by Stephens, L.
“Mom!” Ava called now from the hotel’s pool. “Can we get ice cream?”
“Of course!” Lynne called back to her.
You can get all the ice cream you want, baby, seven thousand dollars worth if you like, she thought.
“I love you, mom!” Ava yelled back and delivered it with a perfectly blown kiss.
Tears filled Lynne’s eyes, perfectly shielded by her gas station sunglasses, as she caught the invisible kiss sent out into the universe by the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“She could probably lose a couple pounds,” Rachel whispered. “I got my Becca on a great diet. I can share it with you, if you like.”
Just keep talking to me, Lynne thought. Make me feel better about my life and the life I’m going to give my daughter. A life that won’t be anywhere near this fucking concrete prison, this blood-sucking shit hole.
CHAPTER 17: VIRUS
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
― Dalai Lama XIV
If there was anything worse than L.A. traffic, it was trying to find a place to park after sitting in L.A. traffic. Sarah didn’t live in a nice gated community like her friends. She lived in the mean streets of Westlake on the edge of downtown. She had one assigned parking spot in her narrow driveway, and, as per usual, there was a dirty 1999 Jaguar XJ sitting in it. Finding a parking spot on her street was rare as there wasn’t any street cleaning, so if you got a spot outside your house, you didn’t move your car unless your life depended on it. So, if the XJ was in her driveway, she had to go looking, usually a few blocks away from the main street. She had dropped not so subtle hints about how he should be a gentleman and find street parking, so she could have the prime park and not get murdered, raped or mugged walking back to her home. He wasn’t a gentleman, though, and would combat that notion, telling her that his Jaguar was a classic and that her Prius would be much easier to replace.
Sarah walked the three blocks from her parking spot to her house. She never had a problem in the whole time she lived there, either walking at night or with break-ins, but she was a woman. It was always in the back of her mind, and it sickened her that he cared more for his piece of shit car than he did for her. She was pissed. Her mom, him, everyone in her life was just standing in front of her with their hand out, taking her oxygen and wasting her time. Before she knew it, she’d already dragged her door key half the way down the length of his car. It wasn’t a deep scratch but it was noticeable even with the eight months of dust sitting on it. The act didn’t make her feel better, though she did giggle at the infantile nature of it. It was something that he would do, but his scratch would have been visible from space.
Sarah stood in the doorway to what he called “their” bedroom, but she knew that wasn’t right. It was “her” bedroom, and after tonight that’s exactly what it would be. Even though it was only a little after 6pm, he was face down and asleep, her beautiful duvet crumpled and wrapped around him. She could see the sweat stains on the sheets, and she scrunched her nose at the sight and sighed. There was an underlying stench of Jack Daniels with a hint of body odor that turned her stomach. She had been on the go since seven that morning, hiking, auditions and running errands, all while he had been sleeping off the night before.
“Sarah!” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I need water!”
Sarah thought about ignoring him but she didn’t want a confrontation right now.
“Sarah!” he said, this time louder with an underlying menace to it.
“I heard you, David,” Sarah mumbled. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
By the time she came back with a glass of chilled water and some Advil, he was sitting on the side of the bed closest to the door with his head cradled in his hands. The sight of him repulsed her, even more than when he was asleep, but there was comfort in knowing that she would be finally free of him after tonight.
“I got you some Advil as well,” Sarah told him as she stood in front of him and offered the water.
David didn’t reply or move, and for a brief second Sarah hoped he had died in that position.
“Just put it on the table,” David slurred, finally. “I’ll have it in a second.”
Sarah clenched her jaw. There was no thank you or appreciation. She was just one of the little things that magically appeared in his life. She let out a breath of air as she placed the water down next to him on the bedside table. She had woken up that morning convinced she loved him and that given time he would finally see what a catch she was, but on the way home that had all changed.
“Thank you,” David murmured.
Sarah folded her arms and tried her best to suppress a smile as she looked down at him. She was enjoying his pain, because soon he was going to be someone else’s problem, most likely his ex-wife.
David Reynolds, or D.R. as he liked to be known in the industry, was kind of like her: the next big thing to never become the next big thing. He had directed a few independent films that hadn’t made much in the box office but had won awards. His first attempts in the studio system had been met with disaster. His first was poorly received by critics and hadn’t made its money back, and the second had been shelved for two years, only seeing the light of day in a small selection of theatres and in digital release. Sarah had met David through a friend, the one successful acting friend who hadn’t dropped her at the first sign of diminished celebrity. She didn’t usually go for men that were in the business. She liked guys who kept drama to a minimum, and guys in the business seemed to bring more drama to the relationship than she did. But at the insistence of her friend, she had given it a shot.
