A/N: Welcome back to Crack TV, I'm your host Ruby here to let you know about this amazing new (and unedited) chapter in which Avery tries to ask JR out on a date! Will our prince be victorious and snag the man of his dreams? Or will shenanigans ensue? Stay tuned to find out!
Also, poll for the masses, just how *explicit* would you like to see this story get? Lemme know in the comments!
Quarantine: Day Three, Part Three
The plan was bulletproof.
Step one: Get JR alone. Step two: ask him to dinner. Step three: convince him that Billie Eilish was the greatest musician who ever lived and that he was a dirty, dirty liar for ever thinking otherwise.
Three simple steps. If only Avery's nerves could see it that way.
He paced a hole in the carpet. Quite literally, as he was pacing around in Addy's heels - she had gargantuan feet and left them lying about; it wasn't his fault they looked better on him - and had stomped a little too aggressively on the pivot. Seth had already popped a blood vessel and refused to reenter the room until 'the damage was done'. No doubt he was itching to sew the carpet back together himself. He was weird like that, Avery had to admit. A little too intense about things that absolutely did not matter.
Unlike his three step plan dilemma. Which should not have been a dilemma at all. but it was. Ohhhhhh boy it was.
"Hello JR, fancy seeing you here of all places," Avery purred into the mirror, playing coy with one shoulder tucked up against his face, batting his eyelashes. In his head, JR smiled at him and complimented his outfit, making him laugh. "Oh, this old thing? Stop, you're too kind."
But JR wouldn't stop. No, he would step closer and call Avery the most beautiful man he had ever laid those perfect baby blue eyes on. He would stroke Avery's cheek and tell him that his bone structure was flawless. He would tuck a strand of platinum blond hair behind his ear and tell him that his hair care routine was inspiring. And then, he would lean in and say he could smell the strawberry chapstick on Avery's lips and how much he wanted to lick it off and Avery would let him -
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Addy strode in in a cloud of yellow, tulle puffing out so wide that she had trouble passing though the doorway. That didn't stop her from lowering her sunglasses - really, inside? She wasn't Audrey Hepburn no matter how many cigarettes she smoked during that one trip to Paris - and leveling Avery with a withering glare. Something between pitying and mocking.
"Are you...are you making out with a mirror?"
"N-no."
"You totally were!" Addy cried, smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary. She moved in closer, positively feral. "Who were you imagining in the mirror? Your new boyfriend you burnt the shitty mixtapes for?"
"First of all, my taste in music is impeccable and you know it." Addy's short-lived middle school career as an interpretive dancer would've been nothing but a pipe dream if she didn't have him mix each of her recital tapes with mashups of Katy Perry and Alt-J. "Second of all, I am straight! STRAIGHT! How many times do I need to say it?"
Honestly, it was getting exhausting. He didn't know how the LGBTQ community handled all the scrutiny.
"So JR is a girl's name? Not the name of the musician living in our house who you explicitly asked about the other day?"
"Absolutely."
Fantasizing that cherry chapstick moment was a fluke, a moment of curiosity when faced with someone truly beautiful. Avery was simply in his experimental phase. That was it. Nothing more.
"Uh-huh. So what's it stand for?"
"Jessica...Renee..."
"Jessica Renee. You've never mentioned her before. She sounds like someone mom's age. Or worse, one of those daytime housewives." Addy wrinkled her nose, a whole new level of judgement souring her face. "Don't tell me you're cougar bait."
"I don't want to know what that means." Avery was so over this conversation. "Besides, mom's like, ancient. I'm more into people my own age."
"I'm not!" Rori sing-songed as she sashayed into the room, Niko in tow. "Nothing like a strapping, older man to sweep me off my feet. Right Niko?"
Rori winked which set Niko's cheeks aflame. He glanced from Rori to Avery then back to Rori, as if caught a trap.
"Um, yeah? Sure?"
Avery sighed, frustrated and put out. Why did his friends have to be so embarrassing? It was one thing to receive the fifth degree from Addy, but to have Niko and Rory insert their noses into his love life? Unacceptable. Not that he had a love life. Just a musical rivalry. Purely platonic. Nothing sexual. Not even the least bit homoerotic.
And why did Niko have to make things so much more unbearably awkward? His suspicious behavior was making Avery look suspicious by default, and Avery was DEFINITELY not doing anything suspicious with his mirror earlier like making out with it. Absolutely not.
