Kicking Reality

by Kat T. Masen

  My shoulders move up and down; laughing at how ridiculous that sounds.

  “Sounds like I’ve interrupted a very interesting conversation. Maybe I should leave you guys—”

  Logan interrupts Scarlett. “I need another drink. The bunnies have the stamina of a . . . well . . . a bunny. I’ll catch you around later, Emmy.”

  Asshole.

  Scarlett ushers me to her bedroom through a hidden stairwell behind the kitchen. Guests weren’t allowed upstairs, but she still closes the door behind us so we can talk in private.

  I had never seen her bedroom and even in my intoxicated state, I couldn’t help but utter the words “Wow!” a million times over. It is huge. All white with a large four-post bed in the middle of the room. Even her bed sheets looked fancy with an intricate gold trim.

  A few pieces of artwork hang on the walls; abstract pieces that brought life into the room. I could have sworn they were couples in compromising positions but I was drunk and had sex on my brain.

  “There’s not many people I trust but I know you’re not like the rest of the fake people in Hollywood.”

  “Ah, thank you?”

  “My, um, brother-in-law is here.”

  “Okay,” I drag, unsure of what that meant.

  She shakes her head, almost in a state of panic. “You don’t understand.”

  “Of course I don’t. You just said your brother-in-law is here.”

  “I’m in love with him, Em.”

  She crosses her arms, pacing back and forth at the same time I mouth, “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. I’ve pretty much avoided him for the past few months since they had a baby but my sister confided in me and told me they were separated. Things aren’t working out and they both needed a break from each other.”

  “I’ve heard kids can do that to you.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to, Scarlett, but I guess you haven’t painted the whole picture for me,” I tell her.

  “I made a move on him. When he first came here. It’s awkward between us and now he’s here, single.”

  “I wouldn’t call him single. Is the separation final? People have breaks then realize they’re in love with each other again.”

  She nods her head in agreeance then quickly shakes it. “Morgan, my sister, she has a complicated life. Noah is . . . not so patient. I mean . . . he worshipped the ground she walked on but ever since she had the baby, they’ve grown apart.”

  “That’s sad, for the baby.”

  “I know.” Scarlett lets out a frustrated groan. “Em, please tell me to get over this. I hate feeling like this. I avoid him at all costs and when I’m forced to be around him, I pretend like nothing is there. I’m embarrassed for what I did but . . . I don’t know. I haven’t even been with a man for so long because I just can’t get him out of my mind.”

  “Maybe you need a distraction fuck?” I suggest. “Like someone to just knock your socks off so you can move on.”

  She laughs. “I’ll cross Logan off my list.”

  I clear my throat. “Logan is single.”

  “You’re an awful liar.”

  “That’s the truth!”

  “Uh huh.” She grins. “God, what do I do?”

  “Look, just have some wine and relax. You’re beautiful. Men love you. I mean, really, how good looking are we talking?”

  She grabs my hand and drags me outside the room and to the top of the stairs, the void opens to the main foyer where partygoers stood around. She points to a man standing in the corner, chatting with some other men. It didn’t matter which one he was because the three of them were as hot as fuck. The lighter-haired one is tall with a handsome face and sharp jaw. It was like jaw porn. The darker-haired one is wearing glasses and dressed in a plain white tee and jeans. Totally glasses porn. The third one looks slightly older, dressed much smarter and looks like a model from a designer magazine. We stood a fair distance away, but even from here, I could see he had lighter eyes similar to those of Logan. Great . . . more eye porn.

  This party just got interesting.

  Now I understood her predicament.

  “Oh . . . you’re so screwed,” I say without thinking.

  “I told you!” she hisses. “What could be worse than this?”

  “How about almost fucking your brother’s best friend only to be interrupted by a friend who is hopelessly pining for her brother-in-law?”

  She turns to face me, eyebrows raised and eyes wide full of shock. “I thought you guys were just flirting. You’re engaged.”

