by Lexxi Chase
“I just texted Amanda again,” Kat’s voice from behind startled him. “Still no answer. What d’ya think we should do?”
“You’re asking me?” he laughed, despondent.
It was no secret to anyone, including Jake, that he and Amanda had had a “thing” before Jake entered the picture. Nothing incredibly serious, at least on Amanda’s part; they’d been close friends more than anything else, but he’d felt himself falling deeply in love. He’d actually thought that maybe, just maybe, Amanda was feeling the same thing, until he saw her reaction to Jake.
It had floored him almost as much as it had floored her and he’d never forget the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when she’d returned home three days after leaving for a party, with Jake in tow. They’d been inseparable, all over each other, and their romance was a dagger slicing his heart. He’d been single ever since, not that his French and Native American good looks weren’t advantageous with the ladies. He’d simply never cared enough again to want more than sex or to be a friend with benefits. He’d remained close friends with Amanda, no benefits attached.
Kat sighed and wrinkled her face, “I’m really worried Tyler. Something’s really wrong. She woulda texted or called me if it wasn’t.”
“Or if it was,” Tyler admonished. “You just never know which way it’s gonna go with Amanda and Jake.”
But he did know. It almost never went well, at least for very long. Katelyn knew it too and they stood there staring at each other at a loss for ideas. That was when they spotted the paparazzi helicopters.
“What the hell?” Katelyn shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked upwards.
Paparazzi were another kind of predator they were all used to, and the only predators they didn’t like. There were two choppers circling the ranch, possibly working together but probably competing for the prize, the money shot that would more than likely cover some sanctimonious bastard’s bills for the next month or so, possibly longer. But why? Why now?
There was nothing unbelievably special going on. Amanda’s new show premiered in a week at the Luxor in Vegas but what were the photographers hoping to capture at her ranch? Shots of her lions and tigers were a dime a dozen, pics of her training them were even more numerous and everyone knew what she looked like these days; she’d done numerous print and television interviews up till a few days ago and her new promo pics were already all over the net. Something must have happened. These pricks only gathered for blood.
“Tyler, I don’t like this,” Katelyn said without her usual bravado just as he grabbed her arm, leading her towards the main house.
“Let’s get inside and we’ll figure this out,” he urged just as they spotted the third copter rising from behind the rolling hills, a small but growing parasite adding to the growing colony already buzzing above them.
They’d barely slid the patio doors shut and dropped the horizontal blinds when the telephone rang on the kitchen wall. Katelyn sprinted across the room, answering breathless and guarded.
“Have you seen the news? Where’s Amanda?”
It was Amanda’s sister and for once in her life she actually sounded worried about someone who shared her DNA.
Because it was her job and because she was used to it, Katelyn composed herself quickly, shooting a confused glance at Tyler who stood leaning against the patio doors.
“Rachel, what d’ya mean?” she asked, annoyed that for once the bitch might know more than she did. She’d been busy with paperwork all day and hadn’t watched the news or logged onto the internet. Her stomach tightened as Rachel continued.
“Where...the...fuck...is...Amanda?! Don’t play stupid games with me now Kathrine, I don’t have time for your bullshit!” Jesus, she hated it that Rachel insisted on calling her by her given name, even though she’d legally changed it 10 years prior.
She ignored it however and said smoothly, “Amanda isn’t here right now. What’s up?”
Tyler pulled up a chair and began texting.
“What’s up?! D’ya take me for some sort of a backwoods imbecile?! You know fuckin’ well what’s up. Jake!” she hissed his name. “Jake’s Twitter. Where’s Amanda?!”
Katelyn’s throat turned to ice and her chest tightened. Tyler was staring at her and she pointed sharply at her laptop on the kitchen table, silently mouthing Jake’s Twitter till he understood and grabbed the computer.
“Jesus Rachel, she’s not here right now but I’ll be talking to her soon and I’ll tell her to call you. Gotta go though, I’m in the middle of something.”
She hung up and raced to the table.
“Jesus Christ...” Tyler swore under his breath as he viewed the first of Jake’s latest tweets.
