Be My Companion

Julian

When I saw that my publicist Vanessa was trying to call me, I already knew what it was about. I was expecting her call and, if anything, she was a little bit late. I had already seen the headlines. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“Jules, what the fuck?!” she called out as soon as I pressed the green button.

“He started it,” I said nonchalantly.

“I don’t care who started what,” Vanessa shouted down the phone. “Your career is already hanging on by a thread, and I am doing everything within my power to ensure you don’t lose any sponsors or your entire fucking career!”

“This is why I pay you the big bucks,” I said with a chuckle.

I loved to stir her up when she was angry, just to see how far I could push her. Vanessa was good at her job, and I already expected her to put her expert spin on this situation just like she had before. She let out a deep breath and I could practically hear the frustration coming through my phone speaker. I wondered if I had finally cracked her.

“I declined to comment on your behalf for all of these media outlets, but before this turns into an even bigger shitstorm, we are going to take control of this situation.”

“Write up an apology and I’ll post it,” I cut her off.

“No,” Vanessa said matter-of-factly. “You’re going to rehab.”

I laughed. “Good one, Ness.”

“I’m serious,” she replied. “You’ve given one too many apologies, and the public won’t buy it unless you take action.”

“Yeah sure,” I said half-jokingly. “I’m going to be real with you, Ness. I can’t go to rehab. It’s a bad look, and I can’t afford to miss off-season training.”

“This is not up for discussion,” Vanessa said. “Either you go to rehab or…” her voice trailed off.

It went silent for a few seconds.

“Leave it with me. Sharks management are calling me. I’m going to do everything I can to save your career once again, but if I can’t, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Before I could even respond, she hung up the phone.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I switched the TV in my bedroom on and was immediately greeted with my handsome face.

“NFL bad boy Julian Ambrose has found himself in hot water once again after getting into another fistfight at a nightclub. Witnesses say that while he did not make the first punch, he showed an aggression reminiscent of his scary play on the field,” the reporter said. She turned to her co-host. “What do you think this will do for his career, Pat?”

“Ambrose’s impressive career on the field seems to be overshadowed by his antics outside of the stadium, and it seems to be his downfall. In my opinion, if he doesn’t get it together and focus on the game, then his lucrative career with the Sharks could be over.”

I turned the TV back off and frowned. There was no way that the Sharks would terminate my contract for one silly fight at a nightclub. Surely.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and got up to my feet. I walked over to my ensuite bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror.

There was only a tiny amount of bruising under my left eye from the one and only swing the other guy managed to get in, but other than that, I looked completely fine. I quickly splashed some water in my face and brushed my teeth before my phone started ringing again.

“Go for bro,” I answered the phone.

“I need a payrise for the amount of shit I do for you,” Vanessa’s shrill voice came through the speaker.

“Sure,” I said.

“I talked management off the ledge for you, but they agree that you need to do something about it.”

“I’m not going to rehab,” I said sternly.

“Jules, I don’t think you understand how serious this is. They were ready to get rid of you!”

A sarcastic response shot to my lips almost immediately, but I stopped myself. Surely the Sharks wouldn’t get rid of me over something like this. I was one of the highest ranked defensive ends in the league, and one of the top selling players in NFL merchandise across all the teams. There was no way… there was no way.

“Are you listening to me?” Vanessa said.

“Yeah,” I said, all the humor in my voice gone.

“We need to stay on top of this before it escalates. You need to go to rehab.”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Vanessa, but I’m not going to rehab.”

Vanessa paused momentarily.

“Fine,” she said after what seemed like forever. “But if you really mean it when you say you’ll do whatever I want, then you only have one other option.”

---

Alexis

I stared at my friend and employer Annie blankly, holding onto a mug of coffee that I hated but still continued to drink.

“You’ll be perfect for it!” she exclaimed.

Annie worked for the company that hired me as an independent contractor to work with their clients. Even though I was great at my work in a field that had a surprisingly high demand, I was in between cases. And I hated being in between cases.

I took another sip of the coffee and almost winced at the bitter taste of it. Fuck I hated American coffee. Baristas here could really learn a thing or two from the ones back home in Australia.