David was on the back end of his forties, but from a distance he could get away with forty-two. His jet-black hair had flecks of gray throughout that gave him a debonair quality. The first night they had met he had been charming and sincere. He never left her side all night and didn’t rush anything. He just let her take control of the situation, let her advance their connection at her comfort. By the second date, Sarah was smitten, and they had fucked for what seemed like days, drinking wine and eating cheese between beautiful lovemaking. But that was seven months ago, and now the honeymoon period was well and truly over. The weeklong benders were starting to make David look his age. The gray flecks in his hair were now becoming gray tufts, invading and conquering the virgin terrain on what seemed like a daily basis.
“You should drink some water,” Sarah said sweetly.
She regretted it instantly. She wanted to present a hard-lined stance in her dealings with him, and she didn’t want him to see any openings that he could exploit. David slowly reached for the water and took a sip.
“Here,” Sarah said, this time with no emotion, as she handed him two Advils.
David complied and swallowed the pills. They exchanged eye contact for a brief second as he swallowed some more water, and she felt a pang in her heart.
“How was the audition?” David asked.
“It went great!” Sarah sparkled. “I think I got it!” Sarah almost coughed. She was so shocked that David would even ask her something about her life that she forgot the game plan instantly.
“Really?” David said with a grin as he looked up. “See, I told you, you had nothing to worry about.”
Sarah could see the David’s youthful charm reappear in his smile, and she tried to fight off her joy, but the relief from getting a real shot at a part was too much to handle, and a wave of excitement washed over her.
“You did tell me,” Sarah beamed. “I just have to meet with the director tomorrow. Hopefully that goes okay.”
“Mere formality,” David assured her, waving off her worries with his hand. “You got this, babe!”
It was like an out-of-body experience for Sarah. She was watching herself, excited and jubilant with a man that she hated, a man she wanted out of her life.
“I’m so proud of you!” David said as he stood up shakily.
Before Sarah could step away he grabbed her in an embrace. The smell of body odor and Jack Daniels aggressively filled her senses, but she could feel tears of joy filling the corners of her eyes as she returned his sweaty hug.
“I’m taking you to dinner tonight,” David murmured as he kissed her neck. “We are going to celebrate. We are going to paint the town red.”
CHAPTER 18: GET A LOAD OF THIS CREEP
Ryan’s lust was increasing. It was overtaking him, and he needed to act on it.
“Angie, get me Joseph Liebowitz at Blue Ocean Pictures,” Ryan said, pressing the intercom button on the phone on his desk.
“Right away, Mr. Pinkerton,” Angie answered through the crackle of the phone’s speaker.
“Aww I’d love to smash that little puss,” Ryan whispered with his teeth clenched as he grabbed at his cock through his pants. “I’d fucking eat that little asshole like it was butter!”
“What was that, Mr. Pinkerton?” Angie asked through the speaker.
“I said,” Ryan stuttered, “Make it fucking quick.”
“Yes, sir,” Angie replied awkwardly. “Right away.”
Her voice was replaced with the sound of the phone ringing.
“Blue Ocean,” came a male voice.
“I have Ryan Pinkerton for Joseph Liebowitz,” Angie said politely.
“Just a moment,” the male voice said after a pause.
The ringing returned, and Ryan picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. He had a quick look around his empty office before unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, reaching greedily inside for his cock.
“Mmmmmmm,” Ryan grunted in a barely audible breathy voice. “I need to fuck something.”
The ringing stopped and Ryan snapped back into reality.
“This is Joseph,” Joseph said stiffly.
“Joseph!” Ryan said enthusiastically. “How you doing there, cowboy?”
“Who is this?” Joseph said, unimpressed.
“It’s the Pink!” Ryan said, trying to shoehorn a new nickname.
“Oh hey, Ryan,” Joseph said even more somber tone. “I thought you were someone else.”
“You got good news for me, buddy?” Ryan said eagerly.
“I was just leaving for the weekend,” Joseph said dismissively. “Let’s touch base on Monday, okay?”
“You taking the family out of town?” Ryan asked swiftly. “Palm Springs? Santa Barbara? Big Bear?”
“Something like that,” Joseph mumbled. “Look, I got to go, man.”
“Come on Joseph, it’s The Pink!” Ryan said, almost pleading. “Let’s talk now. I’m here, you’re here…”
“Okay, Ryan, but you’re not going to like it,” Joseph said, still keeping it all business. “We’re going to pass, the money she wants is way too much.”
“That’s insane! We were doing you a favor with that price!” Ryan squealed. “It’s far below an actress of her caliber!”
“We feel she’s past her prime,” Joseph said like it was nothing to him. “We feel like we would be overpaying. This is a business, Ryan. You know that better than any of us.”
Ryan put the phone’s handset between the side of his head and his shoulder and put his free hand on the computer’s mouse. The monitor came to life. A website plastered with obscene pornographic photos and videos filled the screen. He minimized the browser and pulled up headshots of a beautiful dark-haired actress.
“Jessica Raven is nowhere near past it. That’s insulting,” Ryan said as he clicked through the photos of Jessica Raven. With each photo, the amount of clothing she was wearing was reduced. “The last four films she appeared in grossed over fifteen million dollars!”