Thankfully, Addy was sufficiently distracted by the arrival of Talis. The fashion designer set up their post at Addy's side, falling into the sofa and practically into Addy's lap. They giggled like schoolgirls at something Talis whispered into Addy's ear, already in their own world. Rori and Niko were also already on their own wavelength, Rori digging through her bags to fish out yet another face mask while Niko scrolled on his phone, face pinched and cheeks still pink.
For two people who claimed to break up, they sure spent a lot of time together...
"Darling," Talis cooed from the couch, staring at Avery with their particular brand of gently-mocking mirth. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you have a pimple."
"Ha, ha very funny."
"I'm dead serious. It's right there on your cheek."
Rori, her face covered in green minty goo, marched over to Avery and grabbed his face in her unevenly-manicured hand. She yanked his head up and to the side, her eyes narrowing on a spot on his cheek.
"That's a pimple alright," she confirmed, released Avery as if zits were a contagion she could catch. "Do you need a cleanser? I have extras."
Avery pushed Rori away and ran to the mirror. His heart skipped a beat. There, on Avery's previously-flawless left cheek was the red circle of a burgeoning zit.
"Oh my god!" Addy cackled, as if her life was made. "It's fucking huge!"
"I can't ask JR out like this!" Avery cried, turning away from the mirror lest he be sick. But it was like a train wreck. Once he saw the monster taking over his face, he couldn't look away no matter how much he wanted to. "My life is ruined!"
"Really? A zit ruined your life and not a nation-wide pandemic killing thousands of people?"
"Don't be such a downer, Talis," Avery snapped, to which Talis merely flicked him off. "People out there have their problems, and I have mine."
"Clearly."
"You could put on one of those cute little masks I've seen floating around," Rori suggested, and by her tone she didn't mean the minty green ones. She meant the atrocious black and white contraptions with straps that the servants now used to cover themselves from the nose down.
"And make JR think I'm diseased? No thank you, I'd rather kill myself."
"For fucks sake!" Addy sighed, throwing her hands in the air. With a huff, she pulled herself up from the couch and walked over to the vanity. From a bag sitting on the messy top, she pulled out a tube of something neutral toned. She threw the tube at Avery with more force than necessary, pelting him in the very same cheek that held his greatest shame. Maybe she should have stuck with little league softball instead of interpretive dance.
"Put some on and stop whining about it!" Addy commanded, throwing herself back down on the couch.
Was she...was she actually being...kind? To him?
Maybe the world really was ending.
Avery did as he was told and swiped some of the product on his cheek. Rori was a dear and blended it in for him. Not that he didn't know how, he just didn't want to dirty his own fingers and Rori was already covering hers in beauty goo. One more check in the mirror showed a marginally-less noticeable zit taking up residence on his royal visage. It was a serviceable job, but Avery wouldn't be returning to Rori's services for his make-up needs.
The clock struck six. JR would be on his way to the dining hall for the nightly dinner service with the rest of his musical friends. Avery really must introduce himself to them some day if they decided to keep playing this game of Billie and Beethoven. It was only proper.
Now was as good as any time to strike. Avery didn't want to spend any more time around his sister and wonder what the cost of her kindness would be, nor did he want to wait until tomorrow to ask JR. Tomorrow was never promised in these unprecedented times. If Avery were to get the plague and die tomorrow, he wanted to go out with no regrets. Well, minimal regrets.
"Good luck!" Rori chirped, waving him off with the enthusiasm Avery expected yet everyone else lacked.
As he left, he heard Addy shriek, "Wait, are those my Jimmy Choos!"
Honestly, Avery had forgotten he was wearing the heels, but they boosted his confidence up a couple notches, and he could use all the boosting he could get. Besides, his ass looked phenomenal in these pants, and the combo with the heels? JR wouldn't even notice the pimple.
A servant passed by wearing one of those masks, and insecurity hit Avery like a wrecking ball.
What if the makeup wasn't enough? What if his zit grew some friends? What if JR had special vision that could see through the mineral foundation to the core of Avery's ugliness? He said he would rather die than wear one, but did he really want to risk this?
"I need your mask!" Avery demanded in a panic. The servant backed away, afraid of Avery's sudden reaction. "The mask, I need it now!"
The servant complied and removed the contraption from his face, handing it over and then scurrying away as to not be further called into service. Avery should have held him up longer in order to figure out how the damned thing worked. It looked like a tiny suction cup for his mouth and nose, held in place by plastic bands, but one could never be sure.
