The Praetorian

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  “I’m fairly certain I left it here on the desk last night before I went to the pool.”

  “Did you go straight to the pool from here?” I ask, leaning on the desk to get a better look at the monitors and what the cameras record.

  He pauses for a moment and I glance at him. “No,” he says curtly.

  “That’s not giving me much. Where were you before you went to the pool?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Doing what?”

  He rises. “The point is, it was here and then it wasn’t.”

  He almost seems defensive. “Did I touch a nerve?” I ask, turning to face him and leaning on the desk.

  “Nope.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, he rolls his at me.

  “There’s that look again.”

  “What look?” I ask.

  “The one you gave me in the dining hall. I almost gave up on you.”

  “Really? All it takes is one look for you to quit? And I’ve barely scratched the surface of all the faces I can make.”

  He drops down on the couch. “I don’t like Raul.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Be careful around him.”

  I let out a small laugh.

  “What the hell, Reed? I’m being serious.”

  “I can take care of myself. He’s harmless.”

  He glares up and to the right, making a steeple with his fingers. His chest muscles tighten, and I wonder if he’s getting angry.

  “Are you mad right now?” I ask.

  “Getting there.”

  “Do you get mad a lot?”

  “Maybe.”

  I purse my lips and try not to smile. He’s adorable. I take two steps and stop when I’m standing in front of him. He won’t look at me, so I crouch in front of him. He looks away. “On a scale of Rauls from one to ten, with one Raul being happy-go-lucky and ten Rauls being ready to punch a wall, how many Rauls would you say you are?”

  He closes his eyes and I watch his upper lip curl ever so slightly. He opens his eyes and sighs when he sees me smiling at him. I place my hands on his legs mostly for balance, but also because his jeans are ripped there, and I can see his skin.

  He takes a deep breath and gazes down at their placement. Placing his hands over mine, he pulls them up his thighs. Now I’m the one who needs more air. He moves my hands up and down his legs and I swear I almost pass out. I get on my knees in front of him, and he leans forward and crashes his lips to mine.

  He lifts me until I’m straddling him on the couch. The bulge in his jeans begs for attention so I grind down on him, reveling in the delightful friction that my body craves. It’s not enough, though. With each slide, the bulge grows, furthering the ache between my legs.

  He runs his hands up and down my back before they land on my ass. This time I let him touch me.

  “Reed, fuck…. We need to stop.”

  “No, we don’t.” I kiss him harder.

  He laughs. “We do. Reed! We really do!” He pushes back on my arms.

  I pull back quickly, and lift off him. I can’t help but feel a sting of rejection.

  "Don’t,” he says forcibly. “Don’t you dare.”

  I straighten my shirt as I stand, and he jumps up and pulls me to him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I felt this way about someone?”

  “I’m fine, Roman. Stop. It’s late and I should go. Big day tomorrow.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Reed. Look at me.”

  I shrug and avert my eyes.

  “I’m three Rauls mad right now.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  “We are in my office, right next to the control room where sometimes Esto spends the night. There’s a chance my head of security, Dawson, might wonder where I am and come searching for me. He does it all the time, like last night. There’s a chance someone, anyone, could walk in at any moment. As much as I want you, I won’t have you embarrassed that way or let someone see your body. I want it all to myself.

  “When I finally make love to you, I’m going to do it all night long in my bed, not on a lopsided couch in the middle of a dirty dressing room. You’re too important to me and I’m not going to fuck this up, because there’s only one first time with someone and my first time with you is going to be everything it should be and more.”

  My heart explodes. I don’t want to smile. I want to act like his words don’t affect me. I want to pretend they aren’t the nicest, most romantic words I’ve ever heard in my life, but I can’t do it. Because unlike any man I’ve ever known, he broke through a wall I built. No one has ever gotten through when I’m angry and as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s special.

  What I feel for him is maddening and stupid and crazy because I really don’t know him and yet, I feel like I do.

  He’s staring at me and I can’t help it. I smile. Closing my eyes, I shake my head as he kisses my forehead, pulling me tighter into his embrace. I haven’t been hugged in forever. I forgot how good it feels.

  “Are we good?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Before I say or do anything to make you stop smiling, I’m going to go. Give me five minutes and then turn off the light and take off. Stay as close to the center of the room as you can. It’s dark there and hopefully the cameras won’t pick up on your movement. Just don’t trip over the edge of the circle, okay?”

  I nod.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, where I’ll most likely not look at you and seem pissed.” With a final kiss, he disappears out the door.

  It takes me a moment to get a grip. I try to make out his movement on the monitors, but I barely see him. He’s good. I check the time on my watch. I have three more minutes. Glancing around the room, I picture him back here, watching when we’re being instructed before a challenge.

  Something catches my eye. Something shiny.

  There on the couch, stuffed between two cushions, is a set of keys. Picking them up, I wonder how I’m going to sneak them back to him tomorrow. I stare at the monitors and watch the guards near the west wing. I bite my lip as I think. This is an opportunity I can’t resist. It’s like he wanted me to find them, right?

