by Jackson Kane
“At some point, Bastien,” Trish grabbed my hand. The hard look in her eyes made me think that she might not be as drugged up as I thought she was, “you need to either come home, or leave for good.”
From her tightening grip, I knew which of the two options she hoped I'd take. Trish cocked her head to the door, in a gesture for me to figure out which one it was going to be.
She was right, as always. It was time to decide.
I kissed her on the forehead and said my goodbye.
Later.
I needed to see Olivia one last time before I left for good.
But because of roadwork and an accident, it took me forever to get downtown from the hospital and even longer to convince the production office at the network building where they were filming the talk show that I was Olivia’s bodyguard and should be allowed inside.
I’d always hated Manhattan, there were too many idiots and assholes, and they all thought their time was more important than anyone else’s.
By the time they ran my credentials and got my badge the show had already started, so they put me in the empty green room until Olivia was finished. I impatiently settled into the plush couch and watched the monitor above the snack table. It was a live feed so you could see what was happening on the show in real time.
I didn’t need the monitor’s speaker to hear the audience cheer as Olivia walked on stage. I could feel it through the walls. She was all smiles and waves as she made her way to the couch next to the host.
Olivia wore a white dress with black sleeves and buttons up her chest. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back except for two side-swooping bangs that framed her face perfectly. It was a casual look, but she rocked the hell out of that outfit.
Olivia looked amazing.
Even with one foot practically out the door, I still wanted to finish what we started. My cock hardened at the thought of pulling up her dress and tearing off her underwear again.
I was too busy with my fantasy to hear what the host asked her, but I snapped back in time to see Olivia struggle with the question.
I felt like shit for saying what I did, especially right before she was going on television. I scolded myself for being such a selfish asshole sometimes.
“Aw shit, yeah! I didn't know Olivia Ward was going to be here tonight!” The younger of the two craft service guys exclaimed excitedly as they entered the small room.
Each was carrying a tray, one of snacks and one of desserts. The older man placed the tray on the table and plugged in the toaster over. In doing so, he knocked out the power to the monitor.
“Every damn time,” the elder of the two grumbled.
“Hurry up, dude! If I miss a wardrobe malfunction, I'm gonna be pissed,” the younger blond man whined. I overheard crude shit about Olivia every once in a while; she was a movie star after all. Normal or not, it still drove me crazy. It took all the willpower I had not beat some manners into guys like that.
Sometimes if it was bad enough, I couldn’t stop myself.
I was the only one that should be talking dirty to her. I breathed, calming down and forcing myself to remember the decision that I made.
“Keep your pants on, Blake,” the older man said, fidgeting with the outlet. “The outlet’s faulty.”
“She's got some bangin' tits, yo,” Blake prattled on. I felt my ire rising, and got up to leave the room before I made a scene. I reminded myself that I was here to apologize to Olivia, not embarrass her. “You think they're real? Shit, you think she'd let me check? Yo, I've wanted to bend that bitch over since—”
Something snapped in me as I walked by.
Instincts kicked in. Before I even knew what happened, the tray the blond piece of shit was holding was flipped into the air and I had him pinned to the wall by his neck.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” my voice came out as a low growl. “That’s my client.”
I was inches away from the kid's face. Blake's eyes flashed again, realizing the depth of shit he stepped into. I could snap his neck from this position.
Blake was so terrified at the explosion of motion that urine ran down his leg.
“Oh, goddammit, Blake! The older man got up and patted the air to defuse the situation. He glanced at my badge. Below my name it read private security. “Mr. Kontos, I am so sorry about my nephew. He's an idiot, but he meant no harm. Please let him go.”
I pushed in harder, then came to my senses and let him go. Blake gasped and slumped against the wall.
“Fuck. Sorry.” Blake groaned the words out between coughs. “Didn’t know she was your client.”
She was so much more to me than just that.
Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe I hadn’t changed at all.
That was yet another reason why I didn't belong here. I left the green room and made my way out onto the bustling Manhattan streets.
I needed some air.
I had to shove my way past a guy in a green hoodie that was hovering near the studio's entrance. I was about to yell at him for being in my way, but I realized it was just my anger at the situation that had me so riled up. I leaned against my car, which was parked in the curbside valet and tried to clear my head.
It hadn't even been five minutes and I was about to get into another fight, seriously?
Olivia made me crazy. What the fuck was I thinking coming here? I should've just left her a note and moved on.
I was hired to protect her from the shit that happened to Trish and what have I done so far? I've nearly fucked the shit out of her in a Jacuzzi and complicated her career. Not to mention nearly crippling some asshole, because of insane jealousy.
I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a fighter. I was lying to myself when I thought I could protect Olivia. I couldn't even protect her from myself, let alone any real threats out there. She needs someone who isn't distracted by wanting to fuck her all the time.
I couldn't do this anymore; it's why I left in the first place. I was fooling myself. It was always going to be like this. I had to come to terms with that.
