Love's Illusion

by Priya Grey

  Flo: Plan Change. Going to Alaska to see Aunt Betty. She’s sick. Need to stay with her for 3 months. Sorry. :(

  Why three months? I have no idea. Maybe because I read somewhere that you can change your life in three months. And that’s what I desperately want to do at this moment. Change.My.Life.

  Chad texts back.

  Chad: Oh. Hope aunt B gets better. 3 months? Don’t forget me.

  Flo: I won’t. Promise.

  I put my phone away and pinch my temples. What am I going to do? Chad’s going to have to find out the truth about me sooner or later. Then an idea pops into my head. I rush to Nash’s room and knock on his door. Luckily, he’s home.

  Chapter 20

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Rodrigo,” Nash says into his phone.

  “Fuck sorry,” he replies, clearly annoyed. “She dropped me because of you. She says after fucking you, she doesn’t believe in settling for second best. Do you believe that? She called me second best.”

  Nash suppresses a smirk. Although he didn’t enjoy his fuck session with Cat Carter, he takes pride in knowing he left her satisfied.

  “I should be the one annoyed,” gripes Nash. “You should have told me what I was walking into.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone, if I had,” Rodrigo states. “Listen. Nash, do you think there’s any chance you can give me a finder’s fee, for setting you up with her? I’m a little low on cash this month.”

  Nash breaks the news to Rodrigo. His one training/fucking session with Cat Carter would be his last.

  “Seriously, dude?” Rodrigo replies, astonished. “Do you realize how much money you’re throwing away? Fucking her is the only reason I can afford the lease on my Maserati. How come?”

  Nash shrugs. “Being a gigolo is not my thing. Why don’t you call her, and see if she’ll take you back?”

  “Even though she considers me second best after fucking you?”

  “You never know,” Nash tells Rodrigo. “It’s worth a try.”

  “You’re right. Let me call her now. Later, dude.”

  “Later.”

  After getting off the phone with Rodrigo, Nash lies back in bed and looks up at the ceiling. His session with Cat Carter helped make up the late payments on his Porsche. But if he hopes to stay in Los Angeles, he’s going to have to find another way to increase his income. Too bad he just can’t pimp himself out like Rodrigo. But Nash can’t stomach the thought of being a whore. And sadly, he doesn’t see himself as a personal trainer much longer, either. He wants more out of life. The problem is he doesn’t know what to do.

  His dad is still sending him texts, asking about the try out for the Buccaneers. He just won’t accept that Nash’s football days are over. It’s time they both move on.

  Now, Nash needs to figure out his next move, so he can get out of the funk he’s been in for the last three years. He hasn’t been himself since the car accident. He’s been moody and grumpy. And he doesn’t like socializing with people. Before the accident, he was fun-loving and happy. But those days feel so far away. Lately, it’s like a black cloud has been following him around.

  There’s a knock at his door. He slowly gets up and answers. His roommate, Flo, is standing outside. She looks rattled.

  Chapter 21

  Nash opens his bedroom door with his shirt off – his well-defined chest and abs on marvelous display. I have to look away because I’m slightly turned on.

  “Hi. Sorry to bother you. You’re a trainer, right?”

  “Yeah,” Nash responds flatly.

  “Do you think you could train me? I need to get into incredible shape in three months.”

  “Why?”

  “Well…”

  “Don’t bother,” Nash sighs. “For a guy. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My rate’s $200 per session. Each session is one hour,” he states.

  “Really? You must be really good.”

  Nash nods. “My client Tuesday morning said I was the best she’s ever had.”

  “That’s quite an endorsement,” I tell him.

  $200 per session is way more than I can afford. But then I realize: This is exactly why they invented credit cards.

  “Do you take credit?” I ask.

  “If I have too.”

  “Well, in my case, you might have too.”

  “Fine,” Nash says. “But I’ll only do this if you’re serious about getting into shape. I don’t need you wasting my time. That means no talking for ten minutes between exercises. Just hardcore working out for an hour straight.”