The mask was slightly wet with sweat and smelled badly, like stale coffee breath. Avery gagged but powered through. This was preferable than having JR see his zit. Avery was safe from prying eyes so long as he kept the mask on.
It was not a pleasant experience. Less than a minute on a spare handful of steps and Avery's face already began to itch. The pressure on the bridge of his nose pinched his sinuses so hard he felt it start to bruise, and the suction around his mouth made it hard to open and close his jaw. Avery was breathing in his own hot air, choking himself on his own humid spit. He tried to shallow his breaths, to calm himself and conserve air, but it was hard when his nerves were so high.
Think about the zit. You're doing this for the zit.
The dining hall wasn't far. A few more measured, excruciating breaths and Avery was there. And there JR was: the most handsome man Avery had ever seen. Still clad in that suit from the ball. Still effortless bored and European. He stood in near the back of the line, hands in his pockets, completely unaware of Avery's presence as he talked to a woman a head shorter than him.
Jealousy colored Avery's vision as he thought of JR spending all his time discussing music with her and not him. That absolutely would not do. Avery had to rectify the situation immediately.
"JR!" Avery called, waving to get the musician's attention.
He took the stairs by twos, rushing so that he did not miss his window. That was a mistake. As he neared the bottom, his vision blurred. His head felt dizzy. Every step was heavy as he couldn't pull enough breath in to power his body.
"I can't breathe!" Avery gasped, clawing at his throat. He could see stars in his vision, the lights going out as he lost oxygen. Praise the lord that the last image he'd get to see was JR's sweet, sweet face.
JR, bless him, had taken Avery in his arms - what cruel, cruel twist of fate was this that he could enjoy being so close to this man but only when he was dying? - and helped him to the floor. More than that, he started stroking Avery's face. So forward! Wait, not stroking, reaching. Grabbing. Pulling on the straps that held the mask in place and making them disappear.
The mask fell to the ground. Air came rushing back in.
"Angel," Avery moaned as he gulped in sweet, sweet oxygen. He would never take his lungs for granted again, nor would he ever put a mask on again. Why would they make a fabric so thin and yet so hard to breathe through?
He grabbed onto JR's shirt and sobbed out his thanks, burying his face into the musician's abdomen. Forward, Avery knew, but he was so grateful. And desperate.
When Avery pulled back, he found JR staring. Those blue eyes...they were hypnotizing, entrancing, a thousand other things that made Avery feel trapped but in a good way. He hadn't even opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was already perfect.
"You are a mess."
Avery averted his eyes back to JR's shirt...to where he'd rubbed his face...and all the foundation so mediocrely applied had rubbed off and stained his white shirt tan. No wonder JR looked upset! He had to lay eyes on the zit!
"Why are you crying?" JR asked as Avery's eyes welled up, unable to stop the flood.
"I was trying to make this perfect!" Avery whined, unable to stop the tears from pouring and the snot from bubbling in his nose. He must have looked the opposite of a dashing prince. That was the power this man had over him. Didn't JR understand? "I wanted to take you to dinner and impress you with my musical knowledge. I wanted to blow your mind with the awesome genius of Billie Eilish. And instead...instead I have this-this monster!"
He pointed to his cheek, showcasing the zit in its terrible glory. Truly, it was hideous, marring Avery's perfect face and therefore his worth. Why would JR want to even look in Avery's direction when he was this hideous?
"It is a pimple," JR said, not understanding. His posture was tense and his brow was furrowed and oh - he was mad.
Avery blinked once, twice. His brain short-circuited.
"I don't understand."
JR closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a minute, he simply breathed. He did not speak. Was his brain melting too?
Then, he stood up and pulled Avery up with him. They had attracted a bit of a crowd, people craning their necks to see what was going on and who had saved the life of their beloved prince. JR used none of his former grace and gentle touch to help Avery steady himself this time.
"You are a vain, obnoxious child who cries too much and talks too much and has terrible taste in music," JR said dispassionately, nothing but irritation and exasperation written over his heartbreaking features. The next words out of his mouth were sure to be rejection. How could they not? But then, JR sighed and dropped his shoulders, as if finally giving up the fight. "Nothing you say will change my mind. But I will accept your offer of dinner."
"Really?"
"Yes. Do not make me regret this."
JR looked as though he already had regrets, but there were no take-backsies!
