Dirty Talk

by S. L. Scott

  I stuff the papers back into the envelope and toss it on to the desk. I climb back into bed after filling a new glass with wine. Flicking on the TV, I try to get lost in late night shows. But even arguing housewives and drinking doesn’t take my mind off him, or the fact that I’ll be working so closely with him for a solid month, if not longer. Then there are promotions and potential film festivals…

  He didn’t want me before. He kept things light and cordial because he knew we would be working together. He did that to keep things professional. Should I be happy he opened the door tonight not only for dinner, but for our professional relationship to begin? I don’t want to feel happy when it comes to him. Happiness with Luke Anders also means heartbreak. He rejected me, I remind myself.

  He rejected me.

  I sniffle.

  And from what I hear, he has also happily slept around since our breakup. I’m sure it’s been a field day for him with every night ending in victory in his bed.

  Ick.

  I turn off the lamp and snuggle down under the covers. I’m too restless to sleep well, but I need sleep to shut out the noise of my hurt heart pulsing in my ears. You would think almost two years later, I would be used to this feeling, to the pain, to the heartbreak.

  The pain of the first night we spent apart still haunts me. The first two months after our breakup I held on to hope that he would come for me, that he missed me like I so desperately missed him.

  But he didn’t.

  His texts were as if we were friends… as if we hadn’t loved each other with every ounce of our beings. I wasn’t his buddy. I was his soul mate.

  How could he not feel half of his being missing? After all those years together, did he not miss me at all?

  I thought I had resolved the fact that I would never recover from that relationship. His texts eventually stopped along with my hope. Floating through life had become automated. It was easy to ignore that life was moving, that it continued to go on without me. I pulled back from everyone, lost contact with friends, and poured myself into my work. I lost my life. I lost myself. I had become a master of pretending. I did it too well. No one believed that my heart could only belong to one man. Even I fell for the lies.

  But Luke, how could he not see it in my eyes? Every time I came over I was showing him I cared. Every time I cried in front of him, I cried that we weren’t together. My heart struggled to voice my feelings, but he should have known.

  He was the only one who really knew me and if he couldn’t tell where did that leave me?

  In my darkest hour, alone and with half a soul, I met Lawrence. He made me believe I could be whole again.

  He was wrong.

  * * *

  THE ENVELOPE IS dropped on Sarah’s desk. She eyes me as she wraps the call she’s on. As soon as she says goodbye and hangs up, I ask, “Luke Anders? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Sit down, Jane, and relax. From my understanding he’s happy with the script and not really wanting to make any changes.”

  Even though she wasn’t my agent when I was with him, she’s well aware of my personal history. “But Luke? What are you doing to me?”

  “You told me to close the deal. I closed the deal and for more than a fair offer. I thought that extra zero on the deal would make you happy.”

  “It does. But…” I sit down in the leather chair across the desk from her and sink down while closing my eyes. “You don’t understand, Sarah.”

  Leaning forward, she rests her chin on her hand. “Then tell me.”

  Closing my eyes to block out the world won’t make the pain in my chest go away or soften the lump in my throat. “He broke my heart.”

  “This deal should heal it. You’ve done what you told me you wanted. You sold this story that you bled writing. You’ve sold something—”

  “I’ve sold a piece of my soul and it was sold to the man who already owns the remainder.” I open my eyes and look out the window.

  Only a sigh is heard from the other side of the desk.

  “Hypothetically… what if I still care about him, deep down and I can’t handle seeing him all the time?”

  Sarah comes around the desk and sits next to me. Covering my hand with hers, she says, “Let this process heal you, Jane. You need to heal so you can move on.”

  “I thought Lawrence would do that.”

  “He was a rebound. He wore you down when you were most vulnerable. That wasn’t real love. Yes, you had feelings for him and he loved you, but he preyed on you when you were still hurt by Luke. It was never meant to be.”

  “What is?”

  “What is what?” she asks, her eyebrows knitted together.

  “What is meant to be?” I ask as if she can reveal the universe’s grand plan to me.

  “This moment in time. This deal. This—”

  “Second chance.”

  A wide smile appears, and she says, “I was going to say opportunity, but second chance might be more fitting.”

  Embarrassed that I admitted something so personal, so emotional, I look down, my fingers weaving together.

  She says, “This stays between us. You can trust me.”

  “I know. I do. I think I just surprised myself that I said that out loud when I hadn’t even admitted it to myself. Not really.”

  “Take this second chance, or opportunity, or whatever else you want to call it and live in the moment. Live life, just live. Whatever is meant to be will be.”

  We stand and hug. “I know you’re right, but I don’t think I can face his rejection twice. I haven’t recovered from the first time yet.”

  “It’s going to be okay. I promise you. You’re going to get an amazing movie from this partnership and I think you’ll heal during the process.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll get you a bigger deal on the next movie.”

  “Wait. Shouldn’t you be doing that anyway?”

