by Tess Oliver
"Fuck." I went back inside and shut the door.
I stomped over to the coffee table and shoved it with my foot, littering my floor with sex toys. One of the copy samples that would be accompanying the box fluttered onto my shoe. Zane and his marketing department had done a nice job explaining the new Yes, Yes box. I picked it up and walked over to the table. I sat down and picked up the pen and some paper.
"Jane, I'm sorry if I scared you tonight. I'm giving you this flyer to help explain what my company is about. We peddle pleasure. That's it. And pleasure is popular, so we are extremely successful. I understand if you don't want anything to do with me. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you don't ever have to be afraid of me. I know I'm as big as a grizzly and I've got sex toys sitting on my coffee table, but I'm a totally normal guy. Or maybe that isn't the best way to make my point. Anyhow, enjoy your French toast. Aidan."
I walked into the hallway and slipped the note and the box insert under her door.
Chapter Five
Jane
I trailed my fork back and forth through the salad, looking for the good stuff, namely the pumpkin seeds, dried cranberries and chunks of parmesan. "Ugh, sometimes I wish they'd just leave the leafy green stuff out of the salad. It just gets in the way."
Russell squeezed more lemon into his tea. "Then it would no longer be a salad. It would be trail mix."
I stabbed my fork into a tomato. "Exactly."
Russell reached down into the shoulder bag hanging on his chair. He was sporting a new pair of thick black framed eyeglasses that gave him a seriously intellectual look. He was one of those fashion conscious guys who always looked impeccably right for whatever the occasion called for. Today he had been meeting with a few producers, so he was wearing his finely tailored suit and tie. It went well with the new glasses. He pulled a script out of his bag.
"This is top secret. So you can't share it with anyone, or I'll be out of a job and your acting career will be over before it starts."
I put down my fork and picked up a roll. "I think that might already be the case."
"Come on, Janey, don't give up now. You were really close with that last audition. That Oscar is just around the corner. I can feel it in my bones."
"I'm glad you can feel it. All I'm feeling is disappointment and utter defeat. In everything. My whole darn life."
Russell placed the script on the table. "So what's happening with the Brock saga? Are you two still talking?"
"God no. At least I'm not talking to him. He still tries to text and call. He'll get the idea soon enough."
The server came to the table and poured more tea. I picked up my glass and drank away the dry roll crumbs.
Russell swirled his tea with his straw. "I know this sounds ridiculously cliché, but you are better off without him. Have you met anyone new? Lars has a cute younger brother I could introduce you to."
"No thanks. I think I'll go solo for a bit. Especially after—" I stopped and shook my head. "Never mind."
Russell sat forward, his eyes wide between his lenses. "No way with the never mind. Especially after what? I need something juicy to get me through the boring meetings I have lined up today."
"It's not all that juicy. In fact, I'm not really sure how to describe it."
Russell leaned back, leaving one hand still on the table as he drummed a beat with his fingers. "Dish or I'm letting you pick up the tab."
"Well, since I have exactly zero dollars to my name, I guess I'll dish. Otherwise, we'll both be washing dishes." I smiled. "See how I did that?'
"Janey, you're stalling. What happened?"
"It's stupid really. There's this guy, this really big, and, if I must admit, handsome guy who lives in the apartment across the hall."
A wide grin crossed Russell's face. "Yes, go on."
"He invited me to his place to eat something. I don't know why, but I said yes."
"Uh, you said yes because he's big and handsome. You are human, after all."
"But I don't even know the guy. Although now I probably know too much."
Russell tried to scoot closer to the table in his enthusiastic attempt to hear more of the story. "What's too much?"
I sighed in surrender. I'd started the tale, and I was going to have to finish it or endure Russell's pleading texts for the next week. I glanced around as if anyone else in the restaurant cared to listen in on my silly conversation. Still, I lowered my voice. "There were these things on his coffee table."
Russell's well groomed eyebrow arched. "Things? A bong? Cocaine mirror?"
"No. Not drug things." I leaned forward and dropped my voice to a whisper. "Sex things. Dildos and some other things that looked quite innovative."
Russell's short, dry laugh barked loud enough through the room to stop a few conversations and draw curious stares our direction. I could feel my cheeks warm with a blush as if they could figure out exactly what we were talking about.
"So, he's into kinky fun." Russell shrugged and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. This time I laughed.
"Somehow those super intellect glasses don't work with the words kinky fun."
"Look, Janey, I'm just saying maybe you need to stretch your repertoire a bit. It might even help with your acting."
I tilted my head and stared at him. "Thanks but I highly doubt that a dildo will help me fine tune my acting skills."
"No but they sure can fine tune other things." He waved off the comment. "I don't mean the sex toys as your repertoire. I mean stretch yourself when it comes to relationships. You were experiencing complete emotional stagnation with Brock. I didn't want to say anything, but he was erasing all of that spunk you had. Now maybe you can get back to your old self and experience all the joys of a racy, erotic sex life. With a big, handsome guy who comes with his own supply of feel good toys."
