Behind the Scenes

by Christina C Jones

  “See?” I laughed. “Now since you asked me, it’s only fair that I get to ask you too… Nikki,” I said, and he immediately started shaking his head and chuckling. “Just be real with me, because that last conversation that we did have, you asked if it was because of her. And you’ve got to understand, that shit did not look good, man!”

  He stopped laughing but shook his head again. “Never,” he swore. “I will fully admit to knowing she liked me, and I won’t front; I always thought she was beautiful. She’s funny, she’s an attractive woman. But I never cheated on you Logan. Never even considered it.”

  “Well… that’s good to know,” I told him. “I’m not sure why, since we’re not together anymore. But still.”

  “I get it,” he said. “I’m glad to know the internet was not right about the reason you left me.”

  “Are they ever?” I asked. “Hey though, I’ve got one more thing that I really just have to know. If you were feeling the same way I was about us, why on Earth – like after you really realized it was over – would you be messed up about that?”

  “Messed up about it?” he asked. “Logan, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your mother, that day at the at the spa. When your auntie made up that lie about the credit card machines not working, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, I do remember that. I still don’t know what they were thinking, getting me to come up there.”

  “I think they thought I was going to see you and my panties were going to fall off, but you’d mush me right in the face and say back off bitch, you already had your chance. I mean… that’s just my best guess.”

  Les laughed. “You know what, fooling around with those two, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

  “But you’re telling me you have not been sitting around pining for me and lamenting our lost love?”

  “Nah,” he said. “More like, that’s what my mother has deluded herself into believing so she doesn’t have to accept the fact that I’m currently dating someone she feels is beneath me.”

  “Your mother feels like everybody is beneath you,” I said. “What makes this new chick so notable?”

  “Because it’s…Nikki. In her eyes, Nikki works for us so... It’s just a lot. And she doesn’t like that I don’t let her disrespect fly in the personal or professional setting, so she’s just going through… a bit of an adjustment. She’ll be fine.”

  Wow.

  I was glad, for his sake, that he was thinking about it like that.

  And maybe a little bit for Nikki too.

  The friendship between our parents had typically kept his mother on decent behavior with me, but there were definitely times when her overly high opinion of herself, her family, and her son, came bleeding through.

  I hadn’t been forced to choke down a full meal of that woman’s bullshit, but I’d had enough of a taste to imagine what it was like.

  “I’m really happy to hear all of that,” I told him. “Glad you’re… I don’t know, standing on your own now.”

  He shrugged. “Once I saw you doing it, it’s kind of like… what more excuse did I have?”

  What more excuse indeed.

  Les and I parted ways after that, as amicably as usual. I was actually glad I’d run into him. Not necessarily because I needed closure on that situation, because I’d fully moved on. But it had, just at the very fringes of my mind, bothered me a bit thinking that my selfish choice to end things between us had made life harder for Les.

  Apparently, that wasn’t really the case.

  So, I was feeling pretty good, my nausea all but forgotten as the ceremonies finished up, and then I had to go about the rest of my day.

  Today was another on-location filming day, and I didn’t feel like tracking down where they’d gotten off to or figuring out if there would be a place for me to peacefully vomit my entire life up, so I went to the office instead.

  Even when I was on set, I was always doing something else too. Today that something would be gathering sound bites from the critical reviews of the screening to forward to the marketing team. Was this something I could have left for them?

  Of course it was.

  But I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t see something that needed to be done and simply do it, instead of properly delegating it to someone else.

  A bad habit I was really going to have to break myself from.

  I was nowhere near adjusted to the knowledge of my pregnancy, and yet life went on. Before I knew it, the pregnancy would be replaced by a live, crying, needy baby who would require the attention of its parents.

  Delegation at that point would be absolutely necessary.

  I didn’t have a lot of time to develop the necessary art of letting go that giving tasks to someone else required, but I did have some.

  So for now, I would enjoy the pressure of having too much on my plate as long as I could.

  As soon as I hit the front doors of WAWG, I heard my name.

  It was coming from Freddy up at the security desk, who was currently playacting that he had a broken heart. “Ms. Byers,” he tried to pout, but his dimpled smile came through instead. “All this time I thought lawyer boy was my only competition and come to find out P-Three’s pretty ass was courting you too. How was I ever supposed to have a chance?”

  “I’m so sorry, Freddy,” I laughed. “I probably should have given you a heads up, huh?”

  “A text message, a carrier pigeon, a four-page letter, or something. I guess I get it though. He would get mad as hell when he saw me flirting with you, so I should have seen this coming.”

  “Really now?”

  “Oh yeah,” Freddy nodded, ushering me through the security checkpoint as another group of people started walking up who would require his actual professional attention.

  I did remember one such incident, when we first started, but I hadn’t noticed since then.

  Not that it mattered.

  I couldn’t dare tease him about it now, unless I wanted him bringing up my own jealous nuttiness. I had to just tuck it away for now.