At an odd angle, the pic was obviously from Jake’s cell phone as he held it pointed at himself and Amanda. She stared weary and expressionless into the camera, her voice silenced, mouth obliterated by thick black tape, her arms strung up above her head, a black silver-studded belt hanging down along her arms from her bound wrists. Jake up close behind her, smirking, arrogant, eyes blazing and driven. Their naked bodies, cropped at the torso, glistening with sweat. Jake holding a torn piece of paper across Amanda’s breasts. Scrawled on it with black marker, today’s date. The tweet’s simple text, a caption: Heart of Steel.
“Oh my God,” Katelyn moaned and with a click Tyler brought up Jake’s next and latest tweet, a rambling essay posted on TwitLonger.
Due 2 inexcusable, pretentious, misguided, self-serving, inflammatory, false & inaccurate bullshit it seems my life’s quite literally an open book. Misrepresentations & slanderous, libelous interpretations r nothin but lies springing from the pathetic, desperate, pitiful, hopeless & diseased mind of the author. Who’s obsessing about who?
Funny how someone’s a fuckin expert on my childhood when they weren’t even there. Funny how they can’t recall with any real shred of accuracy what I actually told them. Funny how they come off as my guardian & savior & how my shit stinks while they come off smelling like a rose.
Regarding that “final incident” - & it seems it wasn’t so fuckin final after all!! :) - it wasn’t me that was proven a liar. It wasn’t me who backtracked on their story & it wasn’t me who begged 4 more when all was said & done. I’m not the one that spread my legs & wrote about it. I’m not the one who whored out their memories & sold my soul for cash.
A picture really is worth a thousand words.
Peace out.
-- Jake
“What do we do?” Katelyn asked as Tyler leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, sighing. “We should call the cops,” she said.
“Yeah? And say what? Amanda and Jake are up to fun and games again? Nothin’ Jake does ever feels wrong, remember?”
Groaning deeply, eyes closed, she recalled Amanda’s performance at Jake’s trial, and Amanda’s similar admonitions in her book.
“We can’t just do nothing!” she exclaimed. “Think of how fucking angry he must be.”
“Yeah, and it’s just the kinda excitement Amanda’s been cravin’ all these years,” he chuckled bitterly. “Sure she finally got a rise outa him like she wanted, in more ways than one.”
“I’m texting her again,” she decided and grabbed her phone.
Call me immediately. Mega important.
Then sat down to wait.
Unperturbed by the relentless chiming of Amanda’s cell phone, Jake didn’t even turn its way, instead, forked another mouthful of food and took a long, satisfying drink of milk. Lunch time but today it was a little too early for beer. Sitting across from him at the table, Amanda barely noticed her burger. God, why couldn’t she stop her stomach from churning, her mind from racing, one crazy thought after another - good then intermittently horrific - from assaulting her. She watched him empty his glass, tossing his head back and she bristled at the sight of his luscious neck, full lips as he drank. What’s next, she couldn’t stop thinking, but this time, she had no clue. Alternately transparent and guarded, Jake was a myster
y this afternoon and she wasn’t sure if this was worse than his discernible rage.
Putting down his glass, he noticed her staring and was silent for a moment, then nodded towards her plate.
“Somethin’ wrong with your food?” his eyebrow arched.
“No, it’s great,” Amanda smiled, “I’m just not that hungry. Sorry.”
“Hmmm,” he stood and started to cross the suite but came back when his cell rang on the table.
“Yeah?” his momentary mood was indiscernible. He ignored her as he listened and spoke. “What time we leavin’ tonight?”
Amanda’s heart jumped. She literally felt it.
“Oh yeah? Mmmm...” he smiled, his eyes dancing. “When’d she come in?...Cool.”
He looked over at Amanda, expressionless, then continued, looking down at the floor. Her heart was racing, sudden nausea twisted her stomach. She knew she was visibly shaking but could do nothing to stop.
“Uh, I shouldn’t be too much longer,” this time he looked up at her. “Takin’ care ’a some old business before I get down to new,” he smiled and within minutes hung up the phone.