  “Busted.” She laughs as she returns behind her desk and takes the signed contract in hand. “Okay, so either way, I’ll be working on your other deal. You go make a great film and forget about that man. You do what’s good for you and what you want to do. You owe him nothing, but a great movie once finished. That I know you can handle.”

  “I hope so.”

  “No hope,” she responds, grabbing her phone to make another call. “This isn’t by chance. This is your destiny.”

  “The movie or Luke?”

  Her eyes flash up to mine. “That’s for you to decide.” Swatting away the invisible emotions in front of her, she adds, “Go and make movie magic. I have a call about your other screenplay in five minutes.”

  “I’m going. I’m going.” I step out but poke my head back in. “Hey, and thanks.”

  “For hooking you up with your ex?”

  “No, and I’m not hooked up with my ex. Thanks for listening.”

  “Eh, no problem. I’m like a bartender. I listen to the problems and keep my mouth shut… Okay, I won’t go that far. I tell you how it is, but I do it with a little sugar on top to help ease the pain.”

  “I’ll take any sugar I can get these days,” I reply with a wave. “See you later.”

  Riding the elevator down, I find myself lost in the thoughts of what if:

  What if Luke made a mistake two years ago?

  What if he realizes it?

  What if he realizes he still loves me?

  What if…

  What if I realize I still love him?

  Or, what if I just miss the thought of us?

  What if my memories are tricking me into believing I still love him?

  And the one how that remains burrowed into my heart…

  How could he not love me enough to stay together in the first place?

  But that one is easy to answer. We were never meant to be or we would be.

  “Miss?”

  Looking up, I see an older man with kind lines running through his face waiting on me. With his hand holding the elevator
door open, he asks, “Miss, is this your floor?”

  L is displayed above the door, and I jump forward. “Yes, sorry.” I hurry out and into the lobby. This whole Luke situation is distracting me from what I should be focused on—this movie and finding a new place to live. The hotel was only meant to be temporary.

  Anyway, it’s not good for me to spend my time wondering what if when what is matters more. While driving, I think about getting the answers I should have gotten last night. I could go to Luke’s and ask him the questions I have rolling around inside my head. With mixed emotions from last night and today, I decide I need coffee to help clear my head first.

  After ordering a half-caf macchiato with extra foam at one of my favorite coffee shops, I notice a worn brown leather chair available by the window.

  I love this time of day—the work crowd has gone to work and it’s too early for the afternoon crowd needing a pick-me-up. After setting up camp, I pull my laptop out of my bag and lean back to start my house search. The problem is, my desired neighborhood is the same one Luke lives in, bringing him right back to the forefront of my mind.

  Luke Anders.

  Memories may be fond but my body recalls his hard body against mine, his firm lips pressed to mine in desperation, and his passionate words whispered into my ear like a love song.

  But…

  I’m no longer that girl.

  And…

  He’s no longer that boy.

  Personally, I feel a little offended when I think of the man he’s become. I remember the rumors I’ve heard over the years. Gossip travels fast in LA. Luke Anders is a playboy with a Hollywood Hills home and a penchant for dirty talk.

  Maybe my fond memories have given him too much credit these past few years, my memories clouding over the bad, and highlighting the good. It couldn’t have been all bliss even when we were together, but I’ve always struggled to hold on to the bad.

  Staring out the window, my mind tenses as I search my thoughts for fights we had or times he hurt me. Nothing comes except the one that ended it all.

  Surely there must be something. We were too young to know any better, much less each other. Even though I can’t think of anything now, I know we were never meant to be, no matter what Sarah says.

  Exhaling loudly with my fingers hovered over the keyboard, I acknowledge I’m not naïve like I once was. I know what I want. How hard can it be to find a man who can hold his own in business and in bed? Someone who is loyal. Dedicated. Someone who can love wholeheartedly. Someone who doesn’t want to play the field when they can have something real and everlasting.

  All the things I once offered Luke and he rejected. He hid behind youth and his rising reputation, deciding he wanted to pursue his career goals more than me. He no longer wanted what he had. I was old news once he got a taste of success. Offers for movies and from women go hand in hand in this town.

  “I’m not bitter,” I remark to myself. I see a couple on a nearby couch eyeing me and start wishing my coffee was vodka instead. Thoughts of an ex who broke my heart, and then moved on to a fabulous swinging single life has a way of doing that to a girl. Ten in the morning might be too soon for a cocktail though, so I continue drinking my coffee. Staring at the screen with a fancy zip code of houses for sale and a budget to match makes me feel better, stronger because I don’t need anyone to take care of me anymore.

  I’m an independent, self-sufficient woman. I don’t need a man, and I certainly do not need a player using me and making me feel worthless. Nope, his charms won’t work on me. Not again. He’s proven he’s more than moved on from me with a comfortable lifestyle and no trinkets of a past that he, at one time, claimed was his future. It’s an insult to my heart that he’s moved on so smoothly when I’ve been wallowing in memories that give him way too much credit. No matter how hurt I was, or still am, I believed deep down he still loved me. I never let Lawrence into my heart, not really. There was no room when Luke occupied the whole space. But Luke has built a life without me.