“I don’t know the first thing about gridiron,” I said.

“They prefer you just call it American football,” Annie mentioned with a giggle.

“I’ve never heard of this guy in my life,” I added.

“It’s a great gig, Lex! It’s a live in client, and the pay is almost quadruple what you’re used to, I’m sure of it. His publicist called the office asking for a recommendation, and you were the first and only name that shot to my mind.”

My ears pricked up at the mention of more money.

“How big are we talking?” I said, raising my eyebrow.

She picked up a pen and jotted down something on a napkin in front of her. She turned it towards me and I looked down, my eyes widening at the figure she wrote.

“You’re kidding,” I said

Annie shook her head excitedly. “It’s a win-win here. You don’t have to worry about your next pay checque for a long while.” Annie leaned in almost conspiratorially. “Plus, Julian Ambrose is hot! I’m jealous.”

“Then why don’t you take the case?”

Annie frowned at me.

“I’m putting your name forward whether you like it or not. This’ll be a great opportunity for you, and plus, you get to live in his million dollar mansion with him. This’ll be the best case you ever take on.”

Before I could even muster a reply, Annie stood up from her seat emphatically.

“I’ll organise a meeting for you tonight. His publicist is very adamant this process begins as soon as possible. In the meantime, I would suggest you do some googling and find out more about your new client.”

After she left, I pulled my phone out and did a quick Google search on Julian Ambrose. Immediately I noticed how attractive he was.

He looked like he was sculpted out of marble, with these big boulders for shoulders, a mountain-sized chest that you could easily see through his training singlet, and these thick legs that were covered in a light coating of fine hair. Juxtaposed to his intimidating physique, though, was an almost sweet and innocent face, with ocean blue eyes that lit up with his big smile. His dark brown hair was curly in an effortless way that suggested low maintenance on his behalf.

“Well she was right there,” I said to myself. “He’s hot.”

---

Julian

When Vanessa gave me the idea of a sober companion, I initially thought she was joking. I had never heard of a sober companion before, and the term itself sounded totally made up in my mind.

“If you won’t go to rehab, then I’m bringing rehab to you,” she had said.

After I had looked up what a sober companion was, I felt fine knowing that they’d only come to visit me a few times a week to check up on how I was going. Until Vanessa had informed me that they’d be living with me.

“There’s no way I’m letting a stranger live in my house with me,” I declared.

But Vanessa reminded me that it was either rehab, or this. And this was definitely the lesser of two evils.

“They won’t tail you absolutely everywhere you go,” Vanessa explained. “They’re just here to be your support network and to ensure that you don’t go down any dark pathways. In saying that, it’s important that they go to training with you, and any time you feel the need to go out and let loose, they’ll be there.”

The way she said it made me realize that there was no room for budging here. This was it.

In a matter of moments, Vanessa had hired a sober companion for me, and I was meeting them tonight. I was hoping that I’d get a hot blonde living with me because I wouldn’t be totally against that, so I was disappointed when she told me that it was going to be a man.

I got dressed into a simple black button-up shirt and black pants with some designer boat shoes. Like a scolded child, I followed Vanessa down to the garage and sat in her car with her.

“Remind me again how this is going to work,” I asked.

“They will live with you full time until we decide that you’re in a better place to make better decisions,” Vanessa explained as she sped out of the garage. “Once we reach that point, then they will live with you part time, and then once we’ve progressed from there, then they’ll just make visits to check up on you and make sure you’re on a good path.”

I frowned. It sounded like an unreal job to live in a football player’s penthouse apartment and simply follow them around, and get paid for it.

“I know it sounds hard, but you need to do this for your career. You’re one of the top players in the league, Julian, and to let it all go to waste because you can’t control your alcohol will be the dumbest decision you ever make in your life.”

I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but she had a point.

“Once we iron out the finer details tonight, I’ll write up a press release, and then I want you to announce on your socials that you’ve hired a sober companion. We need to control this narrative and direct it the way we want it to go.”

I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. Once we parked, I followed Vanessa into the Italian restaurant, looking around suspiciously at the patrons, trying to determine who was going to live with me for the next few months.