They were wearing the hotel’s white, fluffy, complimentary robes and he strolled towards the bathroom, shedding his effortlessly, like a cobra peeling its skin. Naked, he turned to face her. Despite her trepidation, her breath caught in her throat.
“You should get dressed,” he said evenly. “Time to go.”
Fighting the painful bolt of panic shredding her chest, she half-stood. “I...I can’t go anywhere. My skirt’s ruined, remember?” She stared at him wide-eyed.
“Fuck...” he’d forgotten. “Wear the robe down to the clothing stores in the lobby. Buy some shit to wear home.”
Gasping, she stared at him incredulously. This can’t, oh my God, this can’t be happening.
“Just go?” she croaked.
Jake shrugged his shoulders, nonchalant. He smirked, eyes twinkling.
“Duh, yeah,” he said, lifting his arm and smoothing back bangs hanging deliciously into his even now enchanting green eyes.
Fresh visions of them sweating, gyrating, moaning, grasping each other’s hair playing crazily in her head, Amanda stepped forward, hesitant, afraid but determinedly intent on having her say. She had so much of it and after their first heaven-sent romp they hadn’t spoken much, not really. At least not about almost anything she’d wanted to discuss.
“Jake,” she whispered, her voice pale in comparison to her tornado of emotions, “What?...this was?...I...I don’t even know what to say...”
He crossed his arms over his chest, watching her squirm, amused, then turned towards the bathroom and caught himself in the doorway, leaning against the wall as he looked at her. “Don’t worry. Sure the words’ll come to ya as you’re writin’ your sequel.”
He laughed, smug and bitter, tossing hair from his jaded eyes with a flick of his head.
“Fuck off Jake,” Amanda took a step forward, “there’s no stupid sequel! I keep telling you that. I’m talking about now, I mean later...I mean...”
An evil smirk crept onto his full lips. Like an imprisoned butterfly, pinned to the matte, he had her.
Eyes alight, he snickered, “What?”
“Fuck Jake,” Amanda blurted in exasperation, “So what? I just leave and that’s it? I never get to see you again? Like, like, nothing just happened?”
“Nothing did happen, of importance.”
Her cell chimed with another text and she spun towards it but stayed put. “I’m gonna toss that fucking thing out the window!” she screamed.
“Don’t,” Jake said pointedly. “You’re gonna need a friend.”
Horror washed over her, an insidious unwelcome warmth. The room spun and she fought the heaviness of tears deep within her chest.
“No,” she murmured and then gasped as Jade strode resolutely towards her and grabbed her arm.
“Grab your shit,” he said, “and get the fuck out.”
He was pulling her roughly to the door but she managed to scream, what about her purse, her shoes, her camisole and bra were on the bathroom floor where Jake had tossed them.
“Get them!” he screamed.
Shaking, she quickly gathered her belongings, Jake looming over her, petrified he’d rip them from her grasp if she took too long. Her camisole slipped from her fingers as he dragged her. She struggled as he led her to the door, leapt out of its way when he heaved it open, clutched onto his arm as he shoved her backwards.
“Wait...Jake!”
“Let the fuck go of me,” he growled, his turbulent green eyes blazing with fire reminiscent of their final incident, stoked by the shock of her belated confession last night.
Heart slamming in her chest, shaking, Amanda refused to release her grip.
She screamed, “Please...wait! You can’t do this, you can’t mean this! What about last night?”
Jake froze. Betrayal and agony fueled the heated air between them. His arm dropped, releasing its tight hold on her. Staring into his enraged face, his shielded stormy eyes, his tightened full lips, Amanda shivered, and let go too. Her skin crawled watching the surreal transformation on his face, the shifting of his emotions and cementing of his mood.
“Last night?” His voice soothing and low and driven, like sandpaper pressed hard, raking peeled back skin and bloody, exposed flesh. “Last night,” he continued, “was a glorious reminder slapping you in the face about the one you threw away.”
