by Ivy Jordan
“Unless you’re an arsonist,” I teased.
A large green screen Tamara was able to snag from a friend was being used to create backgrounds for each of the shots. The men would all take their turns in front of her camera, each getting their own month in the calendar to adorn with their thick muscles and chiseled features.
A second book would be available, one with all her action shots of the men at work. It would bring in entirely new revenue, really allowing the men to help the community out with the funds raised.
I was proud of Tamara. She really came through for the guys.
People began piling into the large space, taking seats at the white-linen clad tables. Tamara set up her equipment and fussed with the lighting while I greeted people at the door, offering the programs for the evening’s events.
Once everyone was inside, I took my seat at the table in front. Amy and Lisa were already seated, and several of the men’s wives and girlfriends took the other seats. Josh didn’t have one date to escort at the fundraiser—he had four, and the other guys made several comments to show their admiration, and of course, their jealousy about the situation.
Josh ate it up, loving every jab, joke, and tease about his “harem.” The girls seemed to enjoy the razzing, as well.
A large man with thick gray hair and a long white beard introduced himself, and then all of the guys, one by one. When he called Josh’s name, my heart fluttered. I was so proud to be by his side.
Tamara took her shots as the guests all enjoyed the live photo shoot. On each table was an order form for the calendar, and a sample book of the action shots Tamara had taken. It was impressive.
“That was so awkward,” Josh said, sliding into the seat beside me.
“Why?” I asked, not thinking he’d be uncomfortable modeling, even in front of a large crowd.
“All these people,” he exclaimed, his hands in the air to show his dismay.
“Was it more awkward than getting naked with the girl you only dated once?” I laughed.
His eyes widened and his lips curled into a smile. He pulled my chair closer to him, leaning in to kiss my lips. “That wasn’t awkward. That was awesome,” he boasted.
“It was awkward. At least at first,” I admitted.
“No way. That’s a man’s dream. One date and the girl gets naked in bed with you,” he joked.
“Yeah, and not being able to do anything with her?” I asked, giving him a look to prove I was still right.
“Oh, I could’ve done something if I’d wanted,” he chuckled.
I shook my head as my cheeks started to turn red with heat.
“I don’t think so,” I corrected him.
“I saw your wet spot. You left one on my leg, too,” he smirked.
Oh, God!
He leaned in again, kissing me gently on the lips to ease my embarrassment. He was right. He could’ve done whatever he’d wanted to me that day. He had a strange effect on me, lifting my inhibitions without hesitation. Hell, I’d fuck him right here if he continues to kiss me like this.
Chapter Eight
The insurance company had disbursed all the necessary checks to the construction crew, and the rebuild was well underway. I knew we’d be leaving Josh’s house soon, and that thought drove me nuts. I didn’t want to leave.
“They gave me a check for a hotel,” Tamara said, flashing it in front of my face.
There were a lot of zero’s on that paper. “How much?” I asked.
She slapped it on the counter, smiling at the large number. “There’s four of us, so two hotel rooms, and they calculated the time we’ve been here as if we were paying for a hotel all this time,” she gushed.
“That’s a lot of money. Can you keep it, or do you have to give it back?” I asked.
“Give it back? Are you nuts?” she laughed. “I was thinking that we could donate it to Josh’s fire station,” she said in a hush, so he couldn’t hear.
“That’s an amazing idea,” I agreed.
Josh walked into the room. Tamara quickly scooped up the check and stuffed it into her purse. Her smile was riddled with guilt, and her lips started to curl as she worked to hide her anxiety. “You okay?” Josh asked, chuckling as he stared at her tortured face.
“I’m good,” she said quickly, before rushing from the kitchen.
“What’s gotten into her?” Josh asked.
“The insurance company stuff. I think they said the place would be livable next week. The kitchen got it the worst, but three of the four bedrooms were not so bad,” I explained.
I watched for a reaction as I spoke. I was hoping for a sad, ‘please don’t go’ look, and possibly even exactly those words to escape from his beautiful lips. He didn’t seem to have a reaction, at all. That is disturbing.
“I’m sure she’s ready to get back home,” he said.
Nothing? No sad puppy eyes? No begging me to stay?
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Hell, all of you are probably about sick of me,” he laughed.
“You’ve been amazing. It’s going to be hard to leave,” I said, hinting for something, anything, from him.
“It’s going to be hard to let you go,” he said sweetly, gripping my waist and pulling me into him. Finally.
“You’ll miss me?” I asked, my bottom lip pouting.
“Of course,” he growled, biting at my neck and making me squeal.
“I have to work the next two days,” he said as he pulled away.
We’d made love that morning, but I suddenly ached for more. I hated when he left for work; it seemed forever before he’d return. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer against me. His warmth soothed me, melting me into him, and when his eyes stared into mine it made me shudder in his arms. “When do you have to leave?” I asked.
“I’m already late,” he said, pulling from my embrace.