  “Nope. Wes fucked two hookers while snorting crack and everything you see filmed is a lie.”

  We both fall silence, staring into the crowd with heavy shoulders.

  “We’re both screwed.”

  “Yep,” I quip. “So, your brother-in-law?”

  “Noah,” she corrects me. “His nickname is Mr Rebound. Before he met my sister, he was known for preying on broken women.”

  “What’s new? Wesley does that now and he’s supposedly committed.”

  She bumps my shoulder, laughing then quickly apologizes. “We should probably head back. Your camera crew looked pissed off.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. I guess I have to go say hello.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I offer. “You know, for moral support.”

  She laughs quietly. “C’mon.”

  We both walk downstairs weaving in and out of the crowd till we’re standing beside Noah and his friends. I could see the awkward exchange between Scarlett and Noah, but move on as she introduces me.

  “Haden Cooper runs the publishing house that published my book,” she says proudly of the man wearing the glasses. “Lex Edwards owns a few studios in town and his wife is also my lawyer.”

  The older guy has these very green eyes, almost like emerald. It’s hard to concentrate and not be rude by staring at them.

  “And Noah is my brother-in-law.”

  “Nice to meet you all. I’m Emerson.”

  Haden snickers. “Oh, we know who you are.”

  I smile politely, holding back the flirtatious eye-batting. “Is that a good thing or bad thing?”

  Lex bows his head, hiding his smirk while Noah stands there mirroring Haden.

  “Good,” Haden responds. “We’ll leave it at that since your fiancé is over there.”

  I turn my head around to where Haden points to. Low and behold, Wes is surrounded by a group of people, mainly women, desperate for his attention.

  “Ignore him, please,” I say bored. “Lord knows I do.”

  “So, Emerson is here with her brother, Ashley Chase and his friend Logan Carrington.” Scarlett sways the conversation, detecting my annoyance.

  “I’d love to meet them,” Lex speaks up. His voice is so masculine yet smooth. “I’m a huge Royal Kings fan.”

  “Sure, if you can pry them away from the Playboy bunnies,” I joke.

  The three of them laugh. “Easier said than done, right?”

  I continue to chat for a few more minutes before Josie finds me and requests that I head on outside to film some additional scenes with a few Hollywood big names at the party.

  I quickly excuse myself, promising Lex that I would find Ash and Logan and send them his way.

  We set up outside—where I place my mic back on—and film for another hour. Our discussion revolved around weddings and my relationship with Wesley. I couldn’t have thought of a more mundane topic, but Cliff gave the camera crew strict instructions to film me discussing my wedding plans. Fictional wedding plans since we weren’t getting married!

  I made sure I didn’t have any alcohol in hand while filming, but when a waiter walks past with a tray of drinks, I reach out and grab a glass, downing it in one go when Josie uses the restroom.

  This wedding talk did nothing to curb my anxiety. Every time I thought about it, I resented Wes even more. I bet he wasn’t being filmed talking about the weddin
g because he is a guy. Fucking sexist.

  Karl has now joined Josie, and asks me to walk back through the house and find Wesley so we could finish up taping. I keep on walking and stop just shy of the firepit where Logan is sitting next to some woman. He hands her a wine and despite the bullshit he said earlier—she’s a fucking blonde.

  In the corner of my eye, I see his gaze shift to meet mine. I quickly move on, ignoring the jealously building up inside me. You have no right to feel that way. Ignore . . . ignore . . . IGNORE.

  Inside the house, Karl moves the camera around the room to capture what I’m witnessing. I continue walking, pretending Logan’s behavior didn’t affect me whatsoever because it shouldn’t, and I was terrified the camera would pick up my irrational emotions.

  Wesley has moved to the main living room, cosied in the middle of women only. There appear to be no men surrounding him, and oddly, it bothers me more than it should. I still cared about him. I hated admitting that.

  “Here’s my baby,” he slurs. “Come sit on my lap?”

  I don’t sit in his lap, rather ask the skank beside him to move over.

