Page 18 of Work It Out
He flew through the back door, down the deck stairs, past the windows, and…threw up in the bushes.
The only thought in his head as he hit his knees and his vision fuzzed out completely was,At least no one can see me. Who knew how long he sat there? Might’ve been minutes or hours. He wasn’t exactly with it when this happened.
“I knew it!” a familiar voice shouted. “I knew that girl was lying to me.”
Why, God? Why?He said his prayers and went to confession. Sometimes. He was trying to take better care of himself. Why did it have to be this hard?
Wiping his mouth with his forearm, Jake sat back on his heels. “What are you doing here, Granny? I thought happy hour with your boytoy was at seven.” Slowly, he turned his head toward her. The black haze in his vision was fading, but he was nowhere near out of the woods.
Jean sniffed and scooted her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Don’t try to change the subject, Christopher. I knew Rayah lied about you needing to settle into a routine before you could come see me. For four days? You’ve been sick, haven’t you?”
Sighing, Jake shifted to sit on his backside. Might as well. If he tried to stand up too soon, that’s where he’d end up anyway. “I do need to settle into my routine. And that routine won’t be easy. I don’t have time for easy. It’s safe to assume this won’t be the last time I decorate the shrubbery.”
Shawn Tregar, Jake’s agent, had called early that morning in a tizzy after he’d seen the CMM article. Jake had known it wasn’t a done deal, but if the studio was considering two of The Chrises—a core group of go-to stars Hollywood had been leaning on hard for years—he was even shorter on time than he’d thought. Shawn swore Jake’s refusal to use a trainer the studio knew and would trust would give him an ulcer and cost Jake the part. Sometimes, being the guy’s biggest client was more curse than blessing.
But Shawn was Snoop Dogg chill compared to Granny. “Get your things, Christopher. You’re coming home with me.”
“I can’t do that.” He groaned and rested his head in his hands. The damn thing suddenly weighed a ton. “Too many people are counting on me.” He was counting on himself.
“What did your father say?”
He was surprised it had taken her so long to ask.
“He said I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions.”
Her lips pursed. “I highly doubt that.”
“That’s because his exact words were, ‘You’re twenty-five, so you know everything. It’s your funeral.’” Jake turned toward that sardonic voice. Pierce loped down the steps and over to place a kiss on her cheek. “He’s medically cleared, Granny. George told me what to watch for and said that, as long as he pays attention to his body and adapts where necessary, he should be fine—fucking miserable but fine.”
Jean glared up at him.
Pierce put both hands in the air. “That was his official diagnosis.”
Thank God no one had consulted his father about the altitude sickness. He’d never have heard the end of that.
Granny looked back and forth between them. “I still don’t like it. But at least he can come home now that he’s feeling better.”
Like hell.
“I’m good where I am, Granny. But thanks.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Did I say, ‘If it please Your Highness?’”
Where was Gramps when he needed him? He was the only one who could talk her out of a snit.
“Ow. Damn it!”
Pierce frowned. “Was that Rayah?”
“Sounded like.” And it sounded like she was in trouble. “Take Granny inside. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“Maybe I should go,” Pierce began.
“I’ll go.” Granny spoke over him. “I’d like to hear what Rayah thinks of all this.”
Jake was in no mood to be polite. “No, you won’t. You’ll go inside with Pierce and mind your business. I have to do this, and because you love me, you’ll respect my choices and my privacy. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Granny tried to argue, but Pierce distracted her by asking for her opinion on his new almond flour blueberry muffin recipe. She loved blueberries almost as much as she loved telling people what was wrong with their cooking.