He seemed distant, a little strange. It gave me a very bad feeling in my gut. Maybe he’d just been nice, and this wasn’t what he wanted at all. Maybe I was reading more into this than there was, or could be.
Maybe Josh, Mr. Perfect, was too good to be true.
I sulked most of the day on set, upset that Josh hadn’t called. I knew my insecurities were getting the better of me, but I didn’t know how to make it stop.
“Are you okay?” Tamara asked when she made it home that night.
I was on the couch, covered under a blanket, and watching a sappy romance movie, which, of course, was making me even sadder. What if this is it?
“What if Josh doesn’t want me once I leave?” I asked, tears falling down my cheeks.
“Why would you even think that? You two are great,” Tamara scolded.
Maybe I was being silly, but something told me I’d gotten too close, and that I was about to get hurt.
“I dunno,” I said, laughing at my emotional outburst.
I told Tamara how I told him the house would be ready soon, and how he acted almost relieved that we’d be going. That I’d be going.
“You’re just scared,” she assured me. “I think you’ve fallen for this guy,” she laughed, wiping the last tear from my cheek.
I already knew I had. I’d fallen for him the first time we’d made love. I just tried my best to convince myself it was nothing more than fun. I didn’t want hurt. Not again. I’d been down that road before. He was just so perfect. I thought we were perfect together.
“Things have moved really fast,” Tamara said sternly. “I mean, you moved in with the man only after a couple weeks,” she added.
I nodded, fighting back my tears. “I know,” I admitted.
Maybe this fire wasn’t the blessing in disguise I’d thought it had been, after all. Maybe, just maybe, it was the thing that would destroy any chance I had with Josh. Once I left, things would be awkward. Would we go back to dating? To him dropping me off at my front door step? Or would we just drift apart completely, never to speak again?
“He hasn’t called me all
day,” I admitted, feeling embarrassed that it bothered me so badly.
“It may have been a busy day,” she insisted. “Why don’t you talk to him? Ask him what is going on in his head. He may be having the same worries as you,” she added, and then gave me a quick hug.
I scooped up my blanket and drug it up the stairs to Josh’s room. I hated sleeping in his large bed alone, without his warmth, his scent, and his sweet sounds of sleep that soothed me into a secure slumber.
Tamara was right. I needed to talk to him. Maybe he was having the same concerns and wasn’t sure how to address them. He hadn’t been awkward until I told him we’d be leaving soon.
Josh was exhausted when he finally made it home. He hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours and had fought six fires. I felt bad for worrying so much, for thinking he was ignoring me.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, ripped off his jacket, and tossed it on the chair by the bed before giving me a quick kiss, and heading towards the bathroom to get a shower and much needed sleep.
“See?” Tamara said, her eyebrows lifting with the ‘I told ya so’ look.
I smiled and agreed. She was right. I was being silly.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow when he’s had some sleep,” I said.
Tamara went into the kitchen to grab us each a beer when Josh’s phone buzzed across the counter where he’d left it. I could hear the shower running upstairs and knew if it was important, they’d continue to call.
“Is this Josh’s phone?” Tamara asked, picking it up and staring at the screen.
“Yes,” I said.
Her face was pale, and her expression filled with a mixture of confusion and anger.
“Why?” I asked. “Is everything okay?” I pushed.
“It’s a woman’s picture that popped up; a pretty provocative one at that,” she said.
The phone buzzed again. “It’s a text now, from her,” Tamara said.
My heart ached at the thought of Josh having another woman already lined up for when I left. Maybe he had one already, and I was cramping his style by being here. This beach house was a seduction zone if ever there were one, and the condoms placed strategically near the hot tub, the bed, and even in the little glass container on the kitchen counter told me he had been a playboy, and probably still was.
How could I’ve been so stupid?
“You want me to open the text?” she asked.
“No,” I said quickly.
“You need to know. You deserve to know,” she pushed.
I wanted to know. I wanted her to look, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to invade his privacy that way.
Tamara smirked, giving me a look of concern as she pushed the button his phone, opening the text.
I watched her eyes as she read it, hating that we were invading his personal space. “What does it say?” I asked.
“It’s not good,” she warned.
I sat up on the couch, staring at her with fear. She walked over towards me with the phone in her hand. “Here,” she said sadly.
I took the phone and stared at the screen. The woman’s picture that was saved was provocative, but not nearly as provocative as the one sent in the text.
My eyes lingered on the blonde woman wrapped in only a white silk sheet. Her long hair flowed on the mattress as she puckered her pouty red lips into a kiss. “Wanna hook up tonight? I need you again…” it read.
My hand tightened around the phone, so tight I thought I’d break it. I pushed it back to Tamara. “We shouldn’t have read that,” I said, fighting back the tears that were flooding my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone soft and kind.
“Me too,” I gasped, falling back onto the couch and covering my face with my hands.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked.
“I have to confront him,” I said sternly.
She nodded, and moved to the couch next to me, squeezing me tightly in her arms.
