Filmed: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (City Series Book 3)

by Hamel, B. B.

  “It was. My granddad was always around for me, though, especially when shit got really bad.”

  “Really, you’re close with him?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, he’s why I moved out here. He lives in a long term care place, out where we just came from.”

  I blinked. He hadn’t mentioned a grandfather before.

  “Do you see him often?” I asked.

  “Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” he said.

  Noah Carterson, playboy and asshole and dutiful grandson.

  “That’s really good of you.”

  “Yeah, well, he didn’t abandon me when I was a real piece of shit, so it’s the least I can do for him. Especially since daddy dearest rarely gets out here.”

  Suddenly, something clicked for me.

  “Is that why you’re always late to class?”

  He laughed, nodding. “Good job, detective.”

  “I thought you were just a lazy asshole.”

  He glanced at me, still grinning. “I’m that, too.”

  I shook my head, astonished. I would never have guessed in a million years that Noah was late because he was busy visiting his grandfather.

  “I’m at a loss for words,” I said, honestly.

  He laughed again. “Not many people know that about me.”

  We lapsed into a short silence as the river came into view. I took a deep breath, savoring the clean air. People ran and walked, both in pairs and alone, along the path that skirted the water, and I liked looking out at them.

  “So, why do you have such a shitty reputation?” I asked him, breaking the silence.

  He didn’t answer right away, and I was afraid I had gone too far. Finally, he sighed, shrugging.

  “It’s not undeserved.”

  “I don’t know. Everyone at the theater has good things to say about you.”

  He smirked. “Oh yeah, like who?”

  “Chelsea says you tutored her in math.”

  “I’m good at math, and she needed help. It’s not a big thing.”

  “Chuck seems to like you. Then there’s your friend Ellie. People obviously care about you, and yet everyone has this picture of you.”

  “Chuck and Ellie are my friends,” he said.

  I sighed, exasperated. “Come on, quit dodging. What is it about you?”

  “Just because I’ve done some nice things, doesn’t mean I’m not a complete piece of shit.”

  He was quiet for a second, and I worried I may have insulted him. Instead, he took a deep breath, visibly composing himself before speaking again.

  “I’ve fucked people over, done way too many drugs, driven drunk. I’ve stolen from friends for no reason other than it was fun. I was arrested once for pissing in public, another time for getting into a fight. I’ve fucked girls over because I felt like it, took them home and promised to call. There was a time out in L.A. where I didn’t know who I was, and I wouldn’t recognize that person if I saw him now. And maybe I don’t do all that shit anymore, but I’m not a nice person. Girls want to fuck me because I have money, and usually I don’t say no.” He stopped, then repeated, “I’m not a good person, Linda.”

  I was quiet, taking that in. “Why did you tell me all of that?”

  “Because you asked. And because I don’t want to lie to you.”

  He looked frustrated, and I couldn’t understand what was driving him to say those things about himself. He could have easily lied to me, but instead he decided to paint this monstrous picture of himself.

  And I had to admit, part of me believed it.

  I looked back out over the water, conflicted. That was the other Noah, the side of him that ignored me at work, or made lewd comments about my panties when he wasn’t busy flirting with some cute customer.

  But then the night before came flooding back to me, and I remembered how he had moved my hair gently out of my eyes after he brought me to a third knee-shaking orgasm, and the way he smiled back when I smiled at him. For as much as I loved his rough, strong hands pulling my hair back, there was also a tenderness to him that I needed. I remembered that he ignored all of those people just to spend a few hours with me. He hadn’t hustled me out afterward. He answered my questions, even when it was clear that he didn’t want to. And the things he said when he slid inside of me, I couldn’t believe that was what he said to every random girl he fucked.

  It was almost as if he was simultaneously trying to get close to me, and trying to push me away. And I had no clue which one I wanted.

  “Why did your dad try to ruin my mom’s career?” I asked him suddenly. I wanted to change the subject.

  He shook his head, looking angry. “I honestly don’t know. I asked him about it, but he gave me some bullshit about her tanking his first movie.”

  “She told me she wrote him a bad review, and that’s why he did it.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, he told me that, too. But he also said he had brought her in to see an early screening of it. He said he was trying to help her out, since she was still young and building a career. I guess he felt like she stabbed him in the back.”

  “What was she supposed to do, write a good review because he was nice to her?”

  “In his mind, probably.”

  I snorted. “That’s not very ethical.”

  “Linda, Hollywood isn’t ethical. Fuck, my dad is as far from ‘ethical’ as possible.”

  “I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean to trash your dad.”

  “It’s fine. It’s not exactly hard.”

  “My mom pretends like she’s fine, but every time I mention you she clams up and doesn’t really want to talk.”

  He glanced at me. “You mention me, huh?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You mentioned me to your dad, remember.”

  “Only out of professional curiosity. I’m in the film business, remember.”

  “I’m pretty sure having a trust fund from a film producer doesn’t qualify you as being ‘in the business,’ actually.”

  “Sure it does. I’ve been in the tabloids. I’m practically a celebrity.”

  I laughed. “Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

  “Not according to all my fans.”