She reeled, thoughts flashing. Oh God, just what I said I did to Wade! Then he shoved her, not hard, a little tap with his finger on her chest was all it took. She stumbled backwards in confusion, barely avoiding the door slamming in her face.
Chapter 7
Her vibrating, chiming cell brought Amanda out of her dark, dismal reverie. Even as she fished it clumsily from her purse, leaning against the wall for support, all she could think was how much she didn’t care who was texting, didn’t give a shit what they wanted or a damn what was going on. It much more than likely wasn’t Jake and that was all she cared about.
Tortured by her desperate analysis of his every word, vivid memories of his probing eyes, skillful lips, his long, luscious silky brown hair, and haunted by the raw, feral smell of him embedded in her pores, she had no idea how long she’d been standing there like an idiot, thrust into inaction, in The Nines Hotel hallway up just a few feet from his room.
Kat. It figured. She texted back Not now and hit send just as she was startled by movement up the hallway. Her heart dropped. A tanned, deliciously leggy long-haired brunette catwalked towards her. Light blue skin tight dress, barely hiding her crotch, white heels and clutch purse. Fuck, she just knew this piece was destined for Jake. Strolling past Amanda as if she didn’t exist (yeah right, I’m hardly unrecognizable Amanda thought, much less inconspicuous in this robe) she stopped at Jake’s room and knocked loudly.
Bitch! Amanda screamed silently but knew any action on her part would be useless - and humiliating. No way was she going to give this pseudo model road hole the satisfaction, much less Jake. Ignited by anger and an agonizing sense of defeat, she strode quickly to the elevator around the corner, jabbing the call button even as her mind screamed, God I’m in this fucking robe, where the hell am I going? She struggled to shake visions of Jake in that sleek whore’s embrace.
Trembling, crazed, she wondered if paparazzi were already staking out the lobby. Jake’s tweet had surely set them in motion. She could only wonder how many were already at her ranch in California, and at Portland International Airport and LAX. To hungrily capture her downfall and rejection and demeaning descent once again into exile from Jake.
Although the chime of the elevator rolled her stomach, she was doubly unprepared for who stepped out. Zack, accompanied by Shayne, Jake’s lead guitarist, and Tank, Steel Demon’s road manager.
“Heyyyy Amanda!” Zack screeched. “Holy fuck, didn’t expect to see you here.” He smiled, genuinely happy but puzzled to see her.
“I bet.”
“Where ya goin’ like that?”
The others stared in disbelief. It was no secret they’d all been told to avoid her. Jake had instructed his minions to shield him from her clutches at any cost. Despite her gazillion attempts to contact him over the last three and a half years no one had caved, ever. If it wasn’t for the greedy desk clerk she slipped a thousand bucks to last night she’d never have gotten near him.
“We gotta go,” Tank followed instructions well.
Shayne turned but Zack hesitated, despite Tank’s hand on his shoulder. Fuckheads, Amanda thought. Where did these morons think she was coming from, in her robe, on Jake’s floor?
“Zack, can you pleaaaaase do me a huge favor?”
Shayne sighed. Tank grunted.
“Can you get me some clothes or something? I have to catch a plane and I don’t have anything.”
“What?” Zack blurted, stunned.
“I...I can’t explain,” Amanda gestured and shook her head, “but can you please help me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Sorry sweetheart,” Tank said.
He and Shayne turned to go, snickering, but Zack hesitated once again.
“Ahhh, I don’t know...”
“Please.”
Holy shit, now I’m resorting to begging Jake’s disciples, Amanda thought. I’m going to lose my mind for sure but she managed to keep control.
“Just anything so I’m not in this robe.”
Tank grabbed Zack’s shoulder to get him moving but Zack shook him off, unhinged.
“Fuck! Come on. I’ll find you something.”
Despite continued arguments from Tank, and Shayne as well, Zack wouldn’t give in. Although he’d refused to give her Jake’s new phone numbers he’d always been the only person genuinely nice to her. The only one with a heart, Amanda had written in Heart of Steel. And so, still dejected, heartbroken and ashamed like some castoff groupie struggling to get back home, Amanda followed him to his room only a few doors down from Jake’s.