I pulled out my phone and had my assistants start looking around for the best real bodyguard money could hire. Then I did the one thing besides fucking, that I was ever any good at.
It was the only thing that made any sense.
“Bastien?” The familiar voice on the other line asked with disbelief.
“Yeah, it's me,” I said to Abeo, my old fight contact. “Set something up for me.”
“What?” Abeo stumbled to believe what he was hearing. “Aren’t you doing private security for that billionaire John Warwick these days?”
“Something like that,” I said. Abeo wouldn’t have believed me if I told him. Not that I would’ve anyways. I liked Abeo, but I sure as hell never trusted him. “I need to blow off some steam.”
“You’ve been out of the game for years, man. You sure you want to do this? You remember what happened to Louis...” Abeo's voice trailed off. “You barely made it out alive yourself last time.”
I thought on that, remembering. I could still hear the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd, while my friend Louis was beaten to death in the ring right in front of me. Some things you just couldn’t shake.
Then I thought of Olivia and the night I left her forever. That was a completely different kind of pain; it wasn't dull and heavy like Louis. Olivia was a slow knife, being slid between my ribs. Being so close to her and not having her wasn't a pain I could live with.
Sorry, Trish. I couldn't be what either of you wanted.
If I couldn't have all of Olivia, then I couldn't have any of her.
“Just set it up, Abeo.”
Chapter 12
Olivia
Past
No.
He's pushing me away.
I couldn't be sure, but I refused to believe anything else. I stopped in my snowy tracks, wiped the tears that were freezing to my face and turned back around.
Bastien's back was to me. His normally immaculate clothes were dirty and disheveled and his hair was an u
nwashed mess.
He looked like hell that was slowly freezing to death.
I had no idea how he survived out here as long as he did, but I knew he wouldn't last much longer if I didn't get him back home.
“Your dad is dead. The world doesn't owe you a damn thing, Bastien.” Wide eyed, he turned back around to me. I took a deep breath and swallowed my courage. “What would he say to you if he saw you like this?”
I didn't think it was possible but, for a minute there, Bastien was at a loss for words.
“Don't act like you knew him. You never even met him.” Bastien spat back as venomously as he could.
“You're right. I didn't know your father. But what I do know from talking to Ms. Lane is that he at least died fighting for something he believed in. And you're out here moping around and running from your problems like a coward!”
Anger flashed across his face as he stomped toward me, stopping just a few inches away. “You don't know shit, you rich, spoiled bitch!” He poked a finger into my puffy winter coat.
His words stung like a punch, but I refused to let on.
I could see the pain behind his eyes. Bastien's advice to me about acting carried over into this too, I thought about this as another scene in a hard play. I knew sweet words and time wouldn't penetrate the armor he wrapped himself in.
He needed straight talk and tough love.
I had to act strong for him, because he needed me to.
“I know that a real man is dead. I know that someone who’s cared for you the whole time you’ve been in our school is alone, worried sick, and has just lost her friend.” I didn’t know if there was anything more going on between them, but it was easy to tell that Ms. Lane and Bastien’s dad were friends. “And you're out here feeling sorry for yourself? Self destruction and giving up is easy, Bastien. Living with pain and grief is the hard part. Don't make it worse for the people left behind that still care about you.”
Maybe it was because he saw the guilt and grief I still carried for my mother in my eyes, but Bastien lowered his head. Howling wind and distant cars filled the quiet air between us. The shaggy mess of his hair covered most of his face.
But not the crystalline tears that rolled down his cheek.
After a long moment, I held out my hand. And much to my surprise, Bastien took it.
Present.
“I, uh, yes of course. Well, we all hope that she gets better soon.” Jim, the talk show host, groped to fill the dead air caused by my silence. After flat out refusing to discuss my stepmother, or her current status, the host transitioned into some canned questions.
I nodded with a sweet smile.
We briefly went into the controversy surrounding my relationship with Samantha and rumors surrounding the Velvet Intentions casting. Not that I let it on, but the latter was especially disheartening because I was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that they had passed on offering me the chance to audition. Usually these things moved extremely fast.
I wondered if the Instagram pictures of me with Persephone at her party hadn’t trended as well as my agent hoped. If so where did that leave me now?
After some witty repartee with the host, and a few inoffensive jokes, we moved on to the main reason I was here; to advertise my latest film. I'd known most of the questions ahead of time, and my replies had been written and approved by the network weeks ago.
I had done this publicity circuit dozens of times before. The scalding lights, the live studio audience and the countless viewers watching me at home, none of it bothered me anymore. But I was a little distracted.
All I could think about was Trisha recovering in the hospital.
I tried everything to get out of my contract to appear, but they threatened me with a lawsuit. I would've never cared about the consequences before when I had all my accounts. My livelihood was hanging by such a thread right now that those threats scared me.
Trisha and I had become so close over the years that I knew she’d want me here instead of by her bed worrying.
I smiled politely at the hosts frivolous questions, but behind the celebrity mask I wore, I was a jumbled up mess of emotions.
Go be your father’s daughter.
