A-List F*ck Club: The Novel

by Frankie Love

  Before the awards shows, after seeing my mom, I’d go look for my father. Instead of finding him already dressed in a tux as his assistant requested, I’d find him in the kitchen, leaning over the island with junk food and a grin. He’d wave away the housekeeper, Roselyn, who always told him to eat something healthy.

  My dad would offer me the bowl of chips, the leftover chicken wings, a can of Coke. He may have been named America’s Sexiest Man Alive five times, but he was one of those people who didn’t have to work for it. Both my parents—they were just naturally damn near perfect.

  I think that’s why the public loved them so much. Why the movies that they starred in together would become instant hits, why their photographs became so sought after.

  Why eventually, their fame killed them.

  They were famous in a way Brad and Angelina only dreamed about. Except my parents never dreamed of this.

  They just were. They were in the right place at the right time, they met when they were young, on their first movie set, both wanting to act and both having the talent to get cast in more and more roles as they fell more and more in love.

  And somehow, even though they became beloved public figures, at the end of the day, they were decent human beings.

  Better than decent, the goddamn greatest.

  And somehow I was lucky enough to be their son.

  All those memories flood back as I walk down the red carpet with Jules.

  And as I watch her work the crowd, I realize that in a lot of ways, Jules is just like my mother. I try not to get emotional as I clasp my hand around hers. As she poses for photographs, I lower my eyes to the ground, blinking back all those memories. Realizing that falling for Jules wasn’t unusual or out of character at all—she’s the exact kind of girl I’d always dreamt of finding.

  She’s like my mother in all the best ways. Beautiful, unassuming, genuine—and not at all looking for affirmation from strangers.

  No, Jules doesn’t need anything from the people on this red carpet, yet she freely gives them so much of herself.

  I know deep down that Jules was made for this sort of limelight, or at least, she’s the sort that deserves it. Because she’s not chasing anything when she stands here and smiles, while she blushes at the photographers’ kind words and thanks people graciously for their compliments.

  For all the shady people in this town, women like Jules make it almost seem worth it.

  But when I see Sondra standing with Sawyer’s parents, Sophia and Henry, a different emotion washes over me.

  Fuck. Why is she here? But of course, that question is ridiculous. Of course, she’s here. She starred in this movie alongside Sawyer.

  I’ve read snippets of articles over the last several weeks, Somehow, they allude to Sawyer having some sort of sex addiction which is why he was cheating on Sondra. It’s bullshit of course, but right now, the studio is doing everything they can to keep the image of Sondra and Sawyer unblemished before the release of the new film that the studio has already poured millions into. They can’t afford to lose anything now just because Sawyer hooked up with a supermodel.

  So, from the grave, my best friend has been diagnosed with a latent sex-addiction. It was apparently ignited when he met Gretchen. Fucking bullshit.

  My stomach turns though, realizing the model Sawyer hooked up with, Gretchen, is coming here tonight.

  Why? Why in God’s name would she be invited? My eyebrows crease as I try to make sense of this.

  Having her here is intentionally inviting drama to this premiere—I don’t get it.

  I look at Jules, needing to ask her what the fuck is going on, why Gretchen would come, who would even have given her an invitation.

  “I knew we shouldn’t have come,” Jules says. “I’m really sorry, Cal. We can go. I didn’t even think about the fact that Sondra would be here. I was so self-absorbed.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not her, what I’m wondering about is why Gretchen is here? Tomorrow’s headlines are going to be questioning why Sawyer’s hookup came to the premiere on the night he’s being honored in a memorial. Nothing about it makes sense, Jules.”

  Jules’ eyes widen, realizing the meaning of my words. “I didn’t even think of it this morning when we were at Danny’s office. Gretchen was just so happy to have the bonus and the tickets, but you’re right. This is weird.”

  “Where’s Danny?” I ask. “I need to talk to him, to understand what’s going on here. Gretchen shouldn’t have come. It’s awkward with his parents being here—they don’t need to deal with this.”

  Jules nods. “I was so caught up in how you would feel about being here I didn’t even think about his parents. But why would Gretchen even want to come?”

  “Everything you told me about her is that she goes wherever she can get good publicity. That’s it.”

  “After everything, I think she would have learned—”

  I cut Jules off. “Babe, that’s not the way the city works. At the end of the day, a headline is worth a hell of a lot.”

  “But isn’t your integrity worth something too?” Jules asks, and her words just solidify my belief in her.

  In our relationship.

  In our future.

  My parents would have fucking loved this woman.

  “I think it’s worth something, I think our integrity is worth a hell of a lot. But I’m not everybody. And neither are you, Jules.”

  “I want out of this city before it rips me apart,” she says, shaking her head. Her eyes are sad, and I wrap my arms around her just as Sondra, Sophia, and Henry see us and walk over.

  In her ear, I whisper, “I love you, Jules.” Then I pull back, greeting Sophia and Henry with hugs and introductions to Jules—who they have heard all about already—and then offer Sondra a curt greeting. I don’t have time for her bullshit.

