Page 11 of Secret Hudson

“Oh, thanks, babe. Alright, everyone. Let’s eat!”

Dinner flies by with massive amounts of food being brought to the table every five minutes in true Ava fashion. Personally, I'm pretty sure she only orders so much to have an excuse to feed random homeless people after every meal of the day. I can’t even count the amount of times she’s had Darrel pull over on a moment’s notice to hand out to-go boxes and cash anytime she spots someone standing on the side of the road with a cardboard sign.

Although everyone is sitting within inches of each other, with the main topic of conversation being the band, it's impossible to try and talk to Hudson, even though he's seated directly across from me. Of course, that has its perks at least, since he makes eye contact with me and smiles anytime someone says something funny.

I try to tell myself I'm only rebounding from Garrett, and therefore going out of my way to convince myself Hudson and I have a connection, in hopes that it will make me feelbetter about Garrett screwing that old fuck. But on some level, I know it's bullshit because I only even remember the whole Garrett debacle after I search my analytical brain for a rational reason for the feelings swarming to the pit of my stomach, and below, anytime Hudson smiles at me. A rational reason. One that's more reliable than the ridiculous prospect of falling for a guy I only just met this morning. Except it's that ridiculous prospect that feels truer than anything else I’ve been able to come up with.

After dinner, the guys and I make the rounds to say our polite goodbyes before Ava shuttles each of us out of the building and into the limo waiting out back. I'm pleasantly surprised to find Hudson already sitting in it when I climb in.

“Damn, that was a long dinner party.” Ava crawls over Angel’s lap to get to Blaise. When she finally gets the seat she wants, she looks around the limo, grinning from ear to ear. “Finally. All my boys in one place and no interruptions in sight.”

Naturally, Derek’s phone begins to vibrate loudly, followed up by Sammy’s newest ringtone, Eminem’sCrazy In Love, blasting through the car.

Everyone jumps forward in unison, prepared to tackle the damn phone from his hands, but he beats us to it when he rolls down the window and throws the thing out into the street while we cruise along at a steady fifty plus miles per hour.

Angel leans back into his seat, shaking his head. “That wasn’t smart.”

“Fuck it. I’ll get a new phone tomorrow.” This shit is taking its toll on Derek and I can’t help but wonder what it's doing to Sammy.

Angel points out toward the road behind us. “Dude, you better hope that shit got busted. If someone picks it up, we’re all going to have to get new phones tomorrow.”

Derek closes his eyes, banging the back of his head against the seat behind him. “Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.” He runs his fingers over his face. “I have fucking pictures on there, too. Motherfucker. Why is she doing this?”

I tap his foot with mine to get his attention. “Hey, man. No way that phone survived. I mean, look at all the traffic. That shit’s been run over like a hundred times already. Plus, you’ve got a lock on it, right? Besides, no one would be able tell it was yours just by looking at it. Whoever finds it, if anyone finds it, they’ll probably just toss it.”

He still doesn’t look convinced. “You better be right. Otherwise, I might as well call a divorce attorney right now.”

Ava scowls. “What kind of fucking pictures do you have on there? Are you messing around on Sammy?” Crazy bitch or not, the girl is still family. For now.

Judging by the confused expression on Derek’s face, the thought of cheating never even crossed his mind. Not that I expected otherwise. Guys who run out and get married at twenty don’t tend to have much interest in sleeping around. Derek is the type of dude who genuinely enjoys being a husband. Takes pride in it. Which is making this whole thing with Sammy that much harder to watch.

“The pictures are of fucking Sammy! She’s probably sending me shots of her naked tits right now trying to make up for being a total twat earlier. With all of the fighting we’ve been doing lately, I get an eyeful of vagina every time I open up a text message these days. My phone’s stocked up with more tits andass than the fucking playboy mansion, and if those pictures get leaked, my marriage is fucking over.”

I stopped listening after ‘eyeful of vagina’. “Meanwhile, how about a fucking heads up about that shit! What if one of us had picked up your phone by accident? I don’t know about everyone else, but I have no desire to have images of Sammy’s pussy permanently deposited in my memory bank.”

I hear Ava giggle from my left and Derek scowls at me. “Dude, seriously?”

“What? You didn’t know Royce was scared of the lady parts?” She twists around and leans forward to address Hudson, who up until now, has remained completely silent, probably out of fear. “Hey Hudson, I gotta know. Do vaginas scare you, too?”

He laughs. “Um. I don’t have any desire to get up close and personal with one, but no, in general I don’t find them frightening.”

Ava shoots me a satisfied grin. “See?”

“See what? That not all gay men have the same outlook on one particular topic? Yeah, that’s a real shocker, Ava.”

“Alright, alright,” Blaise moves forward in his seat, while simultaneously moving Ava back into hers, “Although I hate to break up what was sure to be a very stimulating conversation about vaginas and gay stereotyping, how about we go back to the opening topic. Babe, do you even remember what that was anymore?”

Shit. I don’t.

She huffs indignantly. “Of course, I remember.” Then her usual smile returns as she brings everyone’s attention over to Hudson. “For those of you who have been unable to participateand do not know,” she clears her throat loudly, “Derek.” Then she goes on, “This is Kieran Hudson. He’ll be joining us for the remainder of the tour as our photographer.”

Angel pipes up first. “No offense, but why exactly do we need a photographer?”

“Because a major publishing house wants to put out a book about the band and I’ve decided the least intrusive and most honest way to do that is to have it consist primarily of images. Hudson will be around twenty-four seven to take shots of anything and everything he deems lens worthy. Trust me on this, the guy has an eye like you wouldn’t even believe.” She sounds overly dramatic, but I’ve seen his work. I know she's right. “Anyway, we’ll retain rights to every picture and after the tour, I’ll go through them with Hudson to decide which ones to present to the publisher.”

So. She really did it. She bought me a fucking boyfriend. Yet another reason to be scared of vaginas and anything that comes attached to one.

HUDSON

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