Sledge

by Jessie Cooke

  He also felt his good mood slipping away. He had to remind himself that Daria had spent the last two weeks getting to know his friends, and doing everything that he had wanted to do, and she hadn’t complained about any of it. He knew that it was his turn to leave his comfort zone and do something for her. He just wished he could do things the way that she did. She seemed to seamlessly be able to go from one world to the other and fit in on both sides. Of course, Mack and Ash had both been doing that for years, and recently, Charlie…so it really shouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe what he was so worried about was that no matter how hard he tried he had never been able to do it—move between those worlds. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the room where Daria was waiting for him.

  As soon as she pulled open the door, Sledge was entranced by her. She was wearing a silk dress, somewhere between beige and gold, and it looked so creamy soft that he wanted to touch it. It wasn’t tight, but it clung sensuously to her curves and showed off her sexy, toned legs. Her hair was down, and it was glowing underneath the lights of the room.

  “Wow,” she said, while he was still devouring her with his eyes. “You look freaking amazing.”

  He smiled. “Thanks. I can’t even find a word to describe how good you look. Baby, you’re gorgeous.” Her cheeks colored. He liked that she blushed; it showed him that despite her looks and her position in society, she was still humble, and he loved that.

  “Thank you.” She was wearing heels, but she still had to rise up on her toes to give him a soft kiss on his lips. “And thank you for doing this. I know it’s not your thing…but damn, I can’t wait to show you off.” Sledge chuckled. That was a sentence he’d never imagined Daria Ford would ever say about him. “Let me just grab my purse and I’ll be ready.” She turned to grab a small clutch off the bed and he got a glimpse of the back of the dress…or more exact, her back. The silk was draped over her shoulders and hung open to the small of her back. Her skin looked as smooth and creamy as the dress and he had no idea how he was going to manage to keep his hands off her all night. She turned back toward him and looked at his face.

  “What?”

  He shook his head, slowly. “Where did you get that dress?”

  She smiled and said, “A boutique in Manhattan.”

  “You should go back there when you get home and buy more. You should have one of those dresses for every day, in every color.”

  She laughed. “Are you drunk?”

  “Nope.”

  “High?”

  He chuckled. “Nope. You’re just fucking gorgeous.”

  She kissed him again. He wanted to grab her and pull her in for a long, hot one…but he was afraid of wrinkling the pretty dress or messing up her makeup or her hair.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He was ready. He was ready to rip that sexy dress off her perfect body, throw her down on that bed, and fuck her brains out. Damn, it was going to be a long night.

  “Miss Ford! Daria!” A young man and woman, both wearing a lot of makeup and little microphones on their collars, were waving them over. Sledge felt like he was about to get sick when Daria led him in that direction. “Miss Ford! I’m Stella Banks from Entertainment Weekly, and this is Jonathan Sands.” Daria shook their hands and the woman said, “Oh! I brought one of your books. Would you mind holding it while you stand in front of the movie promo?” Daria looked up at Sledge. He winked at her, let go of her arm, and took a step back. No way did he want to be in any pictures or, God forbid, sound bites that would be on some entertainment show and in the magazines at the supermarket counters. She stepped up, took the book, and for the next fifteen minutes as they took pictures and video of her, she answered questions. She finally broke away, taking his arm again and saying:

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No worries, it’s your night.” She tightened her arm in his and they walked toward the ballroom where there was a sign that said “It’s a Wrap!” in bold letters. The room was already packed when they walked in, and there were flashbulbs going off everywhere. These people obviously loved pictures of themselves.

  “There she is!” a woman in a floor-length gown squealed, in a voice that hurt Sledge’s ears. She was hurrying toward them, and thanks to her announcement, so were a crowd of other people. The woman threw open her arms when she was close and wrapped Daria up in a hug. Sledge took a step back and let her greet everyone, who seemed to all be talking at once. Between the interview in the lobby and this, Sledge was finally getting it…Daria wasn’t just the pretty rich girl any longer. Now, she was an actual celebrity. It was even worse than he’d thought.

  “Oh, everyone, I’d like you to meet my friend,” she said, causing his stomach to roll. “This is Steve.” Steve…it’s already started. She didn’t want to explain to all of her rich friends that she was dating a biker. She was going to call him Steve and hope the suit he was wearing fooled them.

  22

  “So, Steve, are you from New York too?” a woman who introduced herself as “Sarah Sandstone” and immediately added, “I’m one of the supporting actresses in the film,” asked him. She was bone thin, with high cheekbones and blonde hair that was twisted up in some kind of knot on top of her head. She had huge blue eyes and fat lips and Sledge supposed she might be attractive if she scraped off a layer or two of the makeup she was wearing.

  “No…I mean, yes, I grew up there. I’ve lived in California for ten years now.”

  She smiled and ran her eyes down his body. “Are you an actor?”

  “No.” She seemed to be waiting for more, which he wasn’t going to give her. Instead, he leaned over and whispered to Daria, “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”

  She looked up at him, beaming. She was obviously in her element and he felt like an intruder. “The waiters should be circulating,” she said, loudly enough for the guy next to her, who looked like he’d stepped out of a soap opera, to hear. Suddenly the man’s arm was up in the air and he was snapping at a young woman dressed in a white shirt and black skirt and carrying a silver tray with flutes of champagne.

