Bad Boy Boxset

by JD Hawkins

  I suck down the rest of my whiskey, come hurtling back into the present moment like a shot, and forget about it as I start making the impression that I came here to make. Over the next hour, I meet, greet, and exchange ideas with people I’d have struggled to get a phone call with before. I catch up with some contacts, exchange cards with possible new ones, and even start the ball rolling on some potentially career-defining moves with industry players.

  The bar starts filling up, and the laid-back, retirement-home-by-the-lake vibe that was there when I entered quickly morphs into the loud jousting of powerful people making powerful friends. Somewhere, a bell rings, and the producer I’m speaking to informs me that the sound means dinner will be served once everybody’s at the table. I look around for Jessie’s distinctly attractive head, but when I don’t see her I make my excuses and leave to go search for her.

  After skirting the pool, checking out the lobby, and finding myself walking briskly down random corridors in search of my ‘girlfriend,’ I eventually realize that I’m lost. And with everyone having already made their way towards the outside dining area, there’s nobody to ask. I start walking a little quicker when I think I recognize a potted plant, and jog forward, turning a corner I hope will lead me back into the lobby.

  It doesn’t. Instead, it leads me right into something warm, soft, and more than a little inviting.

  “Nate…slow down. I’d hate to rush things.”

  Lo and behold, it’s my favorite professional cougar, in the flesh and on the prowl. “Dominique?!” I exclaim, too quick to hold back my surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  She raises an eyebrow curiously. “Didn’t expect me, Nate? You know you can always find me hanging with the big boys.” Her eyes rake me from top to bottom, and I cringe back.

  “Sorry,” I say, trying to shuffle aside. “I’m just trying to get back in time for dinner.”

  Dominique puts a hand on her hip and angles herself toward me.

  “Do you have a big appetite?”

  I laugh a little as I inch away, almost admiring her ability to flirt in a way that leaves you little choice but to flirt back.

  “It’s this way, right?”

  “Oh no, Nate,” she drawls, putting her hands against my chest and rolling them down my torso. I step back until there’s nothing behind me but hard wall. “The buffet’s right here.”

  Pressing me up against the wall, I feel her knee push against the inside of my leg. She pulls gently down on the bottom of her tight shirt, revealing a couple more inches of cleavage to the few she’s already showing.

  “Dominique,” I say, wiping the smile from my face to show I’m serious, “this really isn’t a good time.”

  “It’s the perfect time. Everybody busy with their appetizers, I bet we’ll have a whole hour to ourselves. All the way in the corner of this mansion. Nobody to hear me scream.”

  Nobody to hear me scream, either. “You do realize I’m here with my girlfriend, right?”

  She barely acknowledges me as she begins to unbutton my shirt. I grab her hand, and she twists it away, then smacks it against her ass.

  “No you’re not. You’re here with me, Nate.”

  With my hand held firmly against her ass, and her knee working the tip of my cock more expertly than most women can manage with their fingers, it’s getting pretty hard to hold myself back. If I don’t do something to get rid of Dominique soon, I might end up doing something regretful with her instead.

  “Ms. Ferreira!”

  We both flick our heads in the direction of the voice, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief to see Jessie walking towards us. Dominique pulls away slightly and I slide out from between her and the wall.

  “Yes?” Dominique intones, making no effort to hide her displeasure.

  “It’s me! Jess—”

  “Tessa!” I call out, loudly. Smiling like a goofball.

  “Right!” Jessie quickly agrees, smiling at Dominique as if catching her faux-fiancé getting sexually mauled in the hallway is just about the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen. “We work together on the show.”

  Dominique gazes at Jessie like she’s speaking another language.

  “The costume department,” Jessie continues. “I do most of your outfits.”

  “Oh,” Dominique says, with only a vague inclination that she remembers. “I see.”

  I walk towards Jessie, put my hand on her side, then flash her a quick wink before kissing her on the lips – too concerned with how this is going to play out to worry about feeling anything. I turn back to Dominique.

