Fall From Grace(21)

He gave me an amused look.  “Well, you’re half right.  I am shallow, but I can cook, and honestly, I like chicks with jet black hair better than blondes,” he laughed.  His icy blue eyes regarded me.  “Well?  Is it good?”

Best freaking omelet I’ve ever had.  I stopped the words from fumbling out of my mouth.  “Yeah, sure.  Thanks.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I grumbled.

He shoved another fork full of food in his mouth and chewed.  He leaned forward with a serious expression on his face, “So, what’s the deal with you?  What’s with the intense Shane revulsion?  I’ve never had a girl not jump at the chance with me.  Or, wait, are you into chicks?”

I laughed at his audacity.  “So you think because I’m not falling for your crap that I’m a lesbian?”

“Bi?  Maybe just playing hard to get?”

“You really are full of yourself.  Brace yourself Shane, this might be hard to hear,” I teased.  “But you just don’t do it for me.  Sorry.”

Shane’s eyes brightened at my words.  “So, who does it for you then?”  He purposefully drew out the words, making me shake my head.

I stood up and placed my plate into the dishwasher.  I leaned back, rested my elbows on the counter, and thought for a minute.  “Someone who doesn’t think of me as a walking vagina.”

He howled with laughter.  “A walking vagina!  Oh, shit, if only there was such a thing!”  He was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

I smiled.  “And what’s your deal?  What happened to you making you think that women were put here just to serve you?  Maybe something happened that makes you so insecure that you would be incapable of having a relationship or normal friendship with a girl?”

His smile faded.  He stared at me with those eyes.  “There’s no deep dark reason, no insecurity, nothing to read into.  I just don’t want anything more from someone.  Ever.  There is no need for it.  Every girl I sleep with knows my intentions clearly.  They want to f*ck the lead singer of Mad World, so I give them want they want and get what I want from them.  There’s no need for more.  None of them are worth more than that.”

That was so sad.

He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and yawned loudly.  “So, what do you do?  Where were you living all this time?” he asked, immediately ending his sad monologue.

I squirmed, not meaning to.  “Jobless at the moment.  I’ve been living with my brother in a hospice for the last few months, so my job was just to trying to make him comfortable.”

A sympathetic expression passed across his face.  It didn’t fit his self-proclaimed moral free ideals, making me think that there was way more to Shane Maxton than a pretty faced lead singer.  But, what did it matter?  I had my own problems, my own past to deal with, and I was positive mine was more unbelievable than his was.

“That’s heavy.  What about your parents?  Did everybody in your family just move there to be with him?”

“Nope.  My parents are both dead.  It was just me and Jake.”  I wanted this Spanish inquisition off me.  “How about you?  What’s your family like?  Where are you from, what do you do?”

“Normal family.  They all live in Florida now.  Nothing dysfunctional.  My parents are still married, no one had dependency problems, and no one ever hit me,” he said flatly. “And being the lead singer for Mad World really pays all my bills.”  He seemed curt and uncomfortable.