His hand started pumping harder as he hunched over closer to the screen.
“She’s got history, Ryan. There was bad blood on her last film,” Joseph said. “We can’t afford that this time round, not at this budget.”
“C’mon Joseph, that wasn't her fault, you know that! They cast a lead actor who was half a foot shorter than her,” Ryan said convincingly. “He started some rumors, and it got out of hand. She was an innocent victim in all of that.”
“What about the tape, Ryan?” Joseph scoffed. “She was the victim in that too?”
“Who hasn't got a sex tape? She’s a household name because of that,” Ryan insisted, clicking on a movie file that opened at full screen on his monitor. “Don’t pretend that’s not going to work in your favor...”
A home video of Jessica Raven dancing around in lingerie in a large modern kitchen started playing on his screen. The strokes were becoming faster, and sweat was pouring down his forehead.
“Look, let’s talk on Monday,” Joseph said stiffly. “No promises. I’ll see if we have any parts open in our future slate.”
Ryan’s face scrunched. This was not going well. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to use his trump card, but Jessica was the star of his stable. Ryan needed her as visible as possible so he could charge big dollars.
“I’d rather we work it out now. We’ve got a great history, Joseph,” Ryan sneered. “I was just thinking about you the other day, actually. Remember that time at The Venetian? That was so, fucking, wild!”
There was a long pause, and Ryan licked his lips and slowed the pumps he was giving to his cock. He could only imagine what Joseph was doing on the other end of the line, and he didn’t want to cum just yet. This was one of Ryan’s favorite things. To him, there was nothing like pulling the rug away from someone who thought they were about to crush him like an ant. The role reversal felt sexual and primal.
“You’re really going to try fuck me, huh?” Joseph whispered. “You’re talking about shit from five years ago, shit you hung over me on the last deal, which was only last year? I knew you were fucking scum, man, but this takes the fucking cake.”
“What, buddy?” Ryan laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about!”
There was another long pause and Ryan could practically hear the gears turning in Joseph’s brain. It was time to strike.
“Look, if you can't give her the full number, how about some points on the back end?” Ryan pleaded. “That’s a fucking great deal, you know those points won’t mean shit.”
“Hmmm. Okay Ryan, two points, but that’s it,” Joseph said after a moment. “And if I hear any noise about her causing issues on set, she’s going to be fired without payment.”
“Of course, of course, that goes without saying,” Ryan said excitedly as his pumping increased. “See, I told you we could work this out!”
“Get her to read the script. We got the first cast reading on Tuesday,” Joseph snapped.
Ryan looked to the script on the desk and then to the monitor that showed Jessica Raven being fucked by a young buff guy.
“Yeah I got the script right here. I'll take it to her personally. It will be my pleasure,” Ryan said letting out a big breath. “Let's get this moving!”
“This is on you, Ryan,” Joseph said in an exhausted tone. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“Don’t you worry,” Ryan wheezed. “I got her wrapped around my—”
“He’s gone, Mr. Pinkerton,” Angie said through the speaker.
“Hang up!” Ryan said, dropping the receiver from his shoulder and wiping a sheen of sweat from his head.
Ryan started grinding his teeth and making the veins in his neck pulse as he pumped.
“Fucking little bitch!” Ryan hissed quietly. “I’d turn her over on my fucking desk and smash that little puss into oblivion. Then I’d cum in that little asshole. I’d fucking cum so much that I’d have some left to drain into her mouth too!”
He was super close, but he needed something to finish with. He expertly pulled up the browser window he had previously minimized and opened up a new window, quickly taking his hand from his cock and typing before he hit enter.
“Come on!” Ryan hissed as the page loaded.
Facebook appeared, and he
typed in Angie’s full name in the search bar and hit enter.
His hand returned to his cock as her profile came up and he began clicking through her pictures. At this point his stroking was almost indiscernible to the human eye, and, with a loud grunt, Ryan came.
“Mr. Pinkerton?” Angie asked through the speaker. “Is everything, okay in there?”
Ryan looked towards the door venomously. “Yes, yes…” he spat. “Get me Jessica Raven, on the line.”
As he pulled his hand back, a thick strand of semen formed a web between the button and his fingers. Ryan broke the web and looked at the strand of cum. He licked his lips and didn’t waste any more time before putting his cum-laden fingers in his mouth.
CHAPTER 19: SUCKS TO BE HIM
Jill didn’t have to open her eyes to tell where she was. She could feel the vibration of the road and the leather of the Escalade’s back seat. On top of all that, she could smell the fucking gardener, his cheap cologne and his hair’s disgustingly greasy pomade. He was the fat asshole’s personal driver, but as far as Jill was concerned he was the fucking gardener. Her head throbbed but it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t as if she liked that Lurch had hit her, but she was appreciative of the fact that he had struck her with an open hand just above her ear so she didn’t have to conceal a bruise on her face.