by Eva LeNoir
My phone rang as I was checking the time, another hour before boarding.
I sighed before answering, the name not being the one I'd actually been hoping to see flash on my screen.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked, looking around trying to find a quiet space to talk so my dad wouldn't eavesdrop. I was more and more convinced that Dad was on Team Marlon, taking advantage of any occasion that would bring us together, alone.
"Hello, my love, how are you?"
My love? Where did that come from? Calvin never called me that.
"Good, just waiting on the flight out to Osaka," I reminded him from our conversation the night before, "What are you doing up so late? It's what," I looked at my watch and cringed, "Ten at night?” Calvin was an avid fan of beauty sleep.
"Yeah, yeah, always work to be done at the office, you know how it is. Been working a lot and drinking entirely too much coffee," he said, his words stringing together as though he were on a high-speed chase.
"Well, I suggest you step back from the office coffee there, Calvin, or you'll become like all the other Capitol Hill puppets," the stories I’d heard about politicians had always made me grateful that my father had never chosen that path, never even considering it for a minute. Although my boyfriend was clearly on his merry way.
Just when I was about ask him what he was working on, I heard a female voice in the background.
It wasn't his mother.
Wasn’t his sister, either.
I heard the muffling of the phone, like someone putting a hand over the receiver.
"Calvin?" I stood abruptly, making my dad turn to me and stare with eyes that seemed to understand before even I could grasp at the idea.
"Yeah, baby?" more clinking and muffling before he came back to the phone and continued, "the cleaning lady was asking me about the waste baskets."
Silence.
I had no reason to not believe him, after all, it was late in DC and the team of custodians tended to work at night when the elected personnel were home for the night.
Calmly, I walked to a corner in the airport trying to find some quiet area where I could concentrate on our conversation without the sounds of the passengers hindering my hearing.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice steady,
I heard a sigh on the other end and then Calvin’s soothing voice.
"Of course, Jai," he answered, "everything is fine. I just wanted to give you a call before I headed home.”
It all made sense and again, I had no reason to distrust him.
"Okay, well, I’m glad you did. We should be boarding in a little bit…” I trailed off, looking over to make sure my dad was okay. For some reason, I was eager to end this conversation. What I had accepted for years as being Calvin’s quirks, were grating on my nerves more than usual. His voice sounded whiny. His narcissism seemed heightened. Maybe I was just tired and my patience for his antics was running low.
"Is Marlon still with you?” Calvin’s tone took on a sharper edge when mentioning Marlon.
I sighed, “No, Calvin. He had to go home for awhile to take care of some business,” I told him, making my way back to our seats in the waiting area, annoyance rising with every step, “And he wanted to spend some time with his pet skunk!” I added with a smile on my face, remembering the fondness in Marlon’s eyes whenever he spoke of Liberace.
“He’s got a pet skunk?” Calvin asked, disgust written all over his voice, “Those vermin are full of rabies. I want you to stay away from him, Jaidyn. He could infect you with something.” He rushed his words, worry and hatred a strange mixture as he spoke.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. I was done with this conversation.
“Promise me, Jai,” I didn’t like the way he assumed he could give me orders but at the same time, I could understand where his worry was coming from.
Taking advantage of the voice on the intercom calling another flight for boarding, I said my goodbyes to Calvin and quickly disconnected the call.
"You finally caught him, huh?" Dad said, not an ounce of surprise in his voice.
“You know he’s not good enough for you, right?” my father said as soon as I sat back down next to him.
Snapping my neck to the side, I stared at his profile and wondered what exactly he was talking about.
"What?" I sounded breathless, like he'd knocked the wind out of me.
"Sweetheart, men like Calvin don't do well with separation," he said, his voice steady and calm, "they keep the woman they love, and they fuck the women they can't keep."
That last phrase trotted around my brain while I stared at my father, processing.
Then, as if the universe was trying to side with my dad, I heard the tell tale sounds of Rihanna's Unfaithful ring out on someone's phone behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I scolded my dad, “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, “he’s been doing the long-distance thing for a long time and we haven’t had a problem yet.”
My reassurance was supposed to end the conversation but apparently my father had other ideas.
"Yet,” he echoed, "and not that you know of,” he added, planting a tiny seed of doubt in my brain, and I didn’t like it one single bit.
When the flight attendant called our flight, I helped Dad with his carry-on and guided him to the front desk for priority boarding.
“All right, Dad. Time to go see the land of the rising sun.”
Chapter 22
Marlon
I hated having to leave Jaidyn in Hawaii, leaving that little piece of heaven where real life disappeared for awhile, but I needed to meet with the deep pockets of Los Angeles to bring in more donations for the foundation. No better way to talk business than at a gala. But I’d felt as though Jaidyn and I had started a routine, that we were somehow falling into sync. Early morning surfing and late morning walks, while her father soaked up the horizon. Simple lunches and experimental dinners, all made up for fun, relaxing days.
I’d introduced her to Stick Figure even after she’d sworn that reggae wasn’t her ‘thing.’
“Reggae is everyone’s ‘thing’, if you keep an open mind,” I told her, shaking my head at her stubbornness.
