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Chapter One“What the fuck!?” Timothee tries to still his cup in his hand, but dark, warm globs of coffee are already seeping out of the lid, burning the skin of his palm and the skin of his fingers; the trajectory of the liquid reaching his white button down shirt. “Shit!” Tim eyes the car that is still blaring its horn to his right. He looks ahead to make sure. The walk icon stark white, giving him confirmation that it is, in fact, his right of way. Pedestrians first. The driver window slides down and a diamond Rolex watch gleams on the wrist of a man who was now giving him the finger. A slurry of Russian words are propelled his way. He’s not one hundred percent sure they’re curse words, but the man spoke them like he’d have shot bullets, and Timmy doesn’t know why but he feels wounded. “Fucking great,” he’s still on an adrenaline high before he decides to break into a sprint as he was now five minutes late to a meeting with his first client that day. “Timothée, you’re here!” Ilaria is already gesturing toward the client at Tims desk and before the client even turns around Tim recalls that familiar diamond glint on a blonde hairy wrist and he already feels his spirit leaving him, bolting down 30 flights of stairs, and headed into oncoming traffic. “Fuuuuuck me,” Tim says in the lowest of whispers. “Armand Hammer,” Armand extends his wrist, the watch, glaring, catching sunlight. Tim accepts the handshake, but doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze fixated at the watch and the moment in time where life flashed right before his eyes. “My eyes are up here.” Armand demands and Tim’s body betrays him and he immediately obeys and meets Armands gaze. “Timothee Chalamet. Im Ilaria’s leading stylist-and you almost fucking killed me out there!” Tim’s plan of keeping it cool, calm and collected flying straight of of the window just then. “Hey there. I apologize. Punctuality is of great importance to me.” The dig at Tims late arrival did not go unnoticed by Tim. “You know you should really work on your professionalism. You were late for one and then you come in looking like this.” Armand waves his hands over Tim’s disheveled hair and pokes his finger at the coffee stain on Tim’s chest. On the off chance that Tim loses control and tackles Armand off his desk and runs him through the glass windows of his office, Tim doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t speak either. But the tips of his ears are molten hot lava, and he swears he could breathe steam just now. Armand observes the state of Tims distress and decides its a good time to make an exit.
“You can call me Armie. Schedules on the desk. Ill see you tomorrow, Todd.” Armie leaves Tim with a double pat to his chest. “Oh and don’t be late.” “Its Timothée! Tim.” His words follow Armies tail-end, immediately lost in the air. The sillage of Armie’s cologne lingers in Tims office for his entire work day. ****************** Tim makes his way towards Armie’s apartment complex. He keys in the security code and is frisked by the doorman upon entrance. Tim knocks twice. Once inside he sees: Granite table tops. State of the art stainless steel appliances. Every surface shines. His apartment looks un-lived in. The ambience a cold blue minimalistic aesthetic. Tidy, empty, and a dash of OCD. Tim chances a glance to the sliver of an open bedroom door. He sees a woman with espresso colored tresses perched beside the bed. Soft breaths of a child, snug soundly beneath the sheets. Tim first smells the top notes of rustic wood and the musk of vanilla before he sees Armie materialize before him. “Thats your wife?” Armie follows his gaze to the women besides his child’s bed. A woman of stoic beauty and grace. Shes bent, gently tapping the corners over the bed. She sings “Harper, doll, wake up.” Armie steadies his gaze, looks Tim straight in the eyes. “No,” “Girlfriend, then?” Armie dismisses the question and Tim makes of that what he will. Tim imagines the woman to be one of the many play-things in Armie’s life. A rotation of beautiful women entering, exiting, existing just at Armie’s quip- his beck and call. Tim nods knowingly and Armie mirrors. Armie squints his eyes, takes a step forward and slowly circles Tim, much like a vulture. Armie’s eyes run over the full expanse of Tim’s skin. No stone left unturned. Armie sips his coffee in contemplation. “Hmmmmm.” “You’re passible you know that.” Armie indulges the next sip. The rim of the cup masking the lower part of his face. He gives Tim time to ruminate over that statement. It takes time for Tim to recognize the insinuation.
Armie lowers his gaze to Tim’s inseam. “You’re too pretty to be born a male,” States that. Matter-of-factly. Then, “Did they give you a dick too?” There is a flashback to yesterday’s conversation with Ilaria. “He’s insufferable, Ilaria! I cant do it! Seriously, can’t he find someone else!?” Tim is seen pacing about. His hands in a manic flurry.
“Im sorry, Timothée. He specifically requested you-“ Ilaria holds tim by the shoulders now.
“Listen, Timothée, he has a reputation with his employees. Yes. He can be a bit...much. The turn around for his stylists...” She doesn’t finish that sentence.
Adds: “If he sees weakness in you...he will eat you alive. Just give him as good as you’ve got.” Then, with more bass to her voice: “Tim. Just eat him first. That usually works with his type.”
Just
Eat
Him
First.
Just eat him first.“A dick?” Tim enunciates, far past incredulous. Just eat him first-a voice beckons in his head. So Tim does. His hands are undoing his belt. He slides the belt through each loop, drops his belt, waist-side. “W-hat are you doing?”“Giving you proof-“ Tim undoes his pant button. Hes on his zipper. Stops when Armie spits out his coffee. Ironically, and much to Tim’s pleasure, Armie spills some on his dress shirt. Tim thinks: Karma. “Okay-okay. Jeeeez. Point proven.” Tim is besides himself when he sees the flush red of Armie’s cheeks. Mentally he gives himself a point for this. Mentally pats himself on the back. He’d have to tell Ilaria this story, later. But before Tim can bask on this win, Armie is undoing his shirt. Button by button. His chest hair bids Tim a hello. His one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight pack of abs welcomes him with a smile. The V muscle to his groin tightens. Armie tosses the shirt to the side and Tim is now met face to back. Armie’s shoulder blade’s contract and constricts. Golden, sun kissed skin. Armie’s gone from Tim peripheries-off to his bedroom to pull a new shirt on. The woman is now in the living room watching them both, a soft smile plays at the corner of her lips. Before Tim or Armie can acknowledge her there- another woman walks in. This woman: all legs, plush red lips. Both women greet each other and exchange kisses to the cheek. Tim thinks: Sister wives? What the fuck is this? Are they a part of Armie’s Harem? Tim thinks: Is beauty a pre-requisite to be in Armie’s life because thats what it seems. Woman #1 leaves. Woman #2 sets her briefcase down. “Harper, dear, im ready for you.” The little girl shuffles her way to the living room floor. Harper sits. Moves her hands in some type of ordered fashion. Armie reemerges from the living room. Nods at the woman. Places a featherweight kiss atop the little girls forehead. “Daddy will be back in a few.” Armie tells her. His whole demeanor softened. The girl looks up sweetly, blinks her eyes and waves a goodbye. Tim is sitting shotgun to Armie, making their way onto Rodeo Drive.