Bastien had cut me to the core. It didn’t help that I was in front of millions of people.
“Now, you play the character Trim in The Burning Game franchise,” Jim told me, while facing the audience. He idly shuffled through his note cards on the desk that separated us and turned back to me. “The final film in that hugely popular trilogy is due out next month.
“For those who’ve been living under a rock these past few years, Trim’s rebellion is scattered. The various districts of Ursa have fallen into chaos. Almost all of Trim's friends have been captured or killed off. The people she’s leading are about to find out she’s not who she says she is and her closest ally has abandoned her.
“One of the most asked questions, at this point, is what keeps your character going?” Jim finished, waiting patiently for my response.
“Well, Jim—” I started.
All the canned responses came to mind, but I couldn't get them out of my mouth. This was why I left Bastien earlier, to answer questions about a movie series that I desperately wanted to put behind me?
I felt deflated and shallow.
I couldn't do this, at least not the way they wanted. I let go of all the things I was supposed to say, and said what was really in my heart instead.
“I guess what I’m supposed to say is, that it’s Trim’s limitless resolve to do what’s right that carries her through. But I don’t think that’s it at all.”
Jim gave me a curious look, not knowing where I was headed with this.
“Trim is strong and knows what she’s doing is right, but beneath that, she’s just a person like the rest of us. She’s not perfect. No one is. Trim makes mistakes, is occasionally blinded by her goals, and acts without thinking sometimes. Her stubbornness even drove her best friend, Ferrin, away. Honestly? I think she’s terrified of making the wrong move.”
“Huh, alright.” Jim tapped his cards on the desk. “So if it isn’t her indomitable will… Then why does she keep fighting?”
“Because, as hard as it is, the life she’s fighting for, the one she remembers from her childhood, is still better than what she’s had to endure these last few years.” I thought on it for a second before finishing my thought. “To answer your question, I think it’s love that keeps her going.”
The waving, frantic arms of my production handler off stage drew my gaze. I disregarded her and continued. “To me it’s a much smaller, more personal story than all the big action set pieces.”
I hope you're watching Bastien.
“Love?” The host's grin melted a bit, as he was forced to improvise. “Uh, how do you mean?”
“I think, behind the rebellion and hardship everyone’s had to go through, Trim is just trying to do right by Ferris. He saved her life when they were kids. She desperately wants to return that favor now.” I paused. That didn’t feel quite right.
“But more than that, she loves him.” I looked at the cameras. “She loves him more than anyone else. It's a hard world they live in, and in the end, they're all each other has. If she doesn't repair their relationship before it's too late, she may lose him forever.” I took a breath, swallowed and continued. “I don’t think Trim could recover from that kind of loss.”
“Powerful stuff.” Jim smiled broadly.
“I think it resonates really well, y'know?” Images of Bastien holding my hand when I found him in South Boston after he ran away flooded my heart. “It can be your best friend, a sibling, or the person you love most in life. I love that my character wants to change the whole world just so that they can be together again. Some people are just worth fighting for.”
A prompt in the earpiece I wore gave me time stamp for the coming commercial break.
“Just, wow. Olivia Ward, everyone!” Jim began wrapping up. “Daughter of the lege
ndary actor Delvin Ward.”
Delvin Ward… His name soured my mood even further. Just once I wanted to be referred to by only my name.
“Hone your archery skills everyone, because the final movie in The Burning Game series...” The host's words faded into the cheers from the crowd as we ended my segment. He thanked me afterwards and I walked off stage back to the green room.
My handler gave me hell about going off script, but I didn't care. I fulfilled my contract.
Most of what I said about Trim’s character wasn’t true. She was about as perfect and two-dimensional as most young adult movie heroes were.
I wanted to do real dramatic roles, characters that were flawed and interesting. I didn't want to just be Delvin’s daughter. I was tired of playing everything so safe. I wanted...
I wanted Bastien.
I wanted to scream his name during that interview, tell the whole world the way I really felt about him. I wanted to feel his arms around me and not have to think about who might be watching, or what it might do to my career.
Walking into the green room, I nearly tripped over one of the craft service men. He was getting up from the floor. There were pieces of fruit, bits of salmon and pastries all over the room. It looked like a tornado touched down.
What happened in here?
“Sorry, Ma'am, there was a little—” The older man began, but was cut off by the younger blond man.
“Oh shit, you're Olivia Ward!” His eyes nervously twitched, glancing at the door like hunted prey that wandered out into an open field. Satisfied that whatever he was looking for wasn't going to come rip his face off, he smiled and let his gaze land heavily on my chest. “Can you sign something for me?”
I pinched my top button closed, and turned toward the older man. I'd have buttoned it shut, but, like most of the stuff I wore for television, it wasn't designed to be functional.
“Shut up, Blake.” The older man stuck a finger menacingly in Blake’s face. He knew I could probably get both of them fired just for bothering me, not that I would of course, but I had seen other celebrities do it. “Again, I apologize, Ma'am.”