  On my floor, I had to make a quick stop by the bathroom to relieve my stomach and do another wash out of my mouth. I did at least feel better afterwards but knew I would need to eat something, or the next wave would be much worse.

  When I walked through the door of Pierre’s office, I was wondering what suitable snacks he might have in his fridge.

  I was not expecting to find that weirdo production assistant girl in his office.

  He must have left the door unlocked last night.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” I asked, startling her as she rifled through empty file cabinets. Everything was digital now, so we really didn’t keep anything in here. It was purely a workspace, and a break room.

  “Oh... I was just looking for something I left in here,” she said, daring to take a seat against his desk with a bit of a smirk I didn’t understand. “We were up here last night and I just… misplaced my underwear.”

  Huh.

  Now, I hadn’t been with Pierre last night, and he had stayed on the WAWG lot late. So was it possible she was telling the truth?

  Yes.

  But if there was one thing I absolutely did not believe about Pierre, it was the idea that he would cheat on me, in his office, with a production assistant, a week after finding out I was pregnant. Now I wasn’t so naive to think that my pussy was so solid gold it would always keep him where he was supposed to be.

  No.

  He was responsible for that.

  But at the same time... this hoe was lying.

  “Let me ask you something,” I said, moving purely on suspicion as I stepped further into the office, walking up to where she was sitting there at the desk.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “How much is Sienna paying you?”

  This woman – Stephanie, according to the badge pinned to her shirt for all these weeks, was fair skinned enough that I could literal
ly see the blood drain from her face.

  Bullseye.

  She stammered for a moment, trying to… I guess trying to figure out what she was going to say now that she’d been figured out. But then she must’ve decided it was better to just get away, because she shot off from the desk like she was going to get past me to the door.

  Before I could think better of it though, my hand was out, grabbing the tail end of her long braided ponytail as she passed.

  That stopped her cold.

  I quickly let her go, surprised that I’d done it in the first place – she’d been moving so fast that the sudden lack of momentum sent her tumbling toward the floor.

  I stayed back.

  “With all the contracts you signed to be able to work on this set, the privacy agreements, the non-disclosures… I’d think you would know it was in your best interests to just answer the question. Before I start talking to lawyers.”

  Because she was stupid, instead of taking my more than generous offer, she smirked at me as she stood up. “Like Anthony Cottrell,” she asked, as if she thought that jab was going to get under my skin, but really… it just made me smile.

  “Yes, like my family friend who works for this network, Anthony Cottrell. Or I can just call Des Byers and roll your entire life upside down. Think Sienna is paying you enough for that?” I asked. “Or I can call Des and any number of the other lawyers over at my family’s firm, and we can just turn this motherfucker all the way out.”

  That seemed to make her understand the gravity of this.

  “So now, you’re going to tell me,” I insisted, getting right in here face. “How much is she paying you?”

  “So it was her,” Pierre marveled, and I nodded.

  “Told you.”

  “You did,” he chuckled. “But you are almost always right.”

  “Yep. Almost,” I grinned, closing my eyes.

  This was, in a word... Lovely.

  After my little talk with Stephanie the production assistant, figuring out what she planned to do, and having security escort her out, I’d been too simultaneously keyed up and exhausted to get much done. I opted to take myself home, doing a little bit of work from the comfort of my couch before the nausea and exhaustion had taken over.

  And then Pierre showed up.

  With oyster crackers and peppermint tea, armed with some type of acupressure technique he’d heard about on the internet. Now, for the first time all day, my stomach was feeling settled, my mouth was not sour and dry, and I felt somewhat normal.

  With Pierre’s fingers pressed to a very specific position on my hands, the constant hum of sickness wasn’t nearly as potent, and I was more than glad for the relief.

  “So it’s all taken care of now?” he asked.

  “Pretty much. Obviously she’s fired, but Des is going to get back to me on whatever else is going to happen. I don’t think she’s going to go too hard at Stephanie since there was no actual vendetta there. She just loses her job, along with any goodwill or clout she had at the network. She loses that privilege now. As far as Sienna though… I think Des might be cooking up something much worse.”

  I almost expected Pierre to have a rebuttal for that, some plea for mercy of some type. But no… he shrugged.

  “Well, she shouldn’t have pulled you into whatever problem it was that she had with me. So… I say do what you’ve got to.”

  Why did that turn me on?

  Everything about him did, really, but there was just something different about this moment now. Something so intensely intimate about the both of us on my bed, me sitting cross-legged, his legs stretched out on either side of me, as he gave me this weird, nausea busting hand massage.

  Lovely.

  “You remember that first day of work?” I spoke up with a smile. “How I was so shocked to hear that you and Nick were friends? Because he seemed so nice and you seemed…”

  “Like an asshole,” Pierre filled in for me, chuckling. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Why were you so mean to me that day? I mean not that day, but the day before, at that lunch. When we first found out I was going to be working for you. Everything was going well, and then you just… switched on me?”

