Dirty Jock

by Sienna Valentine

  “Ava!” I shouted, grabbing my jeans and following. “Ava, wait.”

  But she was off already. It took me way too long to get my jeans on, and I was still stumbling over them as I pulled on my boots. I wanted to race after her, catch her before she got to the house. Not that I had any sort of plan of what to do then.

  Instead, I made myself slow down, go back for our clothes and Ava’s shoes. My instinct was to race after her, but it was my instinct that had gotten me into this mess to begin with, so ignoring it seemed like a much better plan. I needed to give her time. She had every right to be mad at me, and she clearly wanted to get away.

  Even so, once I had Rosie untethered and mounted, I urged her into a gallop, taking her back down the path, only slowing when it was too unsafe not to. I might not care about what would happen to me if we fell, but Rosie deserved better than that. Too many people had been hurt by my impulsiveness.

  Still, I knew my purpose now. I knew why I had to rush. I had to get back before Ava convinced River to drive her to the airport. I needed to see her one more time, just to make sure she’d be okay.

  Domino was tied up to the rail by the patio, and I quickly secured Rosie there as well. I was still shrugging on my shirt when I made it into the house. River stood just outside my office, his hair mussed, shirt and shoes missing.

  “Man, I’m sorry. It’s bad.” He looked miserable as he shrugged in defeat, as if upset at himself that he had no words of wisdom to offer. He gestured inside.

  I stepped into the room to see Ava at my desk, still only wearing my jacket. Her mouth was open in shock, Layla at her side, both of them staring at the monitor. As I strode across the room to her, I saw why.

  My home page was MSNBC, and right there, front and center, was a picture of the woman I now knew had played Ava’s mom on her show. Underneath were the words, “Fiona Watts Promises Tell-All on America’s Sweetheart Ava Cassidy.”

  Ava just stared at the screen, dumbstruck, frozen. I wanted to go to her, pull her into my arms and promise to make everything okay, but I knew I couldn’t, knew she wouldn’t want that. I’d given up my right to offer anything of the sort. I’d become just another problem in her life that she wanted to escape from, another asshole she couldn’t trust.

  I had to do something, though. I couldn’t just stand there without trying to help. “Ava... you can stay. If you want, you can stay here. You don’t have to go back if you’re not ready. I’ll even... I’ll leave, and you can stay here with Layla, and….”

  I trailed off as she turned to me, that same cold fury on her face that I’d seen on the mountain. Without saying a word, she stood and walked out of the room, poised and practiced.

  Layla whistled. “Dude, I don’t know what you did, but it was hella bad, and for that, I am pissed at you.” Then she left, trailing quickly after her friend.

  “You and me both,” I answered, now speaking only to myself. I dropped into my now vacant office chair and buried my face in my hands.

  Chapter 19

  Ava

  It was difficult to pack with my vision blurred from tears, but somehow I managed it. Mostly, I just threw anything that looked like it might be mine into my bag. I could sort it out properly once I got home.

  Oh, god. Home. I didn’t even have a home to go to. I couldn’t go back to Ken’s.

  The thought brought me up short, and it was only then I realized I was still wearing Bennett’s jacket. I wanted to throw it off. Crumple it up and toss it over the balcony. Burn it, maybe.

  But I also wanted to curl up in its warmth and smell Bennett’s cologne and be comforted.

  I slid down the side of the bed to the floor, pulling the jacket tight around me, and wept into the collar.

  Really wept, too. Big, snotty, ugly-crying sobs.

  God, I was so stupid. So stupid. Was I really that desperate, that afraid of being alone that I’d believe the first random stranger who said we’d gotten married in a drunken revel in Vegas? He’d made me happy for a few days, but the whole time—the whole time—he was lying to me. This place, this retreat away from all my troubles, it was all too good to be true, and I should have known that.

  There was a soft noise by the door, someone clearing their throat. I looked up to see Layla there, holding a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.

  “I don’t know what the asshole did, but I am fully prepared to take your side,” she said. “Also, I have whiskey.”

  “I’m not sure alcohol is the best choice for me right now,” I said dryly, as Layla dropped next to me on the floor.

  “Hey,” she said with a shrug, setting the glasses down and filling them generously. “You’re spending your honeymoon naked and crying, booze is the only choice.”

  “You have a point,” I answered, sniffling a little and then glancing around for a tissue.

  “Wipe it on his sleeve,” Layla suggested. “He deserves it.”

  “You have another point,” I agreed, wiping my nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

  “So.” She handed me one glass and took the other herself. “Are you going to tell me what he did, or are we going to drink in silence?”

  I took a long drink before answering, feeling the alcohol burn down my throat, fighting against the numbness that was beginning to set in.

  “We’re not married,” I admitted once I’d finished. As hard as it had been to believe in the marriage at first, it was almost as equally difficult to believe it was all just a big lie, now.

