by Kat T. Masen
My God... yes! She likes pussy. Such a waste. But it wouldn’t stop me from jerking off to an image of her and some woman eating each other out.
The door opens and Presley bustles through, apologizing for taking longer than anticipated. With Presley in the room, Ms. Bentley talks more animatedly about the project. Even laughing on occasion.
Huh, I wonder why she was so stiff with me? Probably because she can sense how desperate your dick is to find her boss. Plus, she’s not into dick, so she’s awkward around attractive men like myself.
“Well then, it was really nice to meet you, Ms. Bentley,” Presley says, standing up.
“And you,” she replies with a genuine smile.
Presley shakes her hand and moves around the chair. I follow her lead and extend my hand, making sharp eye contact with her.
“Thank you, Ms. Bentley, I look forward to working with both you and Miss Winters.”
Ms. Bentley hesitates, unlike with Presley, and reluctantly extends her hand. I move in closer and shake it, holding on for a bit longer and never breaking her gaze. Just in case she does like men and Kate’s theory is true, I give her a good handshake so she knows what I’m sporting below.
She looks at me for a brief moment, breaking my stare and pulling away. “Likewise,” she responds coldly.
Presley has left the room, and just when I’m about to walk out, Ms. Bentley calls my name. “Mr. Mason?”
I turn around, surprised to see her leaning against her table in a suggestive pose. That or my brain is desperate to conjure up that image.
“Please, call me Noah,” I say.
“I’ll be in touch, Noah.” This time, she smiles softly, cocking her head to the side before walking around her table.
“Looking forward to it, Ms. Bentley.”
I step out of the room to Presley who’s waiting for me. That was odd, whatever that was. Talk about multiple personalities. Or, she’s afraid of me. It doesn’t matter anyway.
I am this close to finally meeting Scarlett Winters.
Chapter Nine
“What was she like? Did she have the red lips on? Is she as tiny as the magazines depict her?”
Kate and Charlie are throwing a thousand questions at me, interrupting my meal. Charlie’s an excellent cook. Tonight—chicken parmesan. It looks so delicious, the cheese melted to perfection on top of the breaded chicken. I take a bite, ignoring them for a moment, hoping Lex will save me from the interrogation.
“What about her face? Does it look like she’s had a nose job? Because those before-they-were-famous-pics floating around look nothing like what she’s like today,” Kate says in one breath.
Lex shakes his head while enjoying his dinner. Throw me a lifejacket, I beg him with pleading eyes. I attempt to sway the topic to something else, but every time I try, we wind up right where we started.
Finally, after much deliberation, I tell them, “I haven’t met her yet.”
The girls look at each other confused, then focus their attention back on me.
“What do you mean, you haven’t met her? I thought that was today,” Charlie expresses with disappointment.
“She was tied up with some movie shoot. We met her assistant instead.”
“This is so exciting,” Charlie squeals, changing her tune. “Can you imagine if you marry her? You’ll be Mr. Winters. And imagine the guest list at the wedding? It’ll be like an episode of Dynasty.”
“What the hell is Dynasty?” I say out loud.
“Never mind. Not a TV show from your generation,” Charlie rambles on. “I could be related to Scarlett Winters. She could end up being my BFF which would bring me closer to Ryan Gosling because they star in that new movie together. It’s like six degrees of separation.”
“What exactly do you think will happen if you meet Ryan Gosling?” Lex questions her, jealous and clearly not impressed by her enthusiasm.
Charlie grins. “Two words for you, baby… Hall. Pass.”
The two of them get into a mini-argument, and to stop the pettiness, I throw in my two cents. “Listen, can you guys seriously lay off the marriage talk?” I warn them. “You’re jumping the gun a little don’t you think? Plus, do we even know if she’s single?”
“According to her Glamorous Stars interview, she’s single. She just broke up with that guy, the one that was photographed naked in Cabo and was hung like a horse,” Charlie informs us, spreading her hands to measure the length. Thank God the girls are busy playing in their toy room.
“Oh,” Kate mouths, followed by a cheer. “Hung, like hung hung?”
“Hung,” Charlie drags out with her eyes wide open.
Lex stops the conversation. “Will the two of you stop saying hung? I’ve completely lost my appetite.”
I nod, agreeing with Lex. The image alone is disturbing. Is this what women really talk about? Again, the only woman I spend a lot of time with is my mom. If she spoke about hung horses, I think I’d send myself to a mental institution.
“Interesting,” I voice curiously. “So, Scarlett just broke up with a hung horse, which means the next guy she’s with will be somewhat of a rebound. I thought I was supposed to stop prowling for the brokenhearted?”
“This doesn’t count. It’s Scarlett Winters,” Charlie repeats. “This is where your experience will come in handy. Sure, she may be looking for a rebound, but why not turn that rebound into something more?”
How convenient for them. It wasn’t long ago they were all up in my business about my past, but now, they’re encouraging me to fall back into my bad habits for the sake of finding true love. I feel like a pawn in their sick and twisted game.
“Uh, are you forgetting the deal?” Kate interrupts, zipping her bag shut. Checking the clock on the wall, she grabs her things then waits for me to answer.