  “Dominique, meet my girlfriend. Tessa, Dominique.”

  Dominique nods and slowly smiles as she pieces it together.

  “Yes. The girl you asked me about, I presume.”

  “Right,” I say, pulling Jessie close like we’re posing for a family photo.

  “It’s so nice to see you outside of the studio, Ms. Ferreira. I feel like I can actually tell you what a great actress I think you are.”

  “Well, thank you for the compliment…ah…”

  “Tessa.”

  “Yes. Tessa. I’m sure you’re very good at…”

  “I’m your costumer.”

  “Yes, that’s it. And a fantastic one at that. Say, Tessa, you wouldn’t happen to know where the porter is, would you? Tall man, strong shoulders, stubble?”

  “Jason? I think I saw him going towards the kitchen. Why?”

  “No reason,” Dominique says, casting a mischievous glance at me as she begins to walk past. “I just need him to take care of something for me. Lovely seeing you.”

  We watch the actress walk away, and when she turns a corner both sigh deeply.

  “Where the hell were you?” I ask.

  “I was with Alexandra. She was showing me some of her wardrobe. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful the room she’s staying in is. What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing. I almost became the latest victim of L.A.’s wildest predator, but that’s about it.”

  “Yeah. I could tell you weren’t having fun ’cause of that look you had,” Jessie chuckles as we start walking back.

  “What look?”

  “The look you always get when you want to get the hell out of something, but you don’t want to offend anyone. You do this thing with your eyebrows, and this big, little-boy smile. It’s cute. It’s bashful.”

  I snort a little laugh.

  “First I ‘smolder’ now I’m ‘bashful.’ Is there anything else in my repertoire you wanna tell me about?”

  “Relax. Of course I see these things, I’ve known you since you were twelve.”

  “Right, so why do I feel like I’m still learning things about you?”

  “Maybe I’m just more complicated.”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” I say, smiling at her as we move back towards the lobby, barely even registering the fact that we’ve still got our arms wrapped around each other even though nobody’s watching.

  Dinner goes better than I ever could have imagined. Suddenly I realize why Robinson was so intent on dragging me here. Anywhere else and the people around the long table would be at each other’s throats, fighting tooth and nail over every inch of a deal. For most of the year, they usually are; side-swiping, backstabbing, and generally pulling every trick they can to get one over on each other.

  Since we’ve been at the retreat, however, everyone is acting like their working days are far in the past, and that the stakes don’t count anymore. Inside stories and secrets spill as easily as the wine that was made nearby. Hated enemies laugh at jokes about themselves, directors give the scoop on their last shoots, actors discuss top secret new scripts, and even Robinson self-deprecates about his outfits. It’s almost surreal. A genuine insider’s circle that I would call conspiracy on if someone told me about it before I saw it with my own eyes.

  Most impressive of all, though, is Jessie. Sitting across from me, at a table filled with actors and agents who have built their careers on looks, c
harisma, and wit, she’s the most radiant person there. She’s confident and cool, funny and sharp; by the end of the night, almost everybody at the table is under her spell. Me, I just try my best to hide the fact that I’m watching every smile and laugh from those sweeping lips, every movement of her breasts in that tight tank top. After a few more glasses of wine, I don’t even bother.

  “Where did you two meet?” asks Marianne, the Oscar-winner seated a couple of seats away from Jessie, who seems to have grown fascinated by her at some point between the main course and dessert.

  The question immediately pulls my attention away from the story someone’s telling at the other end of the table. Instantly, I regret goofing around in the car on the way here, rather than clearing up some details. I hurt my teeth trying to chew down a mouthful of ice cream, but before I can speak Jessie’s already doing the talking.

  “Oh, Nate and I have known each other since we were kids.”

  I feel my heart drop, and waves of nausea ripple throughout my stomach.

  “Really?” Robinson says, frowning severely. “That’s not what Nate told me. He said you’d met on a flight from Paris.”

