F*CKER

by Amo Jones

  “Bryliegh!” one of the paparazzi who were standing at the door shouted to me.

  “Bryliegh, are things over with you and Ryker Oakley?” another one added, and my body stilled. They were taking photos of me? Not of Jake?

  I looked back at Indie, who looked at Dominic.

  “Ohhh, yes,” Jake said, clicking his fingers together in recognition. “You’re that girl.”

  “What girl? I’m not a ‘that girl’ kinda girl.”

  Jake stepped up beside me, dropping his arm over my shoulders. I stepped back, eyeing him skeptically. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Indie smiled, slipping beside Dominic, when Jake pulled me up against his body again. “Just go with it. I can get you out of here, okay?” he whispered into my ear, while my eyes stayed glued on the paparazzi, whose snapping of photos had intensified immensely since Jake placed his arm over me.

  I nodded, smiling up at him, catching the sincerity of his glare. “Okay. Thanks.”

  My shoulders relaxed into him as he led us out the front doors with a bodyguard guiding us. The paparazzi were shoving each other forcefully to get a picture, and I couldn’t believe this was all because of mine and Ryker’s relationship.

  The bodyguard paused just short of the limo. “Back the fuck up.”

  “Bryleigh?”

  “Bryleigh, is it true you wanted Ryker to kill your fiancé?”

  “Bryleigh, are the pregnancy rumors true?”

  What the fuck?

  “Just ignore them,” Jake said into my ear, as we continued to shuffle through the annoying fucking voices. Jake pulled me into him again and I wrapped my arm around his lower back to get a better grip. The alcohol was swimming in my bloodstream, the music still blaring out from the nightclub filling the bright Friday night, and the paparazzi flashing their cameras only added to the craziness. I needed to get out of here fast.

  The bodyguard swung open the limo door and I slid in first. I watched as Jake slipped in after me, but he tripped and fell on top of me, his chest pressing against my boobs. In my drunk state, I laughed hard, not knowing the window I was supposed to be sitting beside was down slightly. A paparazzo popped into the gap of the window and snapped a picture of us both laughing with Jake’s body on top of mine.

  He shot up quickly and took a seat next to me as Indie and Dominic pilled in behind him.

  “Shit, B, Ryker’s going to see that,” Indie said, pulling out a bottle of G.H. Mumm from the mini fridge.

  I shrugged. “Not sure I care.”

  “What happened?” she asked, pouring us both a glass as Dominic watched her closely and Jake kept his eyes on me. It was a little weird, but I didn’t get creepy vibes from Jake, which was surprising, because the way the media portrayed him to be was the ultimate playboy, all with his massive empire, and an army of blondes that would follow his every step to match. Jake was young, only twenty-five, and he’d already accomplished all of this. Some say he owned Hollywood, yet others would say he slayed Hollywood. Based on the photos I’d seen of him circulating with A-list celebrities, I’d have to go with the latter.

  I took the glass from her and relaxed into the seat, with Jake’s arm sprawled out over the top of my chair. He looked good, sporting a crisp white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves and loose but tidy jeans, adding to his age. His hair was dark and sat styled perfectly on the top of his head. His eyes were a dark brown that reminded me of a steamy cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter morning, soft yet comforting—until he smiled. His smile was filled with cocky self-assurance. Jake Abrahams was a little more than hot. My cheeks flushed, so I raised my glass to my lips and took a long drink.

  “I went to tell him I was going to work through my shit with him. Only I caught him with the same girl he was with at the wedding, swapping spit,” I answered calmly, taking another drink and crossing my legs.

  Jake’s hand dropped over my shoulder. “Who was he with?”

  I looked up to him before looking back to Indie. “I don’t know. I think she’s a model.”

  “She is,” Indie began, while looking through her phone. She passed it to Jake, whose hand was already out waiting, and again, I took another nervous drink.

  Dominic smiled at me. “Westbeach, huh? That town has become a bit crazy lately.”

  Jake laughed from beside me. “Ahhh, Alyona Shayk,” he chuckled, handing Indie’s phone back to her. “She’s Russian and, well, she’s Aly Shayk. But she has nothing on you. I wouldn’t sweat it.”

