Yacht Girl

by Alison Claire Grey

  Donovan had never even heard of whatever that was, but he supposed it was a television show or a movie. In his line of work, he didn’t have a ton of time to pay attention to pop culture. Now that he’d be in LA working for an entertainment family, he imagined that might change.

  Donovan unbuttoned his suit jacket and enjoyed the burn of his drink as it slid down his throat. He’d definitely have another one after this, and that would be enough. After that he’d go back to his room and sleep like a log. In the morning they’d call and make him their offer.

  “What can I get you, ma’am?”

  At the sound of the bartender’s question, Donovan looked up from his drink, surprised to see someone had joined him at the bar. She was three seats down, a woman alone.

  “Something that will make me forget this day,” she said, but she offered a half smile with it, a good smile from what Donovan could tell.

  She had auburn hair. It cascaded down past her shoulders in big waves. She wore a long floral dress with spaghetti straps. He could see her bare, freckled shoulders and most of her right leg since the dress had quite the slit in it. Curiously, she had no shoes on. She stood on pink-painted toes, leaning over the bar, her arms crossed. She was hugging herself like she needed to be assured.

  Why was someone this beautiful hugging herself? She surely couldn’t be alone.

  But no one joined her.

  Donovan wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to speak to her. He wished he could blame it on the whisky, but the truth was, he felt drawn to her.

  She looked like she needed someone.

  “Get her a sidecar. Sugar on the rim,” Donovan called from his seat. Her eyes were on him now. They were as gorgeous as the rest of her. “Put it on my tab.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and he hinted a southern drawl, which just about did him in right there. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I can tell you need it,” he responded. She smiled, bowing her head in acknowledgment.

  He left her alone after that. He didn’t want to come off as a creep.

  But, fortunately, as soon as she had her drink, she walked over and seated herself next to him.

  “I appreciate the drink,” she said. She placed her pocketbook on the bar as she swiveled her seat to face him. Close up she was even more of a knock-out. And she definitely had a southern accent.

  “No problem,” Donovan said, not sure what to make of this girl. He could feel his defenses coming up, the kind that he knew would make him come off as cold, aloof.

  She didn’t sense it though. “I must look crazy.”

  Donovan shook his head. “This is LA. I think that might be impossible.”

  She laughed at the line and he loved the sound of that laugh. It was so genuine that something about it broke his heart a little bit.

  “What’s your name?” he asked before he took a long swallow of his drink, needing the liquid to give him the courage to talk to someone who— as silly as it sounded— felt like an angel that had been plopped down next to him out of nowhere.

  “Meg,” she said. “What’s yours?”

  Forty

  She’d been in a terrible argument with her sister, though Meg wouldn’t expound on what it had been about.

  Donovan was just relieved to hear it hadn’t been with a boyfriend.

  Her sister lived in LA, but Meg didn’t, much to Donovan’s disappointment. After their fight, Meg’s sister had left, and Meg had ended up down here. She’d been so upset that she’d forgotten to put shoes on.

  “In Florida, we tend to be barefoot a lot,” Meg said as she quickly drank her sidecar. “Wow. This is pretty great. Good choice, Donovan.”

  “Have another if you’d like,” he said. “Or whatever else you want.”

  Meg lifted an eyebrow and side-eyed him.

  “And what are you doing here?” she asked as she nodded at the bartender to make her another one. “Let me guess: you’re an actor.”

  Donovan laughed. “Hell no. What made you think that?”

  “I assumed either an actor or a stuntman,” Meg said. “You’re this handsome, mysterious man in an expensive suit at the Four Seasons. It just made sense.”

  Donovan enjoyed receiving her compliment more than he’d enjoyed most anything in his life.

  “No, I’m not in the business,” Donovan replied as he motioned to the bartender for another drink. “I’m in town for business, but not show business.”

  “That’s good,” Meg sighed with relief. “Right now, I hate pretty much everyone involved in show business.”

  Donovan didn’t push her to discuss it more, because it was what everyone said in LA. After all, the entertainment industry was insufferable on its best days.

  “What do you do back in Florida?” Donovan asked.

  “Nope! I’m not talking about my life tonight,” Meg declared. “Besides, it’s not all that interesting. I help run my family business. But I’m tired of it. I sometimes wonder if anything exciting will ever happen to me. All I do is worry about my sister…”

  Meg’s voice trailed off and he could tell she was thinking about whatever had happened between them that night.

  “She’s lucky to have you,” Donovan said. “I always wished I had a sibling.”

  “You don’t have any brothers or sisters?” Meg asked. “You’re an only child?”

  “Yep,” Donovan said. “It would have been nice to have someone to commiserate with. And to look out for. It just wasn’t in the cards.”

  Meg looked at him with such sympathy, her pretty head cocked to the side.

  “As much as she drives me crazy, I love her more than anything in the world,” Meg stated. “I wish she loved herself as much.”

  “Well,” Donovan replied. “LA is a hard place for anyone to love themselves. Especially for people like your sister, whoever the hell she is. This city is so terrible to its women.”