A middle-aged woman stood up at a table with a smile on her face, waving at us excitedly. To her left, a man next to her stood up slowly.

I’ve never once described another man as beautiful in my life, but seeing this man in the flesh, there was no other word that would do him justice.

He had shoulder length honey blonde hair which highlighted his bronzed, olive complexion. His dark brown eyes sat on top of high, sculpted cheekbones, and he had full round lips that were slightly parted upon seeing me.

“You must be Annie,” Vanessa greeted the woman.

“And you must be Vanessa. Very nice to meet you.”

The man took his gaze off me and laid his big, brown eyes on my publicist. His lips spread across his face in a wide smile. “I’m Alexis. It’s very nice to meet you.” His thick Australian accent surprised me.

Alexis and Annie turned their attention back to me. While Annie looked friendly and happy to see me, Alexis’s expression was more indecipherable.

“Very nice to meet you, Julian,” Annie held her hand out for me.

I shook it and mumbled a greeting, before turning my attention back to my new sober companion.

“Alexis Mendes, I will be your new sober companion.” He had such a no-nonsense way about his introduction that it reminded me of the pissed off pocket-sized publicist standing next to me.

“Julian Ambrose.” I shook his hand, which I noticed felt soft and so small in mine.

“Thank you for understanding the urgency of this. We really appreciate it.” Vanessa sat down at the table and I sheepishly took the seat next to her.

“We understand that there are situations where urgent action is required. Thank you for reaching out to us. We’ll make sure that your client is in good hands,” Annie said.

“From what I understand, you’re wanting to fast track this arrangement.” Alexis did not take his eyes off me as he spoke; it was almost intimidating.

“Yes. My client here struggles with addiction and wants to get in a better place, so we hope that our agreement can mutually benefit everyone here.”

Vanessa and Annie began discussing the details of the contract. Alexis sat across from me, smiling and nodding when prompted, but would often look back at me as if I were an art piece in a museum.

“Julian has a nice penthouse apartment half an hour away from here,” Vanessa said, turning her attention to Alexis. “I hope you’ll find your living arrangements for the next few months to your satisfaction.”

“Sounds good,” Alexis said with a nod.

“He has housekeeping and chefs come during the day as well,” Vanessa added.

Alexis turned to me. “I want to hear this from you.”

“Uh…” I started.

---

Alexis

Before I moved to the United States of America, I worked as a journalist back home in Melbourne. Working in the media industry for years, as well as having a strong amount of common sense, I knew immediately what was happening here.

My Google search on Julian Ambrose brought up numerous instances of alcohol-fueled debauchery. His publicist, whom I soon recognised to be fucking great at her work, had managed to save him every time his name was in the media as a bad boy. He had given well written apologies at press conferences; he posted videos on his social media expressing his sorrow and sympathy for his actions; and he was seen marching in Pride parades with his trans sister.

I knew Julian did not suffer from addiction like most addicts did. I knew this was, at most, just an attempt to save face in the eyes of the public orchestrated by his spin doctor.

So if I was going to go into this situationship with him, I wanted to hear it from him, and not from his well-trained publicist.

“We’ve set up your room for you,” Julian explained. “You have your own bathroom and parking space, and you won’t have to cook or clean much.”

Julian seemed intimidated by me. His gaze wouldn’t rest on me for longer than three seconds, and the grip in his clasped hands seemed to get tighter and tighter as the conversation furthered.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, my eyes penetrating Julian. “What are you hoping to get out of having a sober companion?”

I could feel Annie’s staring at me with wide eyes, wondering why I was potentially jeopardising a very lucrative business opportunity.

“My client here struggles with addiction, and-”

“Sorry to interrupt Vanessa. But I want to hear it from Julian.”

His publicist’s mouth snapped shut, obviously annoyed that I had cut off her well-rehearsed speech to justify this agreement.

Julian squirmed in his seat momentarily, but when he began to speak, he sounded completely confident. “I know my actions have not been the greatest, and a lot of that has to do with my inability to control my drinking and what I do when I’m drinking, so taking proactive steps to better not just my career, but myself in general, seems to be the best step forward.”

