Something Wicked

by Teresa Mummert

  “Thank you for taking the time to do this interview,” She cleared her throat and straightened her spine to appear more professional. My gaze fell to her damp tits, the golden fabric clinging to her chest. The air conditioning mixed with the wet material caused her nipples to harden. It was distracting to say the least. But what I wanted from Gabriela wasn’t a quick fuck. I wanted to take my time with her.

  She cleared her throat again and my eyes snapped to hers. She was glaring at me but even in the dark I could see she was flushed after catching me staring at her body.

  “I don’t have much time, Gabriela.” I sat back in the seat, stretching out my long legs.

  “Right. Of course. How do you chose your rolls?”

  “An exclusive interview and you ask me the most basic, boring questions.” I glanced at her as I shook my head in mock disapproval. “I expected so much more from you, Ms. Slone.”

  Her eyes narrowed fractionally, but she didn’t miss a beat. “I expected more from you in this role. Your character was dull, egotistical and rude. Dare I say, you didn’t bother acting at all?” Her eyebrow shot up. I chuckled before twisting my body, a hand coming down on either side of her to cage her in.

  “Yes... say what you’re really feeling. I dare you. I’ll do the same.” My gaze dipped momentarily. I couldn’t help myself.

  Shock had washed over her face before it turned to anger. Placing her small palms on my chest she shoved me back from her and I let her. I didn’t want to force Gabriela to do anything. I just wanted to make her squirm. Since I began acting, women became all too eager to spread their legs for me without hesitation. It was pathetic. But none of them was willing to give me what I really wanted. I enjoyed a challenge.

  “I feel like I am wasting my time. Please pull over so I can get out,” She called loudly but the partition between us and the driver was up and he wouldn’t take orders from her. That’s not how this game works. “I have to get back home so I can prepare my anniversary dinner.”

  “You’re really horrible at your job, you know that?”

  “That makes two of us,” She shot back and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  I pressed the button on the control panel beside me so I could speak to the driver. “Levi, please take us back to the club so Miss Slone can retrieve her vehicle. She is no longer amused by my antics.”

  Levi chuckled and said alright. The car fell silent as we circled our way back to the venue and I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she was gone.

  I could see she was torn by the expression on her face. Gabriela was young, perhaps early twenties. She had dreams but no idea how she was going to accomplish them. She was the type of person who would rather blame the world for her shortcomings then think of a rational solution. She was just as frustrating as Levi. It was disappointing. But there was a fire to her that pulled me in.

  “What question should I have asked?”

  “I’m sorry?” I turned to look at her as she fidgeted with her hands in her lap. I felt the car pull to a stop, but her eyes stayed trained on me, waiting for an answer. Perhaps she wasn’t like Levi at all. Under her feisty attitude, she was eager to learn, willing to listen.

  “You said my question was dull. What would you have asked?”

  I leaned in, my elbows on my knees. “First, I would wonder why I didn’t second guess getting into a car with a stranger. No sense of self-preservation?”

  She leaned forward as well, mimicking my posture. “Maybe I don’t find you nearly as threatening as you like to think you are.”

  “Fair enough. I’m as harmless as a kitten. You have me all figured out.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t know how to come back to me agreeing with her. Instead, she leaned back in her seat.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She hesitated before nodding.

  “Why don’t you like me?”

  “Does it hurt your feelings?” She smirked feeling like she’d gained the upper hand.

  “If I had any, I’m sure they would be aching with a loss right now. No. But with everyone in that room ready to worship at my feet, why is it that you have nothing but contempt for me?” How did this person, who’d somehow stumbled into journalism without the first clue as to what she was doing, manage to see a warning sign for me that no one else had? Everyone knew I was an asshole, but most assumed it was because I could afford to be. Gabriela pulled my number from the moment she laid eyes on me, but her she sat, alone with me regardless.

  “I reserve my worship for God.”

  “You’re lying and you didn’t answer my question.” My eyes drifted to her necklace. No God fearing woman would wear that medallion around her neck and forgo the cross, but I had a feeling both articles of jewelry were mere decoration to her. It was odd given the apparently cheap material of her clothing that her appearance wasn’t that important to her. So why the jewelry at all?

  “This is feeling more like an interrogation than an interview. I guess that makes two of us going home without any answers.”

  “I chose my roles based on the pay. It always comes down to money.”

  “Not a very interesting answer.” Folding her arms across her chest she sighed as if annoyed by the direction of the conversation but I could tell the movement was more about putting a wall between us. She didn’t argue when I called her a liar, but she didn’t want to speak on it further.

  “I told you it was boring. Now answer my question.”

  “You’re a good actor.”

  “Thank you. I was under the impression you didn’t like my films.”

  “Your films are shit. I meant you’re a good actor in the public eye. Anyone else famous in that room wanted to make sure they were seen. Their eyes lit up when someone looked their way and showed them any sort of attention. Not you though. You looked... agitated when anyone tried to engage you.”

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “What happened?” Her arms fell to her lap. I had piqued her curiosity.