“I feel like if I’m not smoking a joint then it doesn’t make sense,” she said, and I almost lost my shit.
“Stereotype, much? Come on, let’s initiate you into the world of listening to music without judging;” I teased, but she still wasn’t convinced.
Putting the Burial Ground album on my music app from the beginning, not too loud but just enough that we could appreciate the sounds, I joined her outside on a lounge chair right next to hers. It was early evening, the sun still shining, the heat bearable with a breeze sifting through the trees and swooping down to cool us off. Jaidyn looked too comfortable and my hands were itching to touch her.
I told myself that what I was about to do was for her sake. To teach her a lesson in acceptance and “judge not lest be judged” or whatever. I’d warred with myself the entire ten feet it took me to reach her relaxed figure by the pool. That fucking bikini there, taunting me, teasing me, killing me slowly with every string that wrapped around her chest and hips.
When I reached her, she turned her head and lowered her sunglasses in a typical movie star move, her hazel eyes bright in the slowly setting sun, her skin a caramel bronze from the three weeks of sunbathing and surfing. Her body toned to within an inch of its life.
And her tits?
Fuck me, they were just begging to be sucked and fondled. Rolled between my lips and teeth, painted in my come, and worshipped like the queen to whom they belonged.
At the exact moment she understood what I was about to do, she flung her sunglasses off and pushed her hands in front of her as though it would give her enough distance to save her from me. I wondered if it’d been my smirk or the determination in my eyes that had given me away, but then decided I really didn’t give a shit.
Bending at
the waist, and without a single word otherwise, scooped her up, one arm behind her back and one behind her knees, slinging her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold. The whole way to the pool she kicked, screamed, laughed, and threatened but nothing could deter me from what I’d been ready to do.
I jumped. She screamed.
When my feet had hit the bottom of the pool, I shot us back up, laughing as soon as we hit the surface.
“Asshole!” she sputtered, loud enough for the neighboring islands to hear her. Sliding down the length of my body, she stayed within the circle of my arms, her face so close, her mouth so tempting. I didn’t dare let my hands wander up and down her back yet resting them dangerously close to her delectable ass.
I was so busy staring into her bright, lust-filled eyes that I didn’t notice her bikini-top strings had come undone. My gaze followed the line of her collarbone to the stretch of skin that sloped straight to her perky little tits. Her perky, little naked tits. The perfect size for my hands and mouth.
I was instantly hard and sure my board shorts couldn’t hide much of anything, especially this close to her. I heard her faint gasp and knew she could feel the ridge of my dick pressing against her lower stomach.
When she looked down, presumably to see my cock, she noticed her breasts were out and visible, there for my visual consumption.
Her arms that had been wrapped around my neck for support suddenly flew off and directly crossed her chest, hiding herself from me.
It was a travesty, her breasts hidden. They were too perfect not to be admired by me. And only me.
As much as I wanted to press her up against the wall of the pool and show her the extent of my lust, my need to fuck her into next week, I wanted her respect more.
I stepped away, turned around and gave her the privacy she needed to put her bikini top back in place.
I loathed that she belonged to someone who didn’t deserve her.
I hated that she wasn’t mine.
Yet.
Shaking my head at the memory, I adjusted my black tie and took one last look in the mirror to make sure I was ready to go.
Tonight’s fundraiser was a Hollywood shindig, bringing together the A-list who, several times a year had their choice of foundations to support. This one held about a dozen foundations who relied on outside help to make it possible to live up to their promises. It always amazed me that in order to get money, we had to spend so much of it with these gala dinners.
The doorbell rang, immediately followed by the swift opening of the front door to my apartment, revealing a stunning Emma dressed to the nines.
“Ready, Brando?” she said, sounding bored out of her mind.
“Lovely to see you too, Jack,” I answered, adjusting my cuffs and making sure my surf board links were secured.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this shit,” she complained, using crass language to balance out the classy look she was sporting.
“It’s only for a couple of hours and then you can go back to being biker chick before the clock strikes midnight.”
Walking up to her, I kissed her cheek, lightly to avoid fucking up her make-up, and looked her up and down with an appreciative hum.
“You clean up well, Jack,” I teased, making a show of running my eyes from her red-heeled ankle breakers to the red, asymmetric, satin gown, all the way to her neck where a single, matching red ruby rested at the dip of her throat to finish off my perusal with her new hair color, black as onyx. A stark change from her normally rainbow array. The tattoos adorning her skin only brought more beauty to her ensemble.
“Wow, you did all this for me?” it was meant to be said in jest, but I was genuinely appreciative of her efforts.
“Notice the hair?” she asked, pointing to the jaw length bob, not one hair out of place.
“I did,” I started, “I like it parted on the side like that.”
“Well, I had to go to the hairdresser’s and thought she was going to have a coronary when I asked her to do something uptight and rich person-y,” she explained, fidgeting slightly before pulling her shoulders back and pinning me with a glare. This was her cue that we needed to get our asses moving or she would put a stop to the entire night.
