Take Me: BBW Virgin Bad Boy Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  A shot, today? With no notice?

  Yeah, why not. It wouldn’t make a difference if I prepared or didn’t prepare. It was all the same thing anyway – tits, ass, pouts. These shoots didn’t take a genius.

  “I’m in,” I agreed readily, willing to do anything to take my mind off Poppy.

  I thought for a moment that Mike was completely ignoring me, but then I realized he’d subtly slipped his headset back on and was back on the phone with someone. How did he move so fast?

  Into the receiver, he yammered, “John, I’m sending Finn Maguire your way. Yeah, he’ll sub in for Colin. No no, don’t worry, he’ll play nicely in the sandbox.” He twisted his chin to me, and with a sly grin, asked, “Won’t you, Maguire?”

  I’m not a fucking dog, I wanted to shout.

  Instead, I merely nodded. “Of course.”

  “Good.” He said something under his breath into the phone – nothing nice, I’d imagine, and then to me: “Go to the floral set. It’s up on–”

  “Eight, I know,” I replied smoothly. I’d put in my hours on the so-called floral set. It was exactly what it sounded like – an enormous set filled with fake flowers that rotated based on the season, the colors in the new line, et cetera. This season, last I heard, the flowers were mostly baby’s breath, which I thought a mite cheap.

  I waved Mike goodbye, and exited the office. So that was it. I’d recommitted myself to Regency, to the mindless pictures they turned out, to the three kinds of women they worked with – skinny blondes, skinny brunettes, and on rare occasions, skinny redheads. But that was fine. Dreams were for people who haven’t been bitch-slapped by reality. And Poppy’s blow this morning had certainly set me back on my heels.

  Yes, working here might mean running into Chrissy again, but I’d just have to take that chance. They’d promised we wouldn’t work together, right? So it’d be okay. I’d be okay.

  I hoped.

  I stepped out of the elevator, and onto the floral soundstage. Sure enough, the entire room was filled with utterly tacky baby’s breath. Yuck.

  But I supposed I’d better get used to it. Baby’s breath and tackiness was my future. Poppy was not. It was that simple. My phone buzzed again. It was another text from her. Perfect timing, I thought snidely. I clicked my cell onto ‘do not disturb.’ Poppy wouldn’t be interfering anymore. She wouldn’t get to judge my career or try to force me into something more fulfilling. Now I had the freedom to be woefully resigned to my work. No more nagging. Isn’t that what every man wants, just a little peace and quiet, without a woman on his back, insisting he be better?

  With a deep breath, I strode forward, back into the depths of Regency and my fucked-up life.

  Chapter 28

  POPPY

  I THREW THE phone across the kitchen with a scream.

  “It’s useless!” I cried out. “He won’t answer, I’ve tried a million times, and it just ain’t happenin’, he’s gone, we’re done, it’s–”

  “Shh, shh,” April interrupted, moving around the kitchen island and putting an arm around my shoulder. “Everything’s all right, Poppy, take a deep breath.”

  I laughed. “You would say that. You were the one who let him back in my life, that decided I should give him another chance.”

  April rolled her eyes. We’d been going back and forth on this, intermittently, for hours, as I’d sobbed and made calls and left voicemails. She was, I suspected, close to her breaking point.

  “I know, Poppy,” she replied, her voice calm, if a little edged with annoyance. “I made a bad judgement call, and I’m sorry. But–”

  “Nu-uh, no ‘buts,’” I insisted. “You ruined everything.”

  And that was it – that was the moment she cracked.

  April pushed up her white linen sleeves, and slammed her palms down on the counter, bellowing, “All right, Poppy, you got your cry out. Now I’ve been polite, I’ve let you rant and rave about Finn, about what a bitch of a sister I am, on and on and on. And I think I’ve just about had enough. I told him where you were, that’s it. I’m not Satan. I know you’re upset, and I’m so sorry about that, I am so sad, but you can’t blame me, because it sure as shit ain’t my fault. Understood?”