"Thanks but no thanks. Besides, I think he's some kind of big shot. He left me a note to explain the stuff on his table. I guess he was worried that the girl who freaked out and ran from his apartment might turn him in as a pervert or something. He says the reason he had all those things was because he is part owner of some big company called Plaything."
The chair scraped the floor as Russell sat upright. "What? He owns Plaything? No fucking way. Then he's not just big and handsome, he's rich. That company is climbing up to the top of the pleasure business chain. I read about them in Bloomford Business news. Four guys from humble beginnings who started a multimillion dollar subscription service for pleasure. Why the heck would he be living in that ramshackle apartment building?" He noticed my annoyed look. "No offense, Jane, but that place sucks."
"Trust me I know. The sad thing about that is I can barely afford to keep my place. And I have no idea why someone who is owner in a successful company would be living there. Maybe he lied. Maybe he just made that up so I wouldn't think he was creepy. Although, he's not the least bit creepy. Even with sex toys on his coffee table."
"Well, you should probably avoid him just in case." He picked up the script and handed it over to me. "Guard with your life. Now, I've got you an audition with the casting director and producers next Friday so you have until then to rehearse. It's some dramatic, angsty romance, and they're having a hard time finding the right people for the main parts."
"They are never going to want a nobody for the leading lady."
Russell cast me his pep talk expression, and I knew what would follow. "If you start off with one foot in a hole, you're just going to stay stuck there." I mouthed the words along with him and he tossed his napkin at me. "Stinker. But it's true. You need to keep a more positive attitude, Jane. The casting people can sense it if you walk in already convinced that you won't get the part."
I patted the script. "As always, you are right, my wise, designer suit wearing Yoda. I will stay positive."
Chapter Six
Aidan
“Hey, boss, the last truck just left the dock," Heath called as he walked back into the warehouse.
&nb
sp; Chase's brother, Heath, had been hired in shipping. He had been laid off from his previous job and desperately needed the work. Heath had a lot of experience, and I had needed a supervisor on the floor of the warehouse.
Growing up, Heath had been the one England brother, aside from Chase, who I didn't mind hanging out with. Like all his siblings, Heath had been a heart throb in high school. Although he was a little rougher around the edges than Chase.
Heath reached my office as I was shutting down my computer for the night. He picked up my stapler and clicked it a few times for no reason except to litter my desk with used staples. "Chase and I were going to go have a few beers. You interested?" The heavy metal door to the shipping area opened and shut. Heath leaned his head out of the office to see who had entered the warehouse.
"Speak of the devil, here he is now. Hey, little brother, you're looking kind of like a dumpling. Macy needs to stop giving you all those bakery leftovers."
Chase walked into the office patting his perfectly flat stomach. "Yeah, I know. In fact, that's why I'm here. I'm heading to the gym instead of out for beers. I need to start working out again."
I laughed. "You start and stop workout routines as often as I change my socks."
"Just because you're such a fucking giant that you burn calories just by breathing doesn't mean we normal sized humans can do the same." Chase headed right over to the dish of mini chocolate bars my assistant had put on the side desk and grabbed a handful.
It took him a second to notice that Heath and I were watching him with amused grins.
"What? In case I get low blood sugar at the gym." He dropped the candy back into the dish. "That sounded stupid even to my own ears."
"Come on, bro," Heath said. "I was counting on splitting a pitcher of beer with you."
"You mean you were counting on me to pay for the beer."
"That too."
Chase lifted his chin at me. "Are you going?"
"Nah. I'm going to head home."
Chase leaned his hip up on my desk. "Haven't seen you much lately. What's new? Did anything ever happen with the hot new neighbor?"
"Yeah, something happened all right. I scared her off for good."
Heath and Chase both had the same laugh. "What the hell did you do, Cyclops? Scare her off with that super human sized dick of yours?" Heath asked and then sealed his mouth shut, suddenly remembering that I wasn't just a kid in the neighborhood anymore but the man with control over his job. "Sorry, boss. It's going to take me some time to get used to you not being Aidan, the annoying brat who used to jump his bike off the back steps."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Those steps were perfect for jumping."
Chase was like his brother in so many annoying ways. He picked up the stapler and clicked it a few times. "It was only fun as long as you didn't get caught riding your BMX bike through the kitchen to get a good running start. Dad saw tire tracks once and I had to lie and tell him the black marks were from the treads on my shoes, which was a joke since I was wearing hand me downs that had no tread left. So what happened? How'd you scare off the neighbor?"
I thought about that night and the look on Jane's face when she saw all the sex paraphernalia on my table. "Let's just say I'm a big slob, and I should clean my apartment up before inviting people over."
"Shit, what happened?" Heath asked. "Dirty underwear on the kitchen table?"
"Yuck, no, not that. What kind of a pig do you think I am? I was trying to figure out the packing order for the Yes, Yes box, and I'd forgotten the stuff was out when I invited my neighbor in to eat dinner."
Chase laughed. "Classic. So she saw a table full of dildos and clit vibrators and ran for the door."
"Something like that." I shoved my paperwork into a semi pile and got up. "Well, I guess I could drink a few beers before I head home. Maybe if I'm drunk enough I won't hear the guy next door start his fart concert."
