by B. B. Hamel
“My brothers were older, old enough to protect themselves from our father. But we had no money, and I had no way of getting it. Until… until I enlisted. I sent home every single paycheck. Goddamnit, Tara, I didn’t want to leave. But I did it to try and keep my family together.”
When he looks at me again, I can see the hate and the pain. He sacrificed so much for his family, despite how awful his father treated him. It suddenly makes so much sense. He didn’t want to leave back then. He never wanted to leave, but he did it because he had to.
“She died anyway,” he says, clearly bitter and pissed. “But I was stuck. I had a contract with the military and I couldn’t leave, so I embraced it. I hoped you’d move on and could be happy without me, because you have to understand, I was never happy without you. All that time over there, I was thinking about you…. remembering what we had together… it kept me going. Maybe that’s fucking lame to admit, but it’s the truth. I never let you go, Tara. It’s why I’m here.”
I stare into his eyes and I don’t know what to say. “Is that true?” I whisper.
“It’s all true. I never wanted to leave you.”
I kiss him hard then. No words can express to him what I’m feeling right now.
It’s like every single emotion was both justified and wasted. He didn’t want to leave me, but he had to do it. I was so angry at him for never telling me the truth, and he should have from the start, I would have understood. But he didn’t do it just to break my heart, he did it because he felt like he had to. I can understand that. I can move past that.
And he never forgot me, just like I never forgot him. And now here he is, kissing me, holding me the way I want to be held.
I press myself tight against him, shoving him back into the wall. The pipes thud around us as I kiss him, suddenly overtaken by an intense desire for him. I reach down and unbuckle his belt, tugging his jeans down over his hips.
He grunts and smirks as he pulls my hair back. “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” he whispers.
“I just want to make up for lost time,” I say as I drop down to my knees in front of him.
I pull down his boxer briefs and take this thick cock in my hand. He’s so enormous in my palm as I stroke him and try to take him into my mouth. He groans as I suck him deep, letting him shove his cock down my throat.
I’m dripping wet and desperate for him as I suck his cock nice and sloppy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before with a man. It’s like I have absolutely no inhibitions, and he doesn’t make me feel self-conscious at all. In fact, just being around him makes me feel sexy.
It’s in the way he looks at me, the way he grunts when I touch him. He clearly wants me, clearly needs me. I don’t have to wonder how he feels about me, because I can taste it. He’s hard as hell in my mouth and groaning as I suck him faster.
I feel so totally out of control and I absolutely love it. Everything that’s happened up until now seems like a dream. To me, right now, down on my knees, the only thing I care about is making him feel good.
I take him deep, not caring about the tears that spring up in my eyes. I suck him faster and deeper, losing myself in the moment.
Suddenly he pulls me to my feet and kisses me. “Fuck, girl,” he grunts, turning me and pressing me against the wall. “I almost came in that pretty mouth.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask him as he presses my chest against the wall. I feel his hands tug at my jeans, pulling them down over my hips, and I know why.
“Because I want to come inside this tight cunt, that’s why.”
He gets my jeans and my panties down but leaves them around my knees. I’m defenseless and exposed as he bends me over and grabs me by the elbows, pulling them back, flexing my chest.
I feel him slide himself inside of me, not wasting a second. We have to get back to work soon, and the set is crawling with crew. Anyone could stumble back on us at any time, and that would be a big freaking deal. But I don’t care, not even a little, as his thick cock slides inside of me.
He fucks me rough and fast, knowing what needs to be done. “This pussy is the reason I’m here,” he whispers. “Fucking you is all I need. Fuck the movies, fuck everything. You’re what I need, Tara girl.”
I moan and half-turn to kiss him. Our lips touch as he presses deeper, pumping into me, rocking my whole body. We’re being as quiet as possible but soft, strangled moans escape my lips. I’m starting to sweat, but I don’t care at all.
He rips into me faster as pleasure rocks through my whole body, tingling my skin and my toes. I gasp as he bites my lip and presses me back against the wall, fucking me rough. I back my hips up and slam against his cock, taking him as deep as possible, because I need it so badly.
As the orgasm builds, I know I can’t stop it. Not after everything that’s happened between us. I need to come with him, need to feel him come inside of me. I gasp as it peaks and suddenly explodes through me, the orgasm ripping through my limbs.
I can feel him coming too, his cock shooting deep inside of my pussy in thick spurts. I gasp and moan, dripping and ready for him. I want him buried inside of me, I want to feel him dripping out of me later today.
Slowly we finish together and he turns me around, kissing me deep and slow.
We get dressed in silence then. He leans up against me, pulling me close.
“What do we do?” I ask him in a whisper.
“I don’t know. But let’s just enjoy this, right here, at least for now.”
I nod my head and breathe his smell in deep. He’s right, we don’t know what’s going to happen from here. And maybe I’m being stupid, letting myself fall back into this like I am, but I can’t help it. Everything he’s said, everything he’s done, I can’t help but start to see that it’s all sincere. It’s all real.