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Chapter 2
Tim quickly learns that Armie has a penchant for drinking. When they enter the designer’s shop they are quickly welcomed with glasses of champagne. Thats usual enough, Tim concedes. But when Armie decides to down the glass in one go, calls for another three, then requests for another unopened bottle, Tim has to rethink. Tims busies himself with pulling pieces off the racks. A chambray jacket, rich velvet double breasted suits, silk shirts of every color. He shoots a glance at Armie who, himself, seems busy jotting down words in a black leather enclosed notebook. Armie stops for a minute, smiles at Tim and continues writing pensively. Tim worries that Armie may be writing notes to hand back to Ilaria. Tim thinks: Constructive criticism? A bad review? Tim thinks: Its just like him to stare at me, smiling, simultaneously plotting my demise. Like a serial killer. Yes, hes got major serial killer vibes. Like a charming, handsome Christian Bale in American Pyscho. Yes. Just like that-
Tim snaps out of his reverie to ask “Are you, what are you doing? Plotting my demise?” Tim tries to make out the words in cursive. Tim thinks: Perfect penmanship too. Isn’t that not a serial killer trait? Armie shakes his head. Snaps the notebook closed. Coughs out, “Poetry.” Tim doesn’t know if that one glass of champagne is the cause of his lowered inhibitions but he’s outright laughing now. and he cant stop. He expects Armie to join in...at any minute now. But he doesn’t. Armie simply fixes him a cold stare, waits for Tim to be done.
When they get to the dressing room, Tim prepares to leave Armie to his fittings when Armie stops him. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Ill be right outside-“ “No, no that won’t do. I might need your help.” Armie sits Tim down. Slides the lock to the door. The dressing room is spacious enough. But, Tim realizes, rather suddenly that this particular dressing room is encased with 360 mirrors all around. Tim pries his eyes to the floor but, to his dismay, sees his reddened expression staring back at him. Mirrored floors. Mirrored ceilings. Tim eyes roll, all white. Tim groans and pinches his eyes closed. He doesn’t trust his eyes to stay shut so, he palms his eyes closed for an added security measure. He hears a melody of shoes thrown off to the side, zippers unzipping, buttons being undone. “Todd, you can open your eyes now.” “Its T-“ He starts but he cant finish. His eyes behold the sight before him. Tims mouth waters and he has to gulp to keep it dry. Tim thinks: Fucking fire. He’s dripping sauce. He’s insufferable. But very, very handsome. Hes arrogant. But god- does he model on the side? “So?” “Does it matter what I think?” “Todd, you’re my stylist. Thats what im paying you for.”
Tim doesn’t bother to correct him this time. “Its alright, I suppose. Try it with the chambray jacket. The look would be complete with more layers.” Armie shrugs his hands to the side. He pointedly looks at the jacket, then back to Tim, then back to the jacket. Armie wiggles his hands at his side. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tim is exasperated. “You want me to dress you too?” “Its what im paying you to do...” Armie reasons. Tim reluctantly obliges and he’s behind Armie as he shrugs him into the jacket. Armie smiles, crows-feet and canines making an appearance. Tim looks at Armie through the mirror and smiles too. “Its now complete.” They stand in the mirror for a moment. Stands a second like a portrait. “So, it is complete.” Armie echoes, looking more at Tim than he is his outfit. Armie decides to buy everything Tim has suggested. Tim periodically checks his watch. Armie has him booked for three whole hours but they’ve finished in one. Tim decides that he’s made ground with Armie and they’ve managed to be civil to one another, helped him purchase a few outfits, wonders if Armie would be kind enough to let him go for the day. They pass a kiosk on their way out. Armie stops and Tim figures he might want to buy his daughter a stuff ed animal. Tim stands off to the side while Armie makes his purchase. He returns to Tims side and produces a giant stuffed mouse, places it to the side of Tims face. He looks to the mouse and back to Tim again. Armie feigns a gasp. “Its almost uncanny.” Tims fists his hands to the side, knuckles turning white. Molten hot lava ears. Breathes out steam. Armie speaks to the mouse “Im naming you after your owner.” Armie speaks to Tim, “Were calling him Todd. Named after you.” He winks, purses his lips into a loud smacker. Tim is quick on his heels. He turns to leave and “I have you booked for another two hours.” “We’re going to Nobu, Im famished.” Tim tries to calculate what he has in his savings, contemplates if he could quit his job right now. When the numbers don’t add up, he has no choice but to follow. The maitre d knows him by name. They are escorted to a private dining area secluded in the back. The Head chef even comes out to greet him. Mr. Hammer this, Mr. Hammer that. Everyone, fawning. “Ill have the usual Pierre, on second thought-“ Armie gives Tim a once over. “Bring me the entirety of your Classic Nobu Hot selection. Merci” Tim gapes as dish after dish is plated before them. King Crab Amazu. Black Cod Miso. Squid Pasta with Light Garlic Sauce. Eggplant Miso. Rock Shrimp Tempura- ponzu, creamy spicy, creamy jalapeno. Chilean Sea Bass. Baby Abalone with Light Garlic Sauce. Beef Tobanyaki. Creamy Spicy Snow Crab. Scallop with spicy garlic and wasabi pepper. “Is anyone joining us?” Tim’s eyes as big as saucers. His jaw agape. “Nope, just you and I. Dig in please....” Tim picks at a few dishes, completely avoids some he doesn’t recognize. Tim moans when he finds something he likes. Armie takes out his notepad and writes things down. Tim is enjoying himself when Armie starts to dab his chin with a napkin. He pushes his plates away and orders some wine. Tim is still eating, surveys that there are still a good 2/3 of food that remains. Tim decides he’s had his fill. Armie pushes all the plates towards Tim. “Look, Todd. I can’t be an enabler. I understand, your career is in fashion, you need to keep up the appearances of being wafer thin. But, were going to beat this anorexia together. You will eat all of this food before we leave. No if, ands or buts about it.” Tim nearly flips the table over. “Armie! I do not have an eating disorder!” “Todd- we’re in a public place. Please don’t make a scene. I said we’re in this together. Ill wait here with you. I have my drink. Please just take your time.” Tim doesn’t know if he’s being serious. And if he is, Tims thinking that Armie’s been disgusted by his appearance this whole time. Tim thinks: Does he think I’m grotesque? Am I that emaciated? He has burrowed this insecurity, overcame it ages ago, he thinks. He has learned to love his body and yet- Tim glances at his watch. Another hour. He just needs to stay here for another hour. Tim feels like he could cry. “Look Todd- the sooner you eat this. The sooner you get to leave.” With that, Tim is gathering the rest of the plates. A mixture of crab, squid pasta, and shrimp tempura are scraped onto one plate. He swirls the concoction around and shoves forkfuls into his mouth. He just really wants to leave. “Wait- what are you doing” Armie is appalled. Tim is too. Hes not even chewing at this point, just hard swallows. He downs wine to make the food go down smoother. “Wait- wait a minute. Stop!” At this point- Armies tugging at the fork. He calls the waiter over to clear off the table. Armie fishes for his napkin, comes around to Tim and squats to Tim’s eye level. He wets the napkin with his tongue and wipes away ponzu sauce off Tim’s face. Tim wills his tears at bay. Shuts them so that Armie doesn’t see it. “Im sorry! You don’t have anorexia. Okay, it was a joke. Im sorry. Your body- its nice...I like it. I like it just the way it is.” “I was just trying to soften you up a little!” “Wha- Why?” “Bones hurt.” “Bones hurt?” “Well...I was going to offer you another position?” Tim thinks: proposition? knocking bones? prostitution? “Another position?” “A human pillow. Centralized Heating. I have trouble sleeping at night!” “You’re delusional!” Tim is halfway out the restaurant when he hears “Todd! You’re forgetting Todd.” He glances back for a second to see Armie waving around the giant stuffed mouse.