Heath blew out a sad whistle. "Damn, Swift, your life sucks right now."
"My life?" I asked. "Who's the one who has to hang out with his little brother just to get free beer?"
"Good point."
Chapter Seven
Jane
My feet were killing me and I decided to soak them while I settled down to study the script. I smothered my face in a clay mask and filled the portable foot soaker with hot water. It was always another feat getting the water to the couch without sloshing it on the already mildew-stained carpet.
Without Brock around, I'd fallen into a pampering routine. I was still lonely and feeling a bit like a social outcast, but my skin was glowing and my feet were as soft as a baby's bottom.
I had just settled onto the couch with the script and a bag of red licorice whips, the only food easy to eat while wearing a clay mask, when my phone rang. It was Brock. Again.
It was almost laughable how little I had thought about him once I'd told him it was over. Apparently, I had let the relationship drag on just so I wouldn't be alone. And as I looked around at my somewhat disheveled apartment, I realized being alone had its perks. I hadn't spent even one hour of time watching a movie that I didn't want to watch, or sitting in a noisy sports bar where I didn't want to be, or at a party with Brock's annoying friends stuck in conversations that I didn't want to be part of.
The phone stopped ringing. No voicemail this time. I was relieved. Maybe he was finally giving up. I wasn't sure why he was still working at it when it was obvious the clawed woman was waiting for him in the shadows. Or maybe she'd told him to bug off too.
I placed my feet into the foot hot tub, a kick ass item I'd bought on sale at the pharmacy. It massaged the bottom of my feet. And the humming motor was quiet enough that I could still watch a movie without turning up the volume. The paper mache apartment building allowed any sound to travel freely between apartments and even through floors, something I learned quickly when my upstairs neighbor decided to buy sharp heeled shoes.
I relaxed back as my feet luxuriated in the hot water. Why the hell was I still wearing a bra? I resorted to the Houdini style bra removal, taking the bra off without removing my t-shirt or disturbing the clay mask caked on my face.
I stared at the script with distaste. It had been a long day at Bulk Mart. It had been free sample day in the bakery department, and the customers kept flowing through the doors like a river after rain. I had been on my feet all day, and I needed a little down time before I started practicing my lines.
I picked up a licorice rope and bit off a piece as I grabbed the remote and clicked on the television. I was down to one content provider, the only one I could still afford. I flipped through the choices from front to back and realized I had seen all the movies I wanted to see for the month. I turned off the television and dropped the remote on the couch.
I picked up my phone, deciding just out of boredom, to do a little research on the Plaything company. After all, it didn't hurt to know whether or not the man across the way was a fabulously rich and successful businessman or just a run of the mill pervert. Although, there really wasn't anything run of the mill about the beefcake guy across the hallway. And now I had moved on from thinking of him as big and handsome to beefcake.
My fingers typed in Plaything, and an entire Wikipedia article came up about the company and its founders. My neighbor's nice looking face was smiling up at me from the page. So he wasn't just a beefcake. He was a rich beefcake. Why the heck was he living in my building? Maybe he was a cheapskate. Or maybe he lived a secret double life as a pervert. I tossed my phone, deciding I'd let my ridiculous imagination have free reign for long enough. I needed to study.
I ripped off one more bite of licorice and picked up the script. It was heavy. Wonderful Russell had marked off the scene I needed to study with two sticky notes.
If I could have had back all the time I'd spent studying lines of scripts that never came to anything I'd be back in the sixth grade. I knew the movie business took a lot of persistence, some talent and a whole bunch of luck, but I wasn't sur
e I had any of those qualities. Of course, I could give up on the dream and head back to my small hometown to work in the bank or the local food market. But that option sounded as inviting as sticking a flaming hot poker through my eye. I'd had a lot of disappointments so far, but I just wasn't ready to give up.
I took a deep breath and turned to the first sticky note. I read the first line. "God, Michael, why are you always so cruel?"
Chapter Eight
Aidan
A few beers with the England brothers was plenty. They tended to break into boring sibling rivalry shit when they'd had a couple of drinks, so I was glad to leave the bar. I stepped into the elevator in the apartment building. It clunked and squeaked as if it was on its last thread of cable.
I stepped out into the hallway. The lights above buzzed as if they too were on their last breath of life.
As I neared Jane's door, I heard her voice. It sounded more urgent than I remembered. It seemed she was having a tense conversation with someone. I was never one to eavesdrop, but as I neared her apartment, I could hear that she was close to tears. I stopped to listen, knowing full well it was none of my business.
"I told you to stop," she pleaded. "Don't please. I won't leave you. I'll stay." A sob followed and my mind shot back to the first time I saw her, visibly upset and angry at the man standing with her in the elevator.
"Please don't hurt me again." She gasped as if someone was choking her.
I tried the door. It was locked. I positioned myself sideways to the door and rammed into it with my shoulder. The paper thin door splintered into long shards, right along with the cardboard quality door jamb. I pushed the dangling door out of my way and stepped inside the apartment.
Jane was standing in a plastic tub of water, her face smeared in a heavy gray cream that made her rounded eyes look gigantic. The gray substance also perfectly outlined the O shape of her mouth.