“No,” I groan. “The deal is to find someone to settle down with. It doesn’t have to involve marriage. De facto relationships are up fifteen percent in the last year.”
Both Charlie and Kate stare back at me with confused faces.
“It’s true,” Lex intervenes, his eyes diverting from his laptop.
Thanks. The lifejacket—five minutes too late.
“I don’t even know where to begin with that.” Charlie shakes her head. “Of all the facts you can retain in your head, it’s the percentage increase in de facto relationships? Yet, when it comes to the car keys, you have no idea where you’ve placed them.”
“That’s because car keys have these tiny legs like a robot and move when you put them somewhere,” Lex states seriously, shortly after breaking out into a silly smile.
“Do you see who I married?” Charlie says, laughing, grabbing his chin and bringing his face close to hers.
Ugh, honestly, these two are so in love.
“Yes. A guy with a logical answer,” I respond, distracted by the beep of my cell. Opening the message, I see an unknown number sitting on the screen.
Unknown: I’ve got an opening tomorrow afternoon if you’d like to begin working on the marketing plan for Miss Winters. Regards, Morgan Bentley
Morgan. Cute name. It’s a very formal message, and with Charlie and Lex talking in the background, I think of an appropriate way to respond.
Me: I’ll take your opening. Just name the place and time. Sincerely, Noah Mason
After hitting send, I regret it and worry that it came off as unprofessional. I’m glad she finally has an opening, I just wonder if she can read between the lines. I would love to see her opening. Fuck, you need to let this one go.
Jokes aside, I want to text her back and see if she has an affirmative date for when I’ll meet Scarlett. I decide against it and check my emails instead. There’s an email from Presley. She says that Ms. Bentley has contacted her for a meeting. The same meeting she just invited me to.
I scroll through the email, wondering why she chose to message me rather than include me in the email. Odd behavior from the frigid lesbian. Morgan texts back moments later with a pl
ace and time. Bored with the uneventful text, I respond with a ‘see you then’ and tuck my cell back into my pocket.
“Okay, this is why it sucks having two males in the house,” Charlie goes on.
I have no idea what they’re talking about, having been engrossed in the boring exchange of conversation with Morgan Bentley.
Kate is beside the door, saying her goodbyes. She’s due to fly back to New York City for a few days then on to London for two weeks. I hate to see her go—she’s fast become my favorite person to hang out with in LA. She’s fun, and since our incident, we get along like we’ve known each other a whole lifetime. I am going to miss her.
“Make sure you text us when you land,” I tell her, still holding her in an embrace.
“Yes, Dad.” She smiles, letting go of me.
Charlie and Lex say their goodbyes the same time the girls run into the kitchen, latching onto her leg. After what feels like forever, the driver beeps his horn again, prompting Kate to say her final goodbye. As soon as she’s out the door, I settle at the table, begging Charlie for seconds.
“So, I was thinking of apartment hunting this week,” I say casually.
“Really? Are you sure?” Charlie asks. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? Plus, there are so many bad neighborhoods in LA. I really think you should hold off.”
“C’mon guys. You know I think you’re awesome, but I don’t want to impose any longer.”
“Impose is far from it,” Lex reassures. “But if you need a pad to let off steam, I feel your pain, brother.”
Charlie pinches Lex’s arm, scolding him once again for encouraging my behavior. “Just hold off for a while. And if you really need a ‘letting-off-steam’ pad…” she air quotes, “… I’m sure Lex can hook you up with a suite downtown.”
“Okay guys, I’ll hold off for a bit. More time to have tea parties, right?” I joke.
She smiles, putting down the sippy cup in her hand, and wraps her arms around my waist to hug me. “Except the next time we play tea parties, I promise it won’t be air… instead, tequila.”
“Now you’re talking,” I laugh.
***
I think of a million ways to get out of meeting Morgan, none of which seem plausible. Presley wants to get started with this project, and has worked on some basic questions she wants to ask Morgan. Nothing too personal, just run-of-the-mill questions that will educate the reader on how Scarlett grew up to how she found herself in Hollywood.
Presley made mention of some of the tougher questions, which she wants to ask Scarlett herself. Some of which are not public knowledge, and will definitely be the focal point with the press. I’m not sure how she dug up the information, and I decide to let her handle the scandalous side.
The marketing interns are a great team, and I’ve spent the morning running through some less important projects to clear the way for this bigger project.
A little after lunch, Haden walks into my office. “Hey,” he says casually.
I look up from my laptop. “What’s up?”
“Bad news. Presley’s come down with a stomach bug.”
“Is she okay?” I ask with concern.
“She pretends to be.” He laughs sincerely. “Our son caught it off some kid he was playing with, so now it’s her turn. I’m probably next. Nothing worse than having to hold your wife’s hair back while she projectile vomits in the car.”
I cover my mouth in disgust. And the poor fella has a sweet ride too.
“So listen, I know you have that meeting this afternoon with Morgan. Presley is adamant we still move forward despite her not being there.” He removes his cell from his pocket and taps away. A few seconds later, my email pings.
“These are the questions she wanted to ask Morgan today. If you could ask them instead, that would ensure we don’t fall behind.”
