Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy

by Landish, Lauren

  I grit my teeth. I hate when fans invade my personal space and then ask me rude questions. “It’s about as big as those fake tits of yours—”

  “Sorry, folks, we’re going to be moving along now,” Miranda cuts in, doing quick damage control and shoving the girl and others out of the way. “Got a flight to catch!”

  I press the opening, shouldering my way through the crowd as Miranda scrambles to catch up. “You just couldn't make it to the end without screwing up, could you?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” I demand.

  “You know better than that,” Miranda says reproachfully. “It’s not worth letting someone get under your skin.”

  She’s right. But I’m not perfect and I’m tired of being expected to be. I turn to her as we walk out of the building and come up on our waiting limo.

  “You know what, Miranda? I’m sorry I can’t be a fucking robot twenty-four seven. Go here, say this, let this person grope you, never mind that everyone only wants to talk about my fucking cock! I’m sorry that I’ve got feelings and that I’m not always able to control them. You know, instead of ranting at me about it, how about from time to time, you actually remember that I’m a human being?”

  Miranda grows silent, her face going stony.

  Our driver gets out and opens the door for us, and I climb inside, taking a seat near the window. Miranda is in moments later, sitting as far away from me as she can. As we pull off, the cabin is plunged into tense silence.

  I ignore it and stare out the window, my stomach in my throat. It’s hard seeing the shops as we pass by, all the ones I’ve gotten used to seeing. I would’ve liked to visit them, but there’s no time. I’m leaving this all behind. Leaving her.

  I quell the sudden urge to command the driver to stop. What would I do anyway? I can’t stay here. I have a contract with the league.

  But man, it fucking hurts.

  When we reach the airport, I literally feel like I’m short of breath.

  “Are you all right?” Miranda asks. They’re her first words since our little spat, and they’re delivered in a tone that says she doesn’t really give a shit. “You look kind of pale.”

  “Yeah,” I lie, keeping my tone even. “Just ready to get back home.”

  Miranda grunts her agreement as the car rolls to a stop in front of our departure terminal. “Boy, I’m telling you, so am I.”

  Hustled by terminal security, we quickly get out and unload our luggage. Even though I’m pissed, I carry my and Miranda’s luggage to the baggage area and get it checked in within ten minutes. Next, we get through the checkpoints with ease, and by the time we’re boarding the plane, I’m convinced I’ll need something to relax me to get through the flight.

  “You sure do look pale,” Miranda remarks again as we settle into our seats. It’s a charter flight. The team wants my ass back in town ASAP, and they sent the owner’s private jet to take care of it.

  I wave away her concern. “Just feeling a little sick, that’s all.”

  She peers at me. “You sure? I don't want to get up to thirty-five thousand feet in the air and we wind up with an emergency on our hands.”

  I set my jaw. “I’m good.” No, I’m not.

  Miranda continues to study me for a moment but then gives up and relaxes back in her seat.

  The pre-flights are done within the next half hour, and the whole time, I stare out the windows, wishing that I could change things. When the plane jolts, signifying that it’s moving, I grip the armrest as it begins to taxi.

  Just as the plane turns onto the runway, I’m hit by a surge of adrenaline, my entire trip flashing before my eyes. Image after image coalesces before me, all of my special moments with Brianna. Her smile. Her touch. Her sweet, innocent laughter.

  And in that moment, Leslie’s words come back to haunt me.

  Don't be like me and miss out on the best thing in your life.

  Suddenly, my career as a sports star doesn't seem as important anymore.

  “Stop the plane!” I yell, drawing the attention of the flight attendant.

  “What the fuck?” Miranda cries in alarm as I rise out of my seat. “Gavin?”

  I ignore her and yell again. “Turn the plane around. I have to get off!”

  “Stop it!” Miranda commands, trying to grab at me. I swat her hand away.

  “Sir,” the flight attendant says, coming up to me. “We’re about to take off. We can’t just stop the plane on a whim.”

