Chapter 38

“Now, this one does seem a little dated,” the realtor warned me as we followed her up the front walkway, “but I think you’ll find that it meets almost all of your accessibility requirements.”

“So far, so good,” I said, gazing up at the mid-century modern ranch with an open mind. It wasn’t my style, but it was the first house we’d seen all day that didn’t have a single step to get to the front door. After relying on a portable ramp and the raw manpower of my two female companions to physically get me inside the four previous houses, I was relieved to finally find one with a flat entrance.

It had been almost two months since I had started my search for a second home in Los Angeles, somewhere I could stay while I was working on the West Coast. So far, I had been disappointed by the listings my realtor, Shannon, had sent me to look at online, but this was the first opportunity she’d had to show me any properties in person. Having flown all the way to L.A. for my first writing session with the Boys since London, I was bound and determined to find something that would work for me while I was there.

“When was this place built?” asked Dawn, who had flown out with me while my mom stayed at the house with Mason.

“1957,” Shannon replied, holding the door open for us. “As you’ll see, it’s straight out of the Atomic Age.”

That seemed to pique Natalie’s interest. “Really?” she said, raising her eyebrows as she glanced over at me. I was glad she had been able to meet us in L.A. and spend a few days house-hunting with me. Although I would be buying a place by myself, I wanted her approval since, if all went well, she would eventually be living there with me, at least part of the time.

“Let’s have a look. After you, babe.” I motioned for Natalie to go in first, admiring the way her rear end looked in her hot pink skinny jeans as she walked ahead of me.

“What do you think of my new Rockstar jeans?” she had asked me that morning as we got ready in our hotel room, running her hands over her hips. “I had to run out to Old Navy and buy a couple pairs before our trip. The guys they got to be in their commercial were just so cute – and quite persuasive,” she added with a wink.

I smiled, realizing she was referring to the commercial we’d shot a couple weeks earlier during New York Fashion Week. “Girl, those fit you like a glove,” I replied approvingly, letting my gaze linger on her lower body. “Old Navy should have put you in their commercial.”

Dawn had a different take on Old Navy’s marketing campaign. “You know, it’s interesting to me that they’re using your song to advertise jeans for every body, but they don’t have an adaptive line for disabled bodies,” she’d commented the first time she had seen the commercial. “I mean, here they literally have a guy in a wheelchair in their commercial, but they don’t make jeans that would be easy for you to put on and take off by yourself, jeans that are meant to be worn sitting down in a wheelchair all day. What a missed opportunity.”

I had to admit, she had a good point. Ever since the accident, I had hated jeans, preferring to wear baggy athletic bottoms with plenty of stretch. Not only was it difficult for me to work buttons and zippers when I was cathing myself, but the fact that I couldn’t feel the discomfort of stiff seams or tight waistbands digging into my skin only made it more likely that I would develop a pressure sore from wearing the wrong pair of pants. When I did wear denim, I always went up a size to make them more comfortable and easier for Dawn to put on me. Despite Old Navy’s claims, their skinny jeans weren’t made for bodies like mine. Instead, I had picked out a loose-fitting, lightweight pair of khakis to wear that day, wanting to feel comfortable but look presentable while I toured potential homes.

“Wow… you weren’t lying, Shannon,” Natalie said as she looked around. “Straight out of the Atomic Age is right.”

Wheeling myself in after her, I immediately understood what she meant. The inside of the house looked like it had come from a time capsule. The main living space was decorated in shades of mustard yellow and brown with accents of rusty red, avocado green, and muted teal. The walls were covered with wood paneling and patterned wallpaper, and there were heavy drapes hanging over the windows. I hated it.

“It was recently put on the market after the original owner passed away,” Shannon said as she showed us around. “From what I understand, she was a rather eccentric elderly woman – independently wealthy, never married, and maybe a bit of a recluse. As you can see, she pretty much kept the place in its original condition and only made modifications when she had to in order to continue living here on her own as she got older. I know it’s not to everyone’s taste, but the house has great bones and plenty of space for a growing family.” She flashed us a big smile, her eyes shifting between Natalie and me. “And you’ll find it’s actually very accessible! The floors are all hardwood or tile, everything’s on one level, and the large, open-concept layout should make it easy for you to get around.”

