When I saw them both to the door, making sure the Uber driver I had requested for them was waiting downstairs, I was ready for a nap. The activities that had just transpired in the living room area of my condo had definitely drained me and I was ready for a quick snack and some shut eye. Serita hugged me briefly before slipping out the doorway with Lena on her heels. I patted Lena’s ass as she passed me, eliciting a playful look over her shoulder as she hurried after her friend. Shutting the door securely behind them, I fastened the deadbolt and security chain before wandering into the kitchen.
That’s how it had been for me for years. Women practically threw themselves at me ever since I became the top model for Threads. My agent had worked diligently to pitch me to the Director, Ms. Regina Schultz and, after meeting with the Executive Team several times, I was hired on full-time. It was a coveted spot, to be the cover model for that particular magazine and since I had practically waltzed in and taken it over, ahead of a number of others who had clamored their way up from the trenches, I was not the most popular with the other models. No matter though, I had quickly become the most talked about model in the fashion world and it definitely came with its perks.
It wasn’t always that way. Not too long ago, before I was discovered working at the local shopping mall at a kiosk that peddled personalized license plate frames, I was just an everyday Joe. I always had above-average looks and now that I was disciplined enough to maintain the physique necessary to be a cover model, I was top drawer. Salley Chase, my agent and very close friend now, ushered me into a world where I was the one everyone wanted. Nowadays, if you could land Reighn Abrams for your photoshoot, you were golden, and that thought made me swell with pride.
I cracked the refrigerator door open and peered inside. Nothing struck my fancy as I scanned the shelves that were packed with every kind of food imaginable. Sometimes, when you have everything, you don’t want what you have. That was quickly becoming my mantra. I sighed out loud to my now empty condo, the lingering smell of hot sex still hung in the air which brought a slight smile to my lips. Shutting the refrigerator again, I decided to order out for delivery. With the advent of Grub Hub, I could have anything in the City delivered to my doorstep for a small fee. Whoever came up with that was pure genius. I wish I had thought of some of the things that grew big fast, but that wasn’t really my forte. My job in this world is to look fabulous and that is exactly what I did.
My cell phone still rested on the end table next to the overstuffed chair where the party with my guests began. I retrieved it and flipped it over, pressing the screen to bring it to life. I kicked myself for a moment for not recording any of my latest session for later. That was some seriously hot shit, and all I had to show for it was my memories. Sometimes I snapped a quick photo or recorded a brief video just to remind myself of good times later, with the women’s permission of course. The scene with Lena and Serita had escalated so quickly, I had become quite distracted and forgotten to ask, let alone do so. At least I could check something off my bucket list: sex with a hot black chick.
Scrolling through a few pages of cell phone applications, I located the Grub Hub icon and pressed it. I cruised the selection of restaurants within a reasonable distance and made my selection. I was starving and did not want to wait forever to have something delivered, or I would have opted for The Hat. After the energy I just expended, I could use some hearty pastrami on sourdough with a side of gravy fries. Instead, I opted for an Italian Bistro just down at the end of my block. It was famous for its meatball sandwiches and that sounded like it would definitely hit the spot. I plucked away at the buttons, putting in my order, my identifying information and indicated which credit card on file I wanted to use. My Platinum American Express with no limit, of course. I pressed the order button and waited until my confirmation text came in before putting the phone back down.
As I waited for my meal to arrive, my mind wandered back to a time when I was nothing more than that guy that tried to sell you his wares from a cart in the center of the mall. Not quite twenty years old at the time, I was just minding my own business and going through the motions of my life. I almost laughed out loud as I recalled the day that Salley Chase had spotted me, a rose amongst the weeds, and rescued me from mediocracy. Since that time, just about three years ago, I had been elevated to gold star status in a hurry and now, everyone was clamoring to be me, meet me. Paparazzi practically stalked my every move, even if it was to just see me walking down the streets of Beverly Hills with my latest female companion. It was a dream world, and no one suited it better than me.
I was the end all, be all, and I was definitely not humble about it. Flashing my money and my style all over Southern California so that no one could ever mistake my place in that world. Sometimes, the struggle to enter a building, a million flashbulbs blinding me as I rushed through the gathered masses became irritating, but it came with the territory and I would never disregard my public. My agent worked hard at protecting my image and toiled endlessly to cover up the affairs I had with several, married women who happened to be the wives of some famous person or highly regarded political official. It my fault, they wanted a piece of Reighn, even if it was only to brag to their jealous girlfriends later, because I was completely on board. As far as the married women were concerned, that was not my fault. If their husbands were not so busy shoving their noses up the asses of the latest and most powerful constituents or running after a hot piece of young tail themselves, I may not have ever been invited into their bed in their absence. But then again, maybe none of that mattered.
When the door buzzed inside my condo, the high-pitched sound echoed off the walls, causing me to jump slightly. I walked toward the door and glanced through the peephole. A short, squatty man that looked to be in his late-twenties, perhaps even early-thirties, stood on the other side, a bright red insulated bag with the words “Grub Hub” stenciled in bold, white letters across the front. I check my pocket to make sure I had remembered my wallet before unfastening the door and turning the knob. As the door swung inward, the gentleman’s gaze met mine and his eyes became wide as saucers.
