The following morning, Chloe is already up when I wake up. I wander into the kitchen, where she’s sitting at the kitchen table, with the phone up to her ear. I wander over to the tea pot and fire it up.
“Coffee?” I ask.
She nods, absentmindedly.
“Listen, I don’t know what I can tell you, but he didn’t show up,” Chloe says into the phone. My heart sinks. She’s talking to Dolly.
“I know that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s totally fine. I actually had a good time,” Chloe says.
I grab a tea bag and dunk it in my tea. Once the coffee is ready, I pour a cup for Chloe.
“I met a friend from work there, and we had a good time,” Chloe says.
I smile. Though being referred to as a friend from work isn’t awesome. I’m glad that she had a good time.
“I know. I understand. It’s totally fine. Really…No, I don’t think I want to be set up again anytime soon.”
Does she not want to be set up again because she likes me? Or because she was so disappointed over the fact that Dolly’s guy didn’t come through?
Shit. This is not good.
“Okay, fine. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Chloe hangs up the phone. She takes a deep breath before smiling at me.
“Who was that?” I ask, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Dolly Monroe. The billionaire matchmaker.”
“Oh, is that the woman who set you up on your date?”
Chloe nods, hanging her head.
“Last night was just such a clusterfuck. A major clusterfuck.”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask.
She smiles. “You don’t think that me throwing up all over your gorgeous kitchen makes the date go a little off the rails?”
You would think so, I say to myself. But not really. This has actually been one of the most interesting dates that I’ve ever had. I just wish that she knew that she had never been stood up and that the person whom she was set up with was the one she’s had an awesome time with.
“Eh, you kept it interesting, at least,” I finally say.
“Well, it’s the least that I could do.”
“I don’t know. I think it went okay in general. I mean, you got stood up and, if that didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have ever had our date.”
Why am I saying this? Why not just come out with the truth right now? Because I’m a coward, that’s why.
“Yes, I guess so.”
“I say that it’s his loss.”
“You think so?” Chloe asks.
“Yes, absolutely. And actually, there was something I wanted to ask you.”
She looks up at me with her innocent eyes. From this angle, they are almost as big and wide as a Disney character’s eyes. And just as earnest.
“Will you go out with me again?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, with a surprise look on her face.
“I had a really good time last night. Despite everything. And I’d like to take you out on a proper date.”
She nods.
“Yes,” she says, coughing in the middle of the word.
“Yes?” I double check. She nods and flashes a smile. Good. That’s good.
Chloe leaves my place around 11 a.m. As soon as she gets into the cab, I start to wonder how long I should wait to call her or, at the very least, text her. I end up doing neither, but that requires a lot of concentrated will power and distractions. After doing some yoga on the porch, and flipping aimlessly through the channels, I drive out to Malibu and go surfing.
It’s rather windy, and the waves are strong. I paddle out into the blue and hop onto my surfboard. There’s something about surfing that always puts me at ease. It requires me to use my whole body, letting my mind rest up a bit. When things with Ariel were first going down, I didn’t go surfing and suffered more as a result. After close to two hours in the water, I ride a wave all the way to the edge of the sand and hop off my surf board. Surfing did not quench my desire for Chloe, but it did make up my mind about something. I’m going to move to Malibu. This is something I’ve been thinking about for quite some time. Ever since I bought my house in the Hollywood Hills. As much as I love the views of the city, the peace of the ocean is hard to beat.
I arrive at work the following Monday excited to see Chloe again. It has been less than 24 hours since I’ve been with her, and I’ve never wanted to see a girl so badly before.
Unfortunately, today is not just a regular day. Today is the day that we’re shooting a very explicit sex scene.
Martha meets with me and Tara before we go to wardrobe. Everyone is milling around – setting up the lights, making sure that the furniture is arranged just right. My eyes wander over to Chloe, who’s standing in front of her trailer organizing outfits onto hangers. I nod hello in her direction and she smiles back.
“Finn? Are you listening?” Martha asks.
“Yes, of course,” I say even though I have no idea what she had just said.
“So, my point for the scene is to make it as erotic as possible to the rated-R rating, but instead of simply creating a romantic ambience and sweeping the viewer off their feet, so to speak, I want to make this scene as realistic as possible. In other words, Finn, I would like you to get naked. Entirely.”
“Oh, okay,” I’m caught a little bit by surprise.
“When we talked to your agent earlier, he said that it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“No, it’s not,” I shrug. “But you can’t shoot an erection and get an R-rating.”
“Yes, I know that. So we’ll shoot around it somehow. I still want to get your butt in it and maybe even you fully nude, but without an erection.”
I take a deep sigh. That’s not as hard to achieve as one might think, even though Tara is so hot. The thing is that sex scenes are shot in front of more than a hundred people. They’re all staring, looking, or working. That’s why so many actors find it embarrassing. I have too, in the past. But today, I’m more concerned about how it will go, since Chloe will be watching.