She was right about that. As long as I avoided the rugs that had been put down to stage the place, I had no trouble rolling myself around the combined living room, dining room, and kitchen. And while I found the dreary, outdated decor unappealing, I quickly discovered a few features I did like. One wall was dominated by a large, brick fireplace that I could see myself cuddling with Natalie in front of on a cozy winter night. And when Dawn pulled back the drapes along the adjacent wall, she revealed a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in a lot of natural light and looked out onto a beautiful backyard oasis with an inground pool. A sliding glass door led us out onto the large, stone patio.

“The pool’s nice,” Dawn said approvingly. “Look, it even has a lift!” She pointed to a blue plastic chair on a metal frame that was mounted on the edge of the pool. “That would make it easy for you to get in and out of the water.”

I nodded, remembering how Nick and AJ had had to carry me in and out of the pool at my old house. “That’s convenient. The lady who lived here must have been disabled, at least later in life.”

“I think you’re right,” Shannon said, nodding. “Wait till you see the master suite! The bathroom has a roll-in shower, just like you requested.”

We’ll see about that, I thought. Some of the supposed “roll-in showers” she had shown me in the houses we had looked at already were actually walk-in showers with a low threshold that would have been easy to step over but impossible for me to roll over in my shower chair. She didn’t seem to understand that I couldn’t just pop a wheelie to get up and down steps on my own; it took at least one other person to carefully tip me backward and ease me over each hump.

“I know you said you wanted something move-in ready, but, keep in mind, a fresh coat of paint can do wonders to change the look of a space,” Shannon added as she took us back inside to show us the bedrooms. There were three of them, all painted different pastel colors. The first one was blue. The second was green. And the master suite was… pink. Very, very pink.

“Oh, my Lord!” Natalie gasped when she walked into the last bedroom and looked around at the carnation pink walls, rose-colored curtains, and matching plush rug. “It’s like the Barbie Dreamhouse, but in real life!”

“Come on, Barbie, let’s go party,” I sang in a low voice.

Natalie didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, ah, ah, yea-ah!” she added before dissolving into laughter.

“It looks like a bottle of Pepto Bismol exploded in here.” Dawn wrinkled her nose in disgust as she poked her head into the bathroom. It was also pink, with powder pink walls, pink floor tiles, a pink toilet, and a pink sink. I imagined there must have been a pink tub there, too, at some point, but if so, it had been replaced by a roll-in shower with pink and white tile.

“Well, Shannon was right about the roll-in shower,” I said, easily wheeling myself inside. “This would actually work out really well, if only it wasn’t so…” I didn’t have the right words to describe the room.

“I think it’s adorable,” Natalie said, clapping her hands together in delight. “It’s so vintage! The perfect, pink 1950s bathroom.”

“Buyers who appreciate the mid-century modern charm are going to be all over this place,” Shannon chimed in. “And, of course, there will probably also be investors who just want to flip it for a profit. If you’re at all interested in making an offer, I suggest you do so today because I don’t see it being on the market for long.” She smiled at me. “Why don’t you take some more time to look around on your own and talk it over? I’ll be out front whenever you’re ready. No rush!”

When she left the room, Dawn looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering putting in an offer on this place.”

I shrugged. “I dunno… it’s definitely quirky, but it’s more accessible – and affordable – than anywhere else we’ve seen.” After attending several open houses the previous day and four other private showings that afternoon, I felt discouraged by the lack of options. There didn’t seem to be much of anything on the market in L.A. that met my requirements for a move-in-ready, wheelchair-accessible house with a reasonable level of privacy and enough room for three or four people. Most of the homes we had looked at were either too small or too tall, with multiple stories and stairs that made them inaccessible to me. The only one we’d found that had an elevator was a ten-bedroom mansion with a seven-figure asking price.