  “That sounds scary,” I mutter.

  “Well, personal fitness shouldn’t be a walk through the park. So… are you serious about this, or what?”

  I nod nervously, not sure what I’m getting myself into. “I’m serious.”

  There’s a long pause, as Nash looks me up and down.

  “Fine. We can start tomorrow morning. 6 am.”

  “I can’t meet in the morning.”

  Nash rolls his eyes. “I thought you said you were serious about this?”

  “I am. I just can’t do mornings because of work. I can do evenings, though.”

  He shrugs. “Fine. Evenings. We start tomorrow night.”

  Nash closes his door.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. I have three months to get myself into shape, so Beowulf won’t run for the hills when he sees me. As I walk back to my room, I remind myself that I’ve got to start calling Beowulf by his real name: Chad.

  Chapter 22

  The next evening, I come home from work and begin training with Nash. Before we get started, he insists on weighing me and calculating my Body Mass Index. I feel really uncomfortable as he pinches the excess fat on my arms, my thighs, and my belly with his hand. He uses an instrument that resembles huge tweezers to measure the amount of fat he’s able to pinch. My cheeks burn red with embarrassment.

  “Okay,” he mutters to himself as he jots down some numbers.

  “You have your work cut out for you. Don’t you, Nash?” I awkwardly joke. But Nash doesn’t seem amused.

  “Do you want to know your BMI?” he asks, staring at me blankly.

  I shrug. “Not really.” Then with a nervous smile I add, “I prefer not to face reality.”

  Nash ignores my comment and simply responds, “Let’s get started.”

  We do the training workouts in the living room. He starts me off with some basic stretches on the yoga mat. Then we move onto squats, as Juliette comes down the stairs. She’s just finished a session with an accountant in Wilmington, North Carolina. She watches me exercise for a bit. Then she gets a request for another session on her phone… from Roger.

  Juliette sighs as she looks at Nash and I. “One of my clients, Roger, wants a quickie as he steps out to get his family some McDonalds for dinner. He’s such a sleaze bag. But I guess I shouldn’t complain. He’s my best customer. Makes up seventy percent of my income.”

  She leaves the living room.

  “I’d kill to have her metabolism,” I mutter as I watch Juliette walk away.

  “No talking,” Nash demands. “Finish up your squats. If you want to lose twenty pounds in three months, you’re going to have to work your ass off and watch your diet. Now give me ten pushups.”

  “Ten! I can’t do ten,” I complain. “I test video games for a living, remember? I need my arms to function.”

  “Are you whining?” Nash asks with a stern expression.

  “I’m just making you aware that there’s no way I can do ten pushups.”

  Nash looks me straight in the eyes.

  “Yes you can!” he barks. “And I said no talking. Now give me ten.”

  I reluctantly begin to do my pushups. “What a dick,” I mutter under my breath.

  “What’s that?”

  I look up and feign innocence. “You said no talking. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Good. Keep it that way.”

  I continue doing the exercises as Nash cou
nts. My arms shake as I barely finish my third pushup.

  Nash looks at me and shakes his head. “Pathetic. You’re barely trying.”

  “I thought trainers were supposed to be all about positive reinforcement?”

  “You mean like giving somebody a trophy for coming in last place?” Nash says with sarcasm.

  “Yeah,” I say nodding.

  “You picked the wrong trainer.”

  “Just my luck,” I mutter.

  I sit up on the yoga mat and try to catch my breath.

  Nash hands me a piece of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your new diet.”

  I look down at the paper.

  “Seriously? This is like… no food.”

  “Not true. That’s the actual intake your body needs to function properly. By overeating, which is what most Americans tend to do, we actually limit our body’s capacity to function well. I thought you said you were serious about getting into shape?”

  “I am. So, I guess I have to starve myself.”

  “I’m not starving you,” Nash says. “That’s a sensible diet plan.”

  “There are no carbs on it,” I point out. “It’s all chicken, fish, and vegetables.”

