by N. K. Smith
“You’re lost again.”
I blink for a second and realize that not only am I twirling my hair around my fingers like a young girl with a crush, I’m staring off again. “Sorry, I’m . . .”
“Preoccupied?”
“No, just . . . you’re sort of hypnotic.”
His laugh shakes the table and the vibrations set of another chain reaction within me. The tickle in my chest and mind for drugs travels south and morphs into a below-the-waist desire for Jude. A guy like Jude can transport me. When I look at him, I can see a certain kind of lack of control. I mean, if he’s still dabbling, as he says, but no one knows it, he’s obviously in control of his image, but, I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me want to give up all my control to him.
And wouldn’t that be something? To be out of control? To stop worrying about shit all the time? To just let myself live? To give in to desires no matter what shape or form they may be?
I want to get high.
But I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.
A server comes to drop off drinks to everyone and sets two down in front of Jude. “A Drink in Both Hands tonight?” I ask, quoting one of his song titles.
His eyes narrow just a bit as he looks at me. He licks his lips again, and then slides one of the drinks over to me. “I read somewhere you like whiskey, so I ordered you one.” Once more Jude moves his lips to my ear. “Something tells me you’re nothing but fun when you don’t get lost inside your own head.”
Jude sits up straight, and it seems like he deliberately focuses on the group again. He laughs at something someone says. I wrap my fingers around the cool tumbler. I’m not sure how to feel about having had so much of his burning attention for a moment; it felt like liquid heat pouring into me. Now that the attention is gone, I feel all the warmth cooling, freezing, cracking.
I’m just about to settle back into a depression when I feel his hand on my lower thigh. He tightens his fingers and gives me a squeeze.
Vowing not to get lost in my head and to participate with others, I lift the drink to my mouth and down it in one swallow.
I slowly put one hand under the table and place it high up on his leg and give him a squeeze of my own as I lean into him. “Order me another.”
Chapter 29
Jude McGuinness is beautiful. He’s fun and free and completely out of control. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this good. He’s all about the moment. All about the experience. All about not holding back. It’s exactly what I’ve wanted.
I know it sounds fucked up, because I shouldn’t need permission, but Jude allows me to be whoever I want to be. I mean, with Danny I was a bit docile and never really got what I wanted. With whatever his name was—Trent or whatever—he didn’t like that I called the shots. He wouldn’t say that though. He’d probably say that I was too out of control and didn’t even bother to give a shit about him, but the truth is that he couldn’t handle who I am.
But you know what? Maybe he was right. I don’t think I went into that thinking it was going to work. Looking back on it, I think I wanted someone fun, not someone to be in a serious relationship with. And I have that with Jude. We have fun; it’s not like Peter and me kind of fun, but it’s almost better in a way. I don’t have to worry about what Jude thinks because so long as I’m having a great time and he’s having a great time, we’re golden.
***
“Just coming back for the weekend?”
“Yep,” I answer as I focus on Jude’s naked body. He’s thrashing around with his headphones on, listening to some tracks on his soon to be released album.
“Just you?” Peter’s tone is too inquisitive to ignore.
He’s looking at me through the computer with his eyes wide and one eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Just me. Who else would be coming to LA with me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Jude McGuinness?”
Although I’ve already seen some of the steamy pictures floating around featuring me and Jude, I don’t let on that I know what Peter’s talking about. “Why would J—”
“Because it’s all over the place.”
“What is?”
“That he’s your new boy toy, or you’re his new trophy girl.”
I don’t know if the accusation in is voice is genuine or just a joke and his expression is giving me nothing to go on, so I shake my head, frown, and play like it’s a joke. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Truelove. Boy toy? Trophy girl? Are you ditching your lucrative acting gig and becoming a sleazy gossip hound?”
He sighs, and I enjoy watching him roll his eyes like he’s an adolescent. “Fine. Don’t tell me about it.”
“Do you really want to know?” I think about all the sordid details. I don’t think my friend wants me to go into how powerful Jude is in bed, or how I’ve been enjoying the fact that I don’t have to control every damned thing when I’m with Jude. I don’t think Peter would approve of how delicious I find letting myself just be whatever and whoever I want to be in the moment. “You want to know all the dirty little—”
His words are quick. “No, I don’t.” After pausing just for a second, he launches back in a bit slower. “Are you doing okay? Staying sober? You look—”
“Nice topic jump.” I’d rather talk about my sexual relationships than talk about how I look on the cover of tabloids.
“Well, let me explain my train of thought. I don’t want to hear about you and Jude doing dirty things.” His face is pained when he says it. I laugh at the caricature, but then stop when he looks up at me like it wasn’t an exaggeration. He’s quiet for a moment before he continues. “But I do want to know if you’re staying healthy.”
“I get great exercise, and I’m eating like a horse.”
“But are you staying sober?”
I look away again. Jude is turned toward me; he sticks his tongue out as he plays air guitar and thrusts his pelvis at me. His stomach is rock hard and sexy. My mind turns back to last night when I did a line straight off that tight abdomen. “Totally sober. I mean, every now and then when we all go out, I’ll have a drink, but other than that, I’m cool.”