  Pierre shook his head. “Man, I think it was some kind of fight or flight response. You and Nubia were pushing pretty hard that day, and you’ve seen how intense this is for me. I think I was just trying to protect myself or something. So I attacked.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I get it now. And I’m really glad that we were able to stick it out, because look where we are.”

  “Yeah. This was a pretty unexpected turn of events. Thank God.”

  Yeah...

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked, stopping the movement of his hands. “Did that actually help?”

  “Yes, it helped a ton,” I told him. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, beautiful.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not shorty anymore, now I get to be beautiful?”

  “Nah, you’re still shorty, you’re just also especially beautiful to me right now.”

  “Really?”

  I raised the other eyebrow too then, turning to glance at the mirror over by the vanity. I was in the most oversized t-shirt I could find among my clothes, and my hair was tied up in my most garishly colorful scarf. Even though I knew he was coming, I hadn’t been going for cute at all. Just pure comfort to accommodate the discomfort this pregnancy was already putting me through.

  “I don’t think I stuttered, woman,” he said, moving so that he was behind me in the mirror. “I said beautiful, and I meant it.” He planted a kiss against the back of my neck, and… God help me that was all it took.

  As sick as I had been, it hadn’t affected the way he affected me, and I must have been putting off some serious pheromones, because he picked right up on it.

  Still in view of the mirror, his hands slipped under my shirt, the only thing I had on. I watched him move, one hand cupping my breast, his fingers pinching and pulling at my hypersensitive peaks, the other between my legs.

  “You know the rules,” he muttered against my ear, and exactly as prompted, I fought the urge to close my eyes.

  So I could see everything.

  Every bit of pleasure played out on my face as he pulled me up to my knees, for better access, and a better view. His hands were busy, busy, busy, and so fucking skilled, sending me right towards an orgasm that took my breath away.

  And he wasn’t even done with me.

  He pulled the shirt over my head, and then met my gaze in the mirror for just a moment before he snatched my scarf off too.

  “Pierre,” I scolded, but he didn’t care. He stuck his hand right in my hair, ruining my careful wrap to push my head down, taking my upper torso with it and leaving my ass up in the air.

  There wasn’t much for me to watch like this, not when he was behind me with his face buried between my legs. I did my best to stay up on my hands for as long as I could, but eventually I succumbed to the intensity of his mouth, and all I could do was drop my chest to the bed.

  Eyes closed, mouth open, pleasure pouring from my lips, my fists clenching handfuls of my pretty grey comforter as he ate me until the proof of my arousal – of my bliss – was dripping down my legs.

  At least until he could lap that up too.

  I was still bent over in a trembling heap from that orgasm when he got up on his knees too, quickly undressing before he grabbed my hair again to pull me back up onto my hands and he buried himself inside me.

  “You know you’re supposed to be watching,” he scolded, giving me an extra deep stroke as some kind of orgasmic punishment.

  He must have liked how my pussy responded, clenching tight around him to keep him there, must have liked how it played on my face, because he did that again, and again, and again and again, keeping his fist in my hair, his other arm anchored around my waist to keep me up, so I could take it.

  And I sure as hell did watch.

  I
watched every single moment as he stroked me into yet another orgasm, finishing himself deep inside me with absolutely zero guilt since I was already carrying his child anyway.

  As soon as we collapsed together on the bed, he turned me to face him, with a gentle hand to my face as he met my gaze.

  “You still feel okay?” he asked and all I could find the energy for was a grin.

  I felt amazing.

  29

  Pierre

  If anybody knows how to throw a party, it’s Nashira Drake.

  That’s what Logan claimed when I finally conceded to the idea of the viewing party for the first episode of ODS when it premiered for the public. If it was up to me, I would watch it – again – from my balcony, with a little herb on the side, completely ignoring any and all hot takes about it on social media.

  Logan had insisted I couldn’t do that; that the show, and all the cast and crew who’d worked hard to make it happen, deserved more than that.

  So… I agreed, on the condition that she had to keep it small. Just upper level cast and crew.

  She pushed back on that, insisting that it should be for everybody, since all the roles on set had been vital.

  I didn’t disagree with that, I just didn’t want all those people in my damn house.

  She won.

  I still didn’t let her hire Nashira though.

  She… was using her instead for the official wrap party in another three weeks, because it was apparently outside of my power to give Logan a true “no”.

  She’d doubted her own ability when it came to the planning of this, which was why she wanted to hire it out to a professional. Whoever she found – not Nashira, which meant I did not have chocolate fountains or blinged-out doves in my backyard – had done a nice job of transforming the oversized yard and pool area I’d been ignoring into a fully loaded outdoor watch party space.

  It was pretty cool.

  Lounge chairs, decorations, food, a huge projector screen that was undoubtedly making me a nuisance to my neighbors. I was usually pretty quiet though, so I could send them a gift basket or something to make up for today.