by L. L Hunter
“When your boyfriend is back in Hollywood, why don’t you come back to do another segment? You could do an entertainment or opinion panel. You’re good at that from what I hear.”
My heart pounded, blood rushing through my ears. The way he said it, deadpanned and serious, it’s as if he was calling me out. I’m that stunned bunny again, and it’s then I realised he knew who I was and what I did.
“Uh… maybe. Thank you for your time. I should get going.” I go to stand and walk away when his voice gave me pause.
“I could sue you and your publication for defamation, you know. You ruined my career. My ratings and popularity are down because of your little article. I could very easily ruin your career before it even starts.”
I couldn’t believe it. I walked back to him, fists clenched.
“Excuse me? Is that a threat, Mr Raymond?” I stood close to him so no one else could hear. But not so close that he could touch me again. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for Jack, but I see he is distracted, talking to the stage manager and a man I don’t know. I turned back to Charles.
“Not at all, love,” he said, reaching for me, his fingers skimming the base of my skirt and snake their way up my thigh. I stepped back and slapped away his hand.
“What the hell? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to write a new article about me painting me in a positive light. If you don’t, I’ll tell the world yours and Jack Dean’s relationship is nothing but a scam. That it’s an act to boost his career and box office sales.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not a scam. What Jack and I have, it’s real.”
“That’s not the impression we got today. So, do we have a deal?”
“Look, I don’t owe you anything. You’re a creep. No way am I going to write a positive article about you after you just assaulted me and threatened me.”
“Fine. Then I’ll just post a tweet saying your relationship with Jack Dean is nothing but a publicity stunt.”
“You know what, you do that. It’ll only make you look worse than you already do. I didn’t ruin your career. You did that on your own.” I pivoted on my heel and made my way to Jack’s side. Jack hugged me and kissed my head.
“What was all that about?” he said quietly.
“Nothing. I’ll fill you in later. Let’s get out of here.”
As we left the studio, I thought about what the world really thought about Jack and me. Did everyone think our relationship was an act? I couldn’t get over Charles Raymond’s threats and his fingers up my skirt. Was that how it was always going to be? I liked the free make-up, hair, wardrobe, designer clothes, and the endless opportunities that were coming my way, but I was starting to see the real side of the entertainment industry.
As the layers were scrubbed away like old paint, I realised I didn’t want this as much as I first thought.
I wanted Jack, but I didn’t want his life.
19
The next morning, I woke to my phone vibrating like crazy on my nightstand. I groaned and swiped at it, knocking it to the hardwood floor.
“Shit.” I reached for the phone and prayed the screen wasn’t broken. When I turned it over, I noticed a huge crack spider-webbing the screen.
“Shit.”
I answered the call because I couldn’t read anything.
“Hello?”
“Chloe, I hope it isn’t too early.”
“I… um…” I looked around for a clock but saw none. I didn’t have a clock in my room. I pretty much relied on my phone for everything. I pulled the phone away from my ear, blinked and squinted at the screen and tried to read the time. I saw a nine and a twenty-two through the fractured glass. Thank goodness it was a Saturday. Otherwise, I would be running seriously late for work. “Nah. It’s not. I apologise, but who is this? I just broke the screen on my phone. I can’t read anything.”
“That’s okay. It’s Lola from Little White Dog publishing. I just wanted to call and say I read your emails. Can I ask, why the change of heart?”
Oh, shit. I had completely forgotten about the offer to publish my story. Since my first decision, and then my change of heart, I’d reconsidered again. I no longer wanted the glitz, the glamour, and the lights. I had only had a small taste of what being a celebrity was like, an hors d’oeurve- sized portion, and it left behind a bad aftertaste.
I face planted my pillow but realised if I did that, then Lola wouldn’t be able to hear me. I sat up and swiped my hand down my face instead.
“Um… about that. It seems I’m reconsidering—again.”
Pause. Long pause. Okay. She was pausing way too long. I was pretty sure I could hear crickets on the other end. “Oh. Why?” she said finally.
“I’m just not sure this life is for me.”
“But you’ve only known Jack a few days, right? It’s been four days since the premiere. You can’t have given up so quickly.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just that something happened yesterday. I saw a side of celebrity that I don’t want to get too comfortable with. I seriously don’t know how Jack does it.”
“Yeah. There are some ugly parts of fame, but there are good parts too. I’ll tell you what, once we publish the book, you can revel in it then go back to being a recluse like most writers.”
As I thought about what this could mean—the added fame, the notoriety, more press, more interviews, more sleazy men at the top manipulating women—I cringed at the latter. I didn’t want another man sticking his hand up my skirt or looking at my cleavage. But then I thought about my story and Jack, and all the good feelings came back.
My heart leapt when I thought of his smile and that dimple on his left cheek, and the way he made my undies dampen. I liked the way he made me feel. He awakened something in me that had long been dead. He made me do crazy things. He made brave.