  Nash stares at me condescendingly. “That’s why it’s called a healthy diet, Flo.”

  “So, no pizza, no bagels?” I complain.

  “Exactly.”

  “Don’t most diet plans come with cheat days?”

  Nash points his finger at me. “If you really want to lose twenty pounds in three months, we can’t afford any cheat days.”

  “This is going to be hell,” I gripe.

  “Look on the bright side, even if the guy you’re doing this for isn’t worth it, you’ll be in the best shape of your life.”

  I hate to admit it; but Nash has a point.

  Then we hear Juliette moan and yell from her bedroom.

  “Oh Roger, I think you’re going to give me another orgasm. Oh my gosh! I feel it coming. Can you feel it, Roger? I’m going to come because you get me so hot! Oh my!”

  “Do you really think she’s having an orgasm?” I ask Nash.

  Nash shakes his head. “I doubt it. This Roger guy sounds like a real dirt bag. Who the fuck whacks off with a webcam girl on the way to get dinner for his wife and kids? He’s a lowlife. I doubt Juliette is turned on at all.”

  Nash and I both listen, as Juliette’s groans grow louder.

  “That does sound pretty convincing though,” Nash admits. Then Juliette lets out an ear-piercing scream. Nash and I stare at each other in amazement. Then we both start laughing.

  As I look at him, I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen Nash smile. It’s like his entire aura has changed. He’s even more attractive, if such a thing were possible. His smile makes him appear friendly and not the brooding misanthrope I’ve been used to seeing. Then his expression suddenly changes. He gets serious once again. He points his finger at me, like a parent scolding a child.

  “I see what you’re trying to do, Flo. No yapping. Keep working out. Now, give me ten stomach crunches.”

  I sigh but follow his instructions.

  Chapter 23

  Juliette never believed she had any talent for acting. But after faking so many orgasms – particularly for unattractive men such as Roger – she realizes she may have some untapped potential. In fact, Juliette wonders if she could win an Academy Award for webcamming, if the judges knew how repulsive she actually found her client, Roger, to be.

  As she lets out another fake moan, and feigns an exhaustive, but “oh so satisfying” orgasm, Juliette stares at her computer screen. Roger – her fat, bald headed client – is sweating, as he leers at her. She winks at him and fakes a sexy smirk.

  “As usual, Roger, you’ve left me more than satisfied. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

  Roger agrees. “You and my wife,” he declares as he buttons his pants with one hand.

  His tiny, stubby cock disappears from view. Juliette’s grateful she no longer needs to stare at it, as her session with repulsive Roger is thankfully coming to an end.

  “Au revoir, Roger. You’ve completely wiped me out. Enjoy your McDonalds.” She waves at the screen and blows Roger a kiss.

  Roger blows her a kiss back. “Bye, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says with a smile.

  “I can hardly wait,” Juliette feigns.

  When the webcam session has ended, Juliette sticks a finger in her mouth and makes a fake gagging sound.

  He makes me feel like puking, Juliette thinks to herself. What a loser. Or am I the loser for having to fulfill his sick fantasizes for money? Juliette shakes her head. She needs to stay focused on making a little more money before she can stop webcamming. When she’s back on her feet financially, maybe then she can find another job. Perhaps something at a bakery or flower shop.

  Needing a break from all the fake sex, Juliette falls back on her bed and lights up a joint. Faking an orgasm is almost as tiring as having a real one. After a few moments, Juliette hears a ding from her laptop. She’s received another request for a session. She ponders not answering. But when Juliette sees the video of the man making the request, she quickly changes her mind.

  Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe how good looking the guy is. He’s like the perfect combination of Mark Wahlberg and George Clooney. He’s got salt and pepper hair and appears to be in his late forties. There’s a distinguished, confident look about him. He’s wearing a white-starched, business shirt, and his blue tie is loosened around the collar. Even though she’s exhausted from her session with Roger, curiosity has the best of Juliette. She wonders who this dapper stranger is and what he’s looking for. She answers his call.

