“If you don’t mind. Would you?”
The counter had a cooler built into it that was filled with ice and bottled beer. Les reached inside and pulled out two Coronas. “Dos cervezas, un mas taco al pastor, un plato de Chile Verde, y un taco de tinga. Todos con tortillas de maiz.”
Juan nodded, then punched the keys on the register. After Les paid for the food, Juan tilted his head toward the camera crew. “Quines son los homres con los camaras?”
Les glanced at the camera crew, looked at Juan, and shrugged. “No se.”
“He talks too fast,” I whispered. “What did he say?”
“He asked me who the men were with the cameras.”
“And you said you didn’t know?”
He grinned a shitty little grin and nodded. His earlier question began to make a little sense.
“Gracias,” Les said with a nod.
He opened both of the beers on the countertop mounted opener, and handed me one of them. All the while, Juan glared at the camera crew.
“I don’t think Juan’s too fond of having them in here,” Les whispered.
“Why?”
“My guess is there might be some people in here that aren’t supposed to be in the United States. I doubt any of them want to be filmed.”
“You didn’t come here because of that, did you?” I whispered.
The corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Might have played a small part in my decision.”
We sat down in one of only a few empty booths. After a precursory glance around the small restaurant, I realized we were the only non-Hispanic people in the entire establishment. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the camera crew, and after a few moments, there was noticeable tension between the patrons and the crew.
Without ordering food, the three camera men sat in a booth across the restaurant from us and began filming. Almost immediately, a Hispanic man wearing faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat stood and walked to our table.
His skin was weathered terribly from the sun, and I suspected he was much younger than he appeared to be. He folded his arms over the chest of his dingy wife beater and fixed his eyes on Les. “Estan con usted?”
Are they with you?
Les calmly took a sip of beer. “No.”
The man looked angry. “Por que estan ellos aqui?”
Why are they here?
“No se.” Les shrugged. “Muy posible que están investigando los ilegales . Pídales que se vaya.”
It’s possible they’re investigating illegal immigrants. Ask them to leave if you don’t want them here.
The man nodded his appreciation, and then walked to the door. After opening it, he turned toward the camera crew and whistled a shrill whistle.
All eyes shot toward him.
He pointed toward the open door and then glared at the crew.
There were times in my life when I could tell just how upset someone was without them speaking a single word. Like how angry my father was after my mother left.
And now.
Apparently the camera crew knew, too. One by one, they got up, walked outside, and got into the Suburban.
After watching them, I turned toward Les and smiled. “You’re sly.”
He raised his bottle of beer. “I can be.”
Juan carried our food to the table and thanked Les for getting rid of the camera crew. His show of appreciation was two slices of flan – a creamy pie-like dessert.
As we ate our tacos, I grew even more appreciative of Les being the way he was. He had yet to say or do anything rude, and I had no reason to believe he was going to do anything in the future.
“What’s in the bowl?” I asked.
“Chile Verde. It’s pork. Spoon some of it into one of those tortillas, and try it. I love the stuff,” he said.
I did as he suggested. “Holy shit,” I said as I chewed my first bite. “That’s good.”
“Told you.”
We shared the pork, and an order of French fries that were covered in meat and cheese. I liked sharing the food with him, and doing so left me feeling that we were much closer than we had actually become. For as rough as he looked, and as mean as I was sure he could be if he needed to, he was none of those things to me. I appreciated him for it.
I relaxed into the back of the booth and took a sip of beer. “I like hanging out with you.”
“Same here. You’re fun.”
“At the pool you said you’d tell me why you’re here. Now that they’re outside, you want to tell me?”
“Not really,” he said.
I sighed heavily.
He took a drink of beer. “But I will.”
“I’m listening.”
“To expand my modeling career.” He sighed. “And, for the money.”
I fully understood the modeling remark, but stared at him in disbelief about the money. “They’re paying you?”
He nodded. “Thirty grand.”
At first, it seemed like a lot of money. When I compared it to what they were paying me, however, it became miniscule. Still, I felt that it cheapened the show, and lowered the level of sincerity. “I guess I’m kind of shocked. I didn’t know they paid you guys.”
“Probably a lot about it you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
He took a sip of beer and stared at me over the top of the bottle. He lowered it and picked at his teeth with a piece of paper, then leaned onto the edge of the table. “You can’t repeat any of it.”
“I won’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I really didn’t figure I’d like you as much as I do.” He cleared his throat. “Enjoy your company.”
I smiled. “I know. I feel the same way.”
He sighed. “There’s a clause in the contract. For more money.”
“How much more?”
“Quite a bit.”
“For what?”
He finished his beer, and then took a deep breath. “Twenty-five grand if I get you to suck my dick on camera, fifty if we have sex.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I felt that I had not only been betrayed by Rhett, but by Kelli as well. I stared back at Les, unsure of what to say. With each passing second, I grew angrier. It completely changed everything.
