You could say Axle and I are a couple of peas in a pod. We both served our country in Afghanistan, we both got blown up for our trouble and we’re both happy keeping our relationships simple. We have each other, and that is the main thing.
I walk across my bare floor and grab my running shoes by the front door. Even in socked feet, the sounds of my footsteps seem to echo in my barren place. What can I say? I don’t care about material possessions. As long as I have food for my belly, beer and casual sex, then I don’t need much else. And Axle, of course. We both came back from overseas broken, both of us carry scars on our bodies and wounds that you can only see if you have been to war. He was a bomb sniffing dog and lost his leg and tail when he and his handler found an IED that exploded. His trainer never came back to American soil alive.
I run my fingers over my sewn together skin as I remember my own recovery from the explosive we hit in the Humvee. It took months of surgeries and rehab to repair the damage that only took a second to rip me apart. For the first few weeks, the doctors kept me in a drug-induced coma because they felt that it would have been cruel to let me suffer the unnecessary pain. Of course, they had no way of knowing that even after they patched me up like a quilt and spent countless hours putting me back together that my own fiancé would cause me the most intense pain of all. She, didn’t even wait for my discharge from the hospital before she broke it off.
My hands tremble as my mind flashes back to our last conversation, “I mean, it’s just different now, you know? I can’t do this anymore Gabe,” she sighed heavily and I could tell from where her eyes were looking and her preoccupation with her lipstick that she was checking out the video of herself instead of me as we Skyped.
“It doesn’t have to be different,” I could see the writing on the wall, but I was in denial. I felt like I had already lost so much, my career was over, I lost friends in the explosion, I wasn’t ready to let her go too. “You always said you hated how much I was gone for the SEALs, well, that won’t be an issue anymore. I’m getting my medical discharge, so I’ll be around more now,” I wince at the memory of how I was trying to sell myself to her like a used car salesman: ‘Take a look at this car! It has low mileage, can carry a lot of baggage and because it’s been in a front- end accident, it’s a steal of a deal!’
“Gabe, it was fine when you were the hot SEAL and I was, like, gonna be your hot wife, you know? But, it’s just too hard now. I don’t even see you anymore when I look at you. I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone I’m afraid to look at. I’m sorry babe, I’m not proud of this or anything, but I can’t be with someone for the rest of my life if I’m not attracted to them. It’s not fair to me, is it?”
I looked at the little video box showing me the face of the man I’d become and I could not say anything. Tears sprung up, but only in my good eye and I turned away so she couldn’t see them. I squeezed my eyelids shut, trying to wash away the image of my scarred face. How could I expect her to want to wake up next to me every morning when I couldn’t even stand to look at myself.
“I understand,” I answered flatly and ended the video chat.
It was the last time I heard from her.
I never wanted another relationship after that. I didn’t even want to get to know the women I was fucking by name. The sex clubs were the perfect fit. They’re dimly lit, so my scars are less prominent, there’s not a lot of small talk, and I got to wear just enough clothes to cover the huge cock they’re all hungry for. After watching women wince and turn away from me at the grocery store, or even worse, bite their lip and twirl their hair as they sip their latte and gaze at my good side, only to watch their mouths drop open and their noses scrunch up in repulsion when they got the full picture, it all just made sex clubs more appealing to me. Strutting around in tiny shorts with a huge swaying cock between my legs had a way of giving me back what these scars stripped away. Of course, hearing the anonymous woman of the night beg me to fuck her or try to seduce me was always a nice bonus. And that’s all I ever needed.
Until now.
The thought is only a whisper on a breeze and yet, just like everything in my house, it seems to echo from the empty walls back at me.
I never expected to meet someone like Vanessa.
Not in a million years.
I stare blankly at the front door, my hand frozen over Axle’s leash as I remember her smile. There was something so innocent, so alluring about the way she genuinely looked at me when she laughed. I remember how she put down her window and waved goodbye to me.
An opportunity lost.
A moment that will become a beautiful memory and nothing more.