“Okay. But I just wanted to clarify that what I wrote and what Susan sent you, it isn’t exactly a book. It was meant to be an article, but ending turning into so much more.
“That doesn’t matter,” replied Lola. “That’s what we’re here for. We can turn practically anything into a book.”
Okay, then. Yes. Do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Publish the book. Let’s do it.”
My God. I was crazy. Call the cops and lock me in a psych ward. But love did that to you. Love made you crazy.
“Oh, my God,” I said after I’d hung up from Lola and flopped back on the bed staring at the ceiling. “I love Jack.”
I was doing this for him, not for me. I was sacrificing everything for him, and I didn’t care.
Oh, my God, I was becoming one of those girls.
Shit.
Jack came around at six, and as soon as he walked through the door, I leapt into his arms.
“Hey.” He chuckled. “Well, you’re happy.”
“Yeah. You won’t believe what I did this morning.”
I pulled back to look at him.
“What did you do?”
“I’m publishing my story!”
“Wow. Our story? The story about us?”
“Yep.”
“But you were so hesitant. I could sense it. What made you change your mind?”
I wrapped my hands around his neck and smiled. “You.”
He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back, but then we pulled apart again.
I needed to tell him everything. I needed to confess things to him that were just too deep to confess sober.
“This calls for wine. Or champagne. We need booze.”
I ran into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. I searched the door of the refrigerator and found an unopened bottle of sauvignon blanc that I didn’t remember buying. I pulled it out and set it on the kitchen bench before going in search of two glasses. While I poured the wine, Jack disappeared.
After a couple of minutes, he walked into the kitchen carrying plastic grocery bags. I slid a glass of wine towards
him and turned to face him with a raised eyebrow.
“What’s all this?”
His sexy as hell dimple came out to play as he smirked and I went gooey. “I’m cooking you dinner tonight.”
“You are?”
Oh, boy. My mum always said that if a man could cook…
“You didn’t mention you could cook.”
He placed the bags on the stove behind me and began pulling everything out. I saw packets of Vietnamese rice paper and spring roll pastry sheets and rice noodles.
“Yeah. I do. Not very well, I mean. There’s only one thing I make well, and that’s my grandmother’s Goi Coun or rice paper rolls.”
“Mmm. Sounds amazing.”
I leaned against the counter as Jack made himself at home in my kitchen, and it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
“No one has ever cooked for me before. Not a guy, anyway.”
“Really? That sucks. Where’s your wok? I need to saute the pork.”
“Oh, second drawer under the stove.”
While the pork mixture was frying in the wok—it smelled terrific by the way—I moved closer to Jack. He turned to face me when he was comfortable to let the mixture simmer. I took another sip of wine.
“I’m not doing this for me,” I finally admitted. “All my life, I’ve always done things for myself. I’ve had so many bad dates and dated so many douchebags that I’ve stopped caring whether I remain a spinster for the rest of my life. If the right guy did come along, that would be great. But I wouldn’t be sad if he never did.”
“That’s a good philosophy to have,” he said, taking another sip of wine and stirring the pork mince. “It reminds me of why I’m doing this. We have a lot of things in common.” He stirred the meat and spoke again. “So, you’re doing this for me? Why?”
I stared into my wine, swirled it around in my glass, and ran my finger around the rim.
Now was the time to confess everything. Now was the time to be brave. Now was the time to show him the way he made me feel.
“Because if I did it all for me, I wouldn’t want this life. Your life. The fame. After what happened yesterday…” I took a deep breath and confessed. “Charles put his hand up my skirt and threatened to sue me.”
Jack dropped the wooden spoon and turned to face me. “He did what?”
“No. It’s okay. It was the article I had to write about him. My very first article. He said I ruined his life. But his threats… I don’t think he’s going to make good on them.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He said he would tell the world our relationship was a sham and a publicity stunt.”
“But it’s not. We told them that.”
“I know. See, they’re empty threats.”
“But this still doesn’t sit right with me. You should put in a complaint about him.”
I nodded. I felt a lot better now it was off my chest. But I still had more to confess.
“I will. And that’s not all. About what I said before, about why I was doing this…
“Yeah, go on.”
“If I did this for you, I wouldn’t hold back. I would jump in with two feet, and I wouldn’t look back. I would say yes to everything, and I would say all the things I was too afraid to say before. Because that’s the way you make me feel, Jack. You make me a new person. I like this person. She’s carefree, and she’s brave. She’s sexy.”
As I said the last part, the word sexy, I moved in closer to Jack so our bodies were only a few centimetres apart.
“I like this Chloe too. Although, I liked the Chloe I first met. She was cute as hell.”
I blushed. “Cute?” I scrunched up my nose.
“Yeah. She was awkward. So, so awkward.” I laughed so hard, I snorted and immediately covered my mouth. Jack laughed too.
“See? That Chloe.”
“No. no. Stop it!” I was going to die.
He reached out and touched my face, tracing circles on my cheek.
