“And what would that be?” I asked, eyebrows knitting together as I took a seat in one of Chris' chairs.
I was actually starting to get a little interested in this sad breakup story. See, I’d never been fucked over by a woman before—‘love and leave ‘em before they can screw with you’ was my motto—but I was interested in hearing a true example of what it was like so I could get inside James’ head and try and feel what he was feeling. Might come in handy if I ever had to play a spurned lover in a movie somewhere down the track. Good actors did that; they got inside their character’s heads and tried to understand their feelings so they could portray a genuine emotional response on film.
“Well, for starters, she was cheating on me the whole time. She even tried to sleep with my uncle last Thanksgiving. He only just told me about it recently. Apparently he thought it was ‘too awkward’ to bring up before,” James said bitterly. “But fuck, I’d rather have a little awkwardness in the air if it meant finding out my girlfriend is a cheating whore.”
“So that’s it. She cheated on you?” I said. I was starting to get bored again.
“Not just that. Nora faked cancer, faked being in a car accident, and faked a drug addiction for attention.”
“Fuck. Seriously?”
He nodded. “She even faked going to a psychiatrist when I found out about the lies and told her she needed serious help from a professional for her compulsive lying.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Hold on… she lied about getting help for her lying? Oh man. That’s kinda funny.”
James let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, it’d be fucking hilarious if it hadn’t happened to me. Anyway, I really thought I could help her. Obviously she was unwell, mentally speaking. But when I found out that she lied about seeing the psych and also found out about the guys she was fucking behind my back, that was it. Couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Tell him about the website,” Chris said, nudging him.
James sighed. “Oh yeah, the best part. She wasn’t just cheating. She was fucking other guys and getting paid for it.”
I frowned. “She’s a hooker?”
He shook his head. “No. She has a good job at a movie consultancy company. She was just doing this on the side for the hell of it. I guess she figured if she was gonna cheat, then she may as well make some extra cash doing it. It’s fucking sick.”
“How’d you find out?” I asked.
“Friend saw her profile on Matcher. He matched with her, and when they chatted she mentioned that she’d need payment for her ‘services’. He arranged a meetup with her in real life to make sure it wasn’t just someone pretending to be her, and lo and behold, she showed up.”
“Shit.”
“There’s more,” Chris cut in. “Get this, Jake. She even stole his dog.”
James nodded. “Yep. I bought a golden Labrador recently. Last night when I confronted her about all this crap and told her to get the hell out, she packed up her stuff and loaded it into the car along with Oscar. That’s the dog. I didn’t realize until she was speeding off down the road.”
“It’s just not right,” Chris said, shaking his head. “Cheating is one thing. But stealing your dog? That’s the lowest shit I’ve ever heard. If she dropped any lower she’d be halfway to Russia. Fuckin’ women these days…”
James nodded again. “Tell me about it. Anyway, after I leave here, I have to go visit my family and tell them what went down. That’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to having. They all loved her.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They did? Why? She sounds bat-shit insane.”
He shrugged. “She was a master at covering herself. She seems so amazing when you first meet her. There’s no way you’d ever suspect what lies beneath. I mean, look at her. Perfect picture of sweetness and light.”
He pulled out his cell phone and opened up a picture from the photo gallery on it. I leaned over and looked at the picture, and I drew in a sharp breath. Holy shit. He wasn’t exaggerating. The woman in the picture looked like a fucking goddess. She put all the hot actresses and models I saw in my line of work on a daily basis to shame, and I almost had to cram a fist in my mouth to stop myself from groaning as I drank in her features. Heart-shaped face, long dark hair, big eyes, petite frame which still had curves in all the right places.
Shit, this was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
I could barely look away from the screen; couldn’t turn away from that luscious hair, those big hazel eyes, that pert little button nose. Oh, and that gorgeous rack and those long legs….fuck.
“Jesus,” I muttered, shifting so that my rapidly-stiffening cock wouldn’t be visible through my pants in my seated position.