  Time seems to freeze for a moment, as if it wants to punish me by letting me truly feel the moment it all comes crashing down. Suddenly, I notice how quiet the table seems, how many pairs of eyes are trained upon Jessie, waiting for her answer, as if all of them already know. Vultures waiting for the kill. I pray it’ll be painless.

  But then Jessie just smiles, like it’s all a game. She turns to me, hazel eyes sparkling like the fine cutlery, and winks.

  “That’s because Nate is incredibly embarrassed to be so sweet,” she says, so convincingly I almost believe it myself. “He thinks it’s super cheesy that we’re childhood sweethearts who used to sneak kisses in my treehouse and ride our bikes to the corner store for popsicles—” she pauses as coos of ‘aww’ and ‘how sweet’ echo around the table from the other women. “And that it makes him look less ‘manly.’ Of course, he will hate me saying that out loud. But he’s actually a total softie.”

  I feel my face heat as Robinson slaps me on the back, chuckling loudly at my expense, but I also notice that the tense pressure hanging over the table has faded into a wine-fueled glow of amusement that wasn’t there before. I flash Jessie a grin and raise my glass to her. She lifts her drink too and winks, this time just for my benefit, this time with a little pout in her lips that’s more than friendly.

  Or maybe I’m just too drunk.

  Deep into the night, people start filtering away from the table. Some go to their rooms, some go back to the bar to carry on drinking, the rest are too busy engaged in intense, private conversations to even notice. Then I get a text from Kyle giving me shit for the new Bad Boy video I just uploaded- “Restraint, dude? Never thought I’d see the day! Who is she?” Panic hits me. Instead of writing back, I turn my phone on silent mode so the guilt won’t take over every time my phone buzzes. I’ll have to come up with a good explanation for Kyle later, maybe blame my blue balls on being at a ‘professional’ work event all weekend.

  “You tired?” I say to Jessie, after we’ve been staring at each other and smiling in the buzz of the alcohol.

  “I dunno,” she shrugs, before taking another sip.

  “Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?”

  “Sure.”

  We get up and move away from the lights under the canopy, into the dark night and the citrus trees and grapevines surrounding the retreat. Where even the air seems intoxicatingly filled with aromas. We take a small path that gives us a view of the mountains, silhouetted against the deep indigo sky, and soon we can’t even see the lights of the retreat anymore. We step slowly, not really caring about getting anywhere, just enjoying the moment, the crunch under our feet, the sound of insects making music in the dark.

  “You were pretty fantastic back there,” I say after a while.

  Jessie laughs suddenly with surprise.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “Everybody loved you. I mean, I was a little worried. You’re younger than them, new here, and these aren’t the easiest people to impress. But you did. What was that Tom was saying?”

  Jessie laughs again.

  “He was talking about how I’d be perfect for a supporting part in a film he’s making. I don’t think he was being serious.”

  “I think he was. Tom’s not the kind of guy to say stuff like that and not mean it – even when he’s drunk he’ll hold you to a deal.”

  “I don’t know…I’m no actress.”

  “You could have fooled me back in there.”

  “That wasn’t acting,” she says, going serious. “It was just…me.”

  We carry on walking a while as the path curls around, savoring the smells, the silence, the slight edginess of being in the dark.

  “It’s weird,” I say suddenly, my thoughts spilling out of my mouth.

  “What is?”

  “You. Them. All of it.”

  “How is that weird? I don’t understand.”

  “I used to think of you as a little girl. The one who hangs around. The one who’s always a few years away from knowing the things that I know. But today…today it’s like we’re on an equal footing.”

  “You mean you can’t look down on me anymore?” Jessie teases through a smile.

  I take a deep breath, wondering if it’s the wine, the night air, or…something else.

  “It’s just weird that…sitting at that table, it’s so obvious how smart and talented you are. How dedicated you are. How much you belong at the top of your field. And yet, you’re the only one at that table who isn’t…what does that say about this industry?”