That’s Jackson. He’s the most real man I’ve ever met. Nothing is an act with him, even though he’s an actor. Nothing is fake. What he says, he means, and he doesn’t play games. He made a mistake so many years ago, when we were dumb kids, but he did it for a noble reason. He sacrificed his life for his family.
I admire that. I really, really do. I wish he had told me back then, because maybe I would have helped him out. I don’t know if we could have worked together with him in the military, but at least I could have helped his family as much as possible. Instead, I totally ignored them, and I do feel a little guilty now.
It’s not his fault. We’re just two kids that got screwed. But now he’s back and he’s trying to make up for it.
I want things to work. I want him to take me to all the places I’ve been too scared to go. For now, I’m letting go and giving in to him.
27
Jackson
Mickey lives in the same house that all these Hollywood assholes do. It’s big, it’s white, and it’s fancy as hell. It’s even a little over the top and absurd, but that’s what they want.
It’s all show. It’s all bullshit.
I’m angry and I won’t deny it. I know it’s stupid to show up at his house like this, with his wife and his kids here, but I’m not waiting anymore.
I kept my mouth shut all day. I did my scenes and kept working. But I didn’t stop thinking.
I ring Mickey’s bell and a minute later, his wife answers the door. She’s thin, pretty, with auburn hair and full lips.
“Jackson,” she says, a little surprised.
“Hey, Marla.” I kiss her cheek. “Is Mickey around?”
“Sure, he’s out back by the pool. Come on in.”
“Thanks so much.”
I follow her through the house. Mickey brought me here when he first signed me. Back then, he sat me down on the couch in his living room, gave me a glass of whisky, and he asked me what family meant.
I told him family meant sacrifice and loyalty. He said he agreed. He said he’d sacrifice for me, and he’d always be loyal to me, if only I wanted to join his family. That wasn’t so long ago, but I bought his bullshit, utterly and complet
ely. Maybe I’m stupid for being trusting, but you can’t get anywhere in this world without trusting some people. I thought Mickey was one of those people, but maybe not.
I keep my anger in check, at least until we get out back. Mickey’s alone out there, his children nowhere to be seen. He’s sunning himself, the fucking bastard, and smoking a cigar. In fact, he looks pretty at peace and content, despite the fact that my shit is in shambles.
“Mickey,” I say, walking out toward him. His wife shuts the door softly behind me.
He sits up, surprised. “Jackson, baby, what’re you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” I walk over and stand over him, my arms crossed. I can see a little fear in his expression, and I don’t blame him. I’m a big man. I could tear him to pieces with ease.
“What’s going on? You don’t normally make house calls.”
“Only in special circumstances.”
He smiles and laughs nervously. “You’re freaking me out here, kid.”
“Mickey, do you want to fuck me?”
He hesitates. “You’re pretty and all, but I have a wife.”
“So you don’t want to fuck me?”
“No, Jackson. I don’t.”
“Weird. Because I’m pretty sure you do, considering you’re lubing up my asshole.”
He laughs nervously again. “What are you talking about?”
“I know you want to drop me. I know the studio is thinking about killing Brutally Dishonest.”
He stares at me, clearly surprised, but he doesn’t deny it. I want to kick him in his rat face but I know I can’t do that. I have to keep my anger under control or else I’ll lose it all for nothing.
“Why?” I ask him.
He sighs. “You know why, Jackson.” He leans over and picks up his cigar, puffing away. “Let me ask you something. Why do you want to do this?”
“Be an actor?” I shrug. “I don’t really.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly why I want to drop you.”
“Because I don’t care about this job?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ve done plenty of jobs that I didn’t want to do.”
“But this isn’t like that. Jackson, this world takes sacrifice and commitment. There’s a new guy coming up every single day and if you don’t work your ass off to compete, you’ll disappear.”
“And you think I can’t hack it,” I say.
“You absolutely can,” Mickey replies, exasperated. “Sit down, damn it. You’re freaking me out.”
I hesitate a second before sitting on the end of the chair next to him. He sighs and puts his cigar back down.
“Look, Jackson, you gotta play the game. The studio wants you to jump, you fucking do a backflip. Some producer wants his dick sucked, you choke on that cock. Know what I mean? You have to be willing to get down and dirty for this thing.”
“And I’m not,” I say simply.
“That’s right. You’re not.”
I can’t deny that he’s right. As soon as I was asked to do something that I didn’t want to do, I tried to fight it tooth and nail. Even when the studio tried to give me the benefit of the doubt, and Mickey told me what to do, I just ignored them and kept fighting. I made their lives harder instead of easier, and this business doesn’t take kindly to that.
I can’t deny him that. “But still,” I say. “You said we’d be family.”
“So the fuck what? You said you’d do whatever I told you to do, and you didn’t. We both broke promises.”
I sigh. He’s right about that. I did tell him I’d listen to his counsel. “Still, Mickey, you’re going behind my back. You could have come to me like a man.”
“Hell no, I couldn’t have. You’re not being rational these days. I mean, going to a studio exec’s house? That’s crazy shit, Jackson.”
“So what now?” I ask him. “You’re dropping me and the movie’s dead?”
“No,” he says. “The movie might die. And I might drop you. I haven’t made up my mind yet. But you’re not doing yourself any favors coming to my house and trying to intimidate me here.”