“Seriously?”
“Totally serious.” I raise my hand in a pledge.
“Well, good. It sucks being so far apart sometimes, Adra. I can’t keep an eye on you with a thousand miles between us.”
Pressing my lips together, I give him a tight smile. “Aw, don’t worry, Dad, your little girl is just fine.”
I take my eyes off Peter again as he says, “Sorry. Wasn’t trying to be parental. I know how you hate that.”
“So you going to be around this weekend?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m free. I know you have tons of stuff planned, but I thought we could—”
“Shit!” I stand up as the glass of whiskey jumps from the table onto my lap. Jude must’ve gotten too close to the table and one of his thrusts made an impact. He laughs but brings his hands down to grab hold of the edge of the table. I reach out to grab the laptop to keep it from crashing down onto the floor like the glass tumbler.
“Sorry, babe,” Jude says. “Guess this place can’t handle my killer moves.”
I press the mute key, and with my thumb over the camera on the computer, I lean on the table as Jude bends down. We press our lips together, and he parts mine with his tongue.
“Adra?” Peter’s disembodied voice comes from the computer. “You okay?”
“He is forever asking if you’re okay. Tell him you don’t need a daddy,” Jude whispers, then extends his body and his arm to swat me on my ass. “You already got one.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I already told him he was acting like a father. But you’re not my daddy. That’s kind of gross. I know you’re an old man and all, but . . .”
“Oh, you’re gonna get it for a comment like that!”
I stand up straight and nod down to my thighs. “At least I’ll taste like whiskey for you tonight.”
Jude winks as he replaces his headphones and walk
s toward the bathroom. I right the laptop, unmute the microphone, and act like nothing happened. “So you’re around this weekend, yes?”
“What just happened?”
I wave my hand. “The table’s just a bit wobbly, and now I’ve got tea all over me. No big. So anyway, I think Friday night I’m going out with Lili and her entourage, but you want to get together Saturday or something?”
“Yeah. We can do something early.”
“Not too early. Like I said, Lili and I are—”
“But you said you’re not really drinking, right?”
“Yeah, Dad, but hangover or not, a late night is a late night.”
“Okay, well, Shyla’s on location, so you tell me when you want to get together, and I’ll be ready.”
Shyla. The name is like a parasite in my brain. “So how’s that going?”
“What? Me and Shyla? Great. I mean, as well as any relationship could go in Hollywood, I guess. I start filming soon, and she’s off in Florida for that beach movie.”
“Sounds like it’s going to be a blockbuster.”
Peter chuckles, but his tone is cautious. “Well, not everyone gets choice roles like you. She’s just starting out, so a summer whodunit is a decent break.”
There’s an extended moment when Peter and I just look at each other. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I wish I did. I wish the interface between our computers could pick up the complexity of his eyes because while I don’t think they’re windows to anywhere, everything Peter thinks or feels is expressed within them.
“I miss you, Adra.”
I glance around instinctively, to see if I’m alone. “I miss you, too.”
“Remember at the end of . . . shit, which movie was it . . . Well, whatever, one of the movies, when you were going to go to that summer acting thing once we wrapped?”
I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I’m not sure why he’s bringing it up. “Yeah.”
“Remember how when Lili was shooting her last scene, we snuck off on the lot and rode our bikes all over the fake town.”
I bring my thumb to my mouth and chew the nail. “Until we found the bell tower, and we climbed up.”
He laughs. “Yeah. And stared up at the clouds for hours until we heard everyone yelling our names.”
My nose itches, and I wonder if Jude is in the bathroom getting high. “Of course I remember it. Why?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . I just remember feeling so down that you’d be in another country for so long, and I wouldn’t get to see you. I remember wondering if I’d ever see you again.”
While I can remember the day, I wish I could remember the emotions of it. “I don’t remember what I felt. I don’t know why I’ve forgotten all those little things.”
“I’m proud of you, Adra.”
Why does that hopeful smile curving his lips make me hurt? God, talking to Peter makes me feel wicked and wrong. I avert my eyes for just a moment until I steel myself for this charade. “What for?”
Peter lets out a breath and smiles into the camera. “For staying sober. So many people wouldn’t have been able to—”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Jude comes out of the bathroom naked and flops down on the bed with what’s left of the eight ball he bought this morning.
Turning back to Peter, I see his hands are up in surrender. “I still wasn’t trying to be—”
I cut Peter off. “I know. It’s cool. I’ve got to go. See you this weekend?”
“Yeah, just call—”
I click the END CALL button, snap the laptop closed, stand up and do a little flying leap onto the bed and lie on Jude’s back.
“Hey! Watch it, you’ll spill our—” Jude’s voice cuts off when I start licking his neck.
With one quick movement, I pull my shirt off and press my naked breasts against his back. Although I’m licking his ear, neck, and shoulder, I’m careful not to distract him too much as he cuts the coke into lines with the hotel key card.
I slide off him and he pushes the book with the white lines on top over to me. “Ready, baby?”
