Breaking Hollywood

by Samantha Towle

  There’s a stool under the vanity unit. I pull it out and set it next to the bath.

  Perfect height.

  The bathroom has started to steam up, and my shirt is sticking to my skin.

  I hear the sound of Gabe’s crutches on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

  I shut off the taps.

  “It’s ready,” I tell him.

  “Thanks,” he says, coming into the bathroom.

  “So…” I twist my hands in front of me. “Will you be okay getting in…or do you need my help?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Right then. Just holler if you need anything.”

  I back out of the bathroom and close the door behind me.

  I hear the swoosh of his clothes being removed, and I try not to think about Gabe getting naked behind the door.

  He’s naked in there.

  Lord help me.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I force all thoughts of naked Gabe away. Then, I take myself out of there and into the kitchen where I give myself a much-needed infusion of coffee.

  Ava

  “Speedy!”

  I hear the urgent call of my name, so I come running from the kitchen.

  “You okay?” I call through the bathroom door. I don’t want to just go barging in there.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for ages.”

  “Ages? How long?”

  “Well, I yelled your name, like, three times.”

  “Three times is hardly ages, Gabe. And I was in the kitchen. What’s up?”

  “Will you come in? Talking through the door is annoying.”

  I push open the door, and there he is, in the tub, in all his naked glory. Leg hanging out of the bath. Cigarette in hand. Bubbles covering the important part. Olive skin as far as the eye can see. A smattering of dark hair on his ripped chest.

  Dear God.

  He looks sexy as hell.

  My heart starts thumping, my pulse skyrocketing through the roof. My girl parts shimmy with pure joy.

  Gulp.

  I look away, lifting my eyes to stare at the wall, because, if I keep looking at him, I might do something crazy, like climb in the tub with him.

  “I can’t believe you’re smoking in the tub.” My mouth has gone dry. I run my tongue around it.

  “What else am I supposed to do in here?”

  “I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Relax.”

  “I am relaxing—with a cigarette.”

  My eyes come down to the ashtray perched on the edge of the bath. “It already has two cigarette butts in it.”

  “Or three. I was bored, and you took ages to come.”

  “Good Lord.” I lift my eyes skyward. “So, what can I do for you, Smoky?”

  “I need help getting out of the bath. Seems getting in was easy—well, not easy but easier. Getting out, not so easy.”

  My eyes flash down to him. “But…you’re naked.”

  “Naked is how people usually are when in the bath, Speedy.”

  “B-but I can’t help you get out. I mean, you’re naked. I’ll see you naked.”

  “You’ve seen me naked before.”

  “I have not,” I gasp.

  “You’ve watched my movies. You’ve seen me naked before. I’m not shy, Speedy.”

  “No shit.”

  “Are you a…prude?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a definite challenge to his tone.

  “No, I am not a prude!”

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “Well…I mean, sure, I’ve seen you naked in your movies, but this is real life, and your thing…” I nod my head in the direction of his southern region.

  His eyes go down. “My cock?”

  “Yeah.” I swallow roughly.

  “Say it.”

  “What?”

  “Cock, Speedy. Say it.”

  I frown at him, my hands unfurling from my chest and finding my hips. “Cock. Cock. Cock. Cock! Better?”

  “Much.” He grins, eyes flashing at me. “So, you’re afraid of seeing my cock. It’s not gonna bite you. Not unless you ask nicely.”

  “Ugh. God, you’re such a pig.”

  He snorts. “And you’re so easy. Look, if you’re that worried about seeing my massive cock, then hold up a towel. I just need a hand with getting out and making sure I don’t get my boot wet, is all.”

  “Fine,” I huff. I grab a towel from the rack.

  The thing is, I’m not afraid of seeing his cock. I’m more afraid of what my reaction will be if I do see it.

  I walk over to the bath. He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray.

  I pick it up to move it out of the way and put it on the vanity unit.

  “So, how are we going to do this?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, so how about I move the stool, you sit up, and I help you stand in the bath as you keep your boot out? Then, I’ll quickly wrap the towel around you to stop the water from running down your body and soaking the boot.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I toss the towel over my shoulder. Putting my hand under his leg, I move the stool away.

  “Okay?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Right, well, sit up, and we’ll get you out of here.”

  He sits forward. I keep a hand on his leg, and I realize the logistics don’t seem as straightforward as I thought. I thought I’d be able to pull him up with my hand, but I don’t think it’ll work.

  He’s going to have to put his arm around me.

  Dear God.

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “You okay?” he asks me.

  “Yeah.” I open my eyes. “You’re gonna have to put your arm around me, so I can get you up.”

  A smile glimmers in his eyes. “I’ll get you wet.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “It’s fine.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  Taking the towel off my shoulder, I tuck it between my thighs, and I lean closer to him. He puts his arm around me.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He smells so good, and he’s all wet and soapy and hot as hell.

  This is torture. I swear, I’m in hell.

  The best kind of hell.

  “Can you push yourself up, using your hands on the edge of the tub?”

  “Sure can.” His words whisper over my neck, setting off goose bumps everywhere.