  Layla was in the middle of a drink, and she very calmly finished it and set her glass down. “Excuse me?”

  “Bennett and I,” I clarified. “We’re not married. It was... it was a joke. A practical joke. He made it all up. The Elvis impersonator, the marriage license, the... the ring.” I looked down at my left hand where what I’d begun to think of as my ring was sparkling as though it weren’t a symbol of betrayal.

  “Okay, the second you tell me you aren’t fucking with me, I am going to go castrate him,” Layla said, already starting to stand.

  I grabbed her arm to pull her down, sloshing a little whiskey on Bennett’s coat in the process. “Don’t. Please, just… don’t. I just want to get out of here and go….” Somewhere. Not home, but somewhere, anywhere I didn’t have to think about Bennett Dallas Campbell.

  “What am I going to do? I can’t go back. I have no job, no... no home. I’m just….”

  Layla shifted closer, slinging her arm around me, not at all weirded out that I was basically naked. It was such a Layla thing to do, to roll with the punches. I wished I could be like her, just once, just able to let life happen and figure it out as it came.

  I’d never done that. When I’d gone into acting, my mom had sat down with Ken to work out a five-year plan, what I should be doing, how I should be improving, where I should try to break in. Then when I’d left home, Ken had rewritten the plan. He told me where to go and when to be there, and I never had to do any of it myself. He basically controlled everything about my life. I never had to make any of the hard decisions.

  Maybe that was why I’d so easily believed Bennett. I was just letting someone else make the plan again.

  Sniffing a little more, I raised my head, a new resolve building in me. “I can do this,” I said, not at all sure that I could. I took another drink to steady myself, help ease me into this new idea of self-reliance and confidence that I had to embrace.

  “Damn straight you can,” Layla agreed, lifting her own glass in salute. “What can you do?”

  “This,” I said again, gesturing all around us. “Life. I can do this, right? Tell me I can do this?”

  “You can totally do this, boo,” Layla responded, giving my shoulders a squeeze and then topping off both our drinks.

  “Okay, right. I can... I can just... cut back on expenses until I figure out what’s next. All my stuff is still at Ken’s….” Aside from controlling everything else about my life, Ken had always had all the control over my finances. I didn’
t even really know where most of my money was, or how much of it was even still there. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I thought about how foolish I had been to trust Ken as much as I had. Did I even have any money left?

  Layla cut me off. “I will go to the bastard’s place and get all your things. Don’t you even worry about that.”

  I nodded. Layla always worked that way. She always had my back, always anticipated my needs. It was what made her such a good assistant.

  “Dammit, no,” I said as that thought flitted through my head. “Layla... I can’t pay you now. I mean, not until I figure out how to get my money… if I even have any left… You don’t have to….”

  She raised a hand, cutting me off again. “Clearly you’re gonna have to fire me, but I’m gonna go on having your back, boo. Because that’s what friends do.”

  “Layla,” I began to protest, but she countered by reaching out to lift my hand to my mouth until I gave in and drank again. I was starting to feel loose from the whiskey, and it was helping more than I’d care to admit.

  “Don’t you even say that we’re not friends. You brought me along on your honeymoon and let me play tonsil hockey with the hot hippie. That’s not an assistant thing. That’s a friend thing.”

  The last thing I was going to try to argue was that Layla wasn’t my friend. She’d been there for me since almost the beginning, and I knew she wasn’t just doing it for the paycheck. I didn’t even know how much Ken paid her, but I was certain it wasn’t nearly enough. “Sorry for interrupting that, by the way,” I said. “It looked like you were enjoying it.”

  “I was, but this is way more important.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You just tell me what you need to do next, and I’ll make it happen. It’ll be my last official task as your assistant.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “Okay, well... first we need to get back to L.A.”

  “Already on it, mon petit chou.” She held up her phone, showing me the confirmation screen from a purchase for two one-way tickets from Fresno to L.A. “Next?”

  “Next, I... need a place to stay, which means I need to talk to my parents.” Something I was not looking forward to. I had said some not-awesome things to them when I moved out. Things about them trying to steal my career and live off my fame and money. Turned out it was actually Ken who wanted to do that.

  “Ah,” Layla said. “Well, that sounds more like a friend thing than an assistant thing.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, peering over my glass at her as I contemplated whether or not to have another drink.

  “I’m saying hurry up and fire me, so I can support you while you call your parents.”

  I laughed, a sound that got half-choked in a sob, and said—in my best Donald Trump voice— “Layla? You’re fired.”

  Chapter 20

  Bennett

  I could hear Layla’s booted footsteps fading down the hall, and I looked up to where River was still leaning against the office door frame.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “This is why I’m not married.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. I got up to pour myself a whiskey from the decanter I kept in my office, but then Layla came stomping back in.