I crossed my arms and glared. “There’ll be no dick sucking. Or sex. If that’s what you’re after, you can just pack your bags now.”
He shook his head. “I’m not here for sex. I can get a blowjob any time I want. I came here to enjoy myself for a few weeks, and get some exposure for my career. But, now that I’ve met you? I hope we can develop a long-lasting friendship. I really do.”
“A friendship?” I snapped back.
He shrugged. “Realistically, what else could I expect? It’s two weeks, not two months.”
I felt offended. Again. “You’re came here to be my buddy?”
“I came here hoping to get to know you. I don’t have many people in my life. Not valuable ones, anyway.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s enjoy these two weeks. Together.”
I was still angry, mostly because Kelli was paying the men to have sex with me. “I’m not here to find friends. I’m hoping to find love.”
He shot me a look of slight disgust. “I’m sorry, but a two-week vacation together is barely enough time to decide if you have interest in a person. To think you’ll find love in two weeks?” He coughed out a laugh. “That’s why the divorce rate is higher than it’s ever been. People are too quick to declare love and all too eager to get married. Then, because they’re not actually in love, divorce comes easy. The relationship has no value.”
I don’t know that I’d admit it, at least not just yet, but everything he was saying made sense. While he continued to hold my hand in his, I waited for him to continue.
“My grandparent’s era? They didn’t get divorced. It was unheard of. And my parents? Couples their age rarely did. But now? Now, a woman searches for love on the internet, is PM’d a bathroom selfie, and becomes a
ttracted based on a man’s physical attributes. Then, she falls in love with his washboard abs and his dick, not him.”
“I’m just mad about the twenty-five thousand dollar blowjobs,” I said. My eyes fell to the table. “I’m sorry.”
“Let me ask you something.” He released my hand and lifted my chin with his index finger.
I met his gaze. “Okay.”
“Earlier you said you liked hanging out with me. If I was thirty pounds heavier, and had a beer gut and a receding hairline, would you enjoy spending time with me as much?”
I wanted to say yes, but knew the answer was no. It seemed shallow, but it was true. I knew better than to lie, so I responded truthfully.
“No.” I felt selfish and guilty, so I tossed his question back in his face. “If I was six inches shorter, thirty pounds heavier, and had two kids, would--”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “I would.”
And, oddly enough, I believed him.
CHAPTER SIX
While Les tinkered with his motorcycle, I snuck to the bar to see Franky. He had kissed me only thirty-six hours earlier, but it seemed like an eternity since I’d seen him. With little free time, and the driver waiting a few blocks away, I guzzled my margaritas and tried to talk as fast as my drunken tongue would let me.
“Is there a reason you’re two-fisting the margaritas today?”
I wiped my mouth on my forearm and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know you that well, but I think I know you well enough to see that something’s bothering you.” He sat down on his stool. “Give it up, Lou.”
I took another drink, studied him, and decided I wanted to know just what it was he was after. At least I knew if he wanted me to suck his cock that he wouldn’t be getting paid for it.
“What are you after?”
His eyes thinned slightly. “What am I what?”
I finished my drink and fought with my rapidly thickening tongue. “After. What do you want from me?” I muttered.
“It’s not even noon.” He shook his head. “And, you’re drunk.”
I glared at him. “You kissed me.”
“I did.”
“I liked it,” I murmured.
“So did I. What are you asking me, Lou?”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, decided it wasn’t going to get any easier, and flopped down against the edge of the bar. After a few long seconds of sulking, I lifted my head. “Why? Why did you kiss me?”
He raked his fingers through his hair, cracked his knuckles, and then shrugged. “To plant a seed.”
“What seed?”
“I want you to do your show. Meet all the guys or whatever. But.” He stood up and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I want you to be thinking of me. You know, not forget me.”
I rested my chin against my palm and stared back at him. “So you were teasing me? You’re a tease?”
“A tease? No.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned onto the edge of the bar. He was close enough to kiss me, but the look in his eyes convinced me it wasn’t going to happen “Are you willing to end the show now? Cut it off? Tell Kelli you’re done?”
“No,” I blurted.
He stood up. “Then how can you expect me to try to be in any kind of a relationship with you? I can’t be. I won’t be. You’ve got to sneak down here to see me, and I have no idea when the next time is going to be. I guessed I kissed you because…”
I wanted him to say something to sweep me off my feet, but doubted it was his plan. My head started to spin as the last margarita began to gnaw away at my liver.
“Because I wanted you to know how I felt about you, I guess.” He sighed. “I like you, Lou. A lot. And, when you’re done with your little show, I want to see what happens between us.”
“Fine,” I scoffed.
“What did you want me to say?”
I laid my head on the bar like a kindergartner preparing to take a nap. “I don’t know.”
“I want to be in the back of your mind while you’re spending time with all of those guys. I guess that’s what I was after.”
I lifted my head. “You accomplished your object.”
He looked at me like I had two heads. “What?”
“Objective. You accomplished your objective.”
He sat down and inhaled a long, deep breath. “So, tell me about the new guy.”