  “Did I tell you girls how much I love her? She’s going to be my wife.” He laughs, grabbing my neck with his hand and pulling my lips towards his. I see him pull back, a mixed look on his face. “You smell different.”

  My instinct is to sniff my armpits, but the more he stills, the more I become paranoid. I shouldn’t smell of anyone . . . Logan hadn’t been on me. Stop being so paranoid.

  “I’ve been mingling with everyone. Hugging everyone.”

  He continues to watch me, then follows through with a laugh. “Oh, yeah.” Sliding his hand up my thigh, he leans into my ear. “I don’t care what you want. I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

  “Stop it,” I tell him, pushing his hand aside. “You’re drunk.”

  He leans back in, and I know the camera can’t hear well over the noise. Wes strategically removes his mic. There’s a commotion near the entrance, a fight between two men. Karl turns to face them and film.

  Wes grabs my thigh, applying tight pressure. “You think someone else can touch you? Then think again. You’re coming home with me and the second we walk through that door, I’m going to take back what is mine. I’m done waiting for you.”

  His demand to take me without my consent angers me beyond belief. How dare he! He thinks I’d so easily forget what he did? I know I’m not thinking straight. I know the champagne is not only expensive, but rather potent clouding any rational thoughts or any ability to remain civilized. He didn’t own me. No one fucking owned me!

  “You’re a jerk. I’m not coming home. So do whatever the hell you want!”

  I storm off, looking for Ash and Logan. I search everywhere, Karl trying to keep up with me, calling my name frantically. I see Ash huddled in the corner with his head buried into some girl’s neck. I stomp towards them, quick to pull him out.

  “What the fuck Emmy?!”

  “We’re going.”

  “I’m busy.” He motions with his eyes to the girl next to him.

  “He’s married!” I shout at her. “Did you know that? Or you don’t care ’cause you just want to be known as a whore?”

  The girl stands up on her platform heels, her skimpy dress pulling up past her knees. She has way too much mascara on that you could barely see her eyes in between her thick lashes. “Who you calling a whore?”

  “Uh . . . you?” I bark with a smile, crossing my arms.

  I could see the look of shock on Karl’s face. He wanted drama—he got drama. Emerson Chase has her gloves on, ready to fight anyone who crosses her path.

  She launches herself right at me; Ash trying to hold her back while I shout profanities that would make a sailor proud. This was all his fault; he couldn’t keep his dick in check like every other man. I was so sick of it, and perhaps the alcohol wasn’t helping me, only heightening my emotions to the point where I had no control anymore.

  My body jerks back, a hand restraining me, removing me from the space where that ditsy whore tried to pull my hair. She fought like a fucking girl.

  “C’mon Emmy. Just leave them alone,” Logan grits.

  I pull away from him. “Because you condone that?”

  Whore launches for me again, calling me a reality-TV slut. She shouldn’t have said that but wriggling my way out of Logan’s grip is near impossible. He was stronger than I anticipated.

  “Ash. Control her,” Logan warns him. “I’m taking Emmy home.”

  “I don’t want to go home.”

  “Well I’m taking you anywhere but here.”

  Logan drags me away; Karl struggling to follow. We are almost at the front when Wes stops me at the door, blocking the entrance. His eyes are wild with jealously; his veins prominent and scattered amongst his red face.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  “Get out of the way.” Logan raises his voice, keeping his grip on me tight.

  “I said,” Wesley almost spits. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  “You know what? Fuck you! You don’t own me, Wesley Rich!” I yell into his face. “Go back to your sofa full of sluts!”

  The adrenalin running through my veins gives me the strength to pull away from Logan and push past Wesley until the cool air graces my skin. Seeking some sort of escape, I spot our limo and jump in demanding the driver to take me home.

  I bury my head into my legs when I hear the door open, trying to still my heart to no avail. I just didn’t understand life—at this moment—or why all the men in my life had this need to act the way they did.

  I don’t look up immediately; smelling him instantly. I hated that he smelled so good.