  My heart slowed from a wild canter to a dull thud, and I sat down limply on a nearby stool. April was right, of course. I was trying to foist blame on her because I wanted to yell at somebody and Finn wasn’t picking up.

  “You’re right,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.”

  April softened immediately. “Aw, that’s okay, hon. You’re just upset.”

  “Yeah.”

  In the silence, the same silence I’d been avoiding ever since Finn ran out of church, I realized the truth – this was no one’s fault. I disagreed with Finn, of course, but I understood why he did what he did. He was a guy whose life had, like so many others, been ruined by addiction. Yes, he was successful now, but as he’d told me on the island, his entire boyhood had been shaped by his mother’s dependency. And even though I’d been able to see who she was beyond the drugs, that was only because she was stabilized on methadone at the time, and working on recovery in a rehabilitation center. That is, she was clean, relatively speaking. I doubted Finn had ever known a sober Catherine.

  If only he’d let me explain, so that I could show him my point of view, tell him what I’d learned from working all those rehabs. But he wouldn’t pick up, no matter how hard I tried.

  Wait a minute…

  “April,” I said suddenly, lifting my head from my hands. “I have an idea.”

  My sister straightened up. I’m sure she was just relieved that I’d finally stopped crying long enough to form a coherent sentence.

  “What kind of idea?”

  “It’s gonna sound crazy.”

  She smiled. “You’re a little crazy, so that’s no surprise.”

  “You ain’t wrong.” I paused, then continued, “Here’s what I’m thinkin’. What if I recorded a video, and uploaded it to my channel, explaining my work with drug users, what it’s like to deal with addiction, how drugs can make us different people, so on and so forth. Then… well, maybe Finn wouldn’t see it, he’s not big on social media, I don’t think. But maybe someone would mention it to him or – I just think it’s my only shot.”

  April was nodding along while I spoke, and after I finished, she hesitated, then questioned, “Is this an okay thing to put on your channel? Like, will it get you flagged by monitors or something? Because there’s every chance he won’t see it, Poppy, like you said, so I don’t want you to damage your business just in the hopes that the video will make its way back to him.”

  I considered this for a moment, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure of the answer. I supposed it was possible for me to get a strike on my channel over this. Even though I wouldn’t be endorsing drug use, it would be content not “appropriate for all audiences,” and YouTube had recently cracked down on what videos got ads. In other words, it could get my channel in trouble, and it would most definitely lose me money, at least in the short-term.

  So the question was, was I willing to do all that, knowing that it might not make a lick of difference?

  It didn’t take long to make up my mind.

  To April, I said, “I understand the consequences. And I don’t think I care. This is just one of those things that I gotta do so that I can sleep easy at night.”

  She nodded, getting it. April was pretty familiar with doing the ‘hard thing but the right thing.’ She’d come out as gay during a church youth group in a tiny Southern town. She’d been through consequences aplenty.

  “Okay,” April agreed. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just… be there.”

  “Done and done.”

  With April’s help, I set up my tripod, lighting and mic. Normally, I had this setup in a fixed spot, but I felt like this video needed to be differentiated from my usual content, needed to have something that set it apart. Together, we decided
I should film it in April’s living room, which was all wood, big windows and enormous plants. It was also where we prayed together, when either of us needed the other’s strength.

  Today certainly called for a little extra strength. As soon as we got my gear in place, April and I clasped hands, and she recited a short prayer, asking God to guide me as I made a brave and difficult video.

  “Amen,” I whispered, breaking away from her touch.

  It was time to do this.

  I took a deep breath through my nose, then exhaled through my mouth, sitting down on the couch as I did so. The windows flooded me with natural light, and in the camera’s reversed viewfinder, I could see that the plants surrounding my head made my eyes look even bluer than usual. Thank goodness for small blessings – I hadn’t even bothered to reapply make-up after crying it all off, so I needed whatever aid I could get on the beauty front.