*****
Up next: Armie is clingy. Tim is paid a visit. Armie decides who’s daddy. The boys get to third base. Tim plots his revenge.
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Chapter 3
“Tim. A package for you.” Ilaria tosses him a box. There is an over-the-top bright red bow on it. “Well?” Ilaria leans on the doorframe and waits expectantly. Tim already knows whats in it. Refuses to open it. “Im not going to open it Ilaria.” “Secretive Timmy, oh okay. Wait so how was the first fitting with Hammer? Im surprised he didn’t fire you yet.” At that- Tim’s ears quirk up. “The notebook! So he gave you the notes? What did he say exactly? What a fucking asshole.” “Tim- Tim chill out. He hasn’t said anything. Im just surprised. Really. His past stylists didn’t even last a full day. So you left on good terms I presume?” Tim thinks about it. Recalls leaving Armie hanging at the restaurant. Recalls calling Armie delusional. Beads of cold sweat formulates on his forehead. “Omg! Nobu! The bill! I-I left him with the Bill!” Tim starts feeling his back pockets, palms his wallet. Tim fully intended on sharing the bill with Armie but he left him in such a hurry. “Nobu? I mean you’re paid well. But I don’t pay you that much. Hell, I don’t even get paid that much.” “God- Ilaria. I might be fired. I don’t know.” Tim is saddened for a moment but starts to think... “Actually, no. I hope to god that Im fired. Truly. Really do. Ilaria, he’s insufferable! I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant. He only cares about himself. He’s borderline abusive Ilaria! He said, verbatim ‘You are too pretty to be born a male.’ He called me a woman for fucks sake. Then, he had me stay while he got undressed in the dressing room. THEN, bought me this stupid stuffed mouse- which i’m pretty sure is whats in this box right now-“ Tim picks up the box and dramatically throws it, hard against the floor. “He fucking force-fed me, called me anorexic...thats really not all of it.” Tims out of breath now. He stills himself. Inhales deeply. Once. Twice. “Im glad im fired! Best. day. of. my. life.” “You and I both don’t know if you’re fired, so hold your horses. Please. He’s one, if not, THE top client, Tim. If he hasn’t fired you, then he must like you. You’re doing something right.” “But what about what he’s subjected me too? That must be borderline illegal right? Workplace harassment...” Tim fists the front of his shirt and is writhing the fabric between his hands. “Tim..” Ilaria begins counting her fingers. She touches her pointer finger.“He said you’re too PRETTY to be born a male. He called you pretty. Its a compliment.”She touches her middle finger.“You got to stay and watch him undress in the dressing room. Is he...” She waves her hand over crotch “Packin?” “Ilaria!!! Gross! I didn’t look!” “But, you wanted to. Don’t lie! Gross? Dear, come on. Armie is a tall glass of water and you know it! Anyway ouch- he called you skinny. There are worse things. Bought you a stuffed bear-“ “Mouse” “Whatever Timmy- he also wined and dined you- at NOBU- fucking NOBU of all places. Listen to yourself. You’re living the dream babe. I don’t want to hear any more complaints.” Ilaria looks towards the box for the last time and leaves. Tim kicks the box and it scuttles a few feet towards the door. Tim is halfway through his lunch when he receives a phone call. “Timothee Chalamet speaking.” “May I speak to Todd?” “Armie...” “Oh its you! Well, why didn’t you just say so in the beginning?” A pause. Tim rubs at his temples. “Where are you?” “Im at work. You called me at work. So you must know that Im at work.” “I meant why aren’t you here.” “You didn’t book me for today. I have to go- I have other clients waiting. Ill see you at our next scheduled booking.” Tim hangs up, doesn’t even wait for a reply. Tim is able to finish off his sandwich at his desk. Slurps the remnants of his coke. He stretches his feet out under him, reclines and folds his arms above his head. He has about an hour before he has to meet his next client. Tim’s looking forward to it actually, this client, a promise of a much needed- much earned reprieve. He’s been through the ringer these past days. He’s met Ole Lucifer himself. The devil named Armie Hammer. Speaking of the devil... Tim zeroes in on a tall figure emerging behind Ilaria’s desk. He recognizes Armie immediately. Tim slinks downwards until his bottom is flushed against the carpet ground, props himself on his knees and hides behind his desk. He peers through a crack at the sight before him. He hears muffled conversation. Armie’s voice. Ilaria’s. See’s Ilaria picking up the phone. Armie’s eagle eyes find Tim between the crack and he wiggles his fingers into a wave. Smiles. Kisses Illaria on the cheek. Tim sees Ilaria and her lips form the words: I am sorry. Armie walks in and he stumbles over the box on the floor. The mouse. By now Tim’s cover is blown and he edges his way towards the corner of the room, putting as much distance between him and Armie as the room would allow. He nooks himself into the farthest corner of the wall, awaits apprehensively. Armie stares at the mangled box on the ground. The red bow halfway undone. “You didn’t open it?” Armie questions and its so unnecessary, because, clearly. Armie drops to his knees. Feigns a loud, over dramatic gasp. Tears open the box with urgency. “You tried to suffocate him!” Armie recoils, drags his hand over the fur, shushes and coos the damn thing. “Are you clinically insane!?” Tims sure of it. “Are you?!” Armie pings back. Tim watches in horror as Armie takes a seat. Armie props the mouse on his lap. “Armie you have to leave. I have to leave. Im meeting a client in 30.” Tim gets up to leave. “Not anymore, you do.” “What did you do?” “Ilaria, what a doll...” Armie momentarily pauses to peek over his shoulder, gives her a wave. Continues, “well, see-she was kind enough to shift some things around to accommodate my crisis-“ Tim cuts him off-“Im sorry what? What crisis?” but Armie continues to speak “...Brian or was it Ryan? Well we switched bookings so you’re all mines for today. I need something to wear for a Charity event im hosting this Saturday.” Tim recollects the sheer amount of items Armie has purchased with him the other day. Visualizes the endless repertoire of clothes designed by the likes of Thome Brown, Calvin Klien, and Giorgio Armani, all ready and willing in Armie’s closet. Armie penetrates his thoughts. Reads Tim’s mind. “Yeah, yeah. Its all been done before. I need something a little more fashion forward.” Tim is still fuming about the schedule switch. He racks his mind for something he doesn’t know yet what. Until, it hits him. “Okay. Armie. I have something for you. Although, I don’t think you can pull it off.” Tim knows the type. Knows Armie can’t refuse a challenge. “Ill pull it off.” Armie scoffs, crosses his arms. “Its...risky. But its making its way to the streets of Europe. You could- you