“Mr. Abrams?” He was caught off guard, perhaps by the sudden realization of who he was delivering to. I nodded in agreement and fished two crisp twenties out of my wallet as I waited for him to open the bag he held and retrieve my food. He handed me a white, paper bag with the logo to the restaurant on the front and took the money from my hand. I waived my hand in his direction as he started to dig for my change, indicating for him to keep it. “Thank you, and you have a wonderful day,” he was obviously star-struck as he stumbled backward, nearly falling to the floor before turning and heading down the hallway away from my door.
The food smelled heavenly as I tore into the bag and pulled the meatball sandwich from inside. They had included extra marinara as I had requested, along with a handful of pepperoncini peppers. I found my way into the dining room and sat at the head of a long, dark-wood table. My stomach rumbled loudly to the empty room as I unwrapped the sub and shoved one end into my mouth. The taste of home-made tomato sauce with fresh basil and oregano filled my senses. I consumed my meal in a few minutes and chased it down with a cold beer I had retrieved from the refrigerator. Finally satisfied, I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my belly, enjoying the warm sensation that food always brought after a hearty meal.
As I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling later that night, I recalled the days events in vivid detail. Sure, ultimately my life was lonely, I had no one to share it with on a day-to-day basis, but I had it all. Money, fame, good looks. Who wouldn’t want to be me? I was that guy, the rags-to-riches story to end all stories. Coming from humble beginnings, the son of single mother who waited tables in a local coffee shop by day and twirled on a tall, brass pole at night to keep the lights and heat on, you would think I remembered that and kept it real. I didn’t and why should I? To have it all, to be it all, that was everyone’s dream and I was living it. Every woman I ev
er met fell all over themselves to get into my bed and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 3
Jessica
It was my first day and I was more than nervous. Everyone knows that your first day on the job really means you will be filling out a million pages of Human Resources paperwork, maybe getting a quick tour of the immediate area that you will be working in, but I didn’t care, I was beyond ecstatic. I stood directly in front of the tall building just staring at it, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples. Downtown Los Angeles seemed brighter than usual that day, the sun bathing me in its glorious light as I contemplated the situation I was how happily faced with. Bright rays twinkled off the glass as the sun beat down on the city below.
I made Courtney answer the phone when she called, afraid of what the caller would say on the other end. The caller ID had informed me that someone from Threads, Inc. was trying to reach me, and I just couldn’t answer it. The fear that I would sound like a bumbling idiot consumed me as I refused to pick up the phone, pushing it back toward her, begging with my eyes for her to do it. If they were rejecting me outright, they probably would not have called, but you never know. Some companies are super adamant about contacting each and every employee candidate to advise them of their status. It was surely the reason they were calling, and I did not want to immediately be on the receiving end of bad news.
Courtney pressed the button to answer and held the phone up to her ear. She smiled at me as she greeted the caller and listened for a moment for confirmation of who it was. My best friend uttered a few acknowledgements as she looked up at me. Nodding her head, I always thought is was funny that people did that while talking on the phone, as if the caller could see you doing so, she regarded me with a shit-eating grin. Instead of taking a message and hanging up, like I had hoped she would, Courtney told the caller to hang on for one moment and pushed the phone in my direction.
“Trust me, Jess. You definitely want to take this call,” she smiled at me, covering the mouthpiece with her hand so it would muffle what she said to the person on the other end. My hand was shaking as I gingerly took the phone from her hand, took a deep cleansing breath, and put the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?” I felt like a fool for pretending like I didn’t know who it was, but I maintained the façade long enough to allow the caller to identify themselves.
“Hello? Ms. Jessica Goldstein?” the caller stopped and allowed me to confirm that she was in fact speaking to the person she called for, “my name is Lisette Conrad. I am calling from the Human Resources Department at Threads, the magazine that you applied for an internship at a few weeks ago.” She paused and waited for me to acknowledge.
“Oh, yes. How can I help you, Ms. Conrad?” I pretended not to know that a call from human resources was a genuine thrill. It did not seem as though she were calling to give me bad news, or I felt she would have done it already, landing her crushing blow before moving on to the next unfortunate reject. Instead, her tone informed me there was something more.
“Well, Ms. Goldstein, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected for one of the positions. In fact, Ms. Regina Schultz has hand-picked you for the internship available under her direction. That is definitely a big deal and I must congratulate you. You must have made quite an impression on her as she argued with the others for several days, insisting that you were the one,” I could barely hear her voice over my own heartbeat. I knew what she was telling me was absolutely wonderful, but I was still in shock over the news and trying to process everything.
“Hello, did I lose you?” I heard her say finally, breaking me free from my imprisoning thoughts. I shook my head quickly and prepared my response.
“That is great news!” I could have kicked myself right then for sounding overly enthusiastic. Instead, I took a quick breath and allowed her to continue.