  “So true,” Meg agreed, and she clinked her glass with his. “Cheers to that, Donovan! It’s so nice to hear a man say it.”

  He could tell she was slightly buzzed already. She came off as a lightweight who probably didn’t drink much.

  She was adorable though, and he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her face the next morning. He hadn’t planned on something like that happening, and even as he thought it, he knew it probably couldn’t happen.

  Still, he was only a man at the end of the day. It was impossible not to see her and think about what it would be like to be with her for just one night.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked him, knocking him out of his thoughts for a moment.

  “How much I like you.” It was honest, and more than he would ever allow himself to usually say.

  Her eyes widened at his admission.

  “I like you too, Donovan,” she replied, and her smile was so wide and so perfect that it took everything in him not to kiss her right then.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had a hard day,” he said, standing up from his chair. He took his wallet out of his back pocket and placed his American Express on the bar, a signal that he was closing his tab. “I hope it gets better from here.”

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, and the way she inquired made it very clear that it was the last thing she wanted him to do. “Already?”

  “I really should,” Donovan insisted. “I need to be up early.”

  The truth was, being next to her was almost unbearable. It was ridiculous really, he’d known her not even an hour. But to feel like this about a stranger, was not what he was trained to do. He knew if he didn’t walk away right then, he might not be able to later on.

  And she was vulnerable. He didn’t want to be another reason she hated her time in LA.

  “But I don’t want you to leave.”

  The expression on her face made him wish he hadn’t made this move, even if it was really for her own good.

  “Meg…” he started, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to leave her eith
er.

  “Let’s go to my room,” she suddenly insisted. “I need shoes anyway. Just for a bit. And then you can be on your way, I promise.”

  Her hand was on his now, pulling on him, a pleading look on her face.

  “Donovan,” she whispered now, loud enough so only he could hear her. “I need a friend tonight. Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep. Is that pathetic?”

  He shook his head, squeezing her hand in return.

  “Not at all, Meg,” he said. “I just can’t stay long. But I can walk you to your room.”

  She gave him a nod of gratitude and a minute later they were on the elevator— on their way to her suite and the rest of the night.

  Forty-One

  Meg woke up around nine the next morning, her head aching, her mouth dry.

  Sunlight streamed in through the window of her bedroom and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there.

  Once she recognized that she was wrapped in high thread-count sheets and nothing else, the night’s events flooded back into her memory and she smiled to herself. Sighing, she flopped back on the king-sized bed of her room, regretting nothing.

  Donovan had appeared out of what felt like a movie. He’d been a gentleman and accompanied her back to her room where they’d talked for a couple of hours about all sorts of things without giving each other much personal information at all about themselves.

  He’d talked about how lonely his job was, whatever it was. She assumed he was some sort of banker or high-powered attorney, she didn’t know. He was too kind to be an actor or model. After all, he’d mostly wanted her to talk about herself, something that was completely out of character for any man in LA.

  But at some point, once their liquor buzzes had worn off, it became clear that either he needed to leave, or he needed to not leave. Meg was surprised he had joined her at all. Men like Donovan tended to fall for women like her sister, not women like Meg.

  But for one night, the laws of attraction had been broken, if they’d ever existed in the first place.

  Meg had never had a one-night stand. She’d always wondered how anyone could. Not because she thought they were wrong, but only that she couldn’t imagine giving herself to someone in such a way who she didn’t love.

  Now she got it. It was an escape. It had been like her favorite Bob Seger song, the one about focusing on tonight and not thinking about tomorrow.

  For one night she’d thought of nothing else, but what was happening inside the moments and hours she’d had with Donovan.

  For one night, she hadn’t been Dee Beckett’s sister.

  She’d been someone else entirely, a someone she wasn’t sure she’d even had in her at all.

  He’d left early in the morning, kissing her forehead before he departed.

  “Thank you for a beautiful night, Meg,” he’d said to her. She’d wanted so badly for him to stay, but she also knew he couldn’t. That had been the unspoken agreement, hadn’t it? From the moment he’d decided to come up to her room, they’d both known it was only one night without even having to say it.

  “Thank you, Donovan,” Meg replied. He kissed her again, this time on the mouth and paused for a long moment before speaking.

  “I just want you to know,” he said. “You are so much more than you believe you are, Meg. In the short time I’ve known you, I can say with confidence that you can be whoever you want to be. And you should settle for nothing less. In another life I wouldn’t be leaving this room. I’m not a man who does this, who lets people close. Especially beautiful women. But I will always be glad I did with you. I just needed you to know that.”

  Meg closed her eyes. His words meant more to her than he could ever possibly know.

  “I have no idea who you are, Donovan” Meg said. “But I’m glad somehow our stars crossed.”

  “Me too,” he grinned at her as he slipped his suit jacket back on. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll cross again one day.”

  It wasn’t likely, but it was a nice thought to end on.

  Meg had arrived at LAX earlier than she needed to, but she’d hoped she’d be able to get a seat on an earlier flight back to Panama City, even if she had to add a layover to her itinerary.