“See?” James said, misinterpreting my reaction as horror. “Looks like an angel, but she’s a fucking demon.”
My mind snapped back to reality as I quickly recalled all the things this beautiful woman had done. Looks aside, James was right. This woman was a demon who made Satan himself look like an innocent cherub. The shit she’d pulled, the lies she’d told…hell, she even stole a dog! I hated to call women bitches, because it seemed like such a nasty, demeaning thing to say to a woman, but if anyone could be called a bitch, it was her. In fact, this woman was the biggest bitch I’d ever heard of. The things she’d done…Christ, it was just wrong.
It was also wrong how fucking attracted I was to her despite all that shit. No wonder she’d ensnared James for so long. If she could attract the attention of a guy like me—one who’d been through multitudes of gorgeous women—then it was no wonder that she’d managed to bag a boring accountant like him and pull the wool over his eyes for so long.
“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to your bro-date,” James said with a sigh. “Jacob, was great to meet you. Good luck with your show. And Chris, I’ll see you Monday.”
We bade James goodbye, and then we headed to the elevator.
“Glasshouse for drinks?” Chris asked as he pressed the ground floor button.
I snorted with derision. “Nah. Bouncer there called the paps last time I went there. I’m in the mood for a quiet drink and going unnoticed.”
Chris grinned. “Damn. Paparazzi sucks balls, but I’ve gotta admit, I love it when you get noticed when we’re out. Means I get noticed by default. And by that I mean…”
“You mean you get your knob polished by girls who think you’re famous by proxy. I know,” I interjected with a smirk. “Well, sorry, not tonight. I thought we could either go have drinks at your place, or go to Bar 420.”
Bar 420 was a tiny hole-in-the-wall whiskey bar in downtown L.A. that hardly anyone went to—at least not the sort of people who wanted to go bar-hopping and celebrity-spotting. They tended to hang around West Hollywood, as a general rule. I wasn’t in the mood to meet any of those wannabe starfuckers tonight, so a place like Bar 420 was the ticket to having a quiet evening, and after the week I’d had meeting with producers and doing script readings, I needed to kick back and take a fucking break.
“Bar 420,” Chris replied with an agreeable nod. “My place is trashed at the moment. Bob’s renovating the kitchen…again.”
Bob was Chris’ landlord, and he was always messing around with the place, trying to increase its value in case he ever decided to sell. Nice guy, but I knew it annoyed Chris quite a bit. Still, the rent was cheap and the house was in a good area, so he couldn’t complain too much.
“Bar 420 it is,” I said.
It took us twenty minutes to get there despite it only being a couple of miles away (fucking L.A. traffic) and when we arrived and stepped through the door, no one looked our way, as predicted. Chris grabbed us some drinks while I chalked up some pool cues at the back of the room, and we shot the shit for a while as we played a game.
The night went on and the whiskey and conversation flowed, and by the time it hit ten, Chris and I were both well-lubricated from all the drinks.
“You sure you wanna hang here all night?” he said, his voice slurring
ever so slightly. “I’ve heard good things about this new bar in Silver Lake. Lots of those sexy hipster chicks. Plenty of pussy to go round.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you’re that desperate to get laid, get on that Matcher app for a hookup. I hear it’s a good place to find a sure thing.”
“Man, you’re boring today,” Chris said with a teasing grin. “You know, it’s not as easy for the rest of us as it is for you. Not all of us are famous actors who get their dick sucked by a different starlet every week.”
“Every day, actually,” I replied with a wink. “Nah, just kidding. Look, it’s all about the attitude. If I didn’t act like such an arrogant, cocky fucker, half the chicks I hit on probably wouldn’t be interested. Women love confidence.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure your annoyingly-perfect face and overly-muscled body don’t help at all,” he grumbled sarcastically. “Anyway, fine, I’ll give Matcher a try. Maybe I’ll see James’ slutty ex on there.”