  I almost choked on my drink. Clearing my throat, I said, “Please don’t.”

  “Please don’t—what?” he asked, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

  “Don’t attempt to flatter me through pity. I know you’re bullshitting. Not fishing for compliments, just saying. Anyway, I found that happening and left them to it.”

  Jake’s thumb started to circle on my shoulder and my body tensed. I weighed up what I was doing, what he might be thinking based on me being here, and none looked good. I needed to be single, for a very long time.

  “Well,” Indie started, settling in close to Dominic, and I watched at how his arm relaxed around her shoulders comfortably. There was definitely more to what these two were doing. They were far too comfortable around each other. “His loss. Let’s just drink more.”

  I shrugged, and we all lifted our glasses in the air to cheers, and when Indie’s phone slipped from her hand and she bent over to pick it up off the ground, Dominic slapped her on the ass, gripping his hands around her hips, and pulled her body down on top of him. I shook my head with a laugh while their tongues got acquainted with each other.

  “You okay?” Jake asked, taking a drink of his champagne, but not taking his eyes off mine.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I will be.” The radio started playing Avril Lavigne’s “My Happy Ending,” and Indie and I looked at each other in surprise and burst out laughing at how appropriate the song was, so we both screeched out the lyrics. Indie pulled out her phone and slid it into video mode. When the chorus came on, I looked into her camera and sang out each lyric fiercely—hand signals and all—before laughing and falling back into Jake’s lap. It was safe to say I was thoroughly drunk.

  His arm wrapped around my back as his other wrapped around my legs and he propped them up so I was in a cradled baby position on his lap.

  “Relax,” he whispered into my ear, his thumb circling my bare thigh. The thumping of my blood pounded through my ears.

  I looked up at him, resting my head on his shoulder. A shoulder that wasn’t as big as Ryker’s.

  Ryker.

  Nope, not going there. He’s probably having sex with the Russian beauty now anyway.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” I asked, my eyes dropping to his lips, the neon lights that lined the inside of the limo ripping into my peripheral vision.

  He licked his lips, my eyes following the movement. “Only if you want me to.”

  “A man that waits for permission? Hmmm, maybe you’re not my type,” I said, a smirk matching his.

  His hand wrapped around the back of my neck as he pulled my face to his. His lips pressed against mine and I opened, allowing his tongue to dart into my mouth, intensifying the kiss. I’m a mess. There were a hundred things going on in my life right now. I probably don’t have a job anymore, but I still needed to tie up loose ends at the hospital. Then there was Ryker’s trial. I was thinking about all this while Jake Abrahams was playing tonsil hockey with me in the back of a limo. That wasn’t a good sign. I pulled away slightly and looked into his now dark and hungry eyes.

  “Damn,” Indie whispered, and I stilled. She pushed her phone back into her pocket. “That was hot.”

  “Indie… did you video that whole thing?”

  “No, that would be pervy.”

  “Exactly, so I’ll ask you again…”

  “Maybe?” she answered sheepishly.

  I sighed, shaking my head. “Sorry about her.”

  Jake laughed, fi
nishing his drink. “No need to apologize.”

  We did a couple more laps around before I asked them to drop us off at Indie’s. As much as she argued with me through silent glares, I managed to drag her into her apartment, after Jake and I switched numbers.

  Shutting her front door, I sighed, banging the back of my head against it dramatically. “Indie,” I said, watching as she removed her shoes and flung them into the living room that sat to the left as soon as you walked in the front door, with the open plan kitchen sitting beside it. Her apartment was more like a townhouse that was built back in the twenties, I was guessing. It was beautiful. She worked hard to keep it, but she also had a roommate that stayed with her, Connor, who was apparently back from snowboarding in Aspen.

  “Yes?” she hollered innocently from the kitchen. I pushed off the door and made my way onto one of the barstools. She shut the fridge door and twisted the cap of her water.

  “Did you upload that video anywhere?” I asked sweetly.