  “You can,” I growl. “This is an emergency!”

  The attendant frowns at me, disturbed by my frantic state. “What kind of emergency?”

  I grab my carry-on and begin moving toward the exit. I don’t give a fuck what this flight attendant, Miranda, the pilot, or what anyone else says. I don't even give a damn if I have to parachute out of this motherfucker. I’m getting off this fucking plane one way or the other.

  “Love,” I throw over my shoulder.

  Chapter 29

  Brianna

  I draw a line of lip gloss on as I look at myself in the mirror, but I don’t really care that much. Once again, it’s time to go to fucking work. I really wanted to take the day off, but at least it’ll keep my body and my mind busy.

  My heart skips a beat as a pain lances my chest. It hurts to think about it.

  Gavin’s gone. Forever.

  A deep sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my reflection. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying all night. I suspect I’ll go through many more days like this until I’m all cried out. But right now, I need to be strong and go to work.

  I get my things, leave my apartment, and get in my car. As I start the engine, the radio comes on, but I quickly turn it off. I know the news will just be gossiping about Gavin and his departure. And I don’t want to hear that right now.

  As I traverse block after block, I find it difficult to concentrate, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I told myself I wouldn’t do this this morning. But it’s damn near impossible. I grip the steering wheel tightly, trying to focus on the road, taking deep, calming breaths.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I chant.

  I get a couple of blocks from the hotel when my car begins making a chugging noise, stuttering violently before finally dying and rolling to a stop in the middle of the street. “The hell?”

  Trying to remain calm, I put my foot hard on the gas and turn the key. I get the motor to turn over, but it keeps sputtering, and I’m only barely able to pull over to the side of the road.

  I hear someone honk their horn several times, and a lady yells out her window as she passes by, “Learn how to drive!”

  I ignore the bitch and the surge of anger that goes through my chest, giving the gas everything I have with violent kicks.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Only dead silence now.

  I shake my head, panic gripping me as I glance at the time. I only have ten minutes to clock in or I’m going to be late. Grabbing my cell, I dial the office but then stop. I can’t exactly call in sick at this point. No matter what I say, Vandenburgh isn’t going to care.

  I imagine he has my slip written up already.

  “God damn it!” I yell, hitting the steering wheel with my fists, blaring the horn. The sound causes a lady stepping out in front of my car to jump in alarm and look my way. When she sees me, she averts her gaze and scurries off. Yes, I know I must look like a mad, pissed off bitch. Because I am. I’m hurt and fucking fed up.

  I get out of the car and take in my surroundings, not sure what I should do. There are several shops nearby, but I know no one is gonna be able to help me get my car up and running in time.

  A heavy feeling settles on my chest as I consider my dwindling options. I can either call for help or just not go into work. For help, Mindy immediately pops in mind, but I quickly discard the idea. There’s no way I’m making her leave her shift on my behalf. It will only end up getting us both in trouble.

  And if I don’t go into work, I’m
as good as fired.

  Shading my eyes, I peer down the street. I can see the hotel in the distance, just maybe a mile away. In my car, it would have taken me fewer than two minutes. But now . . .

  I sigh, my body already aching as I realize there’s only one thing left to do.

  Run.

  * * *

  My ribs ache, my lungs burn, and my ass feels like it was dipped in gasoline and set on fire when I stagger through the front door of the Waterway twelve minutes later, covered in sweat. My heart pounding, I’m praying that my watch is slow, but when I clock in, I see that I’m two minutes late. Thankfully, there’s no sign of Vandenburgh and I hope he doesn’t take notice.

  I’m walking through the lobby, still catching my breath, when I hear Mindy cry out, “Bri!”

  She’s standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, staring at me with wide eyes, waving me over. She looks cute as a button in her usual outfit, her hair pinned up with wispy bangs, a pale splash of rouge on her cheeks and shiny gloss on her lips.

  “What’s going on?” she asks me when I walk over, ushering me into the back room of the coffee shop.

