6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Stanley
Well, that was a complete and total bomb.
A real Daddy fail.
Was Jobe so jaded that pointing out what I saw set him off? Who was I kidding, no one enjoyed when another pointed out what they wanted no one to see.
It had been days since our date and not a word from Jobe.
Think, Stanley. What would you do to cheer up one of your boys?
Got it. I hoped…
Me: Wanted: A boy for Christmas
Christmas was only a few weeks away. Would he play along or tell me to get lost?
Jobe: I think you meant to send this to one of your boys.
Well, strike one didn’t go as planned.
Me: Tell Santa what you want for Christmas.
Jobe: Are you drinking? It’s only ten am.
Strike two.
Me: No. This was a feeble attempt to get you to laugh and talk to me. Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did to offend you during our date. I assure you that was not my intention.
When in doubt, try the truth.
In lieu of a text, Jobe actually called me.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he sighed. “Look, it wasn’t so much what you said but more what it made me realize.”
“And what was that?” Okay, so maybe I didn’t descend into flames.
“Honestly, what a mess I am. I’ve never had a real relationship. I have zero direction in life. How could I ever expect anyone to want me when I don’t even want myself?”
“Jobe, don’t say such awful things about my boy.” A bold move, I admit, but time to see where it went. Given the fact I couldn’t get him off my mind, I was already half in this non-existent relationship.
“Your boy?” he scoffed. “I’m not a little, Stanley. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m well aware of that but what I see is a boy in need. What are you doing today?” With Jobe I got the feeling it was better to show rather than tell. But ceasing the attitude and unkind words about himself was key.
“Nothing.”
“I’ll be over this afternoon, and I’ll bring dinner.” What the hell was wrong with me? How did my warped mind, not to mention my heart, find such joy in helping this lonely boy find his?
Because you’re a Daddy and that’s your gift.
It was unseasonably cold for Vegas this time of year, so I erected a plan to have an indoor picnic with Jobe. I pulled the long since used basket from the closet and dusted it off. After making a list of foods, I headed off toward the grocery store but had a couple other stops to make along the way. I had a feeling it’d been some time since Jobe received any gifts and there was nothing I loved more than spoiling a boy.
Having never seen the inside of his place, I opted for light and silly. Though Jobe claimed he wasn’t a boy, instinct told me otherwise. With everything purchased and my plan in motion, I spent a few minutes in the parking garage putting the gift bag and basket together and carried both along with a fluffy blanket I kept in the car inside.
“Stanley Grainger to see Jobe Worthy in apartment four-A.”
The doorman eyed me and paused at my full hands before he called up to Jobe’s place. “You’ve been approved. Please proceed, sir. The elevators are behind you.”
“Thank you. Have a good day.” With a nod, I was off and caught the elevator just as another exited.
Deep breath, Stanley. This one won’t be rushed. Watch the signs and act accordingly.
“Noted.”
When I exited the elevator there stood Jobe.
“Good afternoon, Jobe.” I nodded, doing my best to keep my cool.
“Hello, Stanley. What is all this?” He almost smiled then caught himself as he reached for the basket. “Let me help you.”
So far, so good.
We stepped inside and Jobe sat the gift bag on the glass top dining table, and I carefully placed the basket beside it.
“Your place is amazing.” He had a large white leather sectional that faced the wall of windows. In the distance you got a glimpse of the strip. I could only imagine how beautiful the picturesque scene was when lit up at night. Various pieces of art adorned the walls but there were no pictures of Jobe nor anyone else. While his place was nice, and quite clean, it lacked the warmth a home should have.
“Thank you. One of my wiser investments. Here, let me show you around.” He stood where he was and pointed to each space. “Living room, dining room, kitchen.”
“And down the hall?”
“Three bedrooms and two bathrooms. A couple of closets. Not much else.”
“Why don’t you show me your favorite room.” I meant the sewing room and hoped he didn’t misunderstand.
I followed him down the hall and he paused outside one of the closed doors and pointed ahead. “That is my bedroom, the one at the other end is a guest room that has never been used and here,” he tapped the door, “is the sewing room.”