"Tomorrow? Seven? My room?" Avery said as if they were up for negotiation. As if he wasn't a prince and time didn't move on his schedule. But Avery found he would accommodate this tasteless, handsome man. He would take his considerations into account, which was...strange.
JR was already turning away, so cold and unavailable. Perfect.
"Can I...can I kiss you?"
Where the hell had that come from?! Could this...could this be something more than just Billie Eilish? Avery shocked himself just as much as he shocked JR.
"No."
Avery would take what he could get. Though he couldn't understand why JR wouldn't want to kiss him. He was the pinnacle of male beauty (pimples aside) and rich beyond belief. What wasn't there to want? Now that Avery had opened the floodgates of his subconscious by asking for a kiss, he was realizing there was a lot of things he wanted specifically from JR.
Maybe it was a strange German/Austrian custom not to kiss before knowing someone better. Maybe they had to go on three dates? Three was the magic number in a lot of things. Hopefully he wasn't the kind of European that waited until marriage...Avery didn't think he could last that long. Being this close to JR for so long, staring into those eyes, it was doing things to his body.
Things that he would have to take care of in the shower.
Immediately.
Carrie followed Laurie silently into the office.
"Are we supposed to be in here?"
"Probably not." The lights flicked on. Paired with Laurie's signature white, the woman looked like an angel, her skin glowing pearlescent in lamp light. Thin lips curved into that dangerous, intoxicating smile. "Don't worry, pet. Mommy knows what she's doing."
Referring to a strange woman as Mommy should have felt weirder than it was, but Carrie was surprisingly comfortable filling the roll of submissive to Laurie's dominant. Last night had been...enlightening. Between rounds, tangled up in the sheets, Laurie had been open and honest about her presence at Avery's birthday ball: her intention to find a sugar baby. Carrie was open and honest with her desire to fill that role.
It was so strange. Carrie always thought of herself as straight. She'd only had sex with men, only ever pursued men, only ever wanted men, but there was something about Laurie. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Something that Carrie wanted to impress, to please. Her parents had always been absent; her entire life was an empty void where attention and affection should have been. Carrie wanted approval so badly, and Laurie gave it so freely. She knew exactly how to string Carrie along.
This would only end badly. Carrie knew that. Everything in her life ended badly. Every scrap of goodness was ruined.
That didn't meant Carrie wasn't willing to go along for the ride.
She stepped in to the room, taking in the mahogany shelves and impressive desk. The view from the windows was impressive, laying out the palace grounds before her, a perfect place for a king to assess his kingdom. Except this all wasn't his. It was built on the backs of people like her, like Laurie, like the staff they passed sleeping in the halls.
Laurie stepped behind the desk and sat down in the impressive high-backed chair, reclining in it as if she were the king of this kingdom. There was no denying she was a woman of fabulous wealth and power. Exactly what that wealth and power entailed, well...Carrie was both terrified and excited to find out. Or not find out at all. Half of the lure of her benefactor was her mystery.
"What are we doing in here?" Carrie asked, scanning the shelves for anything good to grift. She normally didn't steal - excluding that one month freshman year when her father had to bail her out of jail in the middle of the night and punished her by not coming home for an entire month in order to make up the difference - but hey, when in Rome. It wasn't like the royal family would miss a marble globe or a gold-dipped figurine.
"Hands off," Laurie said, not even sparing her a glance and yet reading her intentions flawlessly. She read Carrie so well, saw her so easily. How did she do that?
Carrie put the ebony pawn back down on the chess set. There wasn't a spec of dust on the board, but Carrie doubted the king picked up a game in his spare time. He probably paid someone less than minimum wage to dust it as his convenience. Carrie wanted to spit on the board, then break it. Only the money signs popping up around each and every hand-carved piece stopped her. That, and the thought of Laurie's disapproval.
The memory of Laurie dressing down Aurora painted a vivid picture in the forefront of her mind. She didn't want to end up like that. She wanted to stay in Laurie's good graces.
"We're waiting," Laurie explained vaguely, stretching out her long legs on top of the desk, not caring if her red-bottoms scuffed the perfect polish.
"For what?"
For who, was more like it.
The door flew open, and in stepped the King of Illéa himself. And he did not look happy to see someone in his seat.
"Baroness." King Henry gave the woman a curt nod before casting his disapproving gaze towards Carrie. His gaze darkened at the fishnets, the Doc Martins, the copious tattoos that covered Carrie's arms, legs, and chest. "They told me you were lurking around in the shadows. You have some nerve showing your face here."