could start the trend in the U.S” Armie leans in. Tim thinks: Like a moth to a flame. “Sold!” Armie raises his hands in defeat. Gets up to leave, “You know. We should really talk about your clientele...” “My clientele?” “I dont like sharing.” Tim gets the implication. “NO- absolu-“ “I could pay you more. Pay you more than what you make now. It makes sense. I might need you at all hours of the day. Of the night.” “-tely fucking not.” Armie makes a showing of covering the mouse’s ears. Gasps, “Todd- your language! Not in front of the little one.” “Take it- or Ill trash it.” Tim gestures to the mouse. “You wouldn’t dare. Its okay Todd Mommy doesn’t mean it. Shes just not in her right mind today.” Tim thinks: Fuck. Armie’s implying that im a woman again. Decides to shut him up once and for all. Ilaria’s words: Just give it as good as you’ve got. Eat him before he eats you- flares. Blinks bold neon lights. Tim glowers over the desk. Armie sees something in Tim’s eyes that makes him backpedal abruptly. Tim follows and pushes Armie, presses him hard against the glass door. “FOR-“ Tim grabs ahold of Armie’s right hand. “THE”- Tim directs Armies hand over his crotch. “LAST”- Gloves his hands over Armie’s and proceeds to squeeze his own dick. “TIME”- Bounces up and into their conjoined palms. Does it once more for added measure. This seemed like a good idea at the time. But Tim has somehow forgotten that he’s been half hard from the moment Armie stepped into his office. Tim is quickly alluded to this fact as he finds himself hardening by the second. Their hands still clutching his dick. Armie- a portrait of a deer in the headlights. Tim drops his hand quickly, but Armie is still holding on. Armie’s holding in his breath too. Seems to be frozen in place. Tim peels Armie’s fingers off one by one, now back on full alert. Armie is still in a daze. “So yeah-“ Tim coughs. This shakes Armie out of his stupor. “I don’t get why I have to be Mommy and you’re daddy.” Armie smirks, “Say that last part again, but louder.” Tim all but pushes Armie out the door. “Ill bring over the garment tonight. Ill see you at home-YOUR PLACE!” “So its Home, huh, already?” Tim ushers him out the building. Turns to face Ilaria. Ilaria’s looks to Tim. Eyebrows glued to her forehead. “Not. Now. Please.” “Tim- he likes you. He clearly does. Give the poor guy a break. He might not have gotten to date much after the divorce. Its been three years. His game must be out of whack-“ “Ilaria. He had two models over last time I was at his flat. He might not date- but I know he fucks.” “Can you blame him?” Can you blame him. Can you blame him. Those words accompany him in his car for the whole ride home. Tim dials a call to his sister. “Pauline. Yes. Hey, Im good. No, everything’s fine. I just need a favor. Do you still have that silver sequined dress? Alexander Mcqueen. The one you wore for halloween that year. Yep. Thats the one. Perfect. I just need it for a client. Thank you. Ill be there in ten. Wait. Do you have a spare wax kit at home by any chance? Yes, i know how to use it. Oh. Its expired? Its okay, ill take it anyway. Great. Love you-okay bye.” Can you blame him? *****Up next: Armie on a catwalk. Hot wax. Woman #1 and #2. Harper time. Tickles.
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Chapter 4
The sequined garment hangs inside a black encasing, hidden. Tim gingerly hooks the hanger on his forearm, a plastic bag with two kits of hot wax hangs, looped around his wrist. He steels himself, prepares to knock. Allows himself a snicker before he has to wipe the smile off his face- quite literally, too. He works his pointer finger to the corner of his lips and tugs them down. Forces his mouth into a frown. Knocks. The door swings open and the woman from the other day appears in front of Tim. Woman #1. “Hey. Todd right? Im Gia. Have a seat- Armie just stepped in the shower.” Tim surreptitiously pans his view to the bedroom. He sees a mess of rumpled sheets, a pillow thrown off to the side. Tim attempts to make out the aroma of sex in the air. But he doesn’t- instead smells a mixture of deep roast coffee and the faint smell of Armie. Armie’s scent. Tim finds it to be the perfect mixture of spicy and sweet. Rustic wooden notes atop a bed of vanilla. Sugar maybe? The spice-Tim cant quite place it- must be a scent entirely Armie, he concedes. Could it be his sweat? Tim wonders. Wonders then if Armie smells like this all over. Would the skin of his neck smell just like the skin below his navel? “Todd- sorry I’d sit with you but i’m way behind schedule. Armie usually likes to have the bed made, dishes cleaned and floors swept before I leave for the day.” Gia is bent over the granite top now, vigorously scrubbing at the table top. Tim watches, didn’t think something mundane could be done so pretty. He feels the dull ache of jealousy but doesn’t know why. Tim doesn’t bother to correct her.“You do this for him everyday?” Tim is in disbelief. Gia uses the back of her hand to wipe the sweat collecting on her forehead. She stills her scrubbing hand for a moment, licks at the sweat at the corner of her lips. “Its my job.” Tim thinks: So Armie’s that type, then. Misogynistic. Heavily entrenched in Archaic views. Brings home the bacon while his woman slaves in the kitchen. Typical. Of course. “You don’t need to do this for him you know...” “But I do. Its how my bills are paid.” At that, Tim gapes-thinks: So shes not Armies girlfriend.
Shes
his prostitute. Gia starts to explain but Tim is still very much inside his head. Averts his focus back to the conversation to hear: “...yeah, so the dirtier it is the better the pay. Sometimes Armie has to call in for extra help.” “Extra help?” Tim is so invested into this conversation now. He needs to know. “Yeah for plumbing issues. Last week he had three guys over to get his pipes cleaned.” Tim figures this must be prostitute lingo. He ducks his head briefly not able to contain his muffled “oh my fucking god!” Tries to steady his voice. “How does that even work? Getting his...” Tim does air quotations ‘pipes cleaned’ With three guys and you? Like- is it one after another or...” Gia furrows her brows and contemplates his question. Tim begins to think he’s overstepped but she answers. “We kind of all just work at it together, I guess.” Tim imagines Armie under a canopy of tangled limbs with different men working at his pipes. Visualizes Armie’s face contorting between a series of moans and groans.Theres pantings of pleasure, possible small winces of pain. Tim just blinks, doesn’t know how to handle this information. He walks over to the sectional and takes a seat. Gia does a final run through and stops at Tim’s feet. “Hey, I don’t know if you were interested... but, I got the vibe that you did? Heres my card. Im always looking for more work you know.” Its only when Gia’s out the door where Tim looks down at the card hes been running through his fingers.