I caught Vanessa glancing at her client, shocked that he had formulated such a well thought out response, before turning her attention back to me. All sets of eyes were on me, waiting for my response.

“I look forward to working together to achieve the best outcome possible,” I said with a smile.

---

Julian

Vanessa had come over to help prepare me and my home for the arrival of my new sober companion. His room was set up on the opposite end of the apartment to me, complete with all of the essentials that he required during his stay here.

After being blindsided at the dinner by Alexis Mendes, Vanessa was feeling unsure about hiring this particular sober companion. But I could see in his face during the dinner what he was after. He was trying to challenge me, one-up me, assert his dominance in the conversation over me. When I fought back with my own response – that even I was surprised with – I could see his armor starting to fall off.

Alexis thought he was going to win, but he met his match.

After imploring and eventually instructing my publicist to leave before he arrived, I sat in my foyer, waiting with anticipation for my new housemate to arrive.

From my understanding, Alexis would observe me when I was at home, accompany me on social outings where alcohol was likely to be present, but other than that, I would still have a relative amount of freedom. As a straight man with a high sex drive, it was important that I would still have some sort of privacy.

The garage bell sounded, and I quickly buzzed him in without checking the video camera. I took these few seconds to check out my appearance. I was wearing a pair of blue running shorts with a matching Sharks training tank top, my muscles on full display. I’m not sure why I was concerned with how I looked for a man who, by the looks of it, viewed my existence as an inconvenience.

Moments later, the front doorbell rang. With a deep breath, I walked over and opened the door.

Alexis stood on the other side of threshold with a suitcase in one hand, and a big overnight bag over his other shoulder. He offered me a very well-practiced smile and nodded his head in greeting, the small bun on his head moving in unison.

“Come on in,” I greeted him.

While almost every fiber of my being hated being put into a situation where I had to live with a stranger for a few months, our dinner the other night had given me a sick sense of competition with my sober companion, so I decided I was going to be as pleasant and welcoming as possible. If he thought he was going to one-up me and take control of this situation, he was dead wrong.

“Thank you,” he mumbled in reply.

It seemed he had his armor off as he followed me into the apartment, looking around in awe. While I was very unaware of his line of work and what he did prior to me, I’m sure he had never worked with a client as affluent as me.

“I’ll give you a quick tour of the place and show you your room.”

Walking through the lounge, study, entertainment room, and kitchen and dining area, I ended his tour at his room. I pushed the door open and he glanced around his new bedroom, a small smile creeping up on his face.

“This is very lovely,” he said. For a second, I almost thought I saw a defense come down, but then his smile rested and his walls were back up. “I’ll get set up and then we can have a quick chat.”

He was challenging me. I smirked. “I look forward to it.”

---

Alexis

After putting my clothes into the walk in wardrobe that was the size of a tiny apartment in New York, and organising the rest of my belongings, I ventured out of the bedroom with a notepad and a pen and found Julian sitting in the lounge room, watching some gridiron highlights show. I snickered to myself. How self indulgent must you be to watch highlights of your own career.

“Everything alright?” Julian glanced over at me.

He had his arms up behind his head, which made his already enormous biceps look even bigger. He had his feet up on the chaise with his legs crossed at the ankle. While I wasn’t the type of queer to find conventionally attractive men attractive, I would be a dirty liar if I said Julian didn’t look sexy like this.

“Everything’s great.”

I sat down at the opposite end of the sofa which looked big enough to comfortably hold 12 humans.

“First, I’d like to know more about you, and of course, you are free to ask me anything you wish,” I began.

“Why this career path?” he interjected.

I raised an eyebrow at him, but quickly drew it back down. Clearing my throat, I offered him my best professional smile. “I’ve always wanted to help people, but not in the obvious ways that people tend to think. I volunteered to lead AA, and found myself going down this path naturally. Now here I am.”

“What part of Australia are you from?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Melbourne.”

“Are you single? Married?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, and it told me everything I needed to know. His intention was to mess with me, no doubt because I got under his skin at our introductory dinner.