  I gave April the nod, and she hit record on the camera, then moved away, across the room, as if to give me a little privacy.

  With no real words in mind, I began to speak from the heart.

  “Hey, lovelies,” I said, smiling softly but not putting on my usual bubble and charm. “This video is gonna look a little different than my usual stuff, because it’s not gonna be about my usual stuff. So I’m here, in my awesome sister’s living room, to talk about a challenging subject. That is, drug addiction.”

  “Drug addiction impacts a startling number of Americans. Not just people who use drugs, but their friends, family and community. We’re currently experiencing an opioid epidemic in this country, and frankly, I don’t think we’re talking about it enough. I’m here today, speaking about this subject with you, because I have worked with drug users in the past. I haven’t battled addiction myself, but what you may not know is that I’ve volunteered for government rehabilitation programs in the past. It’s been an incredible experience.”

  I went on to explain some more about my history in the programs, just to prove that I had the credentials to speak on this, then broke off. I took a deep breath. That had been the preface. Now what?

  But April gave me an encouraging nod, and I continued.

  “Something I think people can struggle with understanding is that addiction is not born out of laziness. It’s a disease, the same way cancer is a disease. And people don’t necessarily become addicts because they’re partiers, or something like that. People can become addicted because of prescription painkillers their doctors gave them after a workplace injury, or because they were raised in a family of drug addicts and don’t know a different life. What I’m saying is, addiction isn’t black and white.”

  This would be the hardest part, but it was what I most needed to say to Finn.

  “And addicts hurt and wound those who love them. They do. That being said, I think it’s important to understand that what they do while under the influence isn’t their real spirit speaking. It’s the drugs. Yes, they make choices that hurt us, and yes, amends need to be made for that. I’m not saying that their behavior on drugs is acceptable or fair. It allows you to not feel bad about making bad choices. But I think… I guess what I’m trying to say is, drug abuse doesn’t make you a bad person. But it doesn’t define you. We should allow drug addicts to recover, and to make new, better choices.”

  I sighed, hoping my words weren’t coming out garbled. Was this going to be enough?

  “We, as a society… we need to give people a little grace. That’s all. That doesn’t mean allowing everyone back into our lives, after they’ve hurt us. But it does mean understanding that they can, and deserve to, find salvation, be it in God or a different higher power.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw April quickly wipe a tear off her cheek, and I smiled. Maybe I was getting something right.

  I cleared my throat. “I think that’s all I’ve got to say, ya’ll. Hopefully, this video can help open up the discussion about addiction in America, and within families. And I really, really hope it reaches those who need to hear it the most.” Finn, I thought to myself. “In the meantime, leave a comment down below, and let me know what you think. Lots of love.”

  April heard the cue, and crossed back to the camera, which she quietly clicked off.

  “How’d I do?” I asked, nervous and fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

  “Perfect,” she replied. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I spent the next hour or so editing the video. There wasn’t much to edit, but I went back and forth on choices. Did I leave one segment in, take another out? I felt more indecisive than I had in years, because underneath my wishy-washiness, I was asking the constant question, what would Finn think? Because, as much as I loved my followers, his was the only opinion that mattered, he was the only one I really wanted to reach.

  After plenty of back and forth, I made my final edits and just uploaded it. I couldn’t think about the video anymore. I had to send it out into the universe and cross my fingers. As soon as the screen showed ‘upload complete,’ I washed, brushed, turned off my phone and tucked into April’s guest bedroom. Once again, I wasn’t going home that night.

  I slept for the next twelve hours, and dreamed of nothing. Um, nothing besides Finn, that is. All that played behind my eyelids were running loops of him – Finn smiling, Finn reading, Finn standing silent. Finn kissing me. Finn touching my body. Finn making love to me.