  “You mean besides you calling me an asshole?” I cocked my eyebrow as she laughed nervously, breaking eye contact.

  “Like you really care about what anyone thinks of you.” But I could see the regret as she chewed on her lip. She had screwed up and she was worried what it would cost her, but her pride kept her from making amends.

  “That’s it.” I smiled as her face twisted in confusion.

  “What?”

  “You think I don’t care what you think about me. You deemed yourself beneath me before you even showed up tonight.”

  “I am not beneath you.”

  “No. You’re not. You’re just insecure.”

  She sputtered for a moment, struggling to keep her temper at bay. It was a shame. I really wanted to see that fire in her eyes again. It was cute.

  “I am perfectly happy with myself and I don’t give a damn what any of you people think about me.”

  “Clearly.” I held up my hands as if surrendering.

  “You make no sense. You insult me and with the same breath you agree with me.”

  I narrowed my eyes, struggling not to laugh as she tried to figure me out. “You don’t give a damn about this movie, so what is it that you are really curious about?”

  “Why are you an actor if you obviously don’t like people?”

  “I told you. It’s about money.”

  “You can make money for all kinds of jobs. Why the public eye?”

  “Why are you working for a magazine you hate?”

  She swallowed, the column in her delicate neck moving, capturing my attention. “I... guess... money.” Her eyes dipped as if embarrassed that we had that in common. Maybe now, she would stop busting my balls.

  “So what is it you really want?”

  Her eyes snapped back to mine, wide as if I’d asked her to spread her legs. I fought against a smile. Gabriela hated me because of how badly she wanted to fuck me. She’s already mentioned it was her anniversary and the guilt
seemed to be eating her alive.

  “I ugh... I like books. I like to write. I meant write books.”

  I nodded, thinking that over. “What genre?” I wasn’t sure Julia had ever read a book in her life. Gabriela was a different kind of woman. She was innocent but curious, waiting for someone to come along and show her that there was more to life than her mundane existence. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

  “Romance. What would you like to do? If you weren’t an actor, I mean.” Her tongue ran over her lips causing my dick to push against my zipper. If I didn’t end this interview soon, I was going to fuck her in the back of this car with my cousin only a few feet away.

  “Have you done any research at all before coming here?”

  Her head moved back fractionally, her eyebrows pulling together. I’d offended her.

  “You grew up in Sheldonville, south of Dawson. You tell everyone you were raised in Charlotte by your grandmother who home schooled you. In reality, you were raised by your aunt, but I use the term raised lightly because it appears that she spent most of her time in and out of prison for minor drug offenses and prostitution. That left you and another minor, Levi Martin, to fend for yourselves, raised as brothers I assume. Despite all of this, you managed to keep your grades decent, even earning your way onto the honor roll in the sixth grade, but you dropped out in the tenth. Angela is currently serving three years for drug charges. Public records only show one birth certificate listing her as the mother, if you’re curious as to how I found out she wasn’t yours. She did however have a sister, Jennifer Phelps, who died when you were very young from alcohol poisioning. Her husband, Carl Phelps followed only a few months later, beaten to death in an alley over a drug deal gone bad. Public records show them having one child. Thank you for your time, Mr. Gibson.” Her jaw was clenched as she spoke, struggling to keep her tone even.

  Hitting the call button beside me, I tugged at my tie that felt more like a fucking noose. “Levi, Ms. Slone is leaving now. Please take us to her vehicle so she doesn’t have to get out in her damp clothing.”

  She fell silent, but I could see that she was trying to process the conversation. I’d barely given her anything, talking in circles so I could learn more about her. But it was her who had discovered things about my past that I’d managed to keep hidden for years.

  “Send me your manuscript.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Most writers would kill for the opportunity to have someone read their manuscript. I’d like to read yours.” Perhaps she would be careful as to what she put in her story if she knew I could help her career.

  “It’s not ready. I mean... I’m not really sure where I’m going with it.”

  “If you want me to look at it, you can e-mail it to me. I’ll send you some answers for your article in exchange.”

  “Why?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why would you want to help me?”

  The car slowed to a stop, but Gabriela was still staring at me with her mouth agape. “Say thank you, Gabriela.”

  “Um... Thanks, Mr. Gibson.”

  “It’s Drake.”

  “Right, thank you, Drake... Mister... ugh... Drake.”

  I nodded as her door was opened and light flooded the backseat, illuminating her from behind like an ethereal creature. “Levi will give you my e-mail address.” I nodded once, my fingers twitching against my clammy palm as I struggled not to reach out and take hold of her wrist to pull her back in.

  I watched her exit, the sunlight catching the gold of her dress as if she was a life-sized statue from an award show.

  I pressed the button to call the driver and told him to take me my hotel as I pulled at my tie, loosening it further. I needed to get the fuck out of here.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabriela

  I rushed home, biting my nails as I navigated the evening traffic. I needed to type out this story as quickly as possible while the details were still fresh in my mind. This was the only thing that would save my job even though I didn’t have much of anything to work with. I owed Drake for throwing me a lifeline, but I still couldn’t figure out why he would do it. Most don’t just help others out of the goodness of their heart and I was pretty certain he didn’t even possess one.