I let out a throaty chuckle. “Maybe. But she charges, remember?”
Chris nodded, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Holy shit. I have the best idea.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve got the looks and the attitude to get literally any woman. Like what we were just talking about.”
“Uh…okay?”
“That nasty bitch Nora really fucked James over. I don’t know the guy as well as I should considering his cubicle is right near mine, but he’s always seemed pretty decent. He doesn’t deserve that shit.”
“Yeah, it sucks. But what’s that got to do with us?”
Chris spread his hands wide. “Everything. It’s all in the plan.”
“Really making me work for this, aren’t you?” I said with a sigh. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
“You go and find this Nora woman. Doesn’t have to be tonight, but sometime soon at least. It can’t be too hard. I know her last name from James, and she probably has social media profiles which she tags herself in whenever she goes out, like most women in this city. I also remember James saying she loves this bar downtown…Raffles, I think. You could look for her there.”
“I’m not going to track a woman down and attack her, if that’s what you’re asking me to do. Just because I play an asshole on Code Grey doesn’t mean I’m actually a violent psycho.”
“Jesus, man, I’m not asking you to do that! I just mean you should track her down and try to pick her up. You know, turn on the old Jacob Archer charm.”
“And then what?”
“Then take her on the worst date ever. Like, so bad that she’d rather resurrect Stalin and date him instead. Make her regret ever crossing anyone in her entire life. Oh, and if you can, get close enough to her place so that you can steal the dog back.”
I frowned. “Seems kinda lame to get involved in other people’s shit. And James can steal the dog back himself, can’t he?”
Chris shook his head. “No, he’s too much of a pussy to ever do that. Plus she lives in a gated neighborhood, apparently. You need permission to get in, and I doubt she’s gonna be giving it to him anytime soon. And fuck, Jake, since when have you cared about doing what’s right?”
I swigged the rest of my whiskey, and then I nodded slowly. “You know what? I guess it might be worth it just for the dog. I fucking love animals. The thought of that poor thing being stuck with that harpy…” I trailed off and took a deep breath. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” Chris said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Fuck yeah,” I said, slamming my glass down. “We’ll hunt her down, I’ll get her interested, and then I’ll give her the worst damn time of her life.”
“After you’ve stolen the dog back already,” Chris added.
I waved my hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the dog. Somehow.”
“This is gonna be great. James will love me.”
I nodded. “Yep, he’ll definitely love you, and Nora will fucking hate me. I’m going to make her miserable.”
Chris laughed. “Have you already got anything specific in mind for the date?” he asked a few seconds later, adopting a quizzical expression.
I thought for a moment, and then I nodded. “Yeah, I know what to do,” I said. “People like her deserve to be treated badly, right?”
“Yes.”
I smirked. “Well, luckily, I know how to be very, very bad…”
Chapter Two
Nora
“What’s wrong now?”
My best friend Angie looked down at me, eyebrows drawn together in concern, and I wiped the tears from my cheeks and slumped lower on the sofa. “Nothing,” I mumbled.
She folded her arms. “Don’t give me that. Look, I’ve been here for two days to give you ice cream and bitching sessions whenever you want, but your time is almost up. Remember our pact?”
I nodded. Years ago, Angie and I made a deal with each other. If one of us went through a bad breakup, the other would be there to show support with a shower of affection and Ben and Jerry’s….but there was a time limit. Three days was the longest we were allowed to mope and wallow in our misery, and after that we needed to make a concerted effort to go back out into the world and smile, even if the smile was fake.
It’d worked in the past—we took the three days to grieve, and then we forced ourselves to keep moving onward and upward. That pact had gotten us both through several failed relationships over the years, and it usually worked like a charm.
But not now. This was different. This wasn’t just a breakup. It was a cataclysmic eruption.
“You’ve got sixteen hours left,” Angie said. “So tell me what’s upset you now. Did that prick text you again?”