  At first, it’s a tiny thought. Then it forms into a solid idea. A minute later it’s a full-fledged plan. One that’s certain to get me in a lot of trouble. More trouble than I’ve ever been in before.

  “You did background checks?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “And they all came back fine? No red flags?”

  “Not that I could see, but—”

  “But you don’t like the idea of having a bunch of actors in my house, even if they’ve been cleared by you and Seamore Productions, and instructed to follow a script?”

  Dawson scowls. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Please hold your arms out straight, sir,” the tailor says nervously. His hands are shaking as he pins the final alterations for my tux for tonight’s challenge.

  “I feel like a fucking scarecrow,” I mumble.

  Dawson flips through a stack of papers as he sits at my desk. He’s one of the only people allowed to sit there besides me. I trust him with everything.

  He grimaces and rubs his head with his palm as he flips from page to page.

  I don’t think I’ve ever drawn him at my desk and I wish I could capture this moment, but I left my pad in my bedroom last night. I couldn’t fall asleep until after I drew her.

  After I left Reed, I decided to check on things. Natalie was happy to see me. She hinted that someone had missed me all day. I felt bad for being gone so long and I promised that as soon as the show was over, I’d make up for lost time. I got a smile out of it and most days that’s all it takes to keep me going.

  “Ugh,” he moans, shaking his head. “This is a security nightmare, Roman. A freaking nightmare.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “Arms down, please.”

  Finally. They were starting to ache.

  “Considering all that�
��s going on in your real life, I don’t think this is the time to pretend there’s a security breach and someone is armed at the party.”

  “It’s not going to be a real gun.”

  “Yeah it is. Just not loaded.”

  “Well, there you go,” I say, waving it off.

  “Please don’t move, Mr. Creed. I’m almost finished.”

  I ignore the tailor. “You’re going to hold onto it until the show and then after, it gets returned to you, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “It’s got to happen. I already signed the contract.”

  “There!” The tailor sighs. “All finished. I’ll have it ready for you by five.”

  I remove the material and hop off the small platform. Dawson jumps up and opens the door, thanking the tailor as he leaves.

  Taking Dawson’s place at my desk, I shuffle through the paperwork and cringe at the amount of things he has to account for. “Guess this is why I pay you the big bucks.”

  He holds out his hand and I give him the file.

  “You need anything before I go?” he asks.

  “My iPad would be nice.”

  “The new one should be here any minute.”

  “I want the old one. Any leads?”

  He shakes his head. “I asked Rivera to let Phil review the footage, but with all Seamore records, it’s a mountain of red tape. I think they’re afraid we’re going to tamper with it or something. It’s like pulling teeth to get them to turn anything over to us. Bureaucratic bullshit.”

  “Yeah. All right, I’m good but Dawson…”

  At the door, he spins to face me.

  “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you.”

  His shoulders straighten, and he nods before taking his leave. He’s got a shit-ton of work to do for tonight.

  Laughter coming from outside draws my attention. I go to the window and lean on the glass. Kari, Logan, and Tori are in the pool. No sign of Reed. Raul dives in and my stomach curls. I turn away and close my eyes. Watching them in the water causes physical pain.

  Sitting at my desk again, I think about last night and the smile returns to my face. I open a desk drawer and flip through various folders until I find hers. I want to know more about her.

  Reed Manning. No middle name. Born in Portland, Oregon, and twenty-eight years old. Parents are Hazel and James Manning, divorced. Reed moved to LA with her mom when she was eight and has lived there ever since.

  I turn the page and pick up the picture of her in full uniform. Then I spot the promo pic Seamore took of her. I’ve never seen more natural beauty in my life. She’s so different from any other woman I’ve ever been attracted to. No makeup, no fancy hairstyle. Just straightforward, you-get-what-you-see radiance. She doesn’t need artifice. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.

  “Roman?” The door opens, and I shove her file back in my desk. “Esto wants to see you downstairs. He wants to do a run-through.”

  Two hours later, I’m finally eating lunch in my dressing room while reviewing my lines. I’ve never thought about entering the acting world, although I’ve known a few fellow musicians who successfully crossed over. Flipping through the pages, I can honestly say it’s not my thing. In some ways, singing songs is like playing a part in a story. You need to show and feel the emotion in the words, like acting. But I feel them because they are my words. Speaking of which, I have the beginnings of a new song itching to come out. Someone has inspired me.

  I glance at the monitors as soon as I think of her and that’s when I see the commotion in the hall near the kitchen. Cedric is coughing and hacking. Is he choking? I zoom in, turning on audio to hear what’s going on.

  My security guard rushes over and starts to do the Heimlich. After a few seconds, Cedric holds up a hand and I finally breathe. Good thing my guard was down the hall.

  My eyes immediately narrow as I click on the camera by the secret stairwell.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I fumble with the keys, knowing I don’t have much time. The third key finally turns, and I almost cheer, but I’m too nervous. I can’t get caught, but I need to know more about him. He’s hiding something, and I have to know what it is.