"Don't worry your pretty little head, Your Majesty. We're all stuck in here together, and I know when to behave myself." Laurie's smile told an entirely different story, that she was in no way going to behave herself, and the king knew it. "By the time you figure a way out and call the authorities, I'll be long gone. Not that I'd recommend doing that. You know how it upsets Edward."
Carrie didn't know who Edward was, but King Henry did. He scowled deeply, his brow furrowing so deeply that bushy eyebrows obscured his eyes. He walked over to where he kept his alcohol and poured himself a glass of something strong and amber. The bottle wasn't one Carrie recognized, so it had to be good.
Growing up, Carrie knew to avoid her mother if she brought out the bottle of Jim Bean. After hours of socializing in someone's living room or hotel bar, Silvia Summers would saunter back into their pre-fab fixer-upper with her head held high and her blonde bob akimbo and pour herself two fingers, drink it in one swallow, then pour two more. She would get drunk in front of the TV, Jeopardy playing in the background as she fell asleep with her glass in hand, unaware of her young daughter watching from the doorway waiting for her mother to cook dinner because her father had picked up yet another double shift.
King Henry knew how to moderate his liquor. He only poured enough to cover the ball of ice at the bottom of his crystal glass that probably cost more than Carrie's dad had ever made with a year's worth of doubles. Resentment welled in her as she watched him drink. As he flaunted all the things Carrie hated right in front of her, while ignoring her, eyes fixed on Laurie.
"What do you want?"
"What I always want. I want my money."
The glass clattered as the king slammed it down with little care, making Carrie's ears hurt. She knew the start of a fight when she heard one.
"If you haven't noticed, there are more important things to worry about. There's a pandemic. A murderer is loose in the palace. People are dying."
"People are always dying. People are expendable. Do you know what's not expendable? Fifteen million dollars."
Carrie gasped. She had known her benefactor was cold, unsocial to say the least, but not...whatever this was. Sociopathy? Still, that amount of money was unspeakable. The things Carrie could do with fifteen million dollars. Green flooded her vision, showing her images of a life far grander than the one she was currently living. She was suddenly desperate for that life. What she wouldn't do for just a taste...
"Fifteen million is spare change to someone like you. Do you expect me to believe that you, of all people, are in financial trouble?"
"It's not about the money. It's about the principle," Laurie hissed, a sharp and deadly as a snake. "Now, I think I've been very reasonable. I've waited patiently, but my patience is drying up. I have a business to run, deals to make. You will pay me what the crown owes me, or I will turn this place upside down until I find it."
The king's gaze darkened into something dangerous. Something to rival the inhumanity in Laurie's stare.
"I could have you locked in the cellar."
"And you know I could just as easily escape it." Laurie waved her hand, as if prison was something inconsequential. Something that happened to other people. "Why fight me on this, Henry dear? Are we not friends? Why not just cooperate and make this painless for everyone?"
"I do not negotiate with criminals and drug dealers."
Laurie threw her head back and cackled. It was such a strange, unsettling sound. Carrie felt her stomach twist in fear.
"Oh, darling, that's the funniest thing you've said all day." Laurie rose from her seat - the king's seat - and smoothed down invisible creases in her pants. This meeting was over. "You have until the doors of this place open back up. By the time I am walking out into the sun, I want my money in hand."
"Or else?" Henry sneered. "There's always something with you."
"Or else you'll regret it," she said with a shrug of those sharp, elegant shoulders. Furs slipped down just a smidge, revealing pale, bare skin. Carrie's eyes were drawn to it...and so were the king's. Laurie smirked. "You know how good I am at making messes. I'll let your imagination fill in the gaps."
Imagination could make up for a lot. Laurie had opened Carrie's eyes to a whole new world, and not just in the bedroom. She'd fed Carrie caviar from a tiny silver spoon, had her sip Dom Perignon, fucked in her silk sheets atop a goose-feather mattress and then wrapped her up in a silk robe after. She'd given Carrie a taste for the finer things in life, and Carrie liked it. Less than twenty-four hours and she'd become something of a monster, greedy for more.
If the King of Illéa owed Laurencia Dankworth fifteen million, how much did everyone else owe? How much was Laurie worth? How much was she wiling to spend on a girl like Carrie?
How far was Carrie willing to go to find out?