“Just tell me what to do, and I’m game,” I say.
“Me too,” Tara smiles at me. After Martha leaves, Tara approaches me. I like her long legs and her curious eyes.
“I can’t believe that this is the first scene we’re shooting together,” she says in a sultry voice.
“I know, right? Is there anything I can do to make you feel a little bit more comfortable?”
“Well, dinner might be a good idea. But it’s probably a little too late for that.”
I smile. She’s flirting. She’s just my type. I look her up and down. If I play my cards right, I can have her back in my trailer and totally naked within an hour. But then, Chloe catches my eye.
“Yeah, probably. Hey, listen, I have to go get my costume in order. I’ll see you later. Don’t worry. You’ll be great,” I say and walk away.
I can’t believe that I just did that. Walking away from a sure thing is not typically my modus operandi. But here I am walking toward Chloe, a girl who spilled orange juice on me, threw up all over my kitchen floor, slept over at my house and is yet to sleep with me. And yet, she’s the only one I want.
“Hey,” I walk over to Chloe and give her a brief hug. She pulls away from me.
“Hey. What are you doing?” she asks.
“Just thought that I’d give you a hug. What’s wrong with that?”
“Finn, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want anyone on set to know about us,” she says. I hate how standoffish she’s acting.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because nothing really happened last night. And I don’t want people to think that anything did.”
“Wait…are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I ask. Is this really happening? Most women would die to be photographed with me.
“No, not at all,” she says casting her eyes down. I take a step toward her and lift her head up to mine.
/> “What are you doing?” Chloe pushes me away. “What did I just say?”
“If you’re not embarrassed, then what’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just don’t know where this is going.”
“Well, we have another date together,” I say with a smile. “And, after Saturday night, we seem to have a little bit of a history.”
“Oh my God, don’t mention it,” she says, blushing. “Finn, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Not at all. I just don’t want all the rumors to start flying about us. You know they will if people see us kissing and hugging and doing stuff like that.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” I ask.
“This is why you’re always in the magazines, Finn. You act like you hate the paparazzi always following you, but then you refuse to keep your private life private.”
“Yes, I do refuse to do that. I don’t see why I should,” I say. Now, I’m getting insulted. Angry.
“Well, I guess I just don’t want to be just one of those girls that people see on your arm in those celeb mags.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be,” I say and walk away.
This did not go very well. Frankly, I don’t really know what’s wrong or where it went off the rails. All I did was walk over there to give her a hug. I wasn’t making a spectacle. I wasn’t announcing that we were sleeping together or even dating. Everyone in LA gives hugs. What’s the big deal? Feeling very much conflicted, I walk back over to her.
“I still need to get my clothes for today’s scene,” I say. She nods and takes out a light linen suit and light brown Kenneth Cole shoes.
“I was thinking no socks.”
“Perfect,” I say. “What about underwear?”
“Oh yes, of course. How about black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say.
“Do you want to try any of that on?” she asks as I start to walk away. For a brief second my eyes meet hers.
“No. Not now,” I say. I see the disappointment on her face, and it makes me happy. Who does she think she is, acting like that? And yet, within a few seconds, my so-called happiness fades. I feel like a dick, but my pride doesn’t let me go back.
“So, I want to go over a few things again before we start,” Martha says. Tara and I sit down on the bed.
“I want you both to start out standing. Finn, you walk over, stand close to her and say your line. She responds. Then you kiss her, and you fall into bed. I want you to remove each other’s clothes.”
“In any particular way? Or order?” Tara asks.
“Um, actually, no. Just do whatever feels natural. Okay. I guess that’s all. Let’s just start, and we’ll see how it goes.”
Everyone disappears off the set. I adjust my tie and position myself in the doorway. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe. She’s here, watching along with everyone else. I turn my attention to Tara. It’s as if my mind switches off. And now, I’m fully immersed in the scene. Nothing else is real except for Tara and me.
“Action,” Martha yells. The room falls silent.
I walk over to Tara. Carefully, deliberately.
“What do you want from me?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” Tara says. Before she finishes the word, I plunge in and kiss her. We fall onto the bed together and start taking off each other clothes. First, she removes my tie. I pull off her blouse. As she unbuttons my shirt, I tug at her skirt. I wriggle out of my pants as we continue to kiss. I wait for Martha to yell ‘Cut,’ but it doesn’t come. Instead, I unclasp Tara’s bra. Her breasts fall in front of me, as if on a platter. She runs her fingers down my stomach, pausing briefly over each six pack, which I don’t forget to flex for the cameras. Now comes the difficult part. I stand up. Tara kisses my belly button, and with one swift motion, she pulls down my boxer-briefs. I step out of them calmly, then flip her over on her stomach and pull off her panties.