  They weren’t nightmares. They were fantasies of things that had actually happened. And, if we’re being honest, I had no interest in waking up. The Finn of my dreams wasn’t angry at me or ignoring my calls. This Finn was easier, less painful.

  When I woke up, it was nearly ten, probably later than I’d slept in since turning twenty. That suited me fine. Heaven knew there was no pressing business to attend to. After all, though Finn had promised me that Regency and BeYou Magazine wanted to work with me once more, that they’d moved on from the Chrissy badmouthing, I had to wonder if that would all change, now that Finn hated me too. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that he’d tell them not to hire me? I couldn’t imagine us working together again.

  I rolled over onto my side, picked up my phone, and clicked off the ‘do not disturb.’

  My eyeballs nearly popped out of my skull.

  I had a torrent of notifications. I hadn’t known a phone could physically get that many notifications without breaking. What the heck was going on?

  I began to read through the notifications.

  You’re a hero.

  Thank you, Poppy, for speaking truth!

  We LOVE you

  Huh?

  I went to my YouTube channel, to try to figure out what was going on, when I stopped dead in my tracks.

  The number below my latest upload had to be impossible.

  Because there was no way I’d gotten five million views overnight.

  I refreshed the page once, twice, checking for some kind of system error, but there was none. Those numbers were real.

  “Holy shit,” I murmured. “No way. No way.”

  But it was true. It was right there, in front of my eyes. My video had gone majorly viral.

  I clicked back to the missed messages on my phone, the ones that went to my private number. There were three voicemails from an unknown number, and I pressed the first one to listen to it.

  “Poppy Reeve, this is Lauren Totelle. Give me a call back as soon as possible.”

  Oh my gosh. I looked at the timestamp – that had been two hours ago.

  I immediately clicked dial back. Could Lauren be phoning about the video?

  She picked up instantly. No rerouting through assistants, nothing.

  “Ms. Reeve,” she croaked. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, hi there,” I stammered, my tongue tied.

  “Good. We here at BeYou have seen your latest video. We liked what we saw, and want to have you back on our talk show to discuss these relevant issues. What do you say? It’d be our way of apologizing for the little snafu in the Caribbean.”

  Thi
s wasn’t really happening. Or at least, it couldn’t all be happening before I’d even done so much as brush my teeth. Life doesn’t happen before teeth brushing.

  “Ms. Reeve?”

  “Yes, sorry, still here,” I raced to reply. “And of course, of course I’d love to, it’d be my pleasure.”

  “Excellent. The ticket will be in your inbox shortly.”

  My phone beeped and I pulled away. Sure enough, there was a plane ticket in my email… for a flight in two hours.

  “This is today,” I shakily explained into the phone. “It’s, like, basically right now.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  I was excited as all get out about this turn of events, but at some point, I’d make it my business to give Ms. Totelle a piece of my mind.

  “It’s not a problem at all,” I replied smoothly, already mentally packing

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  She clicked off, and that was it.

  “April,” I called out, my voice rising in volume. “Get my suitcase!”

  Within twenty minutes, I was showered, repacked and my sister was driving me like a madwoman to the airport, but also, more importantly, to a fresh start.

  Chapter 29

  FINN

  WE WRAPPED the shoot quickly. Not like there was anything challenging about it. The women undressed, I took their photo, quick change, repeat. I felt like I was on Henry Ford’s assembly line, just putting in one part of a whole product again and again. But maybe a life of monotony was good. I’d be alone, in peace, with a reasonable routine and plenty of structure. And with a solid routine, you leave yourself little room to be blindsided and hurt.

  As I was walking off set, Janice grabbed my forearm, stopping me in my tracks.

  “You’re going on the BeYou talk show today,” she informed me.

  I groaned. “Don’t they have to plan guests in advance?”

  She rolled her thickly mascaraed eyes. “Sure, in theory. In reality, they’re basically a streaming web series hanging in by sheer grit. Everything’s about rolling with the punches. Anyhow, you’ve already agreed to do it.”