  “If you weren’t driving, I’d smack you right now.”

  “I’d love to see you try.”

  I laughed and looked back out over the water. We were drawing closer to the city. I didn’t want the day to end, didn’t want to go back to moving through life as a student. I wanted to stay in that car with Noah forever, driving in perfect weather along a slow moving river, watching people walk along the path and learning about Noah’s life.

  We cruised through a light and made a left onto Fairmount, heading back toward Broad Street. We lapsed into another comfortable silence as I went over our conversation. Noah was not exactly the guy I had imagined he was. At least, he may have been, but there was so much more to him. I studied his face as he concentrated on driving through the narrow city streets. We stopped at a light, and he turned his head toward me, smiling.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing, just trying to figure you out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure, dots.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. You’re just a nice dick in good clothes.”

  He laughed. “Best compliment I’ve ever received.”

  The light changed, and we started moving again. I could feel whatever spell had dropped over us from the night before beginning to soften. Not lifting, exactly, but changing. I had no idea which Noah I’d see the next time we hung out together.

  Either way, I was willing to find out.

  Intermission: Noah

  I was not a good guy. I didn’t know what Linda thought I was, I didn’t know what everyone at the theater thought I was, but I was not a good guy.

  That was the refrain in my head as I drove north toward my dad’s house, winding along Kelly Drive, sunlight in my eyes, the wind whipping along my suit. Maybe I helped people when I could, but that didn’t m
ake me good.

  It just made me human.

  That’s what people did for each other, they helped. Chelsea needed a math tutor, and I was decent at math. Ellie was a bulimic drug addict that would only listen to me, for whatever insane reason, and so I helped. That’s just the sort of shit you did for other people. But that didn’t make me nice or kind or decent or whatever.

  That didn’t erase the past.

  I was on fucking edge, naturally, and a mess of conflicting emotions. I could practically picture Linda’s smile in the seat next to me, the sun reflecting off her hair, and the memory of the way she laughed at my jokes like they were actually funny or something made me smile. I imagined the sexy fucking face she made when I slipped my hands down her pants, or told her exactly how badly I wanted to lick her perfect little pussy. I wanted to reach across the car and grab her hand and squeeze it.

  Instead, I was alone in the car, barely a day after I had last seen her, heading toward my grandfather’s funeral.

  He had been the only fucking person in my life who ever gave a shit about me. And I had to bury him, like I had to bury everything else decent eventually.

  I was poison and I knew it.

  I took a curve too fast, my heart racing, as I pictured those last few months. He was wasting away from the cancer that eventually killed him, and he was in a lot of pain. I did my best to visit him as often as I could, since my asshole dad was never going to. It was the least I could do for him, since he had always been there, even at the worst of it, when I was drunk and high more often than not, fucking my way through my horrible private high school, trying to forget about my dad’s constant need to control what I did and the idiot sluts that he kept bringing home. My grandfather was always there, a phone call away, patiently listening to me.

  And when the chance came to move out to the east coast to be closer to him, I jumped at it.

  It helped that it pissed daddy dearest off to no end when his son decided to leave his precious California.

  I swung out wide and clipped the curb as I pulled into the funeral home’s parking lot. I wasn’t the first person there, but I wasn’t the last, either. I pulled into a spot and killed the engine, sitting still and breathing deep.

  My mind jumped back to Linda. I couldn’t help but picture her face as she came, first on my fingers and later on my dick. I wanted to say she was like a drug, but that was bullshit, not to mention a bad cliché. Truth was, she didn’t have a comedown when I was around her. There were no strung-out hours calling my dealer, trying to get a bump, and there was no headache and cold sweats. She smiled when she meant it and hit me when I was annoying her. She was so damn sexy, too; perfect body, ass like nothing I’d seen before, and she didn’t seem like she knew it. Maybe she did, but I had no idea. All I wanted was to plunge my hard cock into that incredible pussy of hers over and over, watch the beads of sweat roll slowly down her back, and feel her muscles tense.

  I desperately needed to spend another night with her in my bed, talking about movies for hours. I had never met someone who cared as much about the work of John Hughes as I did. We disagreed about some things, but the way she argued, so passionately, as if everything we said to each other actually mattered in the greater scheme of things, made me feel important.

  It was a weird feeling. I was used to being the center of attention, and desired for a bunch of reasons. But I had never met someone that listened to what I said and actually made me feel like I was worth talking to.

  Which was all the more reason I loved it when she went down on me, slowly licking my cock like it was made of solid gold.

  I sighed, feeling the erection begin to stir. That was the last thing I needed, a boner at my grandfather’s viewing. I gritted my teeth and pushed her out of my mind. It was bad enough I couldn’t stop thinking about her on normal days. I didn’t need the distraction when I was saying goodbye.

  Steeled and boner-softened, I pushed open the door and climbed out. I crossed the parking lot, feeling like an ass in my old suit, and pushed open the door to the funeral home.

  It was a dingy place, and I frowned. Old carpets and cheap decorations covered second hand tables and reeking flowers. It was what he wanted, though. It was the same place we used when he buried his wife ten years ago.

