Breaking Hollywood

by Samantha Towle

  “I got here at eight. Cleared away your dishes from last night and washed them. Then, I made you breakfast. Blueberry pancakes okay?”

  I glance down at the tray with freshly brewed coffee and a plate filled with pancakes and maple syrup. I pick up the fork, cut off a piece of a pancake, and put it in my mouth.

  “Fuck me,” I moan. These are amazing. The taste of blueberry is bursting on my tongue. “You made these?”

  She nods.

  “So good.” I chew, swallow, and take another bite. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a fucking awesome cook?”

  Her cheeks flush, and she chews on her lower lip. “Not in a while.”

  “Well, you are. Can I keep you?”

  She laughs, but I’m only half-kidding.

  “I’ll leave you to eat.” She gets up from the bed, heading for the door.

  I want to ask her to stay while I eat, but it seems weird to do so, so I say nothing and let her go.

  She stops in the doorway. “Oh, I used your washing machine. I washed your T-shirt that I borrowed yesterday. It’s drying at the moment. My washing machine is, um…broken. But I didn’t want to return it dirty. I hope that’s okay.”

  You could have kept it if you wore it every day.

  There’s just something about seeing a woman in your clothes, and when I saw her wearing my T-shirt yesterday, my dick was so hard, it could have cut glass. If I didn’t have this stupid fucking boot on my leg, then I would have gone over to her and taken her like I wanted to. I’d have fucked her with my tongue and then my cock.

  I clear my throat at the memory. “You didn’t have to wash it.”

  “I like to return things I’ve borrowed as I found them.” She shrugs.

  “Baaahhh!”

  I pause mid bite. “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “That noise.”

  “Baaahhh!”

  “There it is again.” I sit forward, listening. “It sounds like a…sheep. You hear it?”

  “It must be the TV in the living room. I was watching a nature program. Enjoy your breakfast.” She quickly closes my bedroom door, disappearing off.

  I stare at the door. That was weird.

  I shrug it off and get on with eating my breakfast. When I’m done, I get up, using my crutches, and take a piss. Pissing and balancing on crutches is not easy, as I’ve discovered.

  Neither is trying to brush your teeth. Who knew having a broken foot would be such a pain in the ass?

  I look at the shower with longing. I’m dying to get in it, but it just seems like too much hassle right now. I’ll have to get another bath soon. Have Speedy get me out again.

  God, that was so much fun yesterday, watching her get all flustered. Not so much fun when her shirt got all wet. I could see her lacy bra through it, and my dick started getting hard.

  I go back into my bedroom and grab a fresh pair of boxer shorts, a tank, and a pair of athletic shorts.

  Getting dressed is a pain as well.

  I’ve just gotten the athletic shorts on when my cell rings. I reach over and grab it off my nightstand.

  Tate.

  “Hey, asshole,” I say.

  “Is that any way to greet your baby brother?” He chuckles.

  “It’s the only way to greet you.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Okay.”

  “Has Ava been there, taking care of you?”

  “Yeah. She’s here now.”

  “She stayed over?”

  “No, assface. She went home last night and came back early this morning.”

  “Maybe you should ask her to stay over. Make things easier.”

  I laugh. Having Speedy stay overnight in my house would make this far from easy. I know it would definitely make something very, very hard. Not that my dick isn’t often hard around her as it is.

  “No, Tate, I’m not asking her to stay over. She’s doing enough for me as it is.”

  “You could pay her, like a live-in, while you get better.”

  “I’ve got a broken foot, not a broken back.”

  But he’s right; I should pay her. It’s not right, having her give up her time for me when she should be using that time to find herself a new job.

  I’ve just got to find a way to offer her money for caring for me without insulting her. Because I know for a fact that she’ll be insulted when I offer.

  “Well, okay. I’m on shift all day till ten.”

  “You work too many hours.”

  “I’m a doctor. And a resident at that. Too many hours are part of the job description.”

  “Just don’t kill yourself when you don’t need to.”

  I’m always offering him money to set up his own private practice, but he won’t take it.

  “I’m fine, Gabe. Look, I’ll swing by in the morning before work. I’m not on until lunchtime tomorrow. I’ll bring breakfast.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “See you then.”

  I hang up and push my cell into the pocket of my shorts. Grabbing my crutches, I get up and go off to find Speedy.

  As soon as I wrangle open my bedroom door, I hear that sound again.

  “Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

  I head in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from the kitchen.

  I walk in the kitchen, and it’s empty, but I see the utility room door is open. I can hear the quiet whispers of Speedy’s voice.

  “Gucci, you have to be quiet.”

  Gucci? Who the fuck is Gucci?

  “I know, baby girl. I’m sorry. I don’t want you stuck in here all day, but I don’t have any other choice. I’ll figure something out though; don’t worry.”

  I make my way through the kitchen as deftly as I can on crutches. I can see Speedy. She’s crouched down, her back to me, still talking away.

  It doesn’t look like she’s on the phone.

  “Baaahhh!”

  “Gucci, please. He’ll hear you.”

  “Is there a fucking sheep in my apartment?”