Gia Fontenelli’s Maid Services House Maid Services 1(310) 258-7654 Residential Cleaning Service. Flexible scheduling. Certified cleaner. Dependable Service. Call for free estimate! A lightening bolt of realization hits Tim. Stands him on his feet. Tim is in a fit of laughter. Doesn’t even realize Armie’s been standing in front of him for a good while now. “Todd- whats goin on? You’re not high on the job are you?” Tim wipes tears from his eyes. Attempts to tell Armie whats he’s been heavily mistaken of through hiccups of laughter. “Shes a legit maid, Armie!” Tim tells Armie like he doesn’t already know this. “I really thought she was a prostitute this whole time! We had a whole conversation about...you don’t even want to know.” Tim finishes as he shakes his head. “You really think I need to pay for sex?” Armie asks indignantly. “Well...” Tim gives Armie a once over, elevator eyes. Armie scoffs. “I can have anyone on their knees practically begging for me- Todd. Please don’t insult me.” This time its Tim who scoffs. But in a blink, Armie is hovering above him....runs his palms over Tims side. Tim thinks: electric. Feels the trail of goosebumps left from Armie’s fingertips. Armie walks Tim backwards to the coach and carefully guides him down. Tim is splayed out under and is cloaked with the scent of wood, vanilla and spice. Armie inches his face closer, and closer until his stubble is just ghosting over Tim’s neck- his jaw. Their faces a breath away from each other. So close that the only thing Tim can see now are the blown out pupils of Armie’s eyes and the ring of ocean around them. Tim begins to close his eyes. Finds himself leaning in. Purses his lips and extends forward. Forwardand forward until he’s almost perched on the edge of his seat. Forward, but its just empty air -he plucks his eyelids open one by one. Armie is leaning against the table top. A smug grin.“See? You wanted it.” “Did not.” “Mmhmm. You totally did. You even closed your eyes.” Armie must have read something on Tims face because he adds “Like I would ever.” He watches Tim face gaging his reaction. Tim doesn’t know what emotion to address to himself first. He feels: aroused. disappointed. embarrassed. angered. A little bit of longing. A lot of hatred. Tim didn’t think Armie could be so cruel. He suddenly remembers the reason for his visit, beckons him like a siren’s call. The sequined dress. The hot, hot wax. “Shall we start the fitting?” Tim slowly starts to unzip the liner... ********ok dont hate me- I had other intentions for this chapter as you all may know but as I was writing...this just happened!
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Chapter 5 Tim took in several breaths to calm down his nerves while Armie effortlessly hopped onto the counter. His long limbs dangled over the edge. Tim had convinced Armie that it was imperative that he wax his chest hair as it would work best with the ensemble. Tim assessed the golden goo that stuck from the stick he’s been stirring it with. It took some muscle work to budge and It didn’t seem as liquid as it should be, so Tim reread the back of the kit that was previously thrown into the trash. “Is everything okay over there?” Armie opened one eye and threw it over Tim’s way. “Uh-huh” Tim did his best to conceal the shake in his voice because clearly he has never done this before. “You’ve done this before right?” “Uh-Yeah- Yes, all the time.” At that Armie perched himself up, turned over and cradled his head on his palms using his elbows for support. He cheekily looked to the area of Tim’s crotch and hummed approvingly. “Could I see a sample of your work?” Armie’s eyelashes flickered as his eye’s roamed the spans of Tim’s lower body. Tim felt the sting of embarrassment and almost tried to use his hands to cover himself up before he suddenly remembered he was clothed. Their adams apple bobbed in synchrony as they took a hard gulp. “Turn over and lay down.” “I kinda like you like this, Todd. Giving me ord-“ Armie was shut abruptly as the hot wax made contact with his bare skin. He gripped Tims arm and stilled, his breathing now labored as Tim lathered the wax over the chest hair. Armie squeezed his eyelids shut tightly and used his mouth to breathe. What a rare sight to behold-Tim thought. He savored the visual of a vulnerable Armie. It did not look like the same man seconds ago and Tim might have spent more time than needed smoothing out the wax on Armie’s skin. Tim went into sensory overload just then. The sweet honey emanated his nostrils. His eyes drank in the rise and fall of Armie’s chest. The pursed circle of Armie’s lips. He felt his arm pulsating under Armie’s grip. Armie’s finger nails breaching skin. Tim began to salivate and he couldn’t discern whether it was for thirst or a want to taste. Seconds on the clock passed but time paused as the stick grazed the outlines of Armies nipples. Tim resisted the urge to flick at the fragile flesh. He wanted that skin to become erect on his accord. His thoughts materialized in front of him. The pink points grew in size and saluted him. Fearing that the wax was cooling because he had taken his time, he made quick work of applying the wax strips all over Armie’s chest until no patch of skin was left uncovered. He patted each white strip down. “Hey-uhh I think you’re supposed to do the strips one by one.” The box’s directions appeared ominously in Tim’s head just then. Armie was right. But its too late now. Tim needed to commit to it so he just reassured Armie that this way was the “less painful way.” Later, both would come to realize that the statement couldn’t have been more wrong. But it being wrong might just have been so right. Tim grabbed the outermost strip and braced himself. He told Armie to do the same. “In 3... 2..... 1.....” Tim swore he heard the r-r-rip of each follicle and the sound mimicked one of velcro. The rip had drawn blood. Little beads of bright red droplets appeared on the reddened skin. He looked on in horror expecting a subsequent scream from Armie but all he heard was a low grunt...that almost sounded like a moan. Armie’s fingernails dug deeper into Tim’s flesh. Another strip. Another grun- nope, that was definitely a moan. He tested this again and again until Armie’s eyes were rolling to the back of his head. I knew he was a psycho. I just didn’t know he was a masochist. Tim thought. Tim thought- Of course he enjoys this. His thoughts were confirmed with the growing bulge evident in Armie’s pants. Tim gasped silently as he took in his own tenting pair. Oh god, how long have I been hard? He thinks. The hairy wax strips were tossed to the side. Armie’s reddened chest adorned with droplets of blood. His canines trapping his lower lip. Heavy, lowered eyelids on them both. The rise and fall of their chests. The honey scented air was thick with sweet, sweet tension... ****Thanks for sticking around guys...sorry about the long wait.