  “Okay. Count of three. One…two…three…”

  As I lift myself, Gabe pushes himself up, lowering his leg to the floor. His wet side presses against me. And I know I’m dangerously close to his cock.

  It takes everything in me not to look.

  Look at the wall. Not the cock. I repeat, not the cock.

  I need to cover him. I grab the towel from between my legs, keeping my eyes high, and I shake it out. Holding it up, I press it to his chest.

  “Dry off,” I tell him.

  “You mean, you’re not going to do it for me?”

  I give him a less than amused look. “Funny.”

  He starts drying his chest and stomach to stop the water from running down to his boot. I avert my eyes.

  My shirt is soaked. I’ll have to change it. Maybe he has a T-shirt I can borrow.

  “You dry?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, let’s get you out of the tub.”

  I look at him, and he’s got the towel wrapped around his waist.

  I grab his crutches from beside the tub and hand them to him. He sets the crutches on the floor and tucks them under his arm. I can see the strain it puts on him as he gets his good leg out of the tub and onto the floor, putting his weight on it.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s get you dressed then.”

  We head into his bedroom, and with his directions, I get him some boxer shorts and a T-shirt to wear.

  I help get the boxer shorts on over his boot, up to his knee, an
d then I let him do the rest himself, turning my back to give him privacy.

  “Do you have a T-shirt I could borrow? My shirt’s a little wet. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

  “Knock yourself out. Top drawer of the dresser.”

  I walk over to it and grab the first T-shirt I lay my hand on. It’s black, and the material is really soft.

  “I’ll just change in the bathroom. You finished with your towel?”

  “Yep.”

  I take the wet towel in the bathroom with me and close the door. After I hang it up, I remove my wet shirt and pull Gabe’s T-shirt over my head.

  It almost hits my knees, and it smells of him. I’ll just ignore that fact.

  I tuck the T-shirt into my skirt and go back into the bedroom, taking my wet shirt with me.

  Gabe’s sitting up against his headboard. His hair is still damp from the bath. The TV that’s mounted on the wall is on with what sounds like sports on it.

  His eyes go to me. Something flares in them.

  “This shirt okay to borrow?” I check.

  He nods slowly, eyes still on me.

  Okay.

  “You hungry?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get you some of the soup I made and bring it through.”

  “Can you grab me a beer as well?”

  “Sure.”

  I go to the kitchen, dump my shirt in my bag, and reheat the soup. I pour some into a bowl and grab some bread, a spoon, and a beer. I put it all on a tray and carry it through to him.

  “Dinner is served.” I rest the tray on his lap and take a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “You’re not eating?” he asks.

  “I’ll get something at home. Will you be okay if I head off soon?”

  For a brief moment, I actually think he looks disappointed, but if it was there, it’s gone now.

  “Sure I will. I’m a grown-ass man, Speedy. I can take care of myself.”

  “Just can’t get out of the tub on your own,” I tease.

  He tears off some bread, dips it into the soup, and puts it in his mouth.

  I watch as he chews.

  “This is good,” he says, a moan of appreciation in his voice.

  And it’s embarrassing how much I light up at the compliment.

  “It’s just soup,” I say, downplaying it.

  “It’s good. You made this?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ve never had homemade soup before.”

  “Your mom not a cook?” I ask.

  “No.” His abrupt answer tells me not to ask anything more.

  “Both my parents are chefs. They have a restaurant. Jayce and I were cooking before we were walking. The soup is just a quick, basic meal. I’ll rustle you up something a little fancier tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it.” He meets my eyes for a brief moment before he goes back to eating.

  “Right. Well, if you’re okay, then I’m gonna go. I need to pick up Sunny.”

  “Sunny?” His brows draw together.

  “My car.”

  The frown quickly turns into a smile. “You named the golf cart Sunny?”

  “Don’t start,” I warn him, pointing my finger.

  He grins. “As if I would ever give you grief about naming your golf-cart car Sunny. I mean, that’s totally normal to name your car Sunny.”

  “You’re a big jerk. And I’m going.” I get to my feet.

  “Aw, don’t be like that, Speedy.” He laughs. “Take my car. It’s getting late. Pick Sunny up tomorrow.” He grins.

  “I don’t want to leave her there overnight.”

  “I’m pretty sure she won’t get stolen.”

  “I just need my car tonight. Thanks for the offer though. I’ll just grab a cab, get my car, and then go home.”

  “Get Harry to call you a cab when you get downstairs.”

  “I’ll order an Uber. It’ll be quicker. You got your cell phone?”

  “Why?”

  “So, I can put my number in it in case you need me.”

  He hands me his cell, and I put my digits in his Contacts.

  I hand it back to him. “Call me if you, I don’t know, fall down or something. Or just need me for anything. And I’ll come right away. Just try not to move too much. Rest as much as possible.” I pick up his crutches from the floor and stand them by the bed for easy access for him. “And just leave the tray on your nightstand. I’ll clear it away in the morning. I’ll be back first thing.”