  “You’re not going home.”

  “I can handle my own,” I argue back, defeated, on the verge of tears.

  “Why are you angry at me?”

  “Because you’re all the same. Ash is no fucking different and you’re his best friend.”

  “We’re not the same, Emerson. And I will not allow you to go home.”

  “It’s not like he is going to get his way.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Wesley,” I mumble. “He said he was going to have his way with me and I had no choice.”

  Logan lets out a sinister laugh. “No way you’re going home. Over my fucking dead body.”

  “What do you care anyway? It’s not like you’re my fiancé. Or even my boyfriend . . . you’re my . . .” Trailing off, I stop talking not wanting to say any more.

  Logan buries his head into his knees, covering his face. Just like me, he looked defeated. I just wasn’t sure why. “What are you trying to say, Emmy?”

  “I’m not saying anything.”

  “I know you,” he sputters, momentarily beyond words. “You always have something to say.”

  “Not this time.” I pause, then retract that comment and voice my thoughts without any care in the world. “We agreed it was one time and that was it. I got off, maybe you got off. It was a great night. Three cheers for knowing how to get a girl off in less than three minutes.”

  Logan lifts his head, watching me with a steady yet pained gaze. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Of all the glamorous men attending that party, why is Logan the one I can’t get out of my head?

  “I just want to go home, Logan. I really want to lay down and close my eyes.”

  “I won’t take you home. Not to him.”

  He shuffles closer to me, resting my head on his lap. When he begins to stroke my hair, I fight to hold back my tears but lose the battle quickly.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m tired.” I cry openly, through thin strained sobs “Of everything.”

  “Then don’t be.”

  It takes a moment to compose myself, sitting up and questioning him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re tired of the responsibility. You’re tired of being in front of the cameras. So am I, Emmy. I’m done with it too. L
et’s live a little. Just you and me. No one else has to know.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Let’s throw all caution into the wind. Have fun, just you and me and no Ash. He doesn’t need to know.”

  “But the show?”

  “They don’t always follow you.”

  “What exactly would we do?”

  “Whatever you want, Emmy. Whatever your fucking heart desires.”

  I smile, through my tears. “Whatever I want?”

  He nods with a grin, staring at my mouth as he runs his finger against my bottom lip.

  I push down the button of the screen and speak into the speaker. “Ted? Take us to Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “What exciting thing is there to do on Hollywood Boulevard?” Logan asks, wiping the tear from my face while waiting for an answer.

  “Just you wait and see.”

  “Revenge is an ugly disease.”

  ~ Logan Carrington

  “You really mislead me when we pulled up at Costumes & Toys.”

  A wicked smile flashes on her face; her bouncing body moving through the automatic doors. When we pulled up to the store I thought: okay, she’s kinky and maybe it’s my lucky day. How wrong was I in thinking it had anything to do with sex?

  I watch her make her way to the wall that displayed all the wigs, ignoring the urge to grab her body and tell her how fucking sexy she looked in her tight black dress and the shoes . . . don’t get me started.

  “C’mon.” She gestures, calling me over. “Pick a wig.”

  “A wig? When I said let’s have fun what part of that screamed wig shopping?”

  She shoves a brown shaggy piece towards my chest.

  “If you wanna play, you gotta keep it a secret.”

  Placing a blond wig on, she turns to face me seeking my approval. I shake my head instantly—I didn’t need to be seen with Florence Henderson.

  She searches the wall and grabs a pink bob.

  “It’s pink.”

  “Well duh. What do you think?”

  “The paparazzi would find you in a heartbeat,” I tell her.

  I scan the wall and notice a subtle black wig. Removing it from the hook, I place it on her hair, carefully tucking the loose strands. Her deep blue eyes stare back at me oddly. With just this one gaze, I’m taken back to a time when life wasn’t complicated. When the biggest hurdle was making it home before Mom so I could cover the gashes on my leg from when I fell over jumping off the tree to prove I could fly.