Still no ‘cut’ comes. I don’t want to interrupt the scene, so I fall on top of her and kiss the back of her neck. And then her back. My dick grows hard. It doesn’t know how I really feel. That it’s not Tara who I actually want to do this to. I rub my fingers up and down her back and bury them in her hair. When I pull on her hair slightly, she moans. We grind for a few moments. And then…finally…it comes.
“Cut!” Martha yells. I stand up right away and put on the robe, which an assistant runs over with. My erection is not something I can hide. I don’t want to be quick about putting it away. Everyone is watching, and I don’t want to act as if I’m embarrassed about anything. Instead, I coolly put on my robe and tie it loosely around my waist.
“Oh. My. God,” Martha explodes. “You guys, that was amazing!”
I love Martha’s exuberance. She doesn’t have any pretense the way that so many directors do. She’s shooting one of the most serious scripts I’ve ever had the privilege of working on, and yet she comes off like an excited sorority girl. Her level of excitement is contagious.
“I wasn’t sure if that was quite the direction you wanted me to go in,” I start to say.
“Oh no, no, no. I never would’ve even thought of that. The way you flipped her over like that and removed her panties. That just made me lose my breath. Honestly, amazing work.”
Tara and I exchange smiles. That’s always nice to hear.
“Now, if you don’t mind, could you do that again? Same sequence? I just want to make sure we get the best version.”
I nod. Right before she says “action” again, my eyes dart to Chloe. The expression on her face is a mix between lost, confused and angry. I don’t know why she would be feeling any of those things, except that this scene is just too real for her. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now.
Chapter 19 - Chloe
Am I really watching this? Is this really happening? I know that Finn’s an actor. Of course, I do. I was one of those millions of girls who fell in love with him in Monday Night Football when he had that tumultuous relationship with Beverly and then again in To Live and Die in the West. Neither the show nor the movie would be what they are if it wasn’t for his love affairs. I dreamed of being Beverly. The thing that I never dreamed about was watching him make love to Beverly. For some reason, it never occurred to me how exactly those scenes were shot. I was too lost in the story to care. But today…well, today, was quite eye opening, to say the least.
And this scene, in particular, is so much more than anything that happened in a cable show or a PG-13 movie. I just watched Finn passionately kiss Tara, throw her on the bed and remove her clothes. I just saw her pull off his underwear. I just saw his dick for the first time – and it wasn’t while we were having sex. No, this isn’t normal. Not even by a long shot. And, if this is normal in the Hollywood world, I’m not ready for it to be my new normal. When Martha asks them to do the scene over again, just as they had just done it, I look at Finn and walk away. I can’t bear to watch it again.
Two hours later, there’s a knock on my trailer. I’m staying busy trying to organize outfits for the next couple of scenes, but nothing seems to go together and I’m feeling altogether uninspired. “Come in,” I say. By the cautious footsteps up the steps, I suspect that it’s Finn.
“Hey,” he says. “Why did you leave?” “I had a few things to take care of,” I lie.
By his apprehension, I can tell that he isn’t convinced that I’m telling the truth.
“It’s just that most people never miss the sex scenes,” he says. “Especially if the director doesn’t close the set.”
“Well, I had something better to do.”
Finn walks up to me. He puts his hand on mine.
“Chloe, you did know what was going to happen today, right? I did nothing wrong.”
I push his hand away.
“Yes, of course.”
“So, what’s wrong?”
I take a moment to think about this. For some reason, it feels like everything’s wrong.
“Nothing,” I shrug.<
br />
“And I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have made a scene like that. But honestly, I didn’t know that I was making a scene.”
“Finn…”
“What?”
“I’m just not sure that this whole lifestyle is for me,” I finally say.
“What lifestyle?” he asks.
“Your whole lifestyle. I’m just a regular person, and it’s all too much.”
“Well, I am an actor. And what just happened in that scene is just part of my job.”
I consider this for a moment. He’s right, of course. Maybe I am just being a little too sensitive.
“I have an idea,” he says. “Go out with me tonight. Dinner. Nothing fancy. Just a regular date. Then, hopefully, you’ll see that I’m just like anyone else.”
I smile. He walks closer to me, puts his hand on my hand again. This time, I don’t remove it. Maybe he’s right. Nothing that happened between us so far has been normal, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling so off by the whole situation.
I nod.
“Really?” he asks.
“Yes, really.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at seven. And don’t worry. We’ll go somewhere private. There won’t be any fans or photographers. Just the two of us.”
I like the sound of that. A lot.
* * *
When I get home from work, I don’t have much time to decide what I’m going to wear, let alone discuss the intricacies of what’s going on with Lila. Of course, Lila won’t let up. She knows the gist of what happened Saturday night and is as excited by the whole situation as any person could possibly be.
“You’re going out with whom tonight?” Lila asks when I get home.
“Finn,” I say, spraying my hair with dry shampoo. I washed it this morning, but it still managed to get greasy in less than eight hours.
Auctioned to Him [Book 6]_Damage Page 73