  “Hello, handsome.”

  “Hi,” says the man with a serious nod.

  “How can I help you this evening?” asks Juliette with a coy smile.

  The man hesitates and then admits, “I need to relax. I’m stressed with work.”

  Juliette leans into her laptop camera, so the new client gets a nice view of her cleavage. “Well, I’m sure I can help you in that department. Where would you like to start?”

  The man hesitates. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head slightly. “I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before, to be honest with you.”

  “Oh, you’re a virgin. I like virgins,” says Juliette with a sexy purr.

  The man’s demeanor changes. He looks straight into the camera – at Juliette – and says with the upmost confidence, “Oh honey, I’m no virgin, trust me. I’ve just never done this webcam stuff before. I actually think it’s a little pathetic. But then I saw your picture online.”

  “And you liked what you saw?”

  The man nods.

  Juliette can feel his confidence radiating off her computer screen. She can sense immediately that this guy isn’t like her other clients. Looking the way he does, he could have any woman he wants. Considering how many webcam sessions she’s done, Juliette’s surprised by how much he turns her on. Especially since they’ve only just met and exchanged a few sentences.

  “Well, I like what I’m seeing too?” she tells him, wide eyed.

  There’s a long pause as both of them stare at each other. His gaze never wavers, and Juliette senses her body responding. Feeling herself getting hot and bothered, she breaks their stare and looks down at the bottom of her computer screen. Juliette reads his username and smirks. “Well, Mr. Starbuck, how about I help you relax from a stressful day at work by showing you my tits. Would you like to see my tits?”

  Mr. Starbuck nods slowly. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

  As Juliette begins to remove her bra, Mr. Starbuck tells her to slow down.

  “Slower. I want to savor your body… no need to rush,” he says very self-assured.

  Juliette nods, feeling her body vibrate at the sound of his confident voice. As she stares at his chiseled, handsome face, she admits, “I like your style.”<
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  Chapter 24

  Selena hopes this is the last birthday party she ever has to DJ – especially considering it’s a party for ten year olds. She scans the backyard of the Pasadena house and watches as a group of kids dance to a song by Drake blasting through her speakers. Their parents – desperately trying to look cool – dance near the edges of the makeshift dance floor.

  Selena then notices Matt approaching. He’s carrying a glass of iced-tea and a beer. He hands Selena the beer, and she takes a much-needed sip. Alcohol is the only thing that’s going to get her through this birthday party nightmare.

  “Thanks,” Selena says as she takes one more sip from her bottle. She stares at Matt who is looking out at the dance floor. He’s a handsome guy in a very clean-cut kind of way. And he seems really nice. If it weren’t for his help, Selena would have had to cancel this gig. That would have sucked because she really needs any money she can get these days.

  “I really appreciate you helping me out,” she tells Matt.

  Matt turns and looks at her with a smile. “No problem.”

  He takes a sip of his iced-tea as they both stare at each other.

  He’s really cute, Selena thinks to herself. But there’s no way someone like him and me would ever be able to date. I’m an alternative chick with tattoos and piercings. He looks like a preacher’s son who apparently doesn’t drink. But maybe we could be friends.

  Then the birthday boy approaches Selena’s DJ station. She struggles to remember his name.

  “Hey, Ryan. How’s the birthday party going?” Matt asks the young boy.

  That’s it! Ryan, Selena thinks to herself.

  “I want to hear Kanye’s “Father Stretch My Hands” next,” Ryan declares, not even acknowledging Matt.

  Selena remembers that the song has some X-rated lyrics.

  “I’m sorry, I think that song’s a little explicit for a ten-year-old’s birthday party,” she advises.

  Ryan shoots Selena an evil stare and looks very upset.

  “Fuck you,” he shouts at her. “My mom and dad are paying your salary. So if I want to hear some mother-fuckin’ Kanye, you better play me some mother-fuckin’ Kanye.”