  “My car broke down,” I rasp, trying to fill my lungs with air. I know I must look like hell, my hair in disarray and sweat dotting my forehead, but I don’t care. I made it, and that’s all that matters. “I had to half-jog, half-run all the way here.”

  “Oh, my God, why didn't you just call me?” Mindy demands, helping me into the back room and grabbing me a stool that I lean on gratefully.

  I suck in gulps of oxygen, wanting to lean on Mindy for support, but I fight the urge, remaining against the stool. I need to stand on my own two feet. “I didn't want you to leave your shift. It was my fault.”

  Mindy scowls at me, placing her hands on her hips. “No, it wasn't. You could have called me. It’s not a big deal.”

  I wave her away, coughing and shaking my head. “Well, it’s okay now. I just need to get to work.”

  Mindy gives me a hug. And then she pulls back and appraises me with concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I know what she's asking about, but I really don’t wanna talk about it. “I’ll live,” I admit. “I’ve been through worse.”

  She shakes her head, sorrow reflecting in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. His plane left this morning, they said. They got into the limo just as I was opening up.”

  Tears sting my eyes. Ugh. I feel like shit. Lost the man I’d developed feelings for. Car broke down. And now I’m about to possibly lose my job.

  How much more can a girl possibly take?

  A huge lump forms in my throat and I clench my fists. I refuse to be brought to my knees by all of this. I was fine before Gavin came along, and I’ll be fine again.

  “Have you seen Vandenburgh?” I ask thickly. I don't bother replying to her statement. I don’t want to talk about Gavin. “I didn’t see him when I signed in, thank God.”

  Mindy shakes her head. “No, I haven’t seen his uppity ass.” She pauses and taps her cheek. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday, in fact.”

  Relief flows through me. Maybe he took the day off and I won’t have to worry about him today. “Good,” I say. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all morning.”

  “Damn sure is.” Mindy hugs me again and then gives me a perceptive look. “I can see that you’re trying to avoid talking about Gavin, but if there is anything—anything—I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.”

  “I will.” I begin to turn away but then stop, my side aching from my run. “Tylenol?”

  Mindy nods at me, quick to scurry off. “Let me go check!”

  She runs back behind the counter and digs in her purse. “I don't have Tylenol, but will Midol help?”

  “It’ll have to do,” I say. “At this point, I’m willing to take anything.”

  She pours me a cup of water, which I use to take a double dose of the pills.

  “Thanks, Mindy,” I say when I’m done. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Anything for you, Miss Sayles,” Mindy says, perfectly imitating Vandenburgh’s accent.

  We both share a laugh. I know the darkness isn't gonna recede soon, but Mindy will at least be the sunshine that helps push it away.

  “Okay,” I say, dreading having to work but knowing I have to. “Let me get to my shift.”

  “See you at break.” I give Mindy a quick hug and start on my way.

  I’m almost out the door when Mindy calls out, “Bri!”

  I stop and turn around. “Yeah?”

  She flashes an optimistic smile. “Everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

  My aching heart says otherwise, but I manage to answer softly, “I hope so.”

  I leave the coffee shop, collect my cart and cleaning supplies, and then start my shift.

  I spend the next few hours doing everything I can to focus on my job, trying to keep my mind off Gavin. He’s gone. Abracadabra. Poof. Not coming back. I need to let that sink in.

  And in a few weeks’ time, I won’t even remember his name, I tell myself as I drive on like a plow horse.

  By the time I reach the sixth floor, I’m beyond exhausted. With all the movie production guests checking out on the same day, all the rooms were messy as fuck. It was a fucking nightmare. The little relief Midol had given has worn off, and I need a break. But I don't take one. I just want to get through this day without breaking down.

  When I’m finally done vacuuming, scrubbing, and changing beds, my feet are killing me and my sides and head are pounding with a vengeance.

  But I still have one room left. A room I’ve saved for last and have been avoiding. Room 603.

  Gavin’s.