  I arrived at my apartment, calling out for Tyler with no reply. I didn’t expect him to be here, but I’d hoped that after forgetting what day it was he’d at least show up with flowers.

  I stripped myself of my sticky clothing and turned on the shower, allowing it time to warm as I wandered back out to the kitchen to play the messages on my answering machine. Tyler’s voice filled the quiet space. He was going out for drinks with some colleagues and it was imperative that he attend. He also said I shouldn’t wait up for him. I had no intention to. My day had been absolute chaos. I wanted a good book and a strong drink.

  I traipsed back to the bathroom, slipping under the warm water, and scrubbed away the sticky mess of a day. Once I’d sufficiently cleaned myself, I slid under my silky sheets with my laptop on my stomach and began to type out my article for the magazine. Liz was going to lose her fucking mind when she read the exclusive about Drake. Even with all of the fluff I could manage to shove into the story, it still didn’t contain anything gripping or newsworthy. I stared at the little document icon on my desktop as my cursor blinked, mocking me. What would it hurt to let him read it?

  I filled out his e-mail address in the form before attaching part of my manuscript. My stomach was swirling with nervousness as I typed out a short message describing what it was about and the direction I planned to take in the story. He probably won’t even open it.

  After about twenty minutes, my computer dinged with a new message received. I cringed when I saw it was Drake replying. But when I opened his message, I couldn’t help but let a smile spread across my face. Not only did he answer fundamental questions, but he also added some funny stories about filming and how the cast relaxed in between takes. Reading over his response, one would think he was the funniest, most charming man in the world. Well, if they’d never had the displeasure of meeting him.

  It only took about twenty minutes to type out a couple hundred words detailing Drake’s preparation for his role. My mind was buzzing as I thought about the next chapter in my manuscript. My life was boring and monotonous but through my characters I was anyone I wanted to be. I was confident and sexy. But the idea of Drake reading my words made me self-conscious. He was those things in real life. I closed my laptop, unable to continue on knowing it was in someone else’s hands.

  The fading effects of the alcohol I consumed lulled me into a restless sleep. I dreamt of warm arms banded around my body. I could feel the warmth of his steady breathing along my neck and it reminded me of Drake’s lips so close to my skin as he warned me to keep my pretty mouth shut. As angry as his words had made me at the moment, now they had a different feeling entirely.

  I imagined I was in a beautiful gown and as he approached me, I slipped my hand into his and he guided my inside of the dark building. Once inside, he pressed me against the wall, gripping my thigh as he raised it to his hips and his lips roamed hungrily over mine. Slipping my fingers under the sheet, I slid them between my legs and carefully moved them against myself. I imagined his hands were rough, grabbing me with urgency. I wanted him badly but was afraid we’d get caught. I tried to push him back, but he only smiled wickedly and turned me around, pressing my chest against the cold wall as he lifted my dress over my ass.

  A steady buzzing jolted me from my sleep and I sat up, startled as my hand fell to the empty mattress beside me.

  “Tyler?” I groaned as I was met with silence. I placed my hand on my chest to steady the beating of my erratic heart before throwing off my sheets and padding my way to the kitchen. I am never drinking again. My private conversation with Drake Gibson now felt like a distant dream, but I knew that it wasn’t and humiliation from the way I spoke to him consumed me once more.

  I didn’t expect Tyler
to be here because he lived across town but couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he wasn’t around. He was usually long gone for work before I even woke for the day. It worked for us because I was very independent and was never really looking for anything serious but lately is was beginning to feel pointless.

  I dressed quickly, painting on some mascara before running a brush through my hair. As I stepped outside of my apartment, I nearly kicked over a clear glass vase filled with vibrantly colored wildflowers. I smiled, lifting it to my nose and inhaling deeply before placing it on my island and heading off to work.

  Liz was waiting by the door with a panicked look on her face when I arrived.

  “How did it go?” She asked as I breezed by her and into my small closet of an office.

  “It was... interesting. Drake is kind of a jerk.”

  She waved her hand as I slid behind my desk and clicked on my computer. “Tell me something I don’t know, honey.”

  “Um... okay. I have an exclusive from Mr. Gibson himself.” I held in my squeal as Liz flung her arms around my neck and pressed her coffee-laced lips against my cheek. “I wrote out the article last night and e-mailed it to myself. Give me five minutes to make sure I didn’t misspell anything.”

  Liz walked toward my door as she called over her shoulder, “You have three. Let’s get this out today. I want it online before anyone else gets wind of this news.”

  I nodded but didn’t respond as my eyes danced over my e-mails. I clicked on the third one down from Drake.

  I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty side. The manuscript has promise, but I think there are a few scenes that could use some work. I’d be happy to help.

  “Gabby,” Liz snapped and I jumped in my seat, knocking over my bottle of water. “E-mail me the story.”

  “Right, of course. Sending now.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I was stuck between asking what he thought I should change and wanting to tell him to fuck off. What did he know about writing?