“I need you to come see me tomorrow to complete some paperwork. Just a few quick forms for the records and then I can give you a tour. You will officially start on the first of the month, it keeps the pay periods cleaner that way, but we would like to get started right away since that is only a couple of short weeks away,” her tone was elating. I was on cloud nine. I could not believe my ears but knew that she was sincere as she rattled off an appointment time and which department I should tell security I was heading to when I arrived. They would guide me to the “Talent Acquisitions Team,” which I knew was just a fancy term for Human Resources, but it was Threads and they set the bar for the rest, so they could call it whatever they liked.
“I will be there, with bells on,” I slapped my hand over my mouth. That cheesy saying had leaked out before I could stop myself. I pictured Lisette Conrad rolling her eyes at my attempted humor on the other end.
“Alright then,” Lisette moved on quickly, dispelling the awkward silence that threatened to consume us both, “I will make sure you are on the arrival list. See you at nine o’clock sharp,” she finished speaking and waited for me to acknowledge before thanking me for my time and abruptly ending the call.
I stood in the middle of my tiny apartment as waves of emotion crashed into me. Courtney stood staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to shed some light on the situation. When I finally managed to speak and tell her the good news, she shrieked out loud and pulled me into her embrace before jumping up and down with excitement. I joined her as tears of happiness made their way down my cheeks. My lifelong dream was about to come true and I couldn’t have been happier that she was there to share it with.
It was a strategic decision to call my mother and brag next. She had squashed my dreams all my life, never giving a thought to the idea that I would someday prove myself worthy and join the ranks at the magazine I worshipped. It rang several times with no answer. I assumed she was busy chastising husband number four or shopping the day away, too busy to answer her own daughter. About to hang up, I heard the sound of the tell-tale click when a call was connected.
“Jessica? Is everything alright?” My mother’s voice grated on my nerves. She assumed something was wrong because, let’s face it, there was always something wrong. It was my turn to shine however, and to let her know that things were definitely about to change.
“Hello to you too, mother,” I knew I sounded a little irritated, but who wouldn’t be. Her assumptions of why I was calling agitated me as I tried to stuff the raw emotions back down inside where they belonged.
“Well, you know. You only ever call me when some sort of tragedy has struck,” Ruth Goldstein had a point, but I was still a little put off that she jumped to that conclusion right away. My mother always came to my rescue, she had taken on the role of my protector and defender with the exception of when I got into college. It was at that point she forced me to do things on my own, to stand on my own two feet, and I had become a better and stronger person for it. At least to the best of my abilities. I knew she would never be satisfied with my efforts, but I was about to lower the gauntlet and prove to her that my “time-wasting” hobby of writing was about to pay off, big time.
“Acknowledged,” I said with the sourest tone I could muster up, “but this time, I have something awesome to tell you,” I stopped and waited for her to respond. When she didn’t speak right away, I continued, “do you remember me telling you about the internship at that fashion magazine a few weeks ago? Do you remember that I had gotten an interview and met the Director, Regina Schultz herself? Well, guess what?”
“What is it, Jessica? Just tell me and stop beating around the bush. I have a number of things to get done today and sitting talking to you on the telephone is working against my timeline,” her voice sounded serious, like I had interrupted her doing the most vital thing possible, so I promptly continued.
“I got it! Mom, I got it!” I could not think of anything else to say. I was practically yelling into the phone. In the back of my mind, I could here the sarcastic part of me mocking her: nanny nanny boo boo, stick your head in
doo doo. I had worked hard, fought hard and was finally being rewarded for all my efforts with the most awesome thing possible. Now all I had to do was make my presence at Threads something that they would not regret so they would move me up the chain into a more permanent position and I would have fulfilled my every heart’s desire. All no thanks to her, of course.
“Well, Jessica, that is wonderful news! You have finally done something I can actually be proud of, I am so happy for you,” in the midst of my inner celebration, my mother had reached out and burst my happy bubble. Sure, she admitted she was happy for me, but what in the hell was that comment. I can actually be proud of? Was she freaking serious.
My cheeks flushed and grew increasingly hotter. I was subjected to an intense rush of adrenaline that had me stumbling to catch myself before I exploded on her. Jessica Goldstein was always the bigger man, so I did my best to gain control of my surging emotions before I said a word. As I breathed slowly in through my mouth, Courtney tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. She did not say a word, only stared directly into my eyes. It was her way of showing her support for me and to remind me who I was talking to. Even if she was the rudest, coldest shrew around, she was my mother and Courtney was a stickler for the old honor thy father and mother deal. She herself had been subjected to the onslaught of less-than-supportive parents, hell her father was never around, and her mother was always so depressed she kept herself locked into her room, but that never deterred her from what she felt was right.
“Thank you, Mother,” was all I could muster without saying anything horrible to her. It was just her way, hypercritical as always, and she had been that way my entire life. Nothing I did ever made her proud enough to utter compliments, so that was at least something. Her snarky remarks I could have done without, but I would take it and revel in the idea that after all the countless hours lusting after the dream job that was now just within reach.
Make it Reighn (A Threads Inc. Saga Book 1) Page 3