I completely forget about my call with Peter Truelove as I pick up the thin straw. By the time Jude moves behind me, hovering over me on all fours, I’ve almost forgotten anything but the powder in front of me. He starts licking trails down my back as I bring the straw to my nose.
I take a deep inhale and am rewarded instantly. Bright shots of sunlight pierce my brain like rocks ripping through the sheer, calm, glassy surface of water.
At some point Jude stops licking, snorts a line, then returns to his spot behind me. He grips the waist of my jeans with his strong, skilled hands, then yanks them down.
With care, I push the book up the bed, flip onto my back, and smile when I hear, “Tastes just like whiskey. My favorite.”
Chapter 30
I don’t know how I feel. On one hand, I’m excited to spend this time with Peter, and even a little jazzed to see Lili. On the other hand, I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to fool either one of them.
With Lili, I think I might be able to get along with her better. Something’s changed within me. Like a lessening of the competition or something. Now maybe we can be carefree and enjoy our friendship. But I’m worried that she’ll think I’m a joke still. I’m worried she’ll take that condescending stance of hers and whatever has changed will come back full force.
And with Peter? I think he’ll know I’m high. And if I don’t get high before I see him, I think he’ll know that I’ve been lying to him. He’ll give me that look with those beautiful eyes, and I’ll feel all the pressure in the world to be exactly who and how he wants me to be.
I don’t know. Maybe I should cancel this trip.
***
Not partying with Liliana turns out to be partying hard with Liliana. I mean, she’s not in to cocaine or anything, but she loves molly and ketamine on occasion. I choose ketamine and she chooses MDMA. We go out with a group of her friends—who are more just people who hang on than actual friends—and bodyguards galore.
The thing about ecstasy is that it makes Lili touchy and lovey, while the Special K makes me dreamy and visionary. It seems like the two states could co-exist in a happy bubble, but once we’re at the club, Lili and I split up. She goes to the dance floor to rub her body against the throng of people, and I traipse around the interior perimeter. Everything looks like a painting.
I’m in a Monet with soft color splotches and a gentle faces.
But that soft dream doesn’t last for long. The hallucinogenic property of ketamine soon produces something straight out of a nightmare. I’ve never been prone to nightmares, but I can think of no other word for what is happening. I know this can’t be reality. There are no giant spiders chasing me, but I can’t keep from running faster.
All of the sudden, I’m not inside the club. I’m outside and the walls keeping me out are made of glass. I watch Liliana and her tribe of followers dance to the primal beat, but as much as I’d love to be in there with them, I don’t want to be near the giant spiders trying to get close to me.
I press my hands to the glass, curl them into fists, and beat against the clear barrier.
I can’t get in.
No one knows I’m out here in the dark, or no one cares.
I can’t stay still for long, so I start to run.
The spiders’ legs are huge and no matter how far I run, they’ll be able to catch me. One leg pins me down, and I look up into a hideous black mass. I have no idea if that’s a face or just fangs sticking out of multiple eyeballs.
Just as the spider lowers its colossal dagger-like fangs to pierce me, it crumbles to the ground, and I’m left in gray dust. Coughing. Sputtering. Looking around for whatever may come next.
My eyes fall on the party inside the glass box. The party I can’t reach. The party I’m not invited to.
As I watch, a figure emerges from the darkness of the box. It’s tall and walks slowly. Closer and clos
er it comes. It is familiar, but the blurriness takes away any chance of real recognition. It is as if the glass becomes frosted, and figure becomes even more undefined.
Then I see its brown, shaggy hair, and that triggers a soft reaction within me. I begin to calm down. My heart stops racing and my breathing slows.
His hands are pressed against the glass, then little by little, he moves them to closer together and presses his face close to the glass as if he’s peering out into the dark night.
Hope fills my heart and mind.
Maybe he’s searching for me.
Sometime later, I come out of the trance and find myself sitting on a bar stool inside the loud club.
Chapter 31
The hallucination from last night is long gone, but some of the dread I felt spills into today. Driving through LA with Peter shouldn’t be stressful, however, I can see the paparazzi following us. There’s a guy on a motorcycle, two dudes in a little car, and some in an SUV keeping right up with us as we enter then exit the freeway, and make turns onto small streets.
The anxiety of being chased, coupled with the leftover terror of the giant spiders forces me to grab hold of the seatbelt crossing my chest.
“Don’t worry, Adra. I’m a skilled stunt driver.”
“Bullshit,” I say, but not with any feeling.
“I’m not even going that fast.”
He breaks and the guy on the motorcycle speeds past us. “It’s not your speed that’s—” I close my eyes as he squeals around a corner.
My chest is heaving with the effort of every breath, and my ribs feel like they’re going to break open with the force of my heart battering against them. One hand drops to my lap.
The car stops.
“Hello, Mr. Truelove. You’re right on time.”
I take in a deep gulp of air but can’t regulate my breathing. When I feel Peter’s hand cover mine, I open my eyes. “It’s okay, Adra. We’re here.”