Page 80 of Nothing to Do

“And he asked you to feel sorry for him?”

“No! I felt sorry for him before that.”

“Growing up with Roman couldn’t have been easy,” Roxie agreed, carrying on. “And growing up wearing his face…”

“But that’s the thing, it’s not his face. I mean it is, but… Struan’s whole sense of identity is tied into Roman’s. How does the guy know what he wants anymore? Like last night, you and Zairn came to,” what was supposed to be, “the cookout. Tripp, me and Zane, we can relax and be ourselves. Imagine knowing—”

“Everyone wants to watch, and maybe pounce on, you because they believe you’re your brother.”

“Does he date?”

Roxie drew back. “Are you interested?”

“Oh my God, no!” She laughed. “You’re crazy woman! It’s curiosity…”

“Like a freakshow exhibit.” Roxie’s head relaxed to the side. “That’s a good point, how does the man get laid? Does every woman think he’s his brother? Maybe he’s gay. Still, guys might think he’s his brother too.” She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Only one way to solve this.”

The brush went back into the bag and she handed over the mascara tube before flouncing to her purse at the window.

“What are you doing?”

Roxie dug around for a second and pulled something out, triumphant, a phone, only to immediately deflate. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Roxie declared and dropped the phone back into her purse before floating to the phone by the bedside to pick up the receiver. “If anyone asks, you’re having a torrid affair with Zairn.”

The woman said the oddest things. And though her brows went up, Roxie didn’t notice. Her friend was busy tapping digits. She paused, hit speaker, then hung up and sat on the bed. Ringing echoed between them.

“Who are we calling?”

Just having the option to call was a novelty. One she’d considered embracing for a brief spell, then remembered she was way behind in her project so didn’t want to speak to her boss.

“This is an unknown number,” a male voice interrupted the ringing. “Juni? May? Is that April?”

“Do you have a woman for every month of the year, Skippy?”

“And day of the week too,” he said. “Tibbs will fit you in.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Don’t you need a headshot? Naked pictures or…?”

“Ah, I’m not that picky, sweetheart. Have you seen the Empress?”

“Funny, funny, guy,” Roxie said, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “You know what will be really funny? Watching you try to suck your own cock. Mm, yeah, I think I’ll get the camera out for that one. Host a special edition of my stream.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve shared us with the world.”

“What we are is not their business.”

Silence descended. Not awkward or uncomfortable, profound, intimate.

“I love you, Scroogey.”

“I know, Lola Bunny,” he said and quickly changed tack. “Now what do you want?”

“Is Struan seeing anyone?” The quiet that followed stretched so long, even Roxie jerked. “Casanova?”

“This is how these things start, with questions like that one.”

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