Tamara set Josh’s phone on the coffee table and opened the beers she’d gotten from the kitchen, handing me one. I took it, swigged half of it in one gulp, and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“I thought he was different,” I gasped.
“Me too. Me too,” Tamara sighed.
We sat there, drinking our beers and not saying much about the phone call and text. “They said we could move back into the house tomorrow if we wanted,” she suggested.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I agreed, feeling that familiar pain in my gut.
I loved Josh. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. This hurt.
“We’d have to share rooms,” she said. “Or, we could go to the hotel. We do have the money,” Tamara smiled.
“No. That should be given to the fire station. It’s not fair to punish everyone because of Josh,” I said.
Josh walked down the stairs. I instantly tensed up when my eyes landed on him at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled, but offered a look of confusion in my direction. It was probably obvious that I was upset, but I didn’t really care. He should know how badly he hurt me.
“Where’s my phone?” he asked, his tone bewildered as he looked around the room. “I know I set it right here,” he said, pointing to the counter where Tamara had picked it up.
His eyes moved towards us, and then to the coffee table in front of us where his little black phone was placed. He moved towards it, picking it up and staring at me with a look of puzzlement and anger. “Did you take my phone?” he asked.
“Who’s the girl?” I asked.
He looked exhausted, and now angry on top of it. “What girl?” he snapped.
“The one on your phone, calling you, sending you texts to hook up, and sexy pictures,” I accused.
His eyes turned black, and his cheeks red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sighed. “I can’t believe you looked through my phone,” he growled.
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” I snapped, my voice louder than it should’ve been.
“Obviously you didn’t trust me if you were going through my phone,” he yelled back.
I knew he had a point, but mine was bigger. He was a liar, and a cheat. I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me anymore.
“We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning,” I said.
He stood there, frozen, shaken, and finally smiled. “Good,” he sighed and stomped up the stairs.
This was it. My perfect man, my perfect relationship, gone.
Chapter Nine
Josh wasn’t home when I finally woke up on the couch next to Tamara. We’d stayed up for hours drinking beer and talking. I gathered my clothes and woke Lisa and Amy, telling them the bad news. Tamara felt horrible for opening the phone. “I shouldn’t have read the text,” she said.
I knew she felt like it was all her fault, but it wasn’t. It was his. I was grateful that she’d read it. At least now I knew he wasn’t perfect. He was a liar.
The construction crew banged away at the house as we moved back in. It still smelled of fire and had a strange, eerie feel to it with black soot still lingering in the crevices of the walls that hadn’t been torn out yet.
“We’re home,” Tamara said.
That word didn’t have the same excitement to it when she said it as it had when Josh had used it.
“What do we do about the shoot next week?” Tamara asked.
Ugh.
“I can do it,” I assured her.
“I don’t want to make you do that,” she said softly.
I’d forgotten about the shoot Josh and I had together. It was the final set of marketing campaigns for the brand, and I dreaded having to be in his arms.
“It’ll be fine,” I said sternly.
“This place is awful,” Lisa moaned.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hotel?” Tamara asked.
“No. You give that money to the charity you planned,” I insisted.
I knew Amy and Lisa weren’t plea
sed that the money wasn’t being used to secure a fancy hotel. I wasn’t real pleased myself, but I knew giving meant a lot to Tamara, and even though Josh turned out not to be such a great boyfriend, he was a good man who’d taken us four girls in during our time of need.
We all stayed in one room, sharing a queen-sized bed each for two girls. It wasn’t the plush life we’d grown accustomed to while staying at Josh’s, but it was home. Real home.
After three days, Josh still hadn’t tried to contact me. I checked my phone often, to which Tamara would usually catch me and call me out. “Please, stop thinking about him,” she’d say softly.
I always agreed I would, but I never did. I thought about him all the time. I still couldn’t fathom that it had all been fake. I knew there was real emotion in his eyes, and those words he always looked like he was ready to say, but didn’t, I knew what they were.
Tamara took off for the studio, Lisa and Amy had already left for the day, and I had my movie. Why wasn’t I as excited about my lead role as before?
“Are you going to be okay tomorrow?” Tamara asked.
I nodded.
It was my scheduled shoot, the last one I’d ever have to do with Josh. Part of me dreaded the idea of seeing him, but that other part—oh, how it longed to be in his arms once again.
“I’m gonna stop by the station and drop off the check. I’ll make sure Josh will even show,” she said, her stress showing.
I remembered her warning me not to get too close. I felt bad that I hadn’t taken her advice. It hadn’t just ruined things for me, but possibly for her career, as well.
The director was surprisingly nice about letting me have the day to do the shoot. Things had slowed down, and I wasn’t sure if it was money, or some other reason that could possibly halt the production.
“Is the movie still set for March of next year?” I asked, receiving only a grumble from the producer.
“We’re planning to make a lot of headway next month, so expect to be working long hours,” he said.
I didn’t mind. What did I have to go home to?