“Can we take a peek inside?”
He sighed. “Yeah, but just don’t make fun of me.”
“Dear boy,” when he didn’t respond I tilted his chin up, so we were nearly eye to eye. Jobe was everything my past boys were not, including tall. “I would never dream of doing such a thing. This room is important to you and therefore it’s important to me.”
He nodded and slowly opened the door.
“Wow.” The room was filled with materials and containers of colorful bits and baubles. There were two desks, one was a backlit drafting table. The tilted top was covered in sketches and the other desk held the sewing machine and a mound of swatches. “This is amazing.”
“Would be more amazing if my creations matched the aesthetic. He walked over to a mannequin wearing a sexy lace ensemble. “I’m having a hell of a time with this one.”
“What seems to be the sticking point?” Was that the right way to verse it? I really must read up on seamstress lingo.
“The outfits are starting to feel mundane, lifeless. Like I’ve lost my touch or maybe I never really had it. Stupid dream, really.”
“I beg to differ. First off, this is fantastic and I bet it looks even better on you than this plain old mannequin.” That got a slight blush to his cheeks. “No dream is stupid if it brings you happiness.” The light in his eyes had dimmed and while I wasn’t a fan of snark in a boy, without it, Jobe was lost. A defense mechanism it would seem.
He slid his fingertips along the mannequin. “So, you brought a gift?”
Ah, now we were getting somewhere.
I took his hand in mine. “I did, though you’ll probably think it stupid of me.” I didn’t mean it but having him feel what his words just did to me felt appropriate in return.
“Gifts aren’t stupid, they’re nice.”
His whispered words drew my Daddy out and I led him to the bag. “Go ahead, rip into it.” And that he did. Mentally, I patted my own back for selecting colorful crepe paper to pack it with as opposed to shredded. He might not have been as wild with tiny papers flying all over his immaculate space.
“A teddy bear?” he questioned while simultaneously cuddling it. “Thank you.”
“There’s more.”
His face lit up as he dug deep and pulled a plush blankie from the bottom.
“It’s so soft,” he rubbed it against his cheek. “Thank you.” Jobe traced the teddy’s bow. “I’m not a boy.”
Not a boy, huh?
“You’re not a little, big difference, but I do believe you’re a boy. You just have to allow yourself to let loose and enjoy the things that truly make you happy.
“You’re welcome. Now, where shall we set up lunch?” I spied a spot directly in front of the windows that was ideal and set up. Jobe handed me the basket then proceeded to drape his new blanket over the back of the couch and propped his bear against it. I pretended not to notice and kept to the task at hand.
“You had me at wine,” Jobe slid down beside me as I set up our appetizer, a charcuterie board.
I picked up a chunk of gouda and slid it between his lips. “Glad to hear it, but this is only the beginning.” I poured us each a glass of wine while we enjoyed our snacks and the amazing view. For me, that was Jobe. With each crack of his shell, I saw a new piece of the boy he’d never been allowed to be.
“Am I just a project to you? A version of build your own boy?”
“Far from it. Projects are strictly for business, in my opinion. What I seek is the real Jobe, the one no one ever met before.” He was silent for a few moments, and I feared I’d once again gone too far.
“I began modeling when I was seven. Traveled the world for most of my life. Birthdays, holidays, all of that was forgotten in lieu of the limelight. My nanny, paid for by my earnings, traveled with us and homeschooled me while on the road. As far as friends went, she was the closest I ever had, though she was paid to deal with me.”
Jesus, my heart broke for him.
“My parents were hardly around. Only came and went long enough to sign the next contract and get me set up then they were off spending my money. I shouldn’t complain. I was fed and had a safe place to sleep. Nice clothes, courtesy of the brands I modeled for. Wasn’t like they abused me, just…ignored me.”
“That’s a form of abuse, Jobe.” He was nothing more than a paycheck to them. Killed me how some who shouldn’t have children were able to while others who’d make fantastic parents were denied.
Nothing in this life would ever make sense to me.