Axle whines and presses his cold nose into my palm, bringing me back to the present.
“Sorry about that buddy, I got kinda lost there for a second, didn’t I?” I look down at him and he seems to get it. He picks up his Frisbee and I clip his leash on him, even though he doesn’t need it, but I’ve got to obey the stupid bylaws. I grab my keys and phone as I head out the door toward the dog park a few blocks away.
Just as I drop my cell in my pocket, my ringtone begins to sing from inside. I pluck it back out, but don’t recognize the number. Swiping my thumb over the screen, I answer, “Hello?”
“Hey, um, is this Gabe?” A nervous sounding woman asks.
“It is,” I wait for her to tell me what this is about.
“It’s Vanessa,” she says it like she’s not sure if I’m going to remember who she is. Axle looks up at me and tilts his head, walking beside me down the sidewalk.
“Oh! Hi!” I blow my whole calm and cool act sounding way too excited that she called.
“Hey,” she giggles.
“What’s up?” I manage to say that much more nonchalantly and Axle again looks over at me as if to say he’s not buying it.
“I was hoping, if you’re not busy of course, that you could come to my place? I’d love to talk to you about something,” she rushes through the sentence like she’s trying to blurt it all out before I can say no.
“Yeah, I can stop by, sure,” I answer breezily. “Where do you live?”
As she fills me in I realize two things. The first is that she lives in a much, much nicer neighborhood than I do, and the second is that I’m about to break my own rule about not getting involved, because there’s no fucking way I’m going to let her go.
8|Vanessa
My fork makes a dull thud as I drop it into the empty plastic resealable container it was delivered in. I sigh and stare down at the bowl in disbelief as my stomach growls in protest. That wasn’t a meal! It roars at me angrily.
I don’t disagree.
The studio has generously paid for me to have healthy meals delivered to my house so I don’t need to measure food or count calories. Just like the trainer, the acting coach and the bodyguards, they have been treating me like royalty, all on their dime.
That is, if you starve royalty, force them to exercise until they vomit and have a couple of men who follow them around, that drop like flies the first time they actually need to fight.
I look over at my clock and get up, plucking the evidence of my unsatisfying lunch from the table, I stuff the container and fork in the dishwasher and realize that Gabe will be here any minute. It’s not like someone is going to buzz me to announce his presence at my gate. I scan my modern, open, ranch-style bungalow. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done well to buy this new build in Mar Vista. It’s a beautiful house with a nice in-ground pool and I’m in a safe neighborhood, but this isn’t exactly West Hollywood. No TMZ bus tours are going to be stopping at the end of my driveway for a chance to catch a glimpse of an A-list celebrity.
I rush into my master bathroom and brush my teeth. I don’t want any of my mixed greens salad stuck in them when Gabe shows up. I open my lips and look at my pearly whites just to make sure I’m good and then reapply my pink lipstick. I know I’m primping and worrying too much. I’m offering him a job, not a date. Yet, just the idea stirs some
thing powerful inside me, making me feel fluttery and nervous. I mean, it’s not like I’d be opposed to a date …
“Okay, focus,” I lock eyes on myself in the mirror and take a deep breath like I’m doing one of the twisted up pretzel moves from my yoga class.
Ding-dong.
My eyes grow wide and I jump a little. That’s him.
It’s got to be.
“Chill Vanessa,” I pat my fingers over my tied up hair and twist my body to the side, giving myself a once-over before I head out.
Bang-bang-bang! I hear a brusque knock at the door as I make my way over to it.
“Coming!” I yell out in a sing-song voice that reminds me of my mother’s weird ability to answer the phone is an eerie falsetto, no matter what was going on in our home. Her children could literally be slaying each other and she’d still manage to answer our telephone with a vibrant and bright, “Hello!”
I cringe at the idea that I’m waking up every morning just twenty-four hours closer to becoming my mother but push the thought from my mind as my hand circles my door knob and pulls it toward me, revealing him.