  It’s time I do the same.

  So right here, right now, I’m choosing to believe the rumors. These I can hold on to in my weaker moments. Most rumors are based in fact anyway. It will be the only way to protect my heart against that sly-talking, easy-going, sexy heart swindler.

  It’s time I let him go and move on. I don’t need a man. I don’t need anyone. And I especially do not need Luke Anders.

  Stupid memories.

  Stupid broken heart.

  CHAPTER 4

  ~Luke~

  I SHOULD CALL her. I really should. I’m just not ready for the wrath.

  The other night was good, the best three hours I’ve spent with a woman since… well, since spending it with her before we broke up. Even now, we’re comfortable being around each other, the feeling of home still connecting us.

  She felt it.

  Just like me.

  I could tell in the way she relaxed on the couch and laughed during dinner. I could see it in her eyes when she thought I didn’t notice. But she still refuses to let me back in, fully. The wall she keeps around her, keeps me at a distance despite how at ease we may be. Jane’s become more stubborn than she used to be. I think that’s a good thing, but I’m not entirely sure yet. I have a feeling I’m going to find out during the film’s production though.

  Taking the phone in hand, I find her name in my contacts. I call her before I have a chance of chickening out. Shit. Why are my hands sweating? It’s Jane. My Jane. The girl I’ve loved almost half my life. The girl I’ve known since we were sixteen…

  “We’re gonna be busted, Luke.” She rubs her hand over my leg. She’s nervous, which adds to her excitement. I’ve discovered she’s very touchy feely when she’s nervous—not like she can keep her hands off me normally, but more so when she’s excited at the prospect of breaking the rules. “How can you be so calm right now?”

  “Because I’m with you,” I whisper, “and we’ve got nowhere else to go, so this is it or not at all.” Please, Heaven above, let this be the night.

  She looks around and smiles, the stress leaving her expression and her green eyes bright in the moonlight that slips in through the open window. “You did this for me? The flowers and blankets, the pillows?”

  My dad, older brother, and I built this tree house when I was seven. It’s as solid as our house across the yard from us. I spent the afternoon lugging stuff up here from the linen closet—pillows, blankets. I grabbed some vases and picked flowers from my mom’s rose garden. There’s even a small Igloo cooler with Snapple and soda in it. Now I’m nervous. “Do you like it?”

  With a rose under her nose, she inhales and says, “It’s so romantic like in the movies.” The vase in her hands is replaced by a pillow she hugs to her chest.

  “I would have had candles but I didn’t want my parents to see the light.”

  She curls around the pillow, bending her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs.

  I ask, “Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  Taking one of the blankets, I get up and wrap it around both of us. “I’ll keep you warm.” Touching her face, I run my thumb over her cheek and then into her hair and pull her closer. “I did this for you. Only you. And I’ll do more. I love you, Jane.” Hoping she feels the same about me, I kiss her.

  …and the only girl to break my heart. “Fuck it.” I call her. Each ring feels like a ping to my heart. Each heartbeat weighted equal with anticipation and dread. I have no idea how she’ll react to the news of me producing her movie. When she answers on the fourth ring, it’s too late to worry now.

  “Hello?” Her greeting is curt.

  “Jane.” My voice trembles an octave too high. Fuck. I clear my throat and try again. “Jane, it’s Luke.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Not a great start. Fuck, why am I so nervous? “I want to talk to you about your movie, Until I Met You. I’m happy to be a part of the project.”

  “I was wondering if you w
ere going to bother to mention that minor detail.”

  Shit. She sounds irritated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “I thought we were.”

  “In person.” I wait, the silence expanding across the miles that separate us.

  Sounding as if she’s been forced to give trade secrets, she relents and says, “I’m at Fair Trade Beanery down on Wilshire.”

  “I’ll be there within the hour.”

  When I hang up, I set the phone down and release a huge breath of relief. Every step with her feels like a chess move. Professionally I need to get things on course. Personally… I wouldn’t mind the same, but since she has a fiancé, I need to respect her boundaries like I did last night. I was the friend she obviously needed. I can play that role for her if she wants as long as it gets me more time with her. I can… yes, I can be her friend without our past being dragged to the forefront. We’ll replace what feels like a lifetime of romantic memories with new ones—friendlier ones.

  I grab my keys from the desk and leave to meet her.

  When I walk into Fair Trade, I do a quick scan and find her in a leather chair facing away from the door. Her blond hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and I smile when I see her profile as she gazes out the window beside her.

  She’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

  Friends, I remind myself.

  I go over and sit down across from her in a matching leather chair. “Hi.” My eyes are focused on hers, looking for a reaction to play off—anger, happiness, sadness, annoyed—anything that lets me into her world again, even if just for a moment. Fuck, I obviously can’t be just friends with her. She means too much to me. Still.

  “Hi.”