  “Speedy, I plan on finishing my soup, drinking my beer, and then watching sports on TV until I fall asleep.”

  “Okay, good.” I turn and head for the door.

  “Ava?”

  This is only the second time he’s said my name today. And my body has the exact same reaction as it did the first time.

  I turn back to him. “Yeah?”

  His eyes are warm and serious on me, and my insides heat.

  “Thanks for all your help today.”

  “Gabe, you really don’t have to thank me. You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. This is the least I can do.”

  “Well, either way, I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

  “And I appreciate you not calling the cops on me.”

  I smile, and he laughs.

  Then, his face goes serious. “Can I ask…why did you get fired?”

  I wrap my arms around my chest. “Cutbacks.”

  “You worked for the studio?”

  I tilt my head in question.

  “I was in the building for a meeting and saw you coming out.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I worked in wardrobe.”

  “That’s how you know Charly?”

  “Yeah, we worked together in New York first. That’s where I’m originally from. Then, I moved here to be with Jeremy.”

  “He’s your ex?”

  I nod. “I got a job with the studio as a wardrobe assistant but got promoted to wardrobe mistress. I was working on Vaughn’s film, and I hired Charly to come work with me.”

  “So, because of you, they met.”

  “I guess.” I shrug. “Anyway, I should go.” I thumb over my shoulder.

  “Sure. See you tomorrow. And don’t worry about the job front. Someone will hire you in no time.”

  “Yeah.” I smile, but it feels weak. “Okay, see you in the morning.”

  I order an Uber before I leave Gabe’s apartment. I wait only a few minutes before it turns up.

  The Uber drops me back at my car.

  I get in, start the engine, and drive toward my apartment, stopping at the deli on the way. I grab a sandwich and a bottle of wine from the liquor store next door.

  I let myself in my apartment, and Gucci is at the door, waiting for me.

  “Hey, baby! Sorry Mama was out for so long. It’s been a butthole of a day. You hungry?” I pick her up and hug her.

  Gucci is a pygmy goat. She’s four months old, and I just adore her. She’s the cutest thing ever. Little gray and white thing with a black patch on her head. Some might think that a goat is an odd pet to have, but she’s awesome. So full of life and happiness. And she’s just so spunky and really loving.

  I walk into my bare apartment. I avoid looking at the empty space and go straight into the kitchen to sort her food out.

  I put some of her favorite alfalfa hay in her bowl along with some chopped up vegetables. And I fill her water bowl up.

  Then, I sit at the breakfast bar while she eats, and I have my sandwich. I open up the wine and drink straight from the bottle.

  I don’t have any glasses. All of my stuff has either been sold or is in storage. All I have here are my clothes, shoes, toiletries, a pillow, and a sleeping bag, which has been my bed for the last four days, as I sold my bed and my sofa.

  It’s not so bad, sleeping on the floor. Could be worse. I could be sleeping in my car.

  But that’s what Gucci and I will probably be doing tomorrow if I don’t get something sorted
fast.

  I can feel tears pushing at the corners of my eyes.

  Don’t cry. It’ll be fine. You’ll figure something out. And, if not, you can just go back home to New York.

  I take a big swig of wine.

  Gucci pushes against my leg with her head.

  “You need some air, baby? Come on, let’s get you outside.”

  I pick her up, and taking the wine bottle with me, I leave my apartment and head up to the rooftop garden.

  I’m really going to miss this place.

  I put Gucci down, and she has a wander around, sniffing the plants that Mr. Goodman keeps up here.

  I sit down on the bench and drink some more wine.

  When the bottle’s half-empty and I’m feeling sleepy, I get Gucci and wobble back down to my apartment.

  I lock up and get ready for bed.

  Then, I shut off the light and climb into my sleeping bag. I set the alarm on my cell for seven a.m. and put it on the floor next to me.

  Gucci comes over and lies beside me, like she does every night, so I open up my sleeping bag and let her inside.

  She snuggles into me.

  “It’s gonna be all right, Gucci. I’ll find us somewhere to live. I’ll get a new job, and we’ll be just fine. I promise. Things can only get better, right?”

  The silence echoes around me.

  The tear that leaves my eye soaks into the pillow.

  I hug Gucci closer, shut my eyes, and wish for a better tomorrow.

  Gabe

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  That voice. So soft and sweet and sexy.

  I went to bed alone last night. I was sober, which is a rarity for me, so I definitely know I was alone.

  “I made you some breakfast.”

  Speedy.

  She came back.

  What? You thought she wouldn’t? She isn’t you, asshole.

  “What time is it?” I scrub my hands over my eyes. When I move them away, the first thing I see is her face.

  Her hair is down and tousled. And she’s wearing this fitted gray dress that basically looks like an oversize tank top.

  Her tits look spectacular in it.

  Fuck, she’s stunning.

  Now, that is a fantastic sight to wake up to.

  “It’s nine,” she answers. She puts the tray of food in her hands on the bed beside me and sits down. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” I push myself to sit up, resting my back against the headboard. My foot starts to throb. Ignoring the pain, I ask, “You just get here?”