My God, he’s every bit as sexy as I thought, except, even more so because I’m not drinking and not nervous to be in a sex club. I let my eyes wander his frame shamelessly even as I step to the side and offer for him to come inside.
Is it weird that saying the words “come inside,” two completely innocent words on their own, suddenly make me blush furiously? If it isn’t, I’m not sure why I’m suddenly acting like I’ve never let a man step into my house before. I keep stepping my feet up too high when I walk, like a cat with paper shoes attached to its feet, as I repeatedly tuck my hair behind my ears like somehow, somewhere, a tendril escaped in the last ten seconds.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Gabe moves his head from side to side, scanning the room. Although I can’t see exactly what he’s looking at since his aviator sunglasses are shielding his eyes.
“Thanks,” I smile and close the door behind him. “I saved money from every role I’ve had, so I could get a house. I grew up in an apartment as a kid, so I really had this thing about a backyard of my own,” I admit.
“Every role? I thought you said you weren’t an actress?” I can see his eyebrows knit together in confusion over the brim of his sunglasses.
“No, I just said I’ve lived here a while. I’m just like every other chick in LA. An actress. But, I’ve done enough movies now that I don’t need to do the jaded waitress thing anymore,” I echo his words from last night.
“Ahh, okay then. In any big movies? I’m not up on all the new films, I stick to the older stuff I guess.” He tilts his head at me.
“Yeah, I’ve been in a few hits, but not in a leading role. I’m always the smart-ass sidekick or the funny friend, I mean until now. Come on into the living room, let’s…” I almost said, ‘get comfortable’ but I bite my tongue and rethink my words. I don’t want to lead him on, into thinking this is a date. I mean, if I’m honest, part of me wants this to be a date that never ends, but that’s not going to happen and I know it. “Let’s go sit down and talk,” I finally finish my thought.
“Yeah, okay, so this is for you,” he hands me the bottle of bubbly that he was casually hiding behind his leg and I gasp when I see the label. It’s a bottle of Dom Perignon. He must have spent at least two-hundred dollars on this!
“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that,” I stammer and wave my hand at him.
“No, I insist. I figured you might want to actually enjoy some later, either in a glass or, you know, off me,” his full lips twitch up into a smirk and my entire body feels like it’s blushing.
“Thank you,” my voice is tight. The image of him in his transparent underwear, dripping with champagne sends a wave of scorching heat over my skin as my pussy clenches tight with desire.
“No, thank you,” he answers, hot on my heels as I walk into the living room. “I just wish those two assholes’ hadn’t interrupted us last night, I was having a lot of fun getting to know you.” Gabe sits down on the white leather couch next to me. Luckily it feels cool, helping me get the heat radiating from my body under control.
“I really enjoyed it too,” I lick my lip and put the bottle down on the coffee table in front of us. “So, about those guys, sorry I had to run off like I did when you guys all got into it. I had to get out of there though. The men you fought are my bodyguards. Were my bodyguards,” I correct myself.
“Oh really? Shit,” he folds his arms over his chest and leans back.
“Yeah, they came to tell me that the paparazzi had tracked me down and I needed to get going,” I explain.
“I thought you said you haven’t had any big parts? Why is the paparazzi following you?”
“I just accepted my first lead. It’s a huge role, the studio is already putting a lot into building buzz and the filming hasn’t even started yet. It’s probably going to have at least a sequel too, maybe even be a trilogy,” I gush excitedly. “Anyway, they hired those bodyguards for me, probably more as a publicity stunt than anything, I think they wanted people to notice that I had them with me so they’d think I’m important and ask me questions about the movie. But I fired them after last night because they’re useless.”
“I don’t disagree,” Gabe answers and finally removes his sunglasses. I pause for a moment and get lost in his beautiful blue eyes, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I also notice the scar tissue around his eye too. It’s deeper and more profound than I could see in the club last night with raised tissue rippling back to his scalp and disappearing into his light brown hair. The prominent semi-circle forms a mountain ridge around his left eye, speaking to horrors he’s lived through and come out the other side stronger from. I don’t find the scar takes anything away from how hot-as-sin he is. I could get lost in his bright blues all day and never even care about the scar.