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Chapter 6Tim often wondered if people held a six sense of knowing before anything life-changing happened to them. Wondered if a person knew a second before a major accident that left them debilitated...that something was off somehow. Wondered if people knew before they got the phone call back from their dream job saying they got it. Did they? Now, low in Tim’s chest, he acknowledges a foreboding feeling of a major debilitating accident coming his way....mixed with the excitement of landing something of his dreams. Its on odd feeling to place, but before he can think further of it, he hears a knock at the door and quickly reassess his surroundings. Waves and waves of the honey-scented wax aroma fills his nostrils immediately-and it comes in so pungent and strong its as if he’s been holding his breath for sometime. He sees a split second of a bare and somewhat bloodied chested Armie-wide eyed make a B line straight to the bathroom. He hears the shower sound on. The knocking has stopped now and- “Armie, let us in...” A women coos from behind the door. He’s not Armie, but Tim lets them in. The woman he met on Day 1 pushes her way through the door and he sees Harper tugging at her from behind. He sees a curious blue eye peak from behind the woman’s leg. She blinks a few times at him. “Hey Harper...” Tim offers and watches the little girl jump from behind, now in full view, her tiny hands dancing in a double wave. The lady turns her attention to Harper and moves her fingers in what Tim now recognizes as sign language. He sees the young girl nod and return an answer to the woman with her fingers. Tim slacks his jaw and inhales a sharp breath because he never knew that Armie’s daughter’s...DEAF?! The lady whips her head in his direction and confirms to Tim that he must have spoken his revelation out loud. “Shes not deaf, Todd.” Todd. Again, Tim does not have the time to correct her. “Thats sign language isn’t it? I mean Im not fluent or anything-I took a couple of classes in colleg-“ “Shes not deaf.” “Hard of hearing, then?” The lady sighs. “Armie hasn’t told you?” She takes Tim’s silence as a no and continues. “She stopped speaking when her mom left, Todd. Armie has hired me as her speech therapist...shes making some progress but she hasn’t uttered a word in years. Hasn’t even uttered a sound, even.” The lady looks down sullenly. Tim feels a sudden ache in his chest and his gaze falls to Harper who seems to be oblivious to their conversation. Shes fiddles with her toys on the ground. Tim doesn’t know why but he feels a wetness begin to form from behind his eyes, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Tim begins to think of all the different scenarios that led Armie’s wife to leave him...all ending in different ways in painting Armie as the bad guy. Was he an inattentive husband? A cheater? A narcissist that didn’t care about anything or anyone other than himself? “Hey, im sorry I have another client I have to get to. Could you let Armie know I had to go?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. She signs something to Harper, smiles at her, then smiles at him and leaves.He hears the shower click off and someshuffling behind the bathroom door. Then, Armie’s in front of them donned in a navy blue bathrobe. He scoops up Harper in one hand and kisses her cheek. “Did you have a good time with Dr. Clarissa? Did she teach you new words baby?” Harper fashions her little fingers in an answer and Tim makes a mental note to youtube sign language videos when he gets home. “You made it just in time! Daddy’s doing a little fashion show for you okay? You sit with uncle T over there okay?” He points to the sectional at the corner end of the living room. “Hey the wardrobe’s in your bedroom..”Tim starts and hesitates before he asks “You trust me don’t you? Just-just put it on and come out. It’ll look great. Just trust me. “ Tim insists, his hands are out in an exasperated manner. Tim sits and Harper shuffles after him, lightly puts her arm on his thigh and looks at him expectantly. He scoops her up so she sits waiting on his thighs. She peers over her shoulder and gives Tim a little smile of her own. There are sounds emanating from the bedroom, clanking-alarming sounds that would be more expected coming from a kitchen and the lights go flickering and its been fifteen minutes before Tim starts to worry. He is just about to get up to check on Armie when lights suddenly go off and the song “Im Too Sexy” comes on blaring through the bedroom speakers. Neon spin lights illuminate the room now and Armie is now strutting towards them with a hand on his hip. The sight before him is jarring- all muscle under a shimmery silver sequenced dress. God- if there isn’t one thing this man cant pull off-this isn’t it. Tim thinks. He’s actually pulling this dress off...but its no where near black-tie attire more like bedroom attire really. Something special to wear for someone special, behind closed doors. Armie does a spin at the end and offers them several different poses and he’s mildly aware that his jaw may be centimeters from the floor. The music goes off but there isn’t silence. Bubbles of laughter is floating through the air and he feels more than hears Harper doubling over in her fit of tiny giggles, her whole body flailing around in Tim’s lap. He whispers, “Daddy makes a beautiful princess huh Harper?” If he thought he’s seen the height of her laughter-he’s sorely mistaken. She shrieks before adding another symphony of giggles into the air and this- Tim can’t not help to join in. He catches Armie’s face and finds tears welling in Armie’s eyes. He’s frozen in place but there’s a steady stream falling over his cheeks. Tim stops laughing suddenly and can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Armie. Armie makes his way over and envelops Harper in his arms. She is still laughing and Armie pokes and prods her through his tears. Puts her down and asks her what it was that Tim had told her. She doesn’t willingly answer and that results in him asking Tim. “What did you tell her?” Tim plays along and zips his mouth up with his fingers and throws away the imaginary key. This results in Armie zigzagging his way through the bedroom chasing both Harper and Tim until they are sat huddled together, cornered on the living room floor. Armie descends upon them and unleashes tickles on both of them mercilessly. Tim makes it a point to guard Harper, throwing himself over her and Armie navigates his way over the length of his body...no ticklish spot left unturned. Armie is mid tickle, his forehead just inches away of Tim’s own. He allows himself some time to study Armie’s face. He almost looks younger somehow just then, his eyes still red rimmed from the tears he has shed earlier-his cheeks still wet... Before Tim realizes what he’s doing his palms are outstretched and he’s using them to dry Armie’s cheeks. First with one hand, then the other...now Armie’s face cupped between them, he uses the pad of his thumb to wax off any remnants of wetness left. Armie is still hovered over him, both of his arms bracketing Tim’s head. He catches one of Tims hands with his own and presses his forehead to his. Their faces align together just then, Armies eyes and his. Armies nose grazes the tip of his. The skin of Armie’s lips so very close to his... He feels the warmth of his breath as Armie opens his lips to tell him this- “Thank you so much. Thank you-you dont know....” Armie is now shaking his head and because they are stuck this way together, Tim’s head also moves with Armie’s motion. “Tim, Tim...thank you so much. She hasn’t laughed since...” They stay sometime like this, in this position. Head to Head. Armie’s face cradled between Tim’s hand. Armie’s hand on top of Tim’s. Tim doesn’t know if the wetness on his cheeks belong to Armie or if they are of his own...
