten wrong about him by assuming the version of him that lived in their heads was the only version that existed. That’s what hurt the most, he thought… that not even his closest friends or family could tell he was gay. He was pretty sure the thought had never even crossed any of their minds.

  It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to be out or anything, but he wanted, just once, for someone to look at him and see through all the bullshit, to see him for who he truly was on the inside… a flaming homosexual. Jocelyn, his therapist, had summed it perfectly as being that feeling you get when you really don’t want to go to a party, but you still feel hurt when you don’t get invited.

  The ironic part was that most closeted people had to try really hard to keep their secret, but everyone in Jesse’s world had so many preconceived notions that they’d literally have to catch him with a dick in his mouth to get the picture.

  Jesse grabbed a pillow to scream into, and when that didn’t work, he punched the wall in frustration. It did more damage to his knuckles than the wall, but it still felt good to hit something.

  Afterward, he sat on his bed and meticulously cleaned the blood off of his knuckles. Then he got to work bandaging his hand. He didn’t think it was broken, but it had started to throb. He was debating whether he should go downstairs and get some aspirin when his phone started ringing. Frowning, he glanced down at the display and saw that it was an unknown number with a Beverly Hills area code.

  His heart skipped a beat. There was only one person in the hills who would be calling him out of the blue like this… a handsome former child star with soft skin and chocolatey brown eyes...

  Jesse took a deep breath, trying not to get his hopes up too high, and accepted the call.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  Chapter Five

  Oscar stared at his reflection in the mirror and straightened his collar for the hundredth time. He felt kind of ridiculous wearing a nice, button-down shirt and slacks when his hair was messy and uneven due to years’ worth of being hacked off with kitchen scissors, but he had taken the time to meticulously trim his fingernails down to an acceptable length, so there was that. His teeth were also freshly polished, and his skin, although paler than it used to be, was still a pleasant medium brown.

  His hair and eyes were varying shades of brown as well. Oscar sometimes thought of his body like a flooring catalogue; there was tons of variety, sure, but at the end of the day everything was still wood colored. The differences were subtle. For instance, his hair was more of an espresso brown, while his eyes were brighter and redder, like rosewood. Currently, those rosewood eyes were staring back at him, wide open and terrified.

  He’d actually done it. He’d invited Jesse over. It was a stupid and impulsive move, but the two of them had been talking on the phone every day for weeks and never once had Jesse tried to pressure him or get him to talk about anything he didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Their conversations usually started with Jesse recounting his day so that Oscar could live vicariously t
hrough him. Then they would spend the rest of their time playing dumb games like twenty questions, or Fuck, Marry, Kill. These games usually started out very serious, but devolved into hysterical fits of laughter by the third or fourth round. They could go on for hours without ever getting boring.

  Talking to Jesse made Oscar feel normal. Sure, he had a weird and sad life, but this was L.A. Everyone here had weird and sad lives. Jesse was great at capturing that in his insane stories about celebrity encounters. The youngest Sugar sibling was generous with his words and patient with his ears. He never seemed to tire of Oscar’s awkward and clunky attempts at conversation. Quite the contrary actually. It felt like Jesse was hanging on to every word he said with bated breath. Jesse even laughed at all of his bad jokes, and not just out of pity. It was genuine belly laughter, complete with snorting and everything. It stirred up a whole mess of confusing sensations in many of Oscar’s vital organs. He felt like a smitten teenager.

  What could he say? The two of them just clicked. It was like they’d known each other forever. And so, when Jesse had sighed longingly into the phone and said, “I wish we could hang out sometime.” Oscar had very casually said, “Why don’t you come over tomorrow night.”

  Just two new friends having dinner. No big deal.

  Except that it was a big deal. It was the biggest of deals. The biggest deal to ever be dealt. Oscar was beside himself with nerves. Talking to this practical stranger over the phone was one thing, but inviting him over? Especially when he knew that his company was still dying to get him on their show? It seemed inconceivably stupid.

  That was Oscar all right, Mr. Inconceivably Stupid… and he was about to have dinner with Mr. Hollywood Angst personified. He shook his head at his reflection and aggressively flipped the light switch. He looked so much better in the dark.

  Oscar ventured out into the living room which was sparkling from top to bottom thanks to his nervous bout of meticulous cleaning late last night after realizing what he’d done. It seemed a bit excessive considering Jesse had already seen the place in its normal state of disarray, but it was an impressive change nonetheless. The thick tan carpet was bright and covered with fresh vacuum lines. The couch pillows were clean and fluffed. The matte black side and coffee tables were clear and free of dust for the first time in nearly a decade. In the corner of the room was his treadmill, which he normally used a couple times a day, but right now it was housing the surviving plants Jesse had sent him in the weeks prior. The TV mounted on the wall across from the satin-red couch was shining like new and all his old Garrett’s Guide memorabilia had been shoved into the spare bedroom that he used for storage.