  “Here we are,” he said, taking two and handing one to Daria. He reached back for another and Sledge said:

  “No thanks.” He looked at Daria and said, “I’ll be right back.” She was still talking to him, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying over the roar of conversation around her, and he didn’t stop and ask her to repeat it. He made a beeline for the bar up near the front of the room, doing his best to smile at anyone who made eye contact with him. “Give me a beer,” he said, when he reached the little bar. The bartender, a young man that looked like maybe he had aspirations of being a soap opera star himself someday, waved his hand over a collection of fancy, imported beer bottles on top and said:

  “What kind would you like, sir?”

  Sledge made a face. He’d never even tasted that imported shit. “This all you have?”

  “Yes sir, as far as beer.”

  “You got whiskey?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I’ll take one of those.”

  “What kind…?”

  “I don’t care, as long as it’s straight and strong.”

  “Yes sir.” He poured the whiskey from a fancy bottle that Sledge didn’t recognize. It was definitely not Jack or Crown, or anything he was familiar with. He didn’t care at that point. He could see Daria across the room, still looking absolutely gorgeous and still surrounded by beautiful people. Sledge picked up the glass and drank down the whiskey. Thinking that it was so smooth he might have to find out what kind it was, he motioned the bartender for another.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?” A man was on the little stage—which was right next to the bar, Sledge realized as the voice boomed in his ear. “Attention, please.” The rumble of voices in the room began to subside, slowly, and the man waited until it was silent before going on. “This past month has been filled with a lot of h
ard work. It’s been hot, and the accommodations haven’t always been what we’re used to…” A few mumbles in the audience made him stop and wait. When it was quiet again, he went on. “I’d just like to thank you all for your extreme professionalism and for putting up with my need to make this film, which is dear to my heart, as authentic as possible.” He rattled off a bunch of names and titles of people Sledge had never heard of…and then he got to Daria, but the woman the man on the stage was describing wasn’t his Daria. She was one of the celebrities and everyone in the room knew her. He didn’t know why that suddenly bothered him so much, but it did.

  “I would also like to send out a special thank you to Miss Daria Ford, the author of the fine novel that I based this screenplay on. She has ten published novels now, five of them on the New York Times bestseller list…and if I have to turn cartwheels for her,” he said with a wink in her direction, “I plan on making screenplays out of them all. On top of her obvious flair for storytelling, Daria is also the most fabulous consultant I’ve ever personally worked with. She didn’t come here as some writers do with the idea that she was going to tell me how to make my movie. She came here and said, ‘What can I do to help?’ She has been my rock these past three weeks and I am eternally grateful to her for taking time out from her writing and her everyday life to be here with us, trekking through walnut orchards and braving the Central Valley heat, and never complaining about any of it. Let’s give Daria a round of applause.”

  People began clapping and all eyes in the room were on her as a spotlight found her in the crowd. She was smiling, and she waved at a few people. They all seemed as captivated by her as he was, and he felt like a fool for not being there, standing next to her, and showing everyone how proud he was to be with her. As the man on stage went on for a while longer, Sledge got up from the bar to head back over to where Daria was. He’d only taken a few steps when he realized the soap-opera-looking dude had his hand on the small of her back. Her bare back. He was touching her skin…and she was making no moves to get away from him. What the fuck is that? Sledge stopped in his tracks. Should he go over there and let the man know she was here with a date? She should let him know, right? Wouldn’t it just make Sledge look needy and pathetic if he had to remind her?

  The man on stage went on a little longer about the book, and Daria’s incredible knack for writing believable love stories as Sledge watched what looked like one unfolding just twelve feet away. Daria was tossing her hair back and laughing heartily at whatever the plastic-looking man was saying, and she still hadn’t moved away from his touch. Did she forget she was here with me, or did she just instantly regret it? Sledge heard the man on stage asking everyone to find their seats so that dinner could be served. He was still trying to figure out if he should have another drink, leave, and let Daria enjoy her party, or just go take his seat and hope the night flew by, as everyone else seemed to be taking their seats. Daria was finally free of the clutches of Plastic-man, who must have been assigned to a different table. Deciding to suck it up, Sledge began to head in her direction when suddenly, like a beacon of light in a world that had gone dark around him, he saw a familiar face in the band setting up on stage.

  “Jagger!” He made his way over to the stage. “Hey, man, what are you doing here?”

  “Fuck me! Is that Sledge?” Sledge laughed. If you wanted someone you could count on to never pretend they were anything other than who they were, Jagger was your guy. Sledge needed that in the sea of fakes he felt like he was lost in. Jagger was a rock star, sort of. He wasn’t exactly famous for his music, but he loved playing and did it every chance he got. He was also a fighter, training and fighting with Jacob Wright’s team in Vegas. He and his old lady had bought a house on a reservation in Nevada where she was from, but still spent a lot of time traveling for his music and his fights. Sledge had met his lady once. She was about as big as a minute and looked like she was twelve when she wasn’t dressed up and made up. But when she did get dressed up, she was a knockout with dark hair and violet eyes. Jagger was crazy about her and even though his reputation as a lady’s man was still notorious, Sledge was sure he hadn’t touched another woman since he met her. The fact that she was also meaner than a snake and rode a Harley also impressed Sledge. He glanced over at Daria again. Maybe he was just torturing himself, trying to make a smooth piece of puzzle fit, where a jagged edge was supposed to go.