He was messing with the wrong one.

“Single, by choice. Haven’t found the right man.”

Julian seemed momentarily surprised by my homo-admission, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his cheeky little façade also disappeared.

“I know there are lots of assumptions made about football players, but I just want to let you know that this’ll be a safe space for you.” He smiled, and possibly for the first time since I met him, it was a genuine smile. It warmed my heart.

“I appreciate that a lot,” I replied. “Now tell me about yourself.”

Something that Google couldn’t tell me, I thought.

“I played football all throughout high school, got scouted for a scholarship, played through college, and was drafted almost immediately. I have the most sacks in the league, and-”

“I’m so sorry to cut you off,” I interrupted him. “I don’t really understand the first thing about gridiron so this isn’t making any sense to me anyway, but I don’t want to know about Julian Ambrose the football player. I want to know about Julian Ambrose the man.”

For the second time, Julian seemed stunned. He seemed to be thinking about how to approach this question. “I live for football. Maybe too much to the point that there’s not much else about me." He shrugged his big shoulders. "I date around, nothing too serious. I’m close with my family, especially my little sister, but don’t see them as much as I should.”

I began jotting this down on my notepad, which immediately drew Julian’s attention.

“Tell me more about your family,” I said.

“I have a mom and a dad who were high school sweethearts. Dad’s an accountant and mom’s in real estate. And then there’s my little sister Estelle. She transitioned when she was 14 and she’s the happiest she’s been ever since. ”

Watching the pride spread across Julian’s face as he spoke about his sister really touched me. I stopped writing my notes down and put the notepad aside.

“Do they know you have a sober companion now?”

Julian nodded his head. “I didn’t want them to find out through a press conference. Estelle thinks it’s a good idea. She’s sick of seeing my name dragged through the media so she’s hoping this’ll fix me. Her exact words.”

I tapped my pen on my bottom lip. “Why alcohol?”

Julian blinked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Why is that your chosen vice? You could’ve turned to many other addictions, yet it’s alcohol that causes you to make the decisions you have.”

Julian opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, his brow furrowing at my statement.

“You don’t have to answer that question now,” I said.

With that said, I picked up my notepad and retreated back to my bedroom.

---

Julian

After rendering me speechless and smokebombing as if nothing happened, Alexis kept to himself for the rest of the night. We ate dinner together in a somewhat awkward silence, and after that, he returned back to his bedroom.

I had cancelled my fuckbuddy appointment for the night, unsure of how Alexis would react to it, and if he’d look at me with that judgmental frown I had already become accustomed to. After doing a quick workout in my home gym and having a long shower, I sat in the lounge with nothing else to do.

I felt like I was walking on egg shells in my own home with Alexis here. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up. I had half a mind to put Vanessa on the phone right now and cancel this whole silly agreement.

I heard Alexis’s shower turn on and my curiosity turned towards his direction. A stand-up mirror sitting against the wall reflected the doorway to his bathroom and I could see that the door was slightly ajar.

I blinked. I knew I should turn away and give my new housemate his privacy. I even switched the TV on to give me some audio distraction. But eventually, my attention turned back to the mirror.

Alexis’s body came into view, and it didn’t look like he was naked. Yet. He slipped out of his black t-shirt, revealing the tight, bronzed torso underneath. He had a Y-shape with broad shoulders that tapered in to a slim waist, and as my eyes regrettably trailed down, I noticed the big round buttocks it sat on top of. I blinked, taking in the full, round mounds of his behind which dramatically curved out, almost giving him a Jessica Rabbit silhouette. The red underwear he was wearing seemed to be struggling to hold his ass as it rode up his crack, his cheeks on half-display.

I bit my lip and felt a forbidden fire build up inside me. I needed to look away. I needed to look away.

Alexis bent over and slowly slid out of those tiny red panties of his, and as he stood up and looked in the mirror, he seemed to notice that the bathroom door was ajar. Before he could catch me, I turned my attention back to the television as I heard the bathroom door shut.

Blowing out a deep breath, I readjusted my pants which seemed to be getting tighter by the second, and tried to focus on the screen in front of me.