I flattened my arm against the bar and rested my chin against it. “He’s nice. Really nice.”
“Really nice, like you want to fuck him?”
I shot him a scornful look. “No.”
“So, he’s just nice? He’s joyful and jovial and he’ll eat veggies on pizza even though he doesn’t like them.” He said in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “Something like that?”
“Something like that. He’s not after sex, he’s just there to get to know me.” I tried to hide my disappointment, but I was somewhat dissatisfied with Les’ desire to only be friends, and wondered if it was noticeable. “He wants to be friends.”
“So, you two got all of the sex questions out of the way already, huh?”
“Oh my God!” I shouted. “Blowjobs!”
His eyes shot wide. “Jesus. What about them?”
I lifted my head from the bar and rubbed my drunken eyes. “Kelli is paying the guys twenty-five grand if they can get me to suck their cocks, and fifty grand if they can get me to fuck them. Can you fucking believe that? What a fucking bitch, huh?”
“He tell you that?”
I nodded. “Yeah, yesterday.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” He shrugged. “Sex sells. People watch that shit and don’t think it’s scripted, but it really is.”
“I told Les I wouldn’t say anything to her, but I’m not very happy about it.”
“I bet your SEAL buddy’s pretty happy.” He chuckled. “So, what? He made about a hundred grand, huh?”
I flipped up my middle finger. “Fuck you.”
“Well, now you know.” His eyes fell to the floor. After a short pause, he looked up. “I wonder if they pay them to get in arguments with you? To instigate a fight?”
It was a good question. Although I was pretty sure Rhett was a simple-minded prick, and that our pizza argument was genuine, it wouldn’t surprise me if Kelli had a dispute bonus. Maybe even a bonus to make-up afterward.
The thought of it all began to grind on my nerves. “Fucking bitch.”
“Just like I said a minute ago,” Franky said. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
I stood up, glanced around the bar, and then looked at him. “Just so I’m clear.” I raked my fingers through my hair and scratched my head in an effort to sober myself up a little. “You’re interested in me. But not until this is over?”
He shook his head. “Come here.”
He leaned over the center of the bar.
I did the same. Nose to nose over the bar, we stared at each other. “What?” I asked.
He raised his hands to my neck, gripped it firmly, and then kissed me. My eyes fell closed. Lost in the kiss, my legs began to shake and I tingled from head-to-toe. As soon as I was really beginning to enjoy it, he pulled away.
I opened my eyes.
“No, Lou. I’m interested in you right now,” he said. “But I’m not going to act on it until all of this is over.”
I wanted him.
And it drove me insane.
“Why?” I whispered, although I already knew the answer.
“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
I didn’t like his response. But he was right.
It seemed he was always right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Explain to me what good that would do,” I said. “It sounds to me like it would just add unnecessary drama.”
She looked me up and down, then locked eyes with me. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
I glared back at her. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t, either,” Les said.<
br />
With her eyes still fixed on me, she responded. “I’m not talking to you, Lesley.”
“Maybe not. But I’m talking to you.”
With her standing at one side of the kitchen, and me at the other, Kelli and I were now in a full-fledged stare down. Wearing a high-waisted green pencil skirt and a black lace sleeveless top, she looked like she was going to one of LA’s night clubs.
Les cleared his throat. “You’re not going to strong arm me into doing anything. I’ll walk off this motherfucker and go home.”
She broke my stare and looked at Les. “Back to making threats, are we?”
“You’re the one making threats. I’m only reacting,” he said. “You’re threatening to add a surprise guest to the show. How are Lou and I supposed to get to know each other in two weeks if there’s some other guy here trying to get her attention?”
“That’s for you two to figure out,” Kelli replied.
“You add another guy, and I’ll walk,” Les assured her.
She turned to face him and cocked her hip. “Listen you little wannabe--”
“No,” Les interrupted. “You listen. I signed under the premise that I was going to spend a month with her. After I signed the contract, you changed it to two weeks. Now, you’re talking about bringing someone else on the show. A surprise guest. I don’t like fucking surprises. Add someone else, and I’ll walk.”
“You prick,” She fumed. “I should have done it and asked for forgiveness later.”
Les turned away. “Anyone shows up here before my time is up, and you can kiss my ass goodbye.”
“You’ll leave with a fucked up career,” Kelli shouted as he walked away. “I’ll make sure of it.”
She inhaled sharply, glanced around the living room, and then sighed. “We’re airing the season opener tomorrow night, and if we don’t get the viewers, I’ll do whatever I need to--”
“Do we get to watch it?” I asked excitedly.
She shot me a look. “Not before it airs, no.”
“But we get to see it?”
“You can watch it when it airs.”
The thought of seeing myself on television was exciting. I fought to contain myself. “I can’t wait.”
She looked right at me, rolled her eyes, and turned toward the door. “You better hope we get a good rating.”
Reality Girl: Episode Two (Behind the Scenes #2) Page 3