  I moved into the main room, lined with chairs, and surveyed the gathered people. It hit me hard in the chest how many people I recognized, but hadn’t seen in years. Cousins, aunts and uncles, the entire side of my family that essentially disappeared when my mother passed. They hated my dad, and for good reason. They may have been related to him, but without my mother he was a useless prick. They knew it as well as I did.

  As I stood there, working up the nerve to say my hellos and my last goodbye, somebody entered the room behind me.

  “Well hello there, son,” came the gruff voice.

  I turned around. “Good to see you showed up,” I said to him.

  My dad was wearing an expensive suit and tie, clearly brand new, and his shoes were freshly polished. His dark hair was thinning, but still stylishly cut, and his glasses were thin framed and light on his face. He smiled at me, the picture of condescending wealth.

  “Of course I did, idiot. He was my dad.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s say hello to the family.”

  He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “I haven’t seen you in a while, son. Aren’t you going to hug your old man?”

  I’d rather fuck a snake in the mouth. “Don’t start this shit.”

  He grinned. “Start what? I can’t hug my own son?”

  I balled my fists, the tension flowing down my arms. I wanted so badly to hit him, maybe break his nose, get some good blood flowing. But my grandfather would have hated that. He was always trying to get me to reconcile with his son, and I kept telling him I would, especially toward the end.

  But that was a lie, one of many I’ve told in my life.

  Slowly, I let my breath out, and relaxed. “No, you can’t.”

  Dad shrugged, still grinning. “You still hold a grudge, that’s fine. Just don’t be a little prick when I bury my dad,” he said.

  Before I could give him my witty retort, which would have been something along the lines of “go fuck yourself you ancient-balled cocksucker,” he moved passed me and began to glad-hand the family. If I had to say one good thing about my dad, it would be that he knew how to work a room.

  I took a few more deep breaths, and then joined him, shaking hands and pretending like I gave a shit that I hadn’t seen half of them in years. Pretending like they didn’t abandon me to that asshole.

  Pretending like the only decent person in our entire family wasn’t lying in the coffin.

  As the funeral ended, the flowers placed on the casket, the casket lowered into the dirt, the prayers said, my father offered to take the family out to eat. It was the least he could do, he said, since everyone made the trip out there.

  I wasn’t in the mood to thank the cousins for coming, since none of them had bothered when he was alive, but I also didn’t want to start a fight in the cemetery, so I kept my mouth shut. As everyone climbed into their cars, intent on meeting at the restaurant, my father cornered me.

  “Are you coming?” he asked.

  “I didn’t plan on it.”

  “I’d really like it if you came.”

  “Like I said, I have some shit to do back at home.”

  He stared at me and got that look on his face. “You’re coming to fucking lunch.”

  I stepped up to him, sick of his bullying, and sick of his attitude. “I’m not coming to lunch. I’m going to go home and grieve for my fucking grandfather.”

  He snarled, and I could tell he was ready to hit me. “I’m so sick of you acting like a spoiled baby, Noah.”

  “And I’m tired of you pushing me around, you old fuck.”

  “Cut the shit you little brat. Come to lunch, smile and make nice with the fucking family, and then you can go home an
d keep wasting my fucking money.”

  “No. I’m going home.” I moved around him, heading toward my car.

  “Are you still seeing that girl?” he called out.

  I stopped and turned. He grinned at me. We were alone in the cemetery, and everyone else had already slowly driven off, excited for a free meal from their famous family member.

  “I am,” I said quietly.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m still fucking seeing her,” I said more loudly.

  He shook his head sadly and looked disappointed. “You know what I said would happen if you keep seeing her.”

  “I know.”

  “And you think I’m kidding?”

  “What’s your fucking problem with her, anyway?”

  “Her mom tried to fuck my career, Noah. And now you’re trying to fuck her daughter. I’m sick of all your pathetic ‘I hate Daddy’ bullshit. Get your act together, graduate school, and come home.”

  I shook my head, disgusted. “Is that what you think this is? You think I’m with her to get back at you?”

  He laughed, exasperated. “What else has all this bullshit for the past few years been, Noah? You hate me. I get that. Frankly, I don’t care all that much. Ever since your mother passed away, you’ve been a sullen little cunt, and I’m sick of it.”

  That pushed me over the edge. We hadn’t spoken about my mother in years out of some mutual understanding that she was out of bounds. She was the only pure thing left, at least her memory was, and I needed that.

  Without thinking, I took a few steps toward him, cocked back my fast, and slugged him across the chin, hard. Pain flashed through my knuckles and up my wrist, but I savored it. I drank the pain in, needing it.

  He let out a grunt and took a few wobbly steps back, reaching his hands up to defend himself. I stopped and stared at him, seething.

  Slowly he straightened himself up, checking his jaw.

  “That was pretty stupid,” he said.

  “I’m done. I’m done letting you push me around. I’m done letting you fuck me up.”

  He stared at me blankly for a second, and then spoke slowly. “Listen to me, Noah. You are nothing without my money. If I take away your trust, you will be crushed with debt. You have never held a real job, and you have no clue how to get by without me. You will be buried in a few months.”