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Chapter 7 A light pressure nudges them out of their reverie. Harper stands to the side with one hand dragging a blanket and her other rubbing at her tired eyes. Armie reluctantly de-puzzles himself off of Timmy and nods towards her bedroom. “Tim...let me just put her to bed...you-you stay right there okay?” He pats Timmy on the chest gently. The sound of his name on Armie’s tongue jolts him. Not quite used to being called his real name just yet...it almost comes off like a term of endearment, really. His name giving the same feeling as if he were to be called “honey” or “baby” Tim. Tim. Tiiiiiiiim. He wanted to hear Armie to call him by his name more...call, whine, moan, breathe, anything. Just more. Tim is still in a daze, pretty sure he hasn’t moved an inch since Armie has left him to put Harper to bed. Since Armie ordered him to “stay right there okay?” Didn’t know he was so willingly able to obey Armie’s orders just like that. Took his orders literal and expected Armie to return so he’s more than a little surprised (and a little annoyed) honestly, to see a now pajama-clad Armie seated at the Kitchen table with the black notebook (the black notebook) furiously writing up a storm. Tim feigns a cough to gain Armie’s attention but Armie doesn’t look his way. Instead, Armie just chuckles and continues writing. “Thought you fell asleep on me there.” Tim thinks its a good time to reveal his sinister prank. Couldn’t think twice about fulfilling this farce regarding the sequined dress any longer...nope, not after the night they had. He came prepared with another, more suitable choice in his trunk...just in case. Tim opened up his mouth but Armie beat him to it. “I know your time is up...but have a drink with me before you go?” Armie’s voice is different somehow and Tim doesn’t recognize this intonation. He registers this as ‘nervous’ The little shake in his voice as ‘unsure’-‘vulnerable’ even. And Armie’s never those things. Tim had a speech ready, really. Was about to call the whole thing ‘dress’ thing off but seeing this vulnerable Armie in front of him now-Tim decided that there were more pressing matters to be discussed. Matters that mattered. He’ll have to tell him of the dress, later. Now, Tim has seen his opening and he’ll be darned if he let this rare sighting of a vulnerable, open, unsure Armie get away. “What happened? With your wi-with your ex wife?” Armie took a pause from his notebook. His pen stilled over the pad of the paper. Tim continues his way over to Armie till he’s propped in front of the liquor cabinet, adjacent to where Armie sits. He gulps not knowing whether he should continue. “Did you cheat on her or something...I’m not going to judge-” Tim stops mid way after hearing his own question out loud. He cringes at the contradiction, because isn’t that what he’s doing just now? Assuming, judging away. He tries to right his wrong. “I didn’t mea-“ Armie slams the notebook shut and stomps over. “Is that what you think?” Armie’s eyes grow into a cold, icy blue. He clenches his jaw. “You think I went off and fucked someone else? You think this-“ Armie gestures to the direction of Harpers room and his voice breaks “Is all my fault don’t you?” “Wait! No- Armie” “You think I would willingly fuck my whole family over? You think Id do that to Harper?” Armie is shaking now, visibly furious all over. When Armie pulls his arm back and makes a reach to Tim’s head, Tim automatically flinches as if he was expecting a punch to his head. Armie sees this and backs his head back, indignant. His arm extends to the bottle of gin behind Tim. Like Armie would ever. Winces and laughs bitterly- adds “and you think i’m violent too? So you think i’m an abusive cheater is that right?” Armie’s voice wavers and he can’t even meet Tim’s eyes. Tim is slewing out apologizes at this point but Armie doesn’t register. Armie cuts him off- “‘m a drunk too-“ He watches on as Armie flicks the cap of the bottle off and swigs gulps from the bottle. Counts as Armie’s adams apple bounces once, twice, three times- and hes already halfway through. This whole thing must have caused a commotion because Harper is now in the living room visibly distressed. Tim makes his way over to her-but Armie holds him in place. “Just don’t.” Armie takes Harpers hand and leads her back to the bedroom. Armie puts her back in bed and “Sorry baby- daddy doesn’t feel so good. Sorry we woke you.” Harper must have signed him something because Armie responds with “Okay, Daddy will sing you a lullaby. Okay, with the guitar too.” Armie sways through the living room and pulls out an acoustic guitar. He flops himself at the corner of Harper’s bed and starts strumming-Tim quickly recognizes the song. Tim watches from the living room in awe.
Drink up, baby, stay up all night
With the things you could do, you won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days, do what I say
And I'll make you okay and drive them away
The images stuck in your head
People you've been before that you
Don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still
Drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again, between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there, with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot... Tim feels a pang shoot through his chest. Armie doesn’t finish the song because Harper is now back to sleep. He gathers his things, kisses the top of her forehead before backing out of her bedroom door. Closes the door gently before he spots Tim. “You’re still here?” He picks up whats left of the gin and gulps the rest down earnestly. Some gin escapes the confines of his mouth and trickles down the side of his chin. “Im sorry.” Tim repeats but Armie doesn’t hear it. Armie won’t hear it. Armie grabs another unopened bottle and proceeds to open it. Tim closes the gap between them and all but wrestles the unopened bottle from Armie’s hands. “Stop, Armie. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you are any of those things.” But Armie’s quick and his hands are on another bottle already. Tim musters all his strength and manages to manhandle that bottle from him as well. Armie’s not making eye contact and not acknowledging his words so Tim begins shaking his shoulders. Armie doesn’t meet his eyes. Tim didn’t know Armie’s cold shoulders could be so cold. He’d rather have Armie yelling at him than ignoring him, honestly. He feels defeated in guilt and remorse and doesn’t know what else to do so he just recoils into himself while he watches Armie open another bottle. He can’t bear to leave Armie like this so pulls a seat next to him and takes a swig from the bottle himself. Armie side eyes him, quirks up an eyebrow. This is the first time Armie has acknowledged him ever since giving him the silent treatment and they go one for one. A swig for a swig. They sit in silence save for the sloshing sounds of liquid. Tim burps and this sounds like the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Hes laughing now and looks to his side to see if Armie has also enjoyed his burp as much as he has but finds Armie head to the table, a slight drool collecting at the corner of his lips. Armie’s knocked out cold. Tim, inebriated as he is, seems to have grown super-strength abilities as he thinks its a good idea as any to tuck Armie into bed. This is the least he could do for the mess hes created, he justifies. He first tries to carry Armie off the chair by hooking his hands under his shoulders. He tries his best to lift the weight, but nothing gives. He succeeds in lifting Armie’s head off the table momentarily, but then Armies head goes slack and hits the table. Tim gasps and takes a hold of Armie’s head and rubs at the area-kisses the area that was harmed. Tim is so hell bent in figuring out a way to get Armie to his bed that he missed that quirk of Armie’s lips. Tim is profusely sweating while trying out a variety of ways to get Armie off the chair. He resorts to pulling on his pant legs and it works for the most part...with Armie now halfway slumped down in the chair. Tim gives it one last tug and he’s propelling backwards. Tim rolls over and finds himself tangled in fabric. He looks down first at the ball of fabric in his hand and recognizes the pattern of....Armie’s pajama bottoms. Armie is down to his boxer briefs. Tim makes a quick scan-over the bulge and back again. Has to bite down on his knuckles at the sight before him. Makes an executive decision to grab a hold of Armie’s ankles, place them on the back of his shoulders and wheel barrow him to his bedroom door. He hears the thump of Armie’s head and winces for him. Says sorry to the open air. Giggles a little. Makes his way to Armie’s bedroom and sees a mass in the middle of his bed. Squints in the darkness to make out the figure. That damn stuffed mouse. Does Armie sleep with it? Tim chest swells. Tim manages to lift up the covers and drag Armie on top of his bed. He grabs the end of the covers and attempts to tuck Armie in when he feels Armie’s strong hand clasp on top of his back and pull him in. He drunk wrestles a drunk and sleepy Armie (has Armie been awake this entire time?) and Tim finds himself trap beneath Armie’s body. He’s too exhausted from hauling Armie’s body earlier and shifts a little to get comfortable. They end up in a position with Armie’s face burrowed at the crook of his neck, Armie’s naked thigh thrown over his naked thigh (he must have lost his own pants on the trek to the bedroom he muses). He feels the call of sleep tugging at his eyes but before he’s out completely he hears Armie mumble- “She left me for my best friend. Tim...and i’m sorry for tonight too.” He feels the purse and pressure of Armie’s lips to his neck before he’s out like a light.