  Her eyes drifted to the living room. “God, no, why would you think I’d do that?” she mocked.

  “Indie!” I scolded, pushing off the stool. “Where?”

  “Where what?” she asked, putting the water back in the fridge and taking out some old pizza that was sitting in there.

  “Don’t play dumb. Where did you put the video?”

  She took an overly large bite of the pizza, looking at me innocently. “Faybo,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, so I didn’t quite catch it right.

  “What?”

  She shoved more pizza into her mouth so it was full. “Facebook,” she yelled around the pizza, and smiled.

  My head swam as I flopped back onto the stool, my hand coming up to cover my face.

  “Stop eating my pizza,” Connor grumbled, walking into the kitchen, with his ash blond hair standing messy all over his head.

  “Sorry, Connor. Did we wake you?” I asked, bringing my eyes up to him. Jesus Christ, all hot men needed to evacuate my line of vision; it was beginning to be too much.

  “Yeah, it’s no problem though.” He bent down and placed a kiss on the top of my head, his abs and the V lining down under his grey baggy sweatpants tensing two inches from my face.

  “Jesus Christ, Connor. Put some clothes on,” I whispered, in a pervy haze.

  Indie laughed. “You kissed Jake tonight. I’m sure Connor could keep your bed nice and warm.”

  Connor froze before walking toward Indie and snatching the pizza from her, biting down on it inches away from her face and shrugging while keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Maybe.”

  I could cut the sexual tension between the two of them in half.

  He walked back out the kitchen and threw up deuces. “Night, ladies.”

  Once he left, I looked back at Indie. “Is there anyone that you’re not having sexual intercourse with, my favorite whore?”

  She laughed. “I’m not fucking Connor.”

  “Try again.”

  “I fucked him once.”

  “Much better. What happened?” I asked, taking the pizza out of her hand and taking a bite.

  “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done it. He’s a manwhore. I knew he would be a good lay and I was drunk, so it just happened. Now it’s awkward. A little.”

  “You don’t say. So he likes you, but you don’t feel the same?”

  “I don’t know. Connor has never liked anyone. I shouldn’t have slept with him. I was weak, but in my defense, look at him!”

  I nodded in understanding, shoving the last bit of pizza into my mouth. “Word.”

  “Anyway,” she said, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. “He says he just wants sex. But I’m not sure if that’s all he wants. I see it in his eyes. He’s never looked at a girl like that before.”

  “And you don’t want him like that? Jesus, Indie. He could be really good for you. He has a good job and all that. He’d keep you out of trouble.”

  “He’d keep me bored.”

  This was true. As much as I’d love Indie to get with someone like Connor, I knew he didn’t have the right equipment to keep her entertained enough.

  We both laughed until it died out and she sighed. “Bry, Ryker is a fucker. We’ve known that for years. He needs to know what it feels like to lose you, okay?”

  “He knows, Indie.”

  “No, he doesn’t know what it feels like to see you with someone else like you’ve had to with him for so many years. He loves you, yes?”

  “He told me that,” I answered, the tears surfacing behind my eyes. “He told me he loved me when he chased me.”

  “And?” she asked, placing her hand on top of mine.

  “And I told him that he doesn’t get to say that to me. I feel awful. I miss him. There’s this huge, gaping hole that’s missing inside me. This is what he does to me, Indie. He makes me crazy. Our love is toxic but euphoric, it’s addictive yet consuming, and that will never change. But I’m getting tired of it. I spent so many years with Todd. I want freedom for a while.”

  She nodded. “I understand. You know what’s best. You always have.”

  I smiled, agreeing with her. After that, we dragged our asses upstairs, where I jumped into bed with Indie. Until I sorted out what I was doing, I’d stay here. Closing my eyes, I hoped I didn’t wake up to a hundred text messages from Ryker. But what happened—was much worse.

  I jumped up to the pull-up bar, gripping tightly before pumping myself up over my chin. The large LCD television that hung on the wall of my home gym was on some Hollywood channel, though I couldn’t hear it, because my headphones were plugged into my ears, blasting Five Finger Death Punch’s “Jekyll and Hyde.” The sweat dripped off my forehead after each lift. Thinking about Bryleigh and what happened only amped up my endorphin high.