  She nearly jumps out of her skin. Grabbing ahold of whatever is making that noise, she holds it to her chest, keeping her back to me.

  “Speedy?”

  “Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

  “Ava, turn the fuck around and show me what’s in your arms.”

  She turns slowly, a look of guilt and apprehension on her face.

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Is that a fucking…goat?”

  “A pygmy goat.”

  “Why is there a fucking pygmy goat in my apartment?”

  “Well, because she’s mine. I didn’t have anywhere to keep her today, and I needed to come back here to help you. And I know I shouldn’t have brought her here, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

  “Why do you have a goat?”

  “She’s called Gucci.”

  “Okay.” I scratch my head. “I’ll rephrase. Why the fuck do you have a goat called Gucci?”

  “Because I love Gucci clothes, and it fits her perfectly, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t have a fucking clue!”

  She frowns at me. “Don’t yell. You’ll scare her.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Wouldn’t want to scare the goat, now would we?”

  “Baaahhh!”

  Speedy covers the goat’s ears. “Stop it, Gabe. She doesn’t like loud noises.”

  “Well, it doesn’t have any problem making them.”

  “She’s a she, not an it. And she’s called Gucci.”

  “You’re certifiable.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I thought we’d already established that.”

  “Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

  “Can’t you keep that thing quiet?” I frown.

  She frowns back at me. “She’s not a thing, and you’ll hurt her feelings, saying that.”

  “God forbid I hurt the goat’s feelings.”

  She gives me a dirty look and walks over to her bag. She pulls out a bag of chopped u
p apples and proceeds to start feeding the goat.

  I pull out one of the breakfast stools and rest my ass on it. “Where the hell did you get her from anyway?”

  “A farm in Glendale.”

  “And they just let you take her, knowing you lived in an apartment building?”

  “Well, honestly, the guy didn’t seem that interested in where I lived. He was more interested in the money I was going to pay for her.”

  “Asshole.”

  “What?” she squeaks.

  The goat jumps.

  “Sorry, Gucci.” She puts the goat on the floor and continues intermittently handing apple slices to it.

  “I meant, the guy who sold you the goat. Not you. Naive is more the word I’d use for you.”

  “Hey! I am not naive!”

  “Look, an apartment is hardly the place for a goat. It needs to be on a fucking farm, or it needs a garden at the very least. They’re outdoor animals. Not home-kept pets.”

  “She’s not just a pet! She’s my family! And the only family I have around me at the moment! And I didn’t know when I got her that she needed a garden! I’m doing my best, okay? I can’t do any fucking more than that!”

  That’s the first time I’ve heard her say fucking. Sounds kind of hot, coming from her sweet mouth. And it is until she does the thing I hate most.

  She bursts into tears.

  Ah, fuck.

  “Jesus. Speedy, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “You didn’t.” She sniffles.

  “Then, why are you crying?”

  “Things have just been a bit rough recently. I’m sorry I got upset.” She dries her face with her hands. “I’ll go figure something out with Gucci, and then I’ll come back to take care of you. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

  “Where did she spend yesterday?”

  “She was at my apartment.”

  “So, why isn’t she there today?”

  She shifts uneasily on her feet.

  “Speedy?”

  “I don’t have an apartment anymore, okay?” Her eyes fill with tears again.

  An unfamiliar ache appears in my chest. “What do you mean, you don’t have an apartment anymore?”

  “I was evicted. It was my last night there. As of this morning, I’m officially homeless. I’ve been trying to get a new apartment for Gucci and me, but there’s nowhere that allows pets.”

  Fuck. She’s lost her job and her apartment.

  And I know very well how hard it is to be stuck with nowhere to go.

  “Why did you lose your apartment?”

  “Well, after Jeremy left, I was feeling lonely and a bit sad. And, one night, I was on YouTube, watching cute animal videos to cheer me up, and I came across this one of pygmy goats. And they were so adorable, and I just felt really happy, watching them.

  “So, I Googled pygmy goats for sale, and a website came up. A farm in Glendale. I emailed them to see if they had any, and the guy responded back, saying he had one left. So, I said I’d drive down in the morning to have a look. And, when I saw her, I just fell in love. She was so sweet and friendly. So, I paid the guy and brought her home with me.

  “Only I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to have a pet in the apartment. And she was being a bit noisy, as she was nervous, I think, from being in a strange place at first. And, when I was at work, she apparently made a lot of noise because some of my neighbors complained to my landlord. He said I either got rid of her or I was out. And, of course, I couldn’t get rid of her. So, he gave me a month’s notice, and I haven’t been able to find another place that allows pets.

  “And then I lost my job yesterday, and I hit you with my car and said I’d take care of you. So, I didn’t get a chance to sort anything. But I will.”

  “You made yourself homeless for a goat.”

  She frowns. “She’s not just a goat, Gabriel. I told you, she’s my family.”

  I don’t know if I should admire her loyalty or have her committed for making herself homeless for a goat.

  “Where are you planning on sleeping tonight?”

  She shifts on her feet, clearly uncomfortable at my question. “Well, my friend Logan said I could crash on his couch until I got myself sorted, but he’s not allowed to have pets at his place either, and I don’t want to get him into any trouble with his landlord.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Speedy. Where are you staying tonight?”