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Chapter 8 The white yellow morning light lasered its way through the blinds and for a moment thats all that Tim could see. The stark brightness against the dark. The blinds off the windowsill shuffling with the wind. Tiny specks of lint gleam, floating in the air. He arches his back and fits his mouth for a lazy yawn but his tongue meets fur. Cotton. He blinks the sleep away from his eyes and peers through his eyelashes- he sees Todd, the stuff mouse cradled between the crook of his arm. Tim shrieks to the empty bedroom before him and Todd, that damn freaking mouse is sent flying across the room. It hits the floor momentarily, the plastic of its eyes and nose clatters against the marble. Todd tumbles and rolls until it loses its momentum. Unfortunately it stills in a way that has the damn stuff animal staring. back at him. Its big mousey eyes boring into Tim’s soul. It stares-judging. Knowing. He sees a molding of Armie’s frame on the bedsheet beside him. Tim runs his hands along the ridges of lines, convinces himself that he’s still asleep so that anything he does in this state wont matter. That dreams usually make no sense at all-that the unusual was the usual... so he brings his nose to the indentation of what was Armie’s head and inhales. He breathes in until he has wiped the sheet clean from the smell-but he needs more. So Tim props himself on all fours and towers the spot Armie’s left. He wavers the tip of his nose atop the sheet and gingerly smells the space beneath him. He snakes his way from the top, but by the bottom he’s suffocating himself with the sent, physically needs to remind himself to take a breath of air by forcing his face left. His turns his face and breathes, his smashed cheek on the bed, a slight drool collecting on his lips because Armie smell is intoxicatingly delicious and he had been building an appetite this entire time. He meets the mouse eyes and Todd just stares, stare, and stares. Is that a smile? was there always a smile? He never took notice before. Tim tries to flatten himself into Armies mold and he pushes into the bed. Fidgets until it feels right. It starts feeling too right and Tim is seconds away from burying his palm and spilling a load when he cant take it anymore. He jumps from the bed and Turns the stuffed animal face down. On his way back to bed...to resume business-a whiff catches him. It comes from the kitchen. If there is one thing that might ever trump Tims horniness, its hunger and gluttony might just be his favorite sin. He follows the scented swirl of syrup, pancakes and eggs and finds himself in the kitchen. He sees a medley of breakfast food on top of the kitchen counter. Hes a fork away from having the plates licked clean when he spots an envelope at the far left corner. He recognizes Armie’s handwriting immediately. T, for the extra hours you put in last night. p.s I always knew you’d end up as my human pillow. -A A wad of twenty dollar bills. Tim scoffs and rolls his eyes. Of course. His cell phone dings once, twice and three times before his notification starts sounding like a song on its own. Tim carries his mug of coffee to the commotion and is halfway from the sip to a swallow when he opens his messages to a photo of Armie at the charity event....in the DRESS! The coffee burns down his throat. Armies in that fucking dress. The dress that was meant to be a prank. The dress that he was supposed to be “heheheheh” and “hahahahha”ing “just kidding, man” before he got drunk last night. Text messages from Ilaria-strewn together cuss words- “What the fuck Tim? Are you trying to lose your job?” He really isn’t though. Not anymore, anyway. He figures he just needs to ambush this event and get Armie out of that dress and into the back up outfit as soon as he can. He needs to be there now. He needs to be there yesterday- Tim whirls around Armie’s place and is almost out the door keys jingly in hand when he yells out a “FUCK!” Tim stomps his way back into the bedroom and yanks Todd from the floor...places him back on the bed. Pats the top of its head and tucks it under the blanket. Tim nearly trips down the stairs, running to his car...
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Chapter 9
In a blink of an eye Timmy finds himself mazing through silhouettes of figures- a mixture of suit and ties, elegant dresses and silver platters. It was as if he had teleported there- the drive blurring through traffic lights and blurred out greenery-trees then turning into city scenery. He found himself on the 32 floor of a hotel conference room- eagle eyed and with a purpose. He nearly trampled into those unlucky to be in his path, murmuring apologies, pats on shoulders with an “Excuse me,” the other hand holding the back up outfit behind his back-like a present in disguise. He feels the food Armie’s cooked him settle around in his belly and he feels the nausea of guilt threaten to bring it all back up. He stills for a moment and scans the room, twirls a whole 180 until his eyes picks up on the shine of the dress but of course Armie doesn’t see him. Or if he does, he doesn’t let on. Tim feels his whole body shudder as he takes in the sight of Armie. Every pore on his skin feels like its giving him a standing ovation. Every hair follicle magnetized. Since Armie still hasn’t caught sight of Tim, Tim observes the damage. The sequined dress fits more like a tunic now, tucked intentionally into his trousers at the front and untucked and hanging loose at the sides. It peaks out from under a tailored midnight colored blazer, collar popped, sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms. Tim swallowed a gulp- Armie looked like a walking starry night sky. When Armie smiles- there! The crescent of the moon. Tim thinks Armies eyes might be galaxies in and of themselves. Must be he muses-Must be the gravitational pull he thinks as the radius of people making their way to Armie continuously expands- Suddenly an old nursery rhyme pops up in Tim’s mind -the first star i see tonight i wish i may i wish i might, have this wish i wish tonight. Tim wishes and when he wishes he closes his eyes. He smells him before his eyes even gain sight. He hears the ice clatter against the glass as Armie swirls his whiskey ‘round. “What are you doing here? You missed me already?” Armie asks the last thing like he already knows the answer. He hums a “Hmmm” and peers over Tim’s shoulders. “And you brought me a present? You shouldn’t have...” Armie bridges the gap and encloses his arms around Timmy for a hug. It wasn’t a hug intended though as Armie wiggles out the hanger from Tim’s grasp. “And whats this?” “I-uh” Tim stammers an incoherent sentence. “So what you mean to tell me is that you really thought I was that dumb? What was your intention exactly?” Tim opens his lips but no sounds emit from his mouth. Instead his mouth becomes a wobbling, quivering mess. He feels the sting behind his eyelids and he is so filled with remorse and anger towards himself and what hes done or was trying to do that he knows he’s seconds away from waterworks. “....so you were trying to humiliate me Tim? Well, thats where your plan would have failed. I don’t care about what people think-just, just leave.” Tim tries to make eye contact with Armie in the first attempt at trying to make it all right. But Armie is red faced and looking at his toes. Hes red faced and playing with the sequins of the dress. He fumbles his fingers and touches his throat. “Just go and don’t come back.” Armie turns his back and he’s so quick on his heels that Tim is speed walking after him. “Armie! Stop! Please...” Tim attempts to capture his elbow mid stride. He misses and Armie whips around, face laden with anger. Armie’s face softens, “Jesus, what-are you crying?” The pad of his thumb almost reach Tim’s cheek but Armie catches himself fast- retracts like hes been scalded. He winces, “Nice try.” and adds “You’re still fired.” “But-but you even said you don’t care about what people think. Whats the big deal?” Tim yells, hopes his words travel to Armie’s ears as it drifts farther and farther away. “I care. About you-and what you think.” Armie says as he exits the building. Tim so far back that it would be impossible for him to have heard it-hell it was soft enough that Armie may not have been able to hear it himself.