I watch him for a second and I realize that I’m disappointed. I realize that I wanted him to drop me. I wanted him to get rid of me, because that would mean that I’d be done. I wouldn’t have to keep being an actor anymore.
And that makes it all clear for me. Yes, I want to keep doing this job, but I also know I won’t sacrifice for it. I’ll do it on my terms or not at all, but that won’t work. I can’t make those two things happen. If I want to do this, I have to play the game right.
I look at Mickey and I smile. “Sorry, man,” I say, standing up.
“What?” he asks.
“I just realized something. I think you should drop me.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, you’re right. I’m not willing to do whatever it takes for this. I’m not willing to bend over backwards or suck dicks to become famous. I just want one thing, and I think I can have it.”
He watches me for a second. “A girl?” he asks.
I grin. “The best one.”
“Fine,” he says. “Do what you have to do. But don’t blame me if it all goes to shit.”
“I won’t. But I need one more favor.”
He groans. “What?”
“Where’s Harold? I need to talk to him.”
“He’s on vacation last I heard,” Mickey says, grabbing his Blackberry. “I think he’s in fucking Mexico or some shit.”
“Find out where exactly and tell me,” I say, heading back for his door.
“What the fuck are you going to do?”
“Sell him on a script and get my girl,” I say, grinning at Mickey.
He sighs and shakes his head, but he doesn’t turn me down. I leave his house and head back out to my car, grinning my head off.
I know what I need to do now. It’s so obvious. There’s only one reason that I came to this town and got into this gig, and that’s for Tara. But now this acting shit is getting in our way, so it’s time to call it. I have plenty of fucking money now, so I won’t have any trouble finding ways to make more if I want. I don’t need to keep doing this.
It’s time to sacrifice. Mickey’s right, the things you love and want demand everything from you, and I’m willing to give it. I’m just not willing to give it to acting.
But for Tara, I’ll do anything. So I’ll sell this script, make Holly happy, and get the fuck out while I can. There’s no stopping me now.
28
Tara
Jackson doesn’t come to work for three days.
It’s like my worst nightmare. Production doesn’t stop, fortunately, since there are scenes that we can shoot without him, but everyone is pissed off. The studio is oddly silent about the whole thing, which makes me think they know what’s going on.
Lionel curses in German constantly, basically railing on Jackson and talking about how awful he is to work with. I can’t really blame him. Holly is oddly quiet, though she does commiserate with the crew. Mostly, people are confused, since it doesn’t seem like Jackson to just up and disappear.
I feel betrayed again. It’s like the old feelings are suddenly coming through again. I finally got rid of them, finally felt like I was moving on, but now it’s all creeping back. I’ve been staying up late with Laney watching bad TV and trying to ignore my problems, but I can’t ignore this.
He won’t answer his phone. It goes straight to voicemail every time I try to call. For two days, I call over and over, until I finally give up, feeling like such a fool. Jackson doesn’t want to be found, and if he did, he’d answer his damn phone.
I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did this to myself. I should never have let him back into my life. I should have seen this coming. As soon as things get real, Jackson runs away. I’m starting to even question the story he told about his mother being sick and needing to pay for her medical bills. Maybe that’s partly true, but he probably did it to get away from me, too.
Work i
s dull and lifeless. I try to concentrate on what’s happening in front of me, but I can’t. Two days pass like that, but I don’t let myself cry. At least, I don’t let myself cry at work. At home, I’m a damn mess, and Laney almost doesn’t know what to do with me, poor girl. She’s not equipped to handle someone seriously depressed.
This is my worst nightmare come true. I knew things were bad for Jackson, that he felt like he was cornered and had no way out, but I had no clue he’d actually run away. We could have done something else, figured out another way. Or he could have just stayed in that fake relationship.
But that’s not Jackson. He doesn’t do fake, and he doesn’t compromise. He’s stubborn and hardheaded and when things get tough he runs away, leaving me heartbroken and alone.
I don’t know what to do. On day three of his disappearance, I go to work as always, and Lionel is just as salty as he has been since Jackson went away.
“Damn actors,” he says to me in his heavy accent. “Damn stinking actors. No good stinking damn shithead bastard actors. I hate them all, Tara, yes? You know this? I hate all the fuckers.” He slams his fist down on his desk.
“They’re the worst,” I say in response but my heart’s not in it.
Lionel gives me a strange look. “Are you okay?” he asks me. “You’ve seemed… off. Sad, maybe. Moping around.”
“I’m fine,” I say, looking away. I’m surprised he even noticed.
He steps toward me with a strange expression. “Sometimes life fucks you. But listen to me, Tara. You must fuck it back. Yes? You must always fuck it back.”
I meet his gaze and I can’t help but smile. That sounds so profound and so hilarious coming from him. “Okay,” I say.
“Good.” He pats my head like a little kid, which normally would be weird, but I let it slide. “Let’s get to work.”
And so I do. I get to work. We film a few scenes of extras, a few tracking shots and scenery things, basically whatever we can do that doesn’t involve Jackson. Holly goes through a few sequences and we do a few shots of the villain and his crew.