Page 47 of Idle

He counters by throwing a punch into my gut that makes me bend over for a second. Hands on my knees, I look up at him and yell, “You asked for this!” I race toward him and throw my weight against his abdomen, sending him flying into the side table. The lamp crashes to the floor.

Not a second later, he jumps at me, throwing me into the wall with a thud. One of the nondescript paintings flies to the floor.

We roll around, each grappling for the upper hand. Bo lands particularly hard hits to my stomach and upper pecs. I counter with a hook to his jaw. With energy mustered from deep within me, I toss him off my body. He whacks the dresser with a satisfying thump.

Standing, he shakes his head, howls, and charges me. I’m ready for him this time and sidestep his bulk at the last second, causing him to plow into the side of the nearby bunk bed. He bounces off the frame and grabs my waistband.

The door flies open. “What are you two doing?” Mary Ellen’s voice cuts through our grunting. “Bo! Jesse! Stop it this minute.” Panting, both of us turn angry gazes to her. “I repeat. What the hell are you doing?”

Dropping his hold on my shorts, Bo singsongs, “Ooh. She cursed. She must be mad.”

For my part, I pick up the shirt I threw on the floor when Bo first approached me. Like a child, I add, “He started it.”

“I bet he did.” Mary Ellen approaches her ex-husband and tweaks his ear, causing him to bend at the waist. “What is wrong with you?”

“How about what’s wrong withyou? You never were this assertive when we were married.”

She shoves him away so they’re as far apart as the room allows. “I should’ve been.”

“Never would’ve married you if I thought you were like this.”

“I would’ve been much better off.”

While the pair trades insults, I gather my pajamas and go into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I walk to the mirror where I see red marks on my chest. Asshole. I strip and take a shower, trying to erase the dinner and this fight. When I’ve toweled off, I put on my pajama bottoms and take a deep breath.

Putting my ear on the doorway, I don’t hear anything, so I hope it’s all clear. Unlocking the door, I notice the painting has been rehung and the side table righted, with the lamp off to the side by the garbage can. Bo’s leaning against the bunk, alone.

Reminding myself of Mr. Hooper’s advice not to let all this drama mess with my head, I dump my dirty clothes into the bag serving as my hamper, rip the sheets off my bed, and walk out of the bedroom. He can do whatever he wants in here. I enter the public area and am alone. Thank God. I don’t need to deal with Mary Ellen or Paige.

In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of beer out of the fridge and stalk to the living room. Choosing one of the three sofas, I begin to set up my bed for the night. Forgot my pillow, but one of these toss ones will have to do. Sitting down, I down my beer and pray that tomorrow’s a better day. Picturing my sister standing next to me, I absorb some of her positivity—which mirrors Paige’s. Before all hell broke loose at dinner.

Settling into my makeshift bed, I try to expel the images of Paige from my mind. Even if she’s no longer with the cowboy, she’s still off limits per Xander and Theo. Besides, Homer taught me well that business comes before pleasure, and this show is all business.

I shut my eyes but open them minutes later when someone enters the room.

15

Paige

When Mary Ellen returns to the bedroom after breaking up the fight next door, it’s as if something has shifted between us. She stepped into the fray when the mere sounds paralyzed me, catapulting me back to my parents’ apartment. Not to mention, we’ve both suffered Bo—she for far longer and to this day on the show. I open my arms and embrace my roomie. We’re both in tight spots, and we need to stick together.

After she yawns, adrenaline clearly crashing, I leave her to get ready for bed and cross the room to my bunk. I’m still too pumped over Bo’s disgusting behavior to sleep, so I grab my notes and design notebook and hold them up. “I don’t want to bother you. I’m going to take this outside.”

I enter the public area, and all’s quiet. Seems the guys hugged it out like Mary Ellen and I did. The mental picture this conjures is incongruous. I snort. Can’t imagine Jesse doing that.

“Paige?”

A familiar tenor voice drifts from the sofa area. “Jesse?”

His sandy brown head pops up from behind the sofa back and he waves. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”

Leaving my paperwork on the island, I cross the room. “The better question is what areyoudoing out here?” I survey his makeshift bed. “Sleeping?”

“Couldn’t share a bedroom with that jerk any longer.”

“I heard your fight. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No permanent scars.” He smiles. “I’m fine, really.” When he becomes upright, the sheet falls to his lap and a large red patch on his chest reveals itself.

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