  She’d never been so eager to leave a city.

  As wonderful as her time with Donovan had been, all she could think about was Dee. Watching Rooster smack her around like she was some sort of toy or prop— it had sickened her. Meg had never known what it was like to have a murderous rage live inside her until she’d watch Rooster McCoy hit her sister.

  But the worst part was knowing Dee was still with the monster and had even insisted to Meg that she hadn’t seen what she’d clearly seen.

  It was too much. Meg didn’t care if Rooster was the reason Dee had a career.

  Meg knew if Dee continued this cycle with him, he’d end up killing her.

  And that he’d get away with it.

  Forty-Two

  Dee had been a wreck after her fight with Meg. They’d never had a disagreement like that before and Dee barely slept once she was back home from the hotel.

  Their new house in Holmby Hills was terrifying at night. Since she and Rooster hadn’t bought furniture yet, the entire house echoed. Dee hated it.

  She’d locked herself in the master bedroom and cried for hours over what her life had become. Who knew that getting everything you’d ever wanted would turn out to be such a nightmare?

  Rooster had stayed out late anyway, something Dee was grateful for. Life with him had become intolerable. She stood outside of it sometimes, in her mind, and couldn’t recognize it as her own. Dee couldn’t believe she’d ever allowed herself to become part of something so clearly toxic.

  Everything had changed between them since that fateful night at Teddy’s. Or maybe it had just been revealed. Monsters can’t cover their true selves up forever.

  Teddy’s seemed like a lifetime ago. As if it existed in an alternate timeline, one Dee desperately wished she could jump back to.

  Dee was sure she’d never do it all again; not knowing what she knew now anyway. If this was the price of having her dreams come true, it was too high. Dee couldn’t afford it anymore. She wished desperately she could go back to the days where life was a different kind of struggle.

  She missed the time when being broke was the worst of her problems.

  Dee had finally fallen asleep after taking a sleeping pill and woke the next day around lunch time. Rooster still wasn’t home, something he would have struck her for had it been her out all night. He hadn’t even texted her to let her know where he was or that he was okay.

  Dee shuddered to think about what Rooster would do to her if she didn’t tell him exactly where she was at all times.

  Their relationship was a joke. It had been built on lies and survived off of pure fear on Dee’s part. How had she been so stupid to allow this to happen? Her father had raised her to be better than this, to expect better for herself.

  When Meg had screamed at her to wake up, to admit she was being abused, she’d wanted to confess to Meg that she’d been awake for far too long, that falling in love with Rooster McCoy was the worst mistake she’d ever made and beg Meg to take her home with her.

  But Dee didn’t. Instead she’d tried to gaslight her own sister, the way Rooster liked to gaslight her, so she couldn’t trust her own perception anymore.

  She just hoped one day Meg would forgive her.

  Forty-Three

  The next morning, she came to her senses.

  Dee knew it wasn’t about Meg forgiving her. If she didn’t leave Rooster, she’d never forgive herself.

  If her sister or any of her friends were in relationships as toxic as hers had been and stayed, Dee would have tried to get them held for psychiatric evaluation.

  She’d endured a dislocated jaw, cracked ribs, black eyes, busted lips, constant humiliation, forced sex. Her life was built on a foundation of lies and deception.

  Rooster�
��s PR team was world-class. Dee had started digging deeper into what the internet had to say about him and she’d discovered an article, buried on page 27 of a Google search, that mentioned the fact that he had been in rehab as recently as two days prior to picking her up at Teddy’s, for his drinking and anger management issues.

  Beyond all that, his appetite for porn was voracious and he was cheating on Dee with at least three women that she knew about, including Celia Sumter the girl Dee had beaten out to land her role on The Good Cop.

  But now Dee was coming to realize that she hadn’t really beaten out anybody. She was sleeping with Rooster, so he greased the skids.He’d put her resume at the top of the pile. Bribed the casting director? Dee had no idea.

  All she knew was that she was done.

  After all, she’d become synonymous with the biggest new hit on TV, so she knew her career was safe despite Rooster’s threats and implications.

  He’d left in the middle of the night after receiving a phone call. She was, for the rare moment, alone.

  Dee didn’t know how much time she had, so she gathered what she could fit in one bag. If she left anything important behind, she’d just buy another one.

  Her season two contract would go up substantially from her first one, so she wasn’t worried about money. She’d go grab a hotel for a few days while she found a place to live, and hell, Rooster would probably be glad to be rid of her. She seemed to make him just as miserable.

  Celia could move right into her spot in Rooster’s bed. And on the receiving end of his fists.

  Once Dee had everything packed and ready by the door, she grabbed a pen and paper and left him a note:

  Rooster,

  This just isn’t working out. Thank you for my career and all the opportunities you’ve given me. I’ll work hard on The Good Cop for as long as it’s on the air, hopefully a long time.

  There’s no more you and me. You seem to have no problem finding women to sleep with, so you won’t miss me, except maybe as a punching bag.