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Three
The woman lying in the sand was tall, given the way her limbs splayed attractively into a pose as she leered at the camera lens.
Gia’s claim she was dating a celebrity had given Jayson an idea. He’d called his stepbrother, Mason, later that day and, as luck had it, learned that Mas had a photoshoot scheduled with a supermodel.
Cha-ching.
Mason squatted in the sand in front of the woman and gave her commands like “sultry, now sweet, give me a smile” while the shutter clicks from his camera fired.
Jayson had heard enough teasing over the years to last a lifetime. Mason and Jayson, are you two twins or something? The answer was obvious just by looking. Jayson had a wider, thicker build than his brother. Mason was tall and slim, with an added four inches of height. They’d both had goatees years ago, but Jayson had abandoned his. Now he either shaved or didn’t and those were the only two options.
“Beautiful, Natasha,” Mason praised the model as he lowered his camera. Beautiful Natasha was an apt nickname. The bikini-clad goddess with sand stuck to her boobs had graced many a magazine. She was on the cover of last year’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. This year she’d been replaced on the cover, but was still featured inside, and today she was shooting her own calendar.
Landing the Natasha Tovar was a big win for Mas. He’d started his career taking family portraits, made a brief foray as a wedding photographer—Jayson and Gia’s wedding, actually—and then Mason had stumbled into shooting models, which was harder than one might imagine in California.
“We have it?” Natasha brushed sand from her supple body before slipping on a white “robe,” for lack of a better term.
Jayson could see right through it and when the cups of her bikini top wet the robe, they were a pair of fluorescent orange globes he had trouble looking away from.
“Who’s this?” She toweled her hair and walked every inch of her mostly legs body toward Jayson.
“This is my brother, Jayson Cooper. Goes by Cooper.” Mason slanted a glance from Natasha to Jayson, his eyebrows winging upward as if to say I told you she was perfect.
“Nice to meet you, Cooper.” She extended a hand, which he accepted. She left sand in his palm. She didn’t introduce herself and Jayson figured it was because she didn’t have to. He possessed a penis therefore he should know who she was. She excused herself and walked up the beach toward a trailer.
“She’s putting that wiggle into her walk for you,” Mason said. He thumbed through some of the shots on his Canon while the lighting guy left behind his umbrellas and reflector panels to seek out the food truck parked in front of the more populated part of the beach. “You hungry?”
“Always,” Jayson said.
“That food truck sucks—” Mason tipped his head to indicate the direction his lighting guy went “—but I brought Chester’s homemade tamales.”
Jayson’s stomach roared. Mason’s husband made the best tamales on the planet. “I am not above eating half your lunch. Especially if Ches made it.”
“He’s a keeper.” Mason smiled.
At eighteen years old, after he graduated high school, Mason had come out officially. Jayson’s response? A nonchalant shrug. He couldn’t have been less surprised.
Mason’s father, Albert, was alarmed, which helped Jayson realize that his stepfather rarely paid attention to life outside of work. But, Albert was also a good man and, while it took him longer, he accepted that his son was gay. Jayson’s mom, Julia, was as unsurprised as Jayson. She’d helped Albert realize the truth: Mason was still Mason, no matter who he loved.
Anyway, that was ancient history. Mason and Chester had wed two years ago and were now like any boring married couple. Or, what Jayson thought a boring married couple should be like. He and Gia hadn’t made it to “boring.”
The brothers split a pan of tamales—thankfully, Mason had two forks—while sitting on a piece of driftwood watching the waves crash on the shore. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
“Can’t believe you drove all this way to meet her. You must be desperate,” Mason said around a final bite.
Jayson tossed his fork on the empty pan and swiped his teeth with his tongue. How to respond to that? Mason knew Jay needed a wedding date—an impressive one—but Jay hadn’t told him why.
He hadn’t shared with his brother that he’d brought Gia to orgasm six months ago and since then she’d shut him out like it’d never happened. It wasn’t unlike right before their divorce hearing, when they’d had car sex. Unplanned, mind-blowing car sex. Then, five days later, Gia showed up at court with ice in her veins like she hadn’t felt the earth move.
But mind-blowing car sex could not a marriage save. Whenever they were arguing, and that became more and more often near the end, she claimed she couldn’t be with someone who “controlled” her. Jayson, whose real father had controlled their household with fists and fear, never reacted well to that accusation.
“Want to tell me why you need a supermodel as your wedding date?” Mason asked.
Well. What the hell.
“Gia is bringing a date to her brother Royce’s wedding. I’m not showing up alone.”
“How mature.”