  Jessie snorts a laugh, but I can hear the note of sadness buried under the dismissal.

  “It says what people like me have known for a long time; that Hollywood – the world, even – isn’t fair.” Her voice trails off, and I can sense I’ve hit a nerve.

  “Maybe so. But you’re great at what you do, and you deserve better than where you’re at, and someday it’s all gonna work out, Jessie. I know it. It’s my job to know these things.”

  She hides behind her hair a little, suddenly shy. “That’s just the drink talking.”

  “No. No it isn’t. If I was sober I might not be saying it – but I’d still be thinking it.”

  We follow the path a little longer as it brings us back towards the pool, tucked around the corner from the dining table, which is now empty. The last waiters are wiping down the wine stains and heading inside.

  Jessie stops and looks up at the stars, smiling. I gaze at the softness of her throat, the feminine arc of her shoulders, suddenly experiencing the wooziness of the alcohol once again.

  “It’s such a pretty night,” she says wistfully.

  “You want to stay out a little longer?”

  Jessie looks at me. “I want to go for a swim.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  It’s the kind of spontaneous suggestion Jessie used to make all the time when we were kids. I immediately feel like I’m a teenager again, being dragging into trouble by Jessie’s sense of adventure. But just like I used to back then, I’m only pretending that I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into a little mischief.

  I look around casually. “So go ahead. I’ll watch.”

  “No. You get in first,” Jessie says, already tugging her skirt down, and the only thing stopping me from studying her body is the fact that she’s looking at me just as intensely.

  “No. I’m not swimming. The water’s probably freezing.”

  Jessie grins mischievously as she pulls off her top and I fail to keep my eyes away from her breasts.

  “Don’t be a baby, Nate. Are you still a terrible swimmer?”

  “What? I’ve never been a terrible swimmer.”

  “Sure you were. You have four and a half years on me, Nate, and I could still always outswim you. Even when we were kids.�
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  “Ha! I’ve heard of alcohol making you forget things – but I didn’t think it caused you to make shit up.”

  “Come on, Nate! You remember. I’d challenge you to catch me before I reached the other side of the pool. And you never did.”

  I snort. “You challenged me once, and I definitely did catch you.”

  Jessie backs away towards the edge of the pool, looking undeniably luscious in her matching lace bra and panties. “Prove it. I dare you.”

  It’s the magic word. The word that got me into a lot of bad situations – and just as many great ones. A word that, for whatever reason, stokes a kind of pride in me that makes me puff out my chest. Maybe it was never actually the word, but just the way she said it. Either way, she knows she’s got me.

  She turns gracefully and dives so elegantly into the water she barely makes a splash. In the split-second that she’s in the air, all the reasons I shouldn’t dive in after her flash through my mind: The fact that I’m half drunk. The fact that I’d ruin thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes. The fact that we’re at a retreat filled with professionals who could make or break my career. And mostly, the fact that I’ve been dangerously attracted to this woman since we got here.

  But all those reasons disappear the second I think them. Jessie knows I can’t resist a dare – I never could. Off go my shoes, socks, shirt and finally pants until I’m standing in my boxer-briefs with my pulse pounding in my ears. When I look across the pool, I see Jessie watching me, her nearly naked body silhouetted by the underwater lights, and our eyes lock for a single electric moment. Kyle’s text earlier flashes through my mind like a warning sign, and I feel myself wavering.

  “Do it,” Jessie coaxes, her voice a mixture of challenging and enticing.

  That decides it.

  I take a run-up of a couple of strides and fly into the water. It’s warm and soft, and I lash through it, hearing Jessie’s laughter mix with the splashing of water. I glance up and see how far ahead she is, before submerging my head and swimming powerfully to catch up.

  I grab her waist just before she reaches the other end, spinning her around and pressing her back against the side of the pool. My arms cling to the edge of it around her head, our faces inches from each as we smile and pant.