“Good Lord! That place is big enough to fit all the Backstreet Boys and all the New Kids,” Natalie had said when I showed her the listing.

“Yeah, and if I charged them all rent to live there, I might actually be able to afford it,” I’d replied, shaking my head. Thanks to smart investments and music royalties, I was still a multimillionaire despite not working full-time in more than six years, but I didn’t want to waste my money on a huge house I would hardly use. I wasn’t keen on renting an apartment for the same reason. I wanted a modest home that I could buy outright and resell someday when I no longer needed it.

“Well, personally, I love it,” Natalie said now, tracing the grout lines on the pink tiled countertop with her fingertips. “Not that my opinion matters.”

“It matters to me.” I smiled at her. “I mean, I’m hoping you’ll wanna move in with me at some point, so it helps if you like the place I pick out.”

After planting that seed in London, I had been watering it whenever I could, trying to convince Natalie to come live with me. “Isn’t this nice?” I’d asked her as we sat next to each other on the couch, watching her Falcons beat Kristin’s Chiefs in their first game of the season. “I wish we could watch football together every Sunday.”

But she seemed just as determined to talk me into moving to a different town. “It would be so much easier if you lived in a major city,” she’d said while we waited to board our flight from Atlanta to New York City for Fashion Week. “You could get a direct flight almost anywhere from Atlanta, New York, or L.A. – no more connections.”

“That would be more convenient,” I had agreed, “but, honestly, I don’t miss much about living in a big city. I’ll always be a country boy at heart.”

But Natalie merely smiled back and said nothing about moving in with me. “So, what do you think of this one?” she asked, snapping me back to the present.

I took another look around the bathroom. “I’m not too sure about all this pink… but if you really love it, I suppose I could learn to live with it. As for the rest? Shannon’s right – with some fresh paint, new furniture, and different window treatments, this place would look a lot better. It does have some pretty cool features,” I admitted as I pushed myself out of the master bedroom and back to the main living area. “I like the fireplace and all the natural light. The open floor plan’s perfect for me. And the outdoor space is awesome.” I looked out the large windows to the backyard, where the pool seemed to be beckoning to me, its clear blue water sparkling invitingly in the sunlight. “I bet Mason would love it here. What do you think, Dawn?”

“I think… that it doesn’t really matter what I think,” Dawn replied with a shrug. “It’ll be your name on the deed, not mine. But if you really wanna know, I think this place would work out fine for us – if you don’t mind feeling like Malibu Ken during your morning routine, that is.”

I laughed. “Like a doll who just lies around while a girl bends his limbs and changes his clothes? That’s basically how I feel during my morning routine anyway.”

Natalie giggled, then gave me a sympathetic smile. “Aww, baby,” she said, rubbing my shoulder.

“You’ve got a point there,” Dawn admitted with a grin. “I guess it’s all right with me, then, as long as you don’t expect me to be Barbie.” She made a face. “Midge, maybe.”

“That’s okay, Dawn. I’ll be Barbie!” Natalie said brightly.

With a pointed look at her hot pink jeans, Dawn chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure you will, Natalie…”

***

“Boy, she’s sure got you wrapped around her little finger,” Dawn said in an undertone the next morning as she positioned me on the bed to begin my bowel program. She tipped her head toward the bathroom, where we could hear water running while Natalie showered.

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Dawn moved around the bed so that she was standing behind me. “Kevin, you made a full-price, cash offer on a house that has a bubblegum pink bathroom just because your girlfriend liked it.”

“That’s not the only reason,” I protested. “Apart from all the pastel colors, it was perfect for me! The pink isn’t a dealbreaker, and if Natalie loves it, I’ll leave it for now. It doesn’t have to look good; it just has to be functional.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? This is exactly what I mean,” Dawn said, laughing as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “That girl’s got you whipped.”