  “On second thought,” she said. “I’ll need these.” The decanter and two glasses disappeared with her down the hall.

  “Anything I can do for you, boss?” River asked, and I could see he was antsy, unsure where his loyalties should lie, unsure what to do in this situation.

  “No, it’s... it’ll be fine. Go ahead and call it a night.”

  “You got it,” he said. He turned to go, then stopped and stepped back into the office, pulling me into a hug. I was so surprised by it that I didn’t manage to return the embrace before he was stepping back again. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  It occurred to me, as I watched his bare back retreating down the stairs toward his cabin, that River was basically the closest thing I had to a real friend. Sure, I could always find people to fill out a party or give me company on a Friday night, but I didn’t have anybody I could really talk to. River was... it.

  River and Ava, and I wasn’t going to be able to talk to Ava after this.

  I started down the hall without thinking, but I stopped just outside the door to my bedroom. I could hear Ava and Layla in there, talking. I heard Ava make a noise that was suspiciously like a sob. That’s when I turned and walked away.

  I wasn’t proud of it, but that’s what I did. I walked away.

  I went around the house to the breaker room, intending to properly fix the wiring issue I’d only patched before. I needed to get my hands in the guts of something electronic. I needed to focus on a problem that was fixable. Al had taught me that. When things got to be too much, too overwhelming, focus on something fixable.

  I tried. I tried to focus on the wiring, on replacing one that had frayed, on reconnecting a couple that had come loose. I tried to focus on binding them all in neat bundles, out of the way, organized.

  It didn’t seem to matter how much I tried to focus. I just kept seeing that bitch’s botoxed face in my head. As badly as I felt about what I’d done to Ava, it was a private affair. Aside from those of us at the ranch, no one knew about it, and it had only lasted a few days. It was a shame I might carry the rest of my days, and Ava might continue to hate me forever, but it didn’t really affect her life. Not like naked pictures on the Internet. Not like a tell-all book filled with god-only-knows what sort of hurtful lies… I couldn’t imagine a scenario where there would be anything truthful that Ava had ever done that could fill a tell-all book. The girl was only 19, for fuck sakes, and as innocent as they come. How much could she have done?

  I had no doubt the book would be filled with bullshit designed simply to sell copies and line the pocket of the bitch telling the stories.

  What kind of a woman would do that? What kind of a woman could play Ava’s mom one second and then turn around and stab her in the back the next? What kind of woman…?

  My mind stuttered in the middle of a thought. What kind of woman? That was what I needed to find out. That was the fixable problem.

  Because I wanted to fix things for Ava, even if I couldn’t fix things with Ava. I owed her that much.

  I owed her a hell of a lot more, but this much I could do.

  Leaving the breaker room, I circled the house again, keeping away from the side my room was on. Just as I made it to my office, I heard the sound of an engine starting and knew that River must be taking the girls to the airport. I couldn’t blame Ava for that. I didn’t even want to be around myself right now. I just hoped she didn’t do anything she’d regret later. I hoped if she was headed back to L.A., it was to her parents’ house, where she could get some rest and comfort, where she could feel safe and not worry that someone was going to betray her as soon as she let her guard down.

  I was an ass.

  Focus on something fixable.

  When I sat at the computer, I paused, letting the idea roll around in my head a while. It had been a long time since I’d had a problem I wanted to fix this badly, since I’d felt those wheels start creaking to life.

  I’d done a little investigating into Ava’s life in the past week. Enough to know basic things. This was different, though. Now it was time for a deep search.

  I started looking everywhere. Google to start, which mostly just brought up the latest gossip, but I soon spread further, dug in deeper. I found clips of commercials she’d done as a kid, movies where she’d played an extra with no lines, even a picture of her from her junior high yearbook, skinny and awkward with blond braids and braces.

  There were a lot of pictures of her with her castmates, too. Not just screen caps or publicity shoots, but of them hanging around on the backlot, or having lunch, or huddled under umbrellas. They looked like a real family. Every picture of Ava with Fiona had her smiling up at that bitch like the sun shone
out of her ass.

  Suddenly, I felt the need to know everything I could about this woman. I knew exactly what I wanted to do for Ava, even if she never knew it was me. I wanted to take Fiona down and maybe that scumbag manager, too.

  Fiona was easy enough to find information on. There were articles about her in every gossip rag and sleazy website I could find, going back years. She’d been a relatively famous actress in the late-90s/early-2000s, but her career had fallen off sharply. Since then, she’d had a spate of roles as mothers, or mothers-in-law, or spinster aunts. In every instance that I saw, Fiona played second fiddle until one day, suddenly, there was a scandal involving her (always younger, always rising) co-star, and their careers imploded. Fiona just seemed to brush the dirt off and keep going.