Dirty Talk

by S. L. Scott

  I need fresh air. Closing my laptop, I walk outside the building where we’re shooting and squat down. The cream-colored stone is cracked at the seams, but I lean against it anyway.

  I’ve two to three million thoughts running through my head, each one representing a dollar I’m about to lose if I don’t get this project wrapped on time. I will lose my house if Ian screws this movie up.

  “Hi, stranger. Fancy meeting you out here.”

  Looking up, Jessica stands a few feet away, signature smile in place. It may work on millions of moviegoers but does nothing for me. Our one night was nothing more than a drunken shitshow. The morning after was made worse when she didn’t want to leave.

  When she asked to move in, it became embarrassing all around. I was thrilled when I heard she had latched onto Ryan Kantz on a film set. Currently, he’s one of the hottest properties in Hollywood. I knew she wouldn’t try to see me after that, not at the risk of losing him and his rising star power.

  “It’s official,” she trills. “Ryan and I are over.”

  Shit! “What?” I’m upright in an instant. “Why? What happened?”

  She waves her hand flagrantly around. “Like you didn’t know it was coming. We haven’t shared a bed since we got here.” Though she speaks in a hushed tone, she clearly doesn’t mind sharing all the dirty details. “I don’t feel anything for him and haven’t in a long time.”

  “You’ve only been together for six months.” He was my insurance policy. No wonder she’s been hanging around me.

  “And five of those have been a waste of time and energy. That man doesn’t know how to treat a woman in the slightest.”

  “You’ve got to make this work. Can you get along for the sake of the movie?”

  Leaning against the building, she replies, “Maybe.”

  I begin to pace. “Maybe doesn’t work. I need a definitive like ‘I will for the sake of the movie and crew and all involved.’” Her mouth opens, and then closes again. She always appears to be one syllable away from drudging up the one night she believes is the same as sharing a real past. “We have six days left of filming and then it’s goodbye for good. You’ll be ready each day, right?”

  Rolling her eyes, she says, “That’s all you care about. People don’t matter to you. We’re disposable.”

  Sigh. “No. That’s not true. You okay?” I hate opening this can of worms with her, but originally we both needed a favor, so I’ll play nice despite what I feel.

  A smile that she uses on the red carpet—superficial, hiding her real smiles behind it—appears. “You hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “You act like you do.”

  “I don’t mean to.” I’m just protecting the one thing I love more than anything else in this world from you. “Sometimes life is difficult. I’ve been stressed.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it. I wish I could help you, but you won’t let me.”

  “Things are complicated, but we’re so close to things working how they’re supposed to.”

  “Can I ask you something, Luke?”

  “Sure.” I brace myself.

  “Why do you love her?”

  Jane. Protect Jane at all costs. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Jane Lewis—you’re in love with her. I can see it so clearly in the way you look at her, the way you talk to her, the way you touch her then play it off as platonic. It’s not platonic. You love her.”

  I remain quiet, not wanting to talk about Jane with Jessica.

  “I see the way she looks at you. She loves you too.” A sly smile appears. “It would be easy for you to break her heart.” Her eyes find mine locked on hers. “Are you going to break her heart like you did mine, Luke?”

  I shake my head before I realize I’ve admitted more than I want, and to someone who, if given the chance, will abuse the knowledge. Fuck. Turning away, I avoid eye contact and any more admissions. Why can’t she just leave the past in the fucking past and move on? Why does she keep coming after me?

  Jessica laughs, like we’ve shared an inside joke, then says, “Her naivety is almost charming. Almost. Is that what you like? Is that what turns you on? I remember very distinctly that my prowess was something you once enjoyed.”

  “Once.”

  “Well, it was one hell of a night. At least for me.”

  I’m thinking now is not a good time to tell her I barely remember that night after the fourth tequila shot. Moving forward, I stop, our eyes challenging each other’s. “Don’t go near her.”

  “Or what?”

  “Why does there have to be an or what?”

  “Because I don’t take orders. I give them. And I most certainly do not take lightly to threats.”

  “I’m not threatening you, Jessica. It’s best for the movie that people don’t know our private business.”

  “You mean it’s best for you and Jane?”

  I don’t take lightly to threats either, but this secret could ruin everything if revealed. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what, Luke? Yes, you have fallen for her?”

  “Yes.”

  “See? Wasn’t that easy? Now we can go about the remainder of filming knowing where we stand on this.”

  “If you knew, why’d you insist on me confirming it?”

  “Because I need you to understand that you are not in control of this situation. I am.”

  Mistake after mistake. I keep making them with her. “I’m sure they’re looking for you on set.”

  “I’m sure they are,” she says without a care. “Did you ever care about me?”

  Impasse.

  We’ve come to an impasse of the heart.

  Hearing she even has the ability to conjure feelings is new. I’ve debated many times over the last year if she had the skills to care about anyone other than herself. I can’t say I believe the ingénue act she’s got going now either. Unlike what she thinks of Jane, I’m not naïve. Do I lie to make her feel better or tell the truth and put this to rest once and for all?

  She speaks again before I do, need filling the gaps between the pleading. “Tell me you did. Please.” This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever heard her.