  I walk over to it, groaning with each step, and pause at the door.

  A part of me wants to just walk off and leave because I don’t want to be reminded of our time together. But I can’t take the chance that it isn’t messy inside, not when all the other rooms were that way. I must go in and do my job.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I put the key in the door and turn it. Click. With a gentle tap of my foot, the door swings open.

  My breath catches in my throat when I walk in. The room is spotless. Everything is in order, totally immaculate. It’s the only room today that I’ve walked in on in this condition. Gavin had to have cleaned it or gotten someone to do it. His last gift to me.

  “Oh,” I whisper.

  I bring a hand to my chest, choked by the simple sight of a clean room, as tears burn in my eyes. It’s too late now, but I wish I hadn't been so prideful and stubborn. I should’ve just talked to him before he left.

  Would it have been so bad to get a last goodbye from him?

  I suck in another breath, inhaling deeply. The leftover scent of Gavin’s cologne is on the air, causing my skin to prick. I sit down on the sofa, wrapping my arms around my chest as a torrent of emotions build inside. I wish my arms were his, holding me, hugging me, enveloping me in his warmth.

  Tears roll down my cheeks as I get up and make my way over to the bed and lie down on it. Broken, I press my face softly to the covers. I can smell his scent stronger here, the pillowcases heavy with him. I sigh, wishing that he were lying here with me. Making love to me. “Gavin,” I moan.

  I jump with surprise when suddenly, the door bangs open. I’m on my feet in an instant, wiping the tears from my eyes. But it’s too late.

  Vandenburgh waddles into the room, a look of glee on his face.

  “There you are, Miss Sayles,” he says, out of breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you. But something told me I’d find you here.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I say, flashing an easy, fake smile. “I was just finishing cleaning—”

  Vandenburgh laughs, silencing me with a sharp gesture. “Save your lies, Miss Sayles. I saw you clocked in late this morning.” His malicious grin is so wide I swear it’s about to split his face.

  I’m quick to defend myself. “I’m sorry about that. My car broke down and I
had to run—”

  Vandenburgh cuts in again. “That was your third strike. And do you know what that means, Miss Sayles?” He pauses, waiting for me to say something, and when I part my lips to reply, he snarls over me, “You’re fired!”

  Of course I am. And I bet this asshole has been salivating this entire time, waiting for me to clean all of my rooms before he fired me. Now the last thing I was clinging to is gone. But there is one thing I have left. My dignity. And since now I have nothing to lose, I’m not gonna take Vandenburgh’s shit anymore.

  Vandenburgh looks surprised when instead of slouching off, I get right in his face, towering over him even in his stacked-heel dress shoes.

  “Well, you know what, you humpty dumpty ass son of a bitch?” I snarl, stealing Mindy’s favorite insult she uses behind Vandenburgh’s back. “I’m glad to be fired! I was so fucking sick of hearing your fake ass voice and seeing you sit on your ass while I busted mine anyway.”

  Vandenburgh is shocked by my reaction, his mouth dropping open.

  My hands on my hips, I smile sweetly at him. I’m sure he thought I was gonna get down on my knees and beg him for my job. But as Mindy once said after one of her write-ups, fuck this, fuck that, fuck him, and fuck this place. I’ll get through this somehow. I always have. With my parents being gone, I learned the best person to depend on is myself.

  Vandenburgh finally seems to recover from his shock, snarling with spittle flying from his mouth. “How dare you, you trollop!”

  I raise my head to the ceiling and let out a mocking laugh. “Trollop? This is the twenty-first century! How about getting with the times instead of sitting on your ass all day reading Playgirl magazine?”

  Vandenburgh turns deep red, his anger overcoming his shock. I have a feeling he wishes he could choke the life out of me right now. Maybe I should keep pushing him to see if he’ll do it. “Why, you little . . . if you are not off the premises within five minutes, I’m going to have security escort you out!”

  I part my lips to deliver another biting insult when . . .