  “I’m so surprised to see you here, Callahan,” Sondra says disapprovingly. “Didn’t know they were giving bartenders tickets to this event,” she says. “Or are you working the open bar tonight?” She laughs as if she’s said something funny. Everyone else just looks at her tightly.

  Sophia and Henry know who I am, obviously, and so does Jules. So Sondra’s words just sound fraught and shallow.

  “I can’t believe our son isn’t here,” Sophia says, dabbing her eyes, a slight slur to her words. She is unsteady in her heels, and I watch Henry steady her with his hand on the small of her back.

  “It’s okay, love,” Henry tells her.

  “But the night before he died he told us he hated this movie,” she says under her breath. “Why are we even here?”

  I turn to them. “I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to him the night before he died?”

  Sophie and Henry exchange a quick glance. “Right,” Henry says. “It was in the voice mail he left. You’re right. We didn’t speak to him.”

  Sondra shakes her head. “We need to act supportive of one another right now, okay?” She locks her eyes with Sophie. “Remember? We are here for--”

  “The tribute?” Jules says. “Right? For Sawyer’s tribute?”

  “Exactly,” Sondra says, straightening her back. “The tribute.”

  Confused at whatever angle these three are vying for, I lean close to Jules and tell her that I’ll be back. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Do you want me to come with?” Jules asks.

  Before I can answer, Danny Bruneau walks toward us with Gretchen and Colette. Speak of the devil.

  I need to get Danny alone and ask why he thought to bring Gretchen tonight was a good fucking idea.

  But before I can, Danny’s already giving out handshakes and hugs, and Gretchen and Colette are in a stare down with Sondra. Danny works his charm, dismantling tension between Sawyer’s parents and Sondra, getting his models to smile at his old fashioned jokes.

  Jules has moved on and is standing with Sophia now, discussing something quietly, but my eyes are still focused on Danny.

  “Can we have a
word, sir?” I ask him.

  “Well, I think they’re gonna call us to our seats in a few minutes, don’t you?” Danny asks.

  “It can’t wait,” I say.

  Danny looks at me, his eyes narrowing. With pursed lips, he steps back as if using Gretchen and Colette as his armor.

  “What is it, Cal. Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of my friends.” Then he grins again, warmly, but it isn’t a sincere smile.

  I grew up in show business, I can fucking tell the difference.

  “I don’t think this is a conversation for everyone, actually,” I say, my eyes darting between the women before me.

  “Aww, come on Cal. Feeling nervous at your first red carpet event?” Danny asks. “Because, son, you have nothing to worry about with a girl like Juliana on your arm.”

  At that, Danny turns to Jules and gives her a peck on the cheek, but he seems nervous, and when he moves I can tell his hands are shaking. Something isn’t sitting right—with me or with him.

  “Anyone want a drink?” Danny scans the crowd for a cocktail waitress. He flags one down and she delivers everyone glasses of white wine. Danny takes his, drinking it quickly. Too quickly.

  “Everything okay?” Colette asks him. Apparently, I’m not the only person clued in on the fact that Danny’s not acting like himself.

  “Oh, I’m great. I’m great. Just dandy.”

  “Okay, I just...” Colette shakes her head.

  The waitress comes back around and Danny grabs another glass of wine, and when the waitress hands it to him, he seems to grip it a little too tightly with his shaking fingers and half of it sloshes over the rim.

  The waitress reaches for a napkin to wipe the spill off the gleaming hardwood floor, at the same time Danny leans over to take the rag from her. His phone falls from his pocket as he bends over the floor cleaning the spill, and I reach down to pick it up for him.

  The lock screen isn’t on, and a text message lights up the screen.

  Maybe it’s tacky for me to read it, but I can’t help myself.

  Danny still doesn’t realize he’s lost his phone, and the words on the screen are glaring at me, refusing to let me look away.

  The text reads, “Video received. Payment made. Keep up the good work.”

  Maybe it’s the word video that strikes a chord with me, I press on his camera icon, wordlessly, and watch as images pull up on his phone. Images that are being delivered through a private feed.

  Images of the Fuck Club.

  My Fuck Club.

  “Hey, hey, you got my phone there, Cal,” Danny says standing and reaching for it.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask.

  I don’t even look up, don’t register that Danny is coming toward me and reaching for the phone. When I click on the video tab, the first one is a video of my mother fucking throne room.

  And it’s a video of Jules naked, on her knees, before me.

  Someone is going to fucking pay for this.

  And that person is Danny Bruneau.

  28

  It all happens in a flash, but it’s also as if time stands still.

  I know both of those things can’t be true at once, but right now, they are. I watch as Callahan lunges for Danny. My eyes flash in confusion, not understanding what has caused the man I’ve given my heart to lash out at the man who gave me a chance. The man who saw potential in me and believed in my ability to be a model.

  I reach for Cal to pull him back, but he just throws a cell phone in my direction.

  I catch it, gripping it tightly in my hands at the same moment Cal’s hands grip tightly around Danny Bruneau’s neck.

  Cal squeezes until Danny’s face turns red, and Danny reaches for Cal, clawing at his hands, and that’s when time stalls out for me.

  For everyone at this premiere.