  I lie to spare her the pain of rejection. “I did. Once.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  When I turn away, I debate if I should stay or leave her be. Dread fills each step as I walk away. Is Jessica as fragile as she wants me to believe? What is her endgame here? Why me? Why the hell did I trust her with something so important? Fuck.

  When I walk into the apartment building, I head up to where they’re filming in the space we’ve rented. The lights are off, the crew crowded into the living room where Ryan lies on the couch, shades pulled as he tries to fall asleep like the character he’s portraying.

  The first face I see is Jane’s. She smiles quickly, but turns back to watch her movie come alive.

  “Action,” is called, and silence on the set is achieved.

  I stay by the door while they film for a few minutes. When “Cut” is called, I move around the kitchen island and wait for everyone to disperse for the next scene. Jane comes over, and stands too far for my liking, but acting professionally will do that. She asks, “Where have you been?”

  “Calls and other boring stuff.”

  “The life of a producer.”

  “Not quite the part I signed up for, but yeah, a part of the job.”

  “Are you coming to happy hour? We’re going down to Guero’s. I’m dying for a margarita.”

  She’s gotten some sun, her cheeks a soft pink. “Texas suits you.”

  Her gaze lowers, and when she peeks back up, she glances around, then says, “So do you.”

  “You suit me too.” I return her genuine smile. “Fine. You twisted my arm. I’ll meet you, but I have another call in two hours so I’ll be late.”

  “That’s fine. We have one more scene we’re trying to squeeze in first.”

&
nbsp; Sliding my hand over the cold concrete countertop, I let the tips of my fingers rub the top of her hand, needing to feel her any way I can. She turns her back to me to watch the crew move the equipment, but keeps her hand in place. When Jessica enters the apartment, I remove my hand and tuck it in my pocket. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”

  Jane nods as I pass and I pretend I’m not completely in love with her. Like a hawk, Jessica eyes us. But unlike her, I’m not trained in the art of acting and know she sees right through me.

  * * *

  THE STRESS OF getting this film in the can is taking its toll. Six days. I can survive six more days. I glance at the clock. I’m tired, but I promised her I’d meet them, so I will.

  Get in. Get a drink. Get her out. Get inside her. This is my much-needed game plan.

  I’m getting tired of this room though. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again. I can’t wait to sleep with Jane in my own bed again… in our bed again. Thinking about pulling those boxes out of the spare room makes me smile. I haven’t seen that stuff since I moved and had to pack it away. Storing it in that closet kept it out of sight and out of mind, though Jane never left my thoughts.

  There’s no way to get the stuff out before she arrives because I’m sure as hell not letting her drive back to Los Angeles on her own. No way. No how. Maybe she’ll let me ship her car back on a truck. Guess this is something we need to discuss, and soon.

  Still stunned by the fact that she has no place she calls her own, I remember that time I spied on Lawrence. I feel so dumb, so blind to what was right in front of my face. She wasn’t with him then. I saw her that night and she left the restaurant to go where? Why didn’t she come to me? Why didn’t she tell me?

  I destroyed her trust by not pursuing her. Not going after her and then tapping anything that showed interest. I just hadn’t seen it coming. I had thought we were okay. I can’t undo what I did, but I still wish I never hurt her in the first place.

  I need to talk to her, tell her everything I haven’t, making sure she hears it from me first.

  Grabbing my phone, I take off for the restaurant. I’m walking into Guero’s ten minutes later. The place is packed, our group the rowdiest in the bar area making me proud, and making me laugh. We’ve become a family. Dysfunctional, but what family isn’t.

  Jane is easy to find, her mere existence draws me in. I probably look stupid with this grin on my face, but even after a twelve-hour day and with little makeup on, she’s the prettiest girl in the place. I can’t hide the pride that she chose me.

  Scalia grabs my arm, tugging me closer. “You made it. Do a shot with me.”

  “Sorry, I need to work later.”

  “Oh c’mon, everyone’s done one, except Jane who I suspect was waiting on you. But some,” she says, nodding to Jessica and Ian, “have done more.”

  “Not sure how this fits into her rehab situation,” I remark.

  “Eh, pills are a hard habit to kick, but she did it.”

  “After her manager threatened every doctor in Hollywood to stop hooking her up with prescriptions.”

  “Don’t be a downer, Luke. Look at Jane. That should perk you up.”

  She’s right. I’m being mean. My conversation with Jessica earlier has put me back on edge. I glance over and see Jane, her sweet smile washing away the bad feelings I had building. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Scalia, what do you know about Jane and—”

  “You?”

  I nod.

  “I know that you can’t fake the chemistry you two have together. You also can’t hide it.”

  Nodding again, I rub my thumb over my bottom lip. “I care about her.”

  “I’d say you more than care about her.”

  “I love her.”

  Sober.

  I’m completely sober.

  Yet, I just admitted I love Jane to someone else again. I should feel bad for letting it slip, but I don’t. It didn’t slip. I wanted to tell Scalia. I wanted to tell someone who’s on our side. I want to tell the whole world. I’m tired of secrets and lies, hidden mistakes. I want to tell everyone about me and Jane and I want to tell Jane everything else. It’s time. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  * * *

  JUST WHEN I thought we were moving in the right direction, that my relationship with Jane could pick up where it left off years earlier, my fear plays out as if in slow motion.