I shook my head. “No. But he’s texting and calling everyone else I know. All our mutual friends, even my family. My mother just called me to ask if it’s true.”
“If what’s true?”
I sighed. “If I’m a prostitute. That asshole is telling people that a ‘friend’ of his found me selling my body on some app. I guess it sounds more legitimate if he says the information came from a friend, and not just him.”
Angie glared. “That fucking bastard. I’m going to go to his house and beat the crap out of him.”
I shook my head. “No, that’ll just aggravate him even more. I’m hoping if I stay silent and totally ignore his crap, he’ll finally give up and leave me alone.”
My most recent ex, James, hadn’t taken too kindly to me leaving him. A while ago, I discovered a multitude of lies he’d told me in our time together, and the bleeding-heart part of my soul had begged me to stay with him and help him through his issues. Of course, he never intended on accepting help. Even his claim of seeing a therapist and psychiatrist were false, and to add to that, he’d been screwing other women the entire time we were together.
So how did I find this out?
The other night, I became curious when several things he told me about his ‘therapy sessions’ didn’t add up, and I committed the cardinal sin of going through his phone while he showered. It wasn’t something I’d usually ever do, but boy, I was glad I did in this case. I uncovered everything; every lie he told me, every other woman he was cheating with, every so-called problem he’d actually invented in his twisted imagination.
I also found a heartbreaking video of him mocking his new dog by locking him outside with no food and later drunkenly kicking him as a ‘joke’, so I grabbed my things, took the poor dog and put him in my car, and then I left a note behind saying ‘it’s over, asshole’.
I didn’t regret it one bit. Emotionally abusing me was one thing, but physically abusing an animal? No fucking way. Not even as a drunken, one-time thing. James was lucky I didn’t return the favor on behalf of the dog and kick the shit out of him for what he’d done.
As soon as he finally realized I was officially dumping him, he launched a smear campaign against me. He texted all our mutual friends to inform them of my lies and cheating (none of which was true), and every sing
le thing he’d done to me, he turned against me instead. He said it was me who did them—apparently I was the one who’d faked being in a car accident one night to get attention and cover my sorry cheating ass, among other horrendous things.
Because he got to them first, many of our mutual acquaintances seemed to have sided with him. The fact that I stole the dog didn’t help my case either, but that was okay. I’d rather be hated by everyone than leave poor Oscar to that life of abuse and neglect. But to have my own mother calling me in tears, begging to know why someone was telling her that I was an internet hooker…well, that was a new low, even for a scummy piece of garbage like James.
Clack clack clack. I looked over to the glass side door to see Oscar jumping up and clicking his claws against it, and Angie followed my gaze. “I’ll let him in,” she said. “You stay there. You look like you’ll collapse if you get up.”
She walked over to the door and let the dog in, and he bounded over to me and jumped up on the sofa, giving my arm a big lick. “Hey, boy. Enjoy your little roam outside?” I asked, ruffling his fur. “We’ll give you a treat in a while. We’re just having a chat at the moment.”
Oscar pressed his snout into my lap and looked up at me with pleading brown eyes, and I smiled through my misery. “Angie,” I said with a sigh. “Bring out the treats now, please.”
She laughed and headed into the kitchen. When she returned and threw a bone-shaped dog treat onto the sofa, another wave of sadness overcame me, and I grabbed Oscar in a big bear-hug. To my shame, I burst into tears again, sobbing all over his golden coat, and he whined and put a paw on my leg. Angie sighed and sat down, rubbing my back and making soothing sounds.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my face as Oscar finally pulled away and located his treat. “It’s just so hard having everyone hate me like this.”
“Not everyone hates you. Los Angeles is a big place, Nora. There’s millions of people here who’ve never heard of you, so just forget about James and all his shit.”
“Easier said than done,” I said, stroking Oscar’s furry back as he loudly chewed on his snack.
Daddy's Toy-Box (A Daddy's Best Friend Romance) Page 41