I bite my lip and make myself stop staring like a love-struck school girl. I swallow hard and manage to get my thoughts back on track even as he watches me so closely. “I would really like if you would be my bodyguard instead,” I look down at the bottle of Dom and then up to him, wondering if he’s going to take this as an insult. I mean, I don’t even know if he already has a job, he evaded the question when I asked him last night. “If you’re available, of course, I understand if you can’t or don’t want to,” I begin to overexplain.
“You want me to … work for you?” I can see a flash in his eyes and I can’t tell what it means.
“Well, technically you’d be working for the studio to keep me safe, I guess,” I feel silly saying the words. I don’t think of myself as someone who needs protection, yet it’s in my contract so I need to find someone to fill the position.
“So, you want someone to show up in the morning and follow you around all day while you make the movie?” He frowns and his voice sounds tense.
“No, not exactly,” my lips tug down as I look to my hands nervously. He doesn’t seem to like the idea at all.
“Well, what then?”
“I would need you to live here with me.”
9|Gabe
“Live here?” I take a second look around at the vast, open house and try to imagine living in it. Compared to my condo, I guess this would be seen, as quite the upgrade. However, I like the familiar solitude of my dingy little place. Sure, it’s not much to look at and it’s not in some swanky part of town like this place is, but it’s home. All of a sudden, I see Axle's furry face invade my thoughts and I know there’s just no way. “I have a dog, a big one, he’s a German Shepherd. I’d have to bring him with me,” I take another look around all the crisp white furniture and decor and am confident that will be a nail in the coffin on this idea.
“No problem, I love dogs. I never got to have one growing up because of the apartment thing, it would be fun to pretend to own one for a while.”
My back stiffens up a bit at the idea of her pretending Axle is hers. It doesn’t sit well with me. He is d
efinitely my dog and changing his address for a bit would make a difference. “I don’t know,” I answer slowly, “how long would it be for?”
“The movie is scheduled to film for three months and we start in a week,” her eyes dart over my face searching for an answer.
One thing she isn’t doing is cringing at the scars. I watched her face, her light brown eyes, so closely, as I pull off my sunglasses. I know she already saw me without them last night, but the dim lights of the club can hide a million sins. Every person who steps foot in that place is looking to disappear from their past for a bit. They want to escape the reality of their lives and to be seen, as the most desirable person in the room. Unfortunately, I wear my past on my face, but even I have, the opportunity to hide from it while I’m there. To be a promise of throbbing pleasure under low lights instead of a freak show with a road map of scar tissue around his eye. Yet, when I took off my glasses, when she saw the ugly truth in broad daylight, she didn’t flinch. The look of longing and lust didn’t diminish or dampen. For a second, for the first time since before the explosion, I felt like someone was looking at me. The real me. And wanting more.
“Three months is a long time,” I finally break the silence. “I’d need to do something with my condo,” I frown.
“I know the studio would pay for it while you are here. You wouldn’t have to find a person to sublet it or anything like that. But, I can see you need some time to think it over,” she runs her fingers over her lips before folding them tightly in her lap. “How about I give you a tour?” She stands up abruptly before I have a chance to say anything and I nod slowly, pushing myself up from the couch too.
“Sure, why not?” I run my hand through my hair and look down at the bottle of champagne I dropped a couple notes on before I showed up here. I thought this was going to unfold a lot differently than it is right now. I mean, I don’t know how smart it is to take a job where I live with a woman that I want to strip down and fuck on every surface in this place. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me, and I’m not a guy that likes drama. At all. Yet, I can’t deny the idea of seeing her every day, of being around her, getting to know her like no one else can, it makes a powerful argument to take the job.
Riding Lil' Red Hard: A Modern Day Fairy Tale (Fairy Tale Series Book 3) Page 27