  She bites her lip, nervously twisting her hands in front of her. “Well, if I can’t get a hotel room, I guess we’ll be sleeping in my car.”

  “Where’s all your stuff?”

  “Why?”

  “Answer the damn question.”

  “Most of it is in storage, and my clothes, shoes, and toiletries along with Gucci’s things are in my car.”

  The goat has things. Of course it does.

  “Go get your stuff from your car.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re staying here until you get things figured out. Oh, and I’m paying you to take care of me until my foot is healed. So, consider yourself hired.”

  “Gabe…you don’t have to do that.”

  “I might be an asshole, but I won’t see you homeless. And I would’ve been paying for a Big Bertha, so what’s the difference? You can take the guest room.”

  “And what about Gucci? I appreciate the offer, Gabe—really, I do—but we’re a package deal.”

  “The goat can sleep in the utility room. If she wrecks anything, it comes out of your wages.”

  “She won’t wreck anything, I swear. She’s a good girl. Aren’t you, Gucci?”

  The fucking goat looks up at her with adoring eyes.

  “Are you sure your building will be okay with it? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “I own this apartment, so I can do what I fucking want in it. And pets are allowed. Well, dogs and cats. Not so sure about goats. But, if they have a problem with it, they can fuck off.”

  “Thank you so much, Gabe.” She rushes over and flings her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me off the stool.

  But, man, does she feel so sweet in my arms with her tits pressed up against my chest, the scent of her perfume in my nose.

  My cock starts to swell with want.

  Well, he can want as much as he likes, but Speedy is now officially off my radar. I don’t shit where I eat.

  Never fuck anyone who works for me or with me.

  I know people think I screw every actress I work with, but it’s just not true. And, trust me, it’s hard not to screw them at the time. Of course, once I’m done working with them, all bets are off. But I have that rule for a reason. I was once told never to mix business with pleasure; it’s too messy. It’s the best piece of advice I’ve ever been given.

  Because I don’t do messy.

  No matter how gorgeous or how much I want inside that someone, I never break my rule.

  I feel something nudge my leg. And then again.

  I lean back from Speedy and look down. The goat is head-butting my good leg.

  This little fucker has some spunk.

  I start to laugh.

  Speedy steps back, giving me a puzzled look.

  “I don’t think your goat likes me.”

  I point down, and Speedy’s eyes follow my finger.

  Her mouth pops open into an O.

  “Gucci! No! Stop that!” She bends down and picks the goat up. “I’m so sorry, Gabe. She’s never done anything like that before. Did she hurt you?”

  “No.” I chuckle.

  “She had her horn removed as a baby. It’s not as barbaric as it sounds. It’s called disbudded. It’s not cruel. Did you know that goats with horns can actually kill each other when they fight? And, if kept as pets, like Gucci is, she could hurt me without meaning to.”

  “Fascinating.”

  I’m staring at her. Her eyes are red and glazed, her lips puffy, from crying before.

  The urge to kiss her i
s maddening.

  I need a subject change and fast. “Ground rules for the goat.” I jab a finger in its direction. “No pissing or shitting in the apartment.”

  “Oh, she won’t. She’s really good.”

  “If she needs to go, take her out on the terrace and clean up after, or there’s the building’s communal garden downstairs.”

  “Okay. Thank you again, Gabe. We both really appreciate what you’re doing for us. And we won’t be any bother. You won’t even know we’re here, I promise.”

  I highly doubt that.

  Knowing that Speedy’s here and that she’ll be sleeping a wall away from me is going to make this not-fucking-her thing so much harder.

  “I need a drink,” I mutter. I start moving away from her, heading for the drinks cabinet.

  She’s instantly at my side, the damn goat still in her arms. “I’ll get it for you. You go sit down in the living room. What do you want?”

  I hate that these crutches slow me down so much. It makes escaping near on impossible.

  “Whiskey. Neat.”

  She stops and puts the goat down on the floor. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be drinking?”

  I keep moving. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  “But you’re here, and it’s ten a.m.”

  I stop and sigh. “I like a drink every now and then, Speedy. And, right now, I’m in pain, and I could do with taking the edge off it. If you’ve got a problem with it—”

  “I haven’t,” she cuts me off.

  I don’t even know what I was going to say at the end of that sentence. It’s not like I’d kick her out for having an issue with the fact that I want a drink.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. You’re right; it’s your business. I’ll grab that drink for you.”

  She’s backtracking. She’s not being herself. Speedy of half an hour ago would have called me a jerk and told me to stick it. But she’s in a different position now. She feels vulnerable, and she can’t be herself.

  I don’t like it.

  “Speedy.” I catch her wrist as she moves past me. “I’m a grouchy asshole most of the time, and apparently, I’m worse when I’ve got a few broken bones. You don’t have to worry that I’ll kick you out for voicing your opinion. Oddly, that’s one of the things I like about you—when you bitch back at me even if it does drive me nuts ninety-nine percent of the time. So, just don’t stop being you because I’m being an asshole. Tell me to shut the fuck up. Okay?”