  It was two nights ago, and my fucking chest still ached for her. She read into the whole thing wrong, but in good Bryleigh fashion, she ran. It didn’t matter where she ended up though; she belonged with me and she’d see it soon enough. Until then, I needed to get a handle on my feelings for her. I thought about hitting up one of the many thirsty women I had on my phone, to see if that would work to get her off my mind. But since our reconciliation, the thought of sticking my dick into anything but Bryleigh didn’t give me any amount of pleasure.

  I looked up to the television while I twisted the cap off my water bottle. A video of Bryleigh in Jake Abrahams’ arms came on with them leaving Silk. I ripped out my headphones just as Phoebe swung open the gym doors. My eyes stayed on the screen, my heart pounding in my chest and my breathing reaching shallow depths.

  “Ryker?” Phoebe whispered from behind me. I swung my hand up, silencing her, while reaching for the remote and turning the volume up.

  “Bryleigh Monroe was seen leaving Silk nightclub with none other than Hollywood’s favorite playboy, Jake Abrahams, the young music producer from Calabasas.”

  “Not just that though, Tiffany. In this shot here, you can see just how acquainted they are,” Bradley Adams from E! News announced, bringing up a shot of Jake on top of Bryleigh in the back of their limo, with them both in fits of laughter. Swinging my hand back, I launched the remote toward the TV, a loud smash sounding through the air. My feet started pacing and my hands flung up to my hair, where I tugged at it in frustration. Phoebe stayed silent beside me. Smart move.

  “Vicky’s fucking brother, Phoebe?” I whispered, closing my eyes briefly before they blazed open on her. “Her fucking brother!”

  “Ryker, calm down. Let me speak to them both. I know Jake.”

  “I’ll kill him, Phoebe. I don’t even care that he’s family.”

  “Ryker, calm the fuck down. You need to sit.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head, flinging the towel back over my shoulder. “I need answers, and I need them right fucking now.” I walked toward the door, and Phoebe’s little body shot out in front of me, stopping my leaving.

  “Ryker, you cannot just go around starting fights over this gi
rl.”

  “Really, Phoebs? You’re really going to tell me not to be protective over the one girl I have ever been in love with? You? Someone who should understand this side of every man?”

  Her shoulders sagged and she placed her hand over my chest. My breathing evened out a little at the gesture. “What if I’ve lost my next chance with her, all over some shit she thinks she knows but doesn’t? I’d lose her over false accusations, and I can’t live with that.”

  “Ryker, I think she just needs time. Can you just let me call her? You can stay in the room.”

  I eyed her and could see how much she wanted me to go with it. “Fine,” I said, pulling the door open behind her. “But the minute I find out something happened, I’m going straight to JA Records.” I walked through the door, with Phoebe following close beside me. “He brings out shit talent anyway.”

  Phoebe laughed, wrapping her arm around my waist and resting her head on my arm. “It was probably nothing.”

  I lifted my arm, pulling her into me. “Better hope so, for his sake. Don’t wanna end up back in jail,” I said, with a smirk, and she shook her head.

  “You can’t, Ryker, for the love of God. When do you start your anger management classes? I feel like we need to get on that ASAP.”

  I rolled my eyes, pulling the fridge open in the kitchen and taking out a cold bottle of water. I pointed to the stool and twisted the cap off. “Sit. Call her.”

  “All right, all right, bossy.”

  She pulled out her phone from her pocket and unlocked it. I took a large drink of water, hoping the chill of it would calm my nerves from the inside out. Her fingers paused, her face turning pale before she shoved her phone back into her pocket. “You know what?” she said, with a fake smile, standing from the breakfast island. “How about I just start with calling her alone first?”

  “Phoebe,” I growled.

  “No, she just might not tell me everything if she thinks you’re here,” she answered nervously, but couldn’t meet my eyes.

  “So lie.”

  “I can’t, Ryker. I’ll break girl code.”

  “What about our code?! We had a code first, traitor.”