“So what?” I was starting to get annoyed. Dawn could be opinionated about some things, but it wasn’t like her to be critical when it came to my personal life. “I thought you liked Natalie.”

“I do like her. She has a kind heart and an open mind, and she’s been good to you so far.”

“But…?” I could sense there was one coming.

Dawn sighed. “But you’ve only known her for a few months,” she said. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds here, but I feel like it’s my duty to look out for you. I don’t wanna see you get hurt or taken advantage of. And I’m not saying she’s gonna do that; I just think you should be making decisions based on what you want, not what Natalie wants.”

“You’re right – you are overstepping your bounds,” I replied bluntly. “Look, Dawn, you know I appreciate everything you do for me, but I don’t need you to worry about my relationship. And, for the record, our six-month anniversary is in, like, three weeks, so it’s been more than just ‘a few’ months.”

Dawn was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to dig into your personal business. Sometimes, I forget we’re not just friends.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. “We are friends. I know sometimes the lines may get blurred when I’m paying you to literally dig into my ‘personal business’…” I looked back over my shoulder at her. “…but you’re more than an employee to me. And it’s not that I don’t value your input – because I do. I just think you’re off-base here. I’m not buying the house because of Natalie.”

“Okay. Never mind then.”

As Dawn went back to business, an awkward silence fell. Lying on my side, listening to the sounds of her fumbling around behind me, I felt uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with what was happening back there. I replayed our conversation in my mind, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. Had I misinterpreted what was meant to be a joke, or was Dawn genuinely worried about Natalie manipulating me somehow? It reminded me of the night Natalie had mentioned having to “share” me with another woman, meaning Dawn, which had triggered our first fight. That led me to wonder: Did Dawn feel the same way about Natalie?

“You’re not feeling, like… threatened by her or anything, are you?” I asked quietly. Realizing how accusatory that sounded, I rushed to amend my question. “I mean, would it bother you if she were to move in with me?”

Dawn made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snicker and a scoff. “No. Of course not.”

Unconvinced, I went on, “Because, even if she does, you’re not going anywhere – unless you wanna leave, of course. You know I’m not comfortable having her be my full-time caregiver. Even if I was, I would still want extra help with Mason and with the housework and stuff. It wouldn’t be fair for me to put all that on her, and I would never hang you out to dry just because I’m dating someone. You’ll have a place to live and a position with me for as long as you want one.”

“Well, thanks, Kevin; I appreciate that,” Dawn said, patting my back. “But, honestly, I wasn’t worried about it. I assume you would give me plenty of notice if you no longer needed or wanted me to work for you. And, as for Natalie, I didn’t mean to make you think I don’t like her. I like her just fine.”

“But you don’t trust her.”

“It takes time to build trust. I’m still getting to know her. But she’s never given me a reason not to trust her.”

“Then why do you care if I’m whipped? Because, yeah, maybe I am,” I admitted. “But so what? You’re the one who encouraged me to start dating again.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” Dawn replied. “I was just making an observation.”

We both paused when we heard the water shut off on the other side of the wall. I pictured Natalie stepping out of the shower and drying herself off. I had encouraged her to take her time in the bathroom while Dawn did the first step of my program, not wanting Natalie to witness any part of it.

With Dawn’s assistance, I had transferred to my commode by the time the bathroom door opened with a soft click. “Everybody decent out there?” Natalie called.

I glanced down at myself, naked except for a towel tucked around my waist. “Well, I dunno if ‘decent’ is the right word to describe it, but my bare ass isn’t on display anymore, so you can come out now.”

“You might see some buttcrack,” Dawn warned her, wheeling me toward the bathroom as Natalie walked out, wearing one of the hotel room’s white robes.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said with a smile and a wink as she towel-dried her wet hair.

I could feel myself blushing as Dawn pushed me into the bathroom and positioned the portable commode over the toilet. “For the record,” she whispered in my ear before she backed away, “she seems to be just as smitten with you as you are with her.”

That put a smile on my face.

***