“All right then, milady, let’s dig into the pockets of the rich and famous,” I said with a faux British accent. Emma snorted at my horrible attempt.
“Yeah, you mean like you?” she jabbed.
“And you?” Touché.
“We’ve been here for an hour and I’m so bored I want stab someone,” Emma whispered with a bright, fake smile on her face.
“We’re just shy of our goal, if you’re a good girl we’ll even leave earlier than the two hours you promised,” I replied, my tone like that of an adult negotiating with a child.
“Fine,” she huffed but her eyes let me know she wasn’t happy about it.
Taking her empty champagne flute to replace it with a full one, I noticed the sudden stiffening of her spine and the armor dropping over her features, giving us all her resting bitch face.
“Ah, Em? You okay, there?” I looked around, but then followed the line of her sight straight to Ethan.
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, low enough that only she could hear me, “you two are totally fucking like wild animals.”
“Shut the fuck up, Brando,” she said, no humor in her tone and quickly turned to face the other way.
Looking back at Ethan I realized why she was in defense mode.
Emma’s problem presented itself in the form of a tall, dark-haired, elegant woman currently on the arm of my best friend and partner. I recognized her from a few blockbuster hits where she played the lead role in an apocalypse film, saving the earth from imminent doom.
Before I knew it, Ethan was bro hugging me and downing my champagne glass in one fell swoop.
“That gulp you just took probably cost a hundred bucks,” I told him, jokingly.
“Whatever,” he shrugged nodding to his date and about to introduce us when Emma turned to face Ethan with a smile so fake it passed for Botox.
“Emma?”
“Ethan.”
“I’m Marlon, by the way,” I offered my hand to Ethan’s date trying to keep her attention away from the eminent train wreck.
“Serenity, nice to meet you,” the starlet said, a Spanish lilt coloring her accent, and confusion, from the whisper yelling and name calling going on next to us, clearly written on all her delicate features.
Experience told me that there was going to be some serious hate-fucking going on tonight. Whether with each other or possibly with different partners all the while thinking of each other, I couldn’t say.
“Okay, then, Serenity. How about we let Mom and Dad sort out their problems and I’ll introduce you to some of the foundations set-up here?” I asked, offering my arm. I threw a scathing look at my best friends that told them to either make-up or fuck it out but to resolve it either way. Serenity Ruiz was nothing short of stunning. From the entertainment news and plain old hearsay of Tinseltown, I knew her parents had emigrated from Venezuela when Serenity was in her early teens.
“Yes, please,” Serenity accepted my arm a little too eager to get away from her date.
Smooth player, Ethan.
We talked a little, sipped some champagne and spoke with countless employees and CEOs of different foundations.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most eligible bachelor on this side of the San Andreas fault?” Carmen Renata, the better half of Hollywood’s favorite couple, teased, a beautiful smile on her face, as she threw her arms around my neck and gave me a loving, motherly hug. She was easily twenty years older than me but her genes would never admit it.
“Damn, and here I thought my title included at least the Midwest,” I joked back, reaching out to shake Anton Renata’s hand once Carmen released me from her mama-bear grip. We’d met when I was an idiot kid, barely nineteen and suddenly rich, at a house party in Malibu. She’d told me, that night, I had a
face meant to break hearts but a soul meant to heal them. I had no fucking clue what that meant, still didn’t to this day, but she took it upon herself to protect me from the wolves of Tinseltown.
“Oh my, Serenity Ruiz! It’s so great to see you again,” Carmen gushed, shaking the starlet’s hand and starting a conversation that clearly did not include us.
“How are you, Marlon? Carmen has been keeping me up to date with your foundation,” he said, sliding one hand into his pocket, the other always touching Carmen in some way. I’d always noticed that. If it wasn’t her hand he was holding, it was an arm around her waist or fingers caressing her neck, absent-mindedly. “I have to say, I’m impressed, and Carmen is very proud of you.”
As far as couples were concerned, Carmen and Anton were my inspiration. The bar I had set for myself. Not only were they exemplary parents, they were genuinely in love. A rare commodity in this world.
“Thank you, it means a lot,” I said, feeling as though I were nineteen again, looking at the Hollywood superstar that was Anton Renata. Receiving praises from him was akin to making a father proud. “She probably saved my life, in some ways. Had she not taken me under her wing, I would have probably burned through my cash and ended as a wash out actor hooked on heroin,” Anton grinned, pride and love shining bright in his black eyes, as he looked over to Carmen and said, “She is something, isn’t she?”
Just as we finished, the ladies turned to us and like clockwork, Anton’s arm was wrapped around his wife’s waist. “I saw the time, we need to get back home,” she told him and as we hugged goodbye, Carmen whispered, “Dating with style, there, Marlon, I approve. She’s lovely.”
My face must have communicated my confusion because she quickly backpedaled, “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed,” then Anton pulled her in close and whispered something in Carmen’s ear that made her cheeks turn a bright shade of red.
I wanted that. All of that.
The thought came with Jaidyn’s angelic face flashing in my mind. It felt right, somehow, like she belonged there. With heartfelt goodbyes and promises to catch up, we all went our separate ways for the evening.