  “What the fuck are you doing in that suit? I thought you were one of these pretty boy actors at first,” Jagger said with a laugh.

  Sledge chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’m here with a friend—trying to keep a low profile, though. Damn, it’s good to see you.”

  Jagger looked around the room and said, “Fuck, I’m as surprised that I’m here as I was to see you. This isn’t the kind of party we usually get asked to. I heard the producer of the movie was a fan, but haven’t met him yet.”

  “Her.” Jagger and Sledge turned toward the smooth, feminine voice. The woman was beautiful, breathtakingly so. She was tall and on the slimmer side, but with big breasts and hips that flared below a tiny waist and long, tan legs that ended in a pair of six-inch heels. Her hair was light brown with blonde streaks and it lay in soft curls around her bare shoulders. “I’m Allie Barker, the producer of this movie.” She held her hand out to Jagger and still looking surprised, he took it.

  “Hey, there. It’s good to meet you. I’m sorry for calling you a man. The guy that called said ‘Al’ Barker so I just assumed…”

  She smiled and every one of her teeth were perfectly straight and white. Her mouth was big and her lips full. She had the kind of looks that made every man in the room daydream about a blowjob. “It’s a common mistake,” she said. “Actually, sometimes I use Al on purpose. Believe it or not, in 2018, some people in this business would still rather work with a man than a woman.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you Miss Barker, and we’re glad to be here. Oh! This is my friend, Sledge.”

  The woman turned her dark green eyes on Sledge’s face. He smiled at her and took the hand she offered. She didn’t shake his, she just held her hand there against it. “Sledge, that’s an interesting name.”

  “It’s a nickname,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I don’t recall seeing you on set, Sledge. Are you here as someone’s plus one?”

  “Yes, ma’am…”

  “Allie,” she corrected.

  “Yes Allie. I’m here with Daria.”

  She ran her eyes over him again, this time, slowly. When she made it back up to his face she said, “Lucky girl, that Daria. What did she do, write one of her characters into life?” She laughed, but Sledge didn’t. He wasn’t sure if she was making fun of Daria, him, both, or neither. Maybe he was just being fucking paranoid.

  “I’d better get to my table. Jagger, I’ll talk to you later. Miss…I mean Allie, it was good to meet you.”

  “My pleasure,” she purred. “Maybe you can save me a dance later.” Fuck! Dance. He hadn’t even thought of that. He hoped that Daria didn’t expect him to dance. He hadn’t danced since…Daria’s sister’s wedding, and then she was drunk and all he did was hold onto her while she swayed to the music. He was sure the rest of these people had probably grown up taking dancing lessons.

  Allie was still waiting for an answer, though, so she said, “I’m sure Daria will loan you to me for one little dance.”

  “Sure,” he said, unable to think of any polite way to refuse. No way was he dancing with her, or even in front of any of these people. Hell, he was already working out an escape plan so they could get out of there as soon as dinner was over…or at least he could. Fuck. He needed another drink.

  He made his way around the tables, where most of the guests had already taken their seats, toward where Daria sat at a round table near the front. She saw him and waved him over. He was disappointed to see the only empty chair at the table for eight was his. He hoped they would converse around him and wouldn’t expect him to c
hime in.

  “Hey,” Daria whispered as he took his seat. “I thought I lost you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I saw a friend.”

  “Really?” she said. “You know someone here?” He told himself that she didn’t mean that as condescending as it sounded, but he was just buzzed enough and anxious enough to take offense. He tried to suck it up and said:

  “Yeah, the bass player and lead singer in the band is an old friend. He’s part of Jacob Wright’s team; you might have already met him at the gym.” She looked around Sledge toward the stage and shook her head.

  “No, I haven’t met him. What kind of music do they play?”

  “Rock, mostly,” he said.

  The woman next to Daria said, “Seriously? Oh God, I hope it’s not heavy metal, I hate that stuff.” She twisted her long neck around to look at the stage and made a face. “Are they famous or something?”

  “Not yet,” Sledge said, “but they’re really good so maybe someday. Allie Barker invited them.”

  Daria’s face looked even more surprised. “You met Allie Barker?”

  “Yeah, she seems nice. She asked me to save a dance for her.” He said it like he was looking forward to it…for no other reason than to make Daria jealous, he hoped.

  “Really?” Daria said, not like she was jealous, but like she didn’t believe Allie would ever want to dance with the likes of him. He should have kept his stupid mouth shut, but he’d already lost control of it.

  “Maybe while she and I have our dance, you can dance with Plastic-man,” he said, smugly, waving the cocktail waiter over as he did.

  “Plastic-man?” she asked in a low tone.