  Underestimating Jessica Pyles was my first mistake.

  My second—not safeguarding Jane against her. Or for that matter, against Ian.

  The crowd inside this restaurant is loud. Above it all, I hear Jessica’s gravelly voice, “It was an incredible night. One of the most sexually expressive I’ve ever had.”

  I push past a gaffer to see Jessica’s animated eyes land on me and a devious fucking smile on her face. “There he is. Luke,” she says, waving me over, “join us. I was just telling Jane and Ian about our time together in LA.”

  My gaze sweeps to her left landing on Jane, who’s gone pale. I struggle to swallow much less speak as my heart collapses to the pit of my stomach.

  “Tell them, Luke,” she insists as she comes closer, swaying on her heels, and latching on to my shoulder.

  My skin crawls beneath the cotton separating us. I’m trapped between the truth and the love of my life. When I fail to address Jessica’s whim, she declares, “I slept with Lawrence too.”

  What the fuck? Why is she doing this to Jane? To me, whatever. I’m fair game, but to Jane?

  Jane’s mouth drops open.

  Ian smirks. “Who was better?”

  Jessica laughs, completely entertained in Jane’s devastation. Just as Jane turns to leave, Jessica adds, “Luke is the best sex I ever had. Wouldn’t you agree, Janie?”

  Before my very eyes, with no chance to intervene, much less stop it, I see my life destroyed in mere seconds.

  Jane’s small frame withers under the humiliation, but she manages to start walking toward the exit.

  With his face twisted in a fucking I told you so expression, Ian stops me when I try to reach her. “I warned you not to get involved with someone on set.”

  “Fuck you.” I yank my arm away. “And fuck off.”

  A hard poke to my chest is followed by a threat, “You’ve embarrassed me, Anders. You’ll pay for that.”

  I take a step backward in the direction of the exit, but scowl at him. “You embarrassed yourself. Jane’s never given you any reason to continue pursuing her, but you did it to your own detriment anyway.” I redirect my attention to Jessica since I’m here, and say, “You might want to get back on that wagon. Alcoholic actress is just as unattractive as pill-addicted socialite.”

  “You didn’t think so.”

  “Fuck this. The one time was a huge fucking mistake that I’m still paying for apparently.”

  By the time I get out to the sidewalk, Jane is gone.

  I punch the air, and yell, “Fuck.”

  CHAPTER 23

  ~Jane~

  I WANT TO run, to hide, to be anywhere but here. As soon as I get in my car, I start the engine ready to drive away from this nightmare.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t leave. I’m trapped here for six more days…

  Luke runs across the street in front of me, not seeing me hiding inside. I’m sure he’s going to the hotel. That’s where I would look first too, which is why I didn’t go there. I’m so relieved he doesn’t see me hiding in the darkness of the interior. Relief comes as the tears are swallowed, knowing I don’t have to look in his eyes as he tries to defend the life he created after me and the lies he’s told me since.

  Trust—he has no concept of what that means. He used to, but once he got a taste of Hollywood, he wanted more even at the expense of us. I pull at the promise ring, but it’s stuck. Stupid margaritas and Texas heat making my fingers swell.

  I finally give up and hit the steering wheel out of frustration. Damn him! Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why did he lie? When she came to his r
oom that first time, I asked him. I asked him twice why she would think she could come to his room. What were his answers? Because she’s used to getting her way. Because she’s spoiled. No. She came to his room, and then propositioned him after the pizza night because she’d already been with him before. I barely registered her words after she dropped that bombshell, but I did hear her sing his praises. It was an incredible night. One of the most sexually expressive I’ve ever had.

  Backing out of the parking spot, I need to get out of this place and away from him. Why did he lie to me? Would I have hated knowing they’d been together? Yes, of course. But going in blind… that was cruel. He said he wants to be all in. Wants my heart.

  While I’m waiting for the light to turn green, my phone rings, startling me. Just after I see his name on the screen, I see him. He’s standing on the sidewalk, holding the phone to his ear, frantic as he searches the area. The light changes just as our eyes meet.

  Like an Olympic sprinter, he runs toward my car. I make the turn and head north, putting distance between us. My eyes dart between the rearview mirror and the street ahead. He’s running as fast as he can. His speed and the red light ahead makes me fear he’ll catch me. And then what? What happens? I can’t deal with that confrontation, praying to the saint who presides over streetlights, “Turn green. Please. Turn green. Come on.”

  Glancing quickly over my shoulder, Luke is running down the middle of the street, coming straight for me. My heart races as my foot becomes impatient on the brake, slowly lifting just in case.

  Twenty feet…

  Ten feet…

  Five feet…

  Green.

  I punch the gas. Up ahead, green lights pave my way as he’s left behind in the midst of honking cars.

  Right then, as if cued, the sky opens and rain pours down. When I glance in the mirror one last time, he’s bent over out of breath with his eyes fastened to the tail end of my car as I drive away.

  And then I exhale, able to breathe again.