I stopped laughing, and all my thoughts stopped until everything centred around his thumb and his touch. I leaned into him further so my hips were flush against his. He groaned.
And that did it.
I grabbed his face, pulled him down to me, and kissed the crap out of him. His hands slid down to my butt and picked me up. He then walked two steps to my right and sat me down on the island bench.
We soon forgot all about the food cooking on the stove.
20
I parted my legs, and he stepped in between them. He kissed me and my mouth opened as he slipped his tongue in. My hands twisted in his hair so I had a good grip on him, but it still wasn’t right. I needed to be closer. I needed more of him. His hands slid up my thighs and found my bum once more. He squeezed my butt cheeks and then slid me forward on the granite benchtop so my centre was pressed against his groin. He was a little bit taller than my petite frame, so at this level, our hips met. I felt the bulge of his manhood beneath his jeans, and the feeling of it against me in my most private and sensitive area was almost torturous. I moaned and reached for his shirt. I needed us to be closer still. There was far too much material between us. I began unbuttoning his shirt, and his hands found my skin under my shirt. His rough thumbs traced small circles on my lower back.
I’d had enough. I was going to catch fire.
“Stop.”
He paused and pulled back. “Is this too much? Too soon?”
“No. I need you to stop touching me. No, wait. I need you to keep touching me, but not like that. I need you. I need more of you. I need for there to be less clothing between us. I need to make love to you right here on my kitchen bench.”
He leaned in to kiss me again, but the smell of burned oil and meat gave him pause.
“Shit! The pork!” He began to move, but I grabbed his shirt and held him in place.
“Fuck the pork. Fuck me instead.”
“But… I wanted to make you dinner.”
I pecked his lips. “You’re always thinking about your stomach, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but…” he glanced again at the burning remains of our dinner. “Fuck it. It can wait.” He reached over to turn off the ruined dinner, and then he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me against him. It was then he picked me up and carried me upstairs to my bedroom.
We landed on my bed in a tangle of limbs. I fumbled for him, trying to remove his clothing. His hands went to my hips and then slid my shirt up and over my head.
While we were separated briefly to let the shirt pass between us, I yanked off his shirt too. I had already undone most of his buttons. When we were freed of our tops, it was time for the bottoms to come off too. I reached for the front of his jeans and struggled to get the button open. He helped me, and I managed to slide his jeans down his legs. He wore briefs, and they came off too. He reached for mine and quickly tugged them off. As I was wearing the skimpiest undies I owned, that were not actually mine—my sister’s dental floss I’d worn the night of the premiere—they came off too easily. We were now both completely naked.
Earlier, I’d wanted this like I’d wanted nothing else, but now that it was actually happening, I began to feel a bit self- conscious. I lay on the bed just staring up at him. I hoped I didn’t look like that stunned bunny again. Jack leaned over me.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he said.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like this is our first time.”
“I know, but we’re less drunk than we were that night. We’ll actually remember this.” He was right. He was completely and utterly right.
That night, the night that changed my life forever, I couldn’t actually remember much after we got in the lift. It should have been a night we would never forget, but we’d both been too drunk to remember most of it.
He kissed me sweetly and gently and then got off the bed. I sat up, watching him, aghast.
“Where are you going?”
He winked. “I’ll be back in a second.” He left the room,
still naked. I watched his bare bum retreat, and a few seconds later, I heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. I rolled to my side to face the door. A few minutes later, Jack returned and headed straight into the adjoining bathroom. He bent over to get something out of the cupboard under the sink, and I got the perfect view of his perfectly sculpted butt. When he came back to the bed, he climbed back on and kissed me. I kissed him back and wrapped my legs around his, tugging him closer. His manhood rubbed against my core, and I sucked in a breath. His penis was already erect, and he rubbed it across my entrance. He moved down to kiss my left breast, and with his other hand, he tweaked and pinched my right nipple. I moaned and arched my back.
“Please!” I begged. He chuckled, and I closed my eyes to savour the feeling of his touch. Then I felt cool air against my flushed skin, and I opened my eyes to see why. I saw him kneeling on the bed, sliding a condom on. He met my gaze, and I reached for him. He settled himself back over me and then rubbed his manhood across my folds once more. I squirmed under him.
“Hold still. I’m going to ask you again, are you sure you want this?”
“Yes. I want this. I want you. I’ve never been so sure in my entire life.”
And then he was inside me, and I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And then I began to get used to the size of him. He was large, but not too large. We fit together like puzzle pieces.
Afterwards, we lay in each other’s arms on the bed. He stroked lazy circles over my skin.
“So, where’d you go before? What’d you do?”
“Oh, I went to make sure I had turned the hot plate off and check the mince. It’s not too burnt, thankfully. We can salvage it, and I can finally make you my grandmother’s rice paper rolls.” He placed a kiss on my temple, and I sighed.
“That would be nice.”
And then he dropped a bombshell I didn’t see coming.