My whole career has been in marketing and only that. This seems a little left of field and completely out of my element. How should I ask the questions, and what type of answers am I looking for? Do I counter question if I’m unsatisfied with an answer? Jesus, I don’t want to fuck up this important project.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Haden mentions before I speak. “You’re not sure how to ask the questions in a way we can capture and translate it into words.”
“You read my mind, boss.”
“All you need to do is inform her you’re recording the conversation. Simply ask the questions Presley has mapped out. I think you’ll do great.”
With the slight boost in my confidence, he leaves my office and I quickly read Presley’s notes before departing and driving to the meeting.
I arrive at the coffee shop early, not wanting to come across as unprofessional. And so, with plenty of time to spare, I open up my laptop and answer some work emails. Right on time, I see Morgan walk through the door. Her stride is elegant, with an air of confidence in her white dress which sits shorter this time, and more noticeably, the plunging neckline shows off some very sexy cleavage. Her hair is out, but tied halfway up, and she’s still wearing her signature red glasses.
She scans the table, looking around us. “Good afternoon, Noah.”
“Morgan,” I greet, standing up and courteously pulling her chair out.
“Thank you,” she responds with a forced smile.
That smile irritates me. So unnatural and cold. Do I really bother her that much that she can’t stand being in the same room as me? She appears almost repelled.
“I apologize for Presley’s absence. She’s quite unwell. However, I do have her notes which I’d like to go through with you.”
Morgan’s expression changes to panic, her eyes looking everywhere but at mine. “She’s not here?”
I shake my head, pursing my lips. “Just you and me. Is that a problem?” Posing the question and goading some sort of reaction from her, I wait patiently. Tapping my fingers on the stark-white linen tablecloth.
Her eyes unwillingly watch the tap of each finger, and slowly, with a deep breath, she parts her lips and raises her eyes to meet mine. “Certainly not, Noah,” she says with a reassuring smile. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter Ten
The waitress stands by our table. Young, blonde, with a playful smile that screams ‘fuck me tonight.’ Her uniform is a white tank and short black skirt. Extremely short. I’m thinking of ways to get her number on the sly because I need to feel a woman’s body against mine.
It’s been forever since I’ve seen a pair of tits, let alone hold them in my hands.
Except for Kate’s, but we all know how that night ended.
“Could I please have an espresso and a glass of water?” Morgan orders, her head buried in the menu.
The waitress takes her order then waits for me to answer, moving a little closer as she jiggles her little titties in front of her notepad. They’re cute, but lack that mature bounce I’ve grown fond of over the years.
“I’ll have the same.”
“Nice order,” the waitress says, striking up a conversation. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here?”
“I’m not, actually,” I answer politely. “I moved here a few weeks ago.”
“I hope you like California. I’ve been here my whole life. A true Californian girl.” She giggles, creating more bouncy tits.
Fuck! Keep going beautiful.
“I can tell.” My smirk fades as Morgan clears her throat, prompting the waitress to leave.
She scurries away, and in the corner of my eye, I try to get a glimpse of her ass in that short skirt. It’s perky but nothing special.
“Should I leave you alone with the waitress or are we here to conduct business?” Morgan voices with a touch of malice.
“Just a friendly conversation,” I insist. “Rule number one in marketing… opportunities can present themselves anywhere.”
“Like between her breasts?” Morgan mutters, keeping her lips tight and arms folded.
The evil witch has risen. I decide to not co
mment and begin asking the questions Presley gave me until Bouncy Tits comes back with our beverages. This time, not to rile the beast even further, I simply smile at the waitress and focus my attention again on the meeting.
The first stage of the book will focus on Scarlett’s childhood and how that evolved into acting. It’s public knowledge on the internet, but I was hoping to get some hidden facts which will interest the readers. An added bonus for the die-hard fans who think they know everything about her.
I tell her, “I’ll be recording the conversation.”
But she’s quick to shut down stating, “I would prefer this conversation to not be recorded.”
Haden needs the information, and my memory isn’t the greatest. Could this bitch be any more of a pain in the ass?
“Look, Morgan. These are Presley’s questions. I’m just doing her job for the day. I’m really not understanding why it’s such a problem.”
“Because this is Hollywood. Anything you say can be held against you.”
Her stare is fierce, penetrating with an ice cold expression. The glass of water sits beside her espresso, she carefully has a drink then returns her attention back to me. “Fine. If you must. Perhaps you’re not as multi-skilled as I pegged you to be.”
Did she just put me down? I’m moments away from walking out.
Taking a deep breath and remembering how much I need this job right now, I bite my tongue so damn hard I can taste the blood.
Breathe... one... two... three.
“So, let’s start with childhood. Hard and fast facts to clear up any misinformation in the media.” I press the record button. “Scarlett, real name Sarah-Jo Winters, born the fifth of August nineteen-ninety in Littlerock, California.”
“Correct,” she states.
“Her father Max Winters was a farmer and mother Marjorie Winters, formerly a housewife, passed away. Siblings… Violet Winters. Two years older.”
“Uh-huh.”
God. Did she suddenly climb back into that shell? I read the next lot of questions, hoping to gain more of an extended answer from her.