  The closet door leads to a stairwell. I close it behind me just as the security guard comes back into the room.

  Standing perfectly still for a moment, I pray he didn’t hear or see me. He coughs, and I make my move, ascending the stairs. They wind and twist as they climb, and I feel like I’m in a spy movie as I get closer to the top.

  Turning the handle, I realize the door at the top is locked as well. I fumble with the keys and get it on the second attempt. Carefully, I inch open the door. There is a small hall table with a lamp directly in front of me, as well as multiple closed doors along a hall. I hear the mumblings of guards and know I need to move quickly.

  I go to the first door on the left. It’s not locked, but the handle is difficult to turn. It’s almost as if something heavy is on top of it. I twist a bit harder and find it easier on my second try.

  Pushing open the door, the first thing I see is a large, king-sized bed with a white bedspread and red chenille blanket. There must be five or six red-and-beige throw pillows against an oversized, dark brown headboard. To the right is a fully stocked bar with stools in front of an enormous window I imagine probably has the best view in the house. When I see the guitars lining the walls, as well as several others resting on stands, I know where I must be, and my heart constricts. I’m invading his privacy and I hate the way it makes me feel. I take a step forward and the door closes behind me.

  My hand flies to my hip as I spin around to see Roman regarding me with his arms crossed. He’s angry. Really angry. If I had to count Rauls by the look on his face, I’d say maybe thirty. Like, blow a gasket angry.

  “I can explain…”

  He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at me. I think it’s worse than him yelling. But how did he get up here? After I explained my plan to Cedric he agreed to help me. He and I made sure Roman was in his dressing room and there’s no way he came down the hall. A quick glance to my right and I see a door leading to another set of stairs. It’s like freaking Harry Potter.

  “Last night after you left, I found your keys in the couch. I was going to run after you, but you’d already been gone a while, so I figured I’d give them to you today. So… surprise!” I smile awkwardly and his nostrils flare.

  He turns and slams the open stairwell door. The wall rattles, and I cringe. “Now why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing?” he shouts.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Boss, you okay?” Dawson asks.

  “Just a second,” Roman yells back, grabbing me by the arm and leading me toward the guitars in the far corner. He opens a closet door filled with paper and more guitars. It’s small and dark.

  “Get inside,” he tells me. “And be quiet.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head.

  “Do it, Reed. Now!”

  “Not the closet. Please. Don’t make me…” He pushes me inside and closes the door.

  It’s dark and cramped. I hear muffled voices outside and I crouch down on instinct. My chest starts to heave, and I fight to hold back tears that threaten to spill over my eyes. Must be quiet, I tell myself. Must be quiet…

  I’m dizzy. I hate closets. I always have. Grabbing hold of my legs, I assume the position and rock.

  It’s so dark. He’s so mad. I shouldn’t have done it. I was bad. I’m going to get what I deserve. A few seconds later, footsteps approach and I gasp when the door opens. I close my eyes and lift my hands defensively to protect myself from the blow I know I’m about to receive.

  The tears start to flow. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please don’t. Please don’t hit me.” My whole body convulses, and I sob.

  I close my eyes and wait for the pain, but it doesn’t come. I slowly open my eyes and he’s squatting next to me. He’s not angry. He’s scared.

>   “Reed? Give me your hand. It’s Roman. It’s okay.”

  “I… I…”

  “Give me your hand. You’re okay.”

  I swallow hard and shakily place my hand in his. He tugs me gently and helps me to my feet. My face is wet with tears and as I remember where I am and who I am, I feel humiliated and ashamed.

  He doesn’t speak. He pulls me to his chest and holds me in his arms. I’m reluctant at first. I try to push away from him, but he pulls me even closer, holding me tighter.

  I close my eyes and try to breathe. No one has ever seen me like this. His heart is pounding against my chest and I curl my head into his neck. He feels warm and safe. I’ve never felt this way before after being found. Maybe this time I’ll be okay. The tears start again, and I cry. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it.

  I don’t know how long I stand there in his arms, but I know he never lets me go. I sniff and finally push lightly away from him. His face is ashen, and his eyes are pained.

  “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say a word unless you want to. I’m here either way.”

  Covering my face with my hands, I wish to be anywhere but here.

  He pulls my hands away and leads me over to the bar, where he pours me a shot of something. I slam it immediately and it warms me from the inside out. He leans his elbows on the bar and faces forward. I’m glad he’s not looking at me. I want to pretend it never happened, even though I know I can’t.

  I clear my throat. “I don’t like closets.”

  “Noted,” he says with a small smile. “I’m sorry.” His eyes are soft and his words sincere.

  “How could you have known? It’s not like the general population hid from their abusive father in a closet.”

  I pour myself another shot. Then I pour him one and inch it toward him. I hold my shot glass out in a toast. “To secrets?”

  He smiles and taps mine before he pounds it, then places the empty glass upside-down on the bar.

  “Well, you wanted to know more about me. Here you go!” I say, handing over an invisible box and dropping it in front of him.

  “I’m sorry I caused you pain, Reed. I’d never, ever want to hurt you.”