  Everyone in the room stops moving and looks at the two men in one another’s clutches. Danny’s eyes go wide, and Cal’s go dark—fueled with a fury I’ve never seen in him. I’ve only seen Cal in a fight once, back at the club the first night we met—and he was angry then... but this? This is personal. Deeper.

  Cal is out for blood.

  I look down at the phone in my hands. A video is on the screen and with trembling hands I press play. But even from the still frame, I know what I am about to watch.

  What I never wanted to see.

  Something so intimate, so sacred, so pure.

  Me, on my knees before the man I love. Giving Cal my body as he gives his to me.

  On the throne room floor, I have Cal’s hard cock in my mouth and am sucking hard and fast. I remember how our words of commitment, our I love yous were heavy in the air that day. But this footage doesn’t capture that. This video is of my bare body giving my boyfriend a blow-job.

  The video keeps rolling as my head bobs up and down. Cal’s eyes are closed, his hands are in my hair as he pulls my head closer to his groin. You can hear our moans, our grunts, you can hear us as we make love.

  My eyes filled with tears as I watch, my mascara running rivers down my face, and I know my cheeks are streaked in black.

  I shake my head, gasping as I cover my mouth, holding the phone so tightly in my hand never wanting anyone else to get ahold of this.

  No one can see this.

  I’m shaking, and I fall to the ground. My eyes lift for a moment, watching Cal’s bicep pull back, and as a punch lands square across Danny’s jaw. Without restraint, Cal pushes Danny toward a wall, people move aside, shrieks and hollers fill the room.

  Security rushes in, and Gretchen and Colette fall to the floor next to me, trying to understand what’s happening amidst all this chaos.

  My hands hold the phone as the video plays, as I...

  God, I can’t watch anymore.

  Colette and Gretchen watch the video, gasping as they come to realize what I am processing.

  As I come to understand what Danny has done to me.

  To them.

  To Cal.

  And with a deep ache in my belly, I register the worst crime of all.

  I understand what Danny Bruneau has done to Sawyer Bennett.

  How? Why?

  No.

  The reality hits me, I cry out as the realization floods me, as I watch Callahan yell in Danny’s face.

  “What the fuck did you do? You will pay for this, you fucking piece of shit.” Callahan’s words are loud and volatile and the press is here and they take pictures of everything, flashes surround us, a hush falls over the room.

  Sawyer’s family witnesses this alongside everyone else, and I wish they could have a moment of privacy. I hate this for them.

  I hate this for all of us.

  This city is cruel, more calculated than I wanted to believe.

  The people you trust are frauds. The people you love can be taken in a moment. And what is left?

  When the dust settles? What is there?

  All that we have is a moment. The here and the now.

  We have to hold tight to them.

  After all, they people we love most can be taken in a flash.

  Nothing is sacred when people are hungry for fame; it’s like a flame that can’t be quenched.

  Everything and everyone has a price tag.

  I don’t want to know what Danny thought I was worth.

  Danny sputters as Cal is forced away from him by security, his death grip on him had been so tight that Danny is now keeled over, gasping for breath.

  Cal’s fists are clenched—his strength and honor, his integrity has been publicized.

  He didn’t want to show his face... and I understand that... but his character? That can’t be locked away.

  It is his essence. It is who he is at his very core and I love him more in this moment I ever dreamed possible.

  Cal will fight for me.

  He is fighting for me. For us.

  And in this town that wants to destroy, Cal has vowed to lift me up.

  I’m far from my daddy
and my grandma, but Cal is here, willing to protect me.

  Danny, though, he is nothing.

  He begs for forgiveness. His voice is ragged and raw, desperate. His voice so very weak.

  “I never meant to hurt anyone,” he sobs. I get to my feet, step toward him, needing to understand this man I so trusted. “I was blackmailed. I was forced to do this. I was only trying to pay my wife’s bills. She was dying and I needed the money. I had an opportunity that seemed too good to be true...”

  His words are lost through his pleading. Security lifts him to his feet, everyone trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on.

  They still haven’t seen the evidence in my hand.

  They don’t understand that blackmail or not, Danny is the one behind the scandal.

  I click on the phone still in my hand. In Albums, I see a cache of footage from multiple rooms at the club. Other celebrities have been filmed. My heart races as Gretchen and Colette grip my shoulders, steadying me.

  We’re in this together and that gives me comfort.

  I click on Photos and see so many shots of the last month—all taken at the Fuck Club.

  We’re speechless, but we know what we see.

  We know what Danny Bruno has done.

  He brought us here, Gretchen, Collette, and me. Three women with no prior experience of this industry. He told us we were required to attend events with him, come to the Fuck Club with him. He encouraged us time and time again to join him there.

  Never acting like it was a big deal when those articles came out against Colette and Gretchen. Never suggesting that this might be a bad situation for us.

  Instead, he brushed off our concerns and told us it was just business. And that any press was good press.

  And we were too naïve to understand.

  The person who was supposed to guide us was the person leading us into the lion’s den.

  He’s a monster and he needs to pay.

  Cal has been pulled back by security and is dragged away from the premiere. Danny is taken too; the security guards need to understand what just went down.

  And I hold the evidence that is going to put the man I trusted behind bars.