Breaking Hollywood

by Samantha Towle

  Pushing the covers back, I climb out of his bed. Gucci lifts her head.

  “Come on, girl. Toilet time.”

  She jumps off Gabe’s bed and follows me out into the living room.

  Gabe’s out on the terrace.

  My heart jumps at the sight of him, sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette.

  Gucci trots on ahead of me, out onto the terrace.

  Gabe turns his head at the sound of her. Then, he glances up at me when I walk out onto the terrace. But he barely looks at me before he moves his eyes away and takes another drag of his cigarette.

  But what I did see on his face makes my stomach feel hollow.

  He regrets kissing me last night.

  My eyes move, and I see a glass filled with clear liquid on the table. I’d like to think it’s water, but something tells me it’s not.

  “Morning,” I say, my voice sounding rough.

  I walk over to the railing and rest my arms against it, looking out at Hollywood.

  I hear his glass clink against the glass tabletop as he picks it up, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Even though I feel a little sick inside, I force myself to turn around and face him.

  I notice now that his hair is damp, and he’s dressed smarter than he has been for the last couple of weeks. He’s been wearing athletic shorts, as they’re all he can get on over the boot, but today, he’s wearing black cargo shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt.

  He must have bathed without my help. And he had to have taken the boot off to get the shorts on and then put it back on. Couldn’t have been easy for him to manage alone. Clearly, he didn’t want me helping him.

  I rest my back against the railing. I see Gucci is sitting by the pool, her head tilted to the side, watching me.

  I look back to Gabe, who definitely does not want to look at me. “Have you eaten?” I ask him. “I can make breakfast—”

  “I’m fine.” Another drag of his cigarette. A tap to get the ash in the tray. Another drink of his liquor.

  “Okay. Well, I was going to make coffee. Would you like—”

  “I said, I’m fine.” His eyes snap up to mine.

  Well, at least he’s looking at me now, but honestly, I wish he weren’t.

  His eyes look hard and cold. A complete contrast to how he was looking at me in the dark of his room last night.

  A chill coats my skin even though it’s warm. I rub my hands over my arms.

  He looks away, drains his glass, and puts out his cigarette. Getting his crutches, he gets to his feet. “I have a few meetings today, so I’ll be out for most of the day.”

  He never said anything yesterday about having meetings today.

  A little voice whispers in my head, He wants to get away from you.

  “Oh. Right. Do you need me to drive you?”

  “No. I arranged for a driver to take me.” He starts to head for the door to go back inside.

  “What should I do today then?”

  He stops moving, the line of his shoulders taut. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Ava. You don’t have to check with me. I’m not your boyfriend.”

  And there it is.

  “But you are my boss.” I force my voice to sound stronger than I feel.

  The silence that follows is intense and painful.

  “Then, as your boss, I’m telling you to take the fucking day off,” he bites out.

  Then, he’s gone, and I’m left standing here.

  I go over to the table and pick the glass up.

  Vodka.

  I grab the ashtray and take that and the glass inside where I wash them out. I feed Gucci.

  Then, I stand here, in his apartment, feeling hurt and a little lost, not really sure what to do with myself.

  Ava

  After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I got mad with the big jerk and decided to do what he’d said to do. So, I took the day off.

  Gucci and I went to a dog park and had fun. A lot of people were interested in her, so I got to chatting with a few of them, which was nice, and it took my mind off of Gabe the asshole.

  After I dropped Gucci back at the apartment and fed her a lunch of hay and carrots, I went shopping alone.

  Solo shopping always helps to perk me up.

  I bought some new pajamas and sunglasses. And a pair of Choos that I couldn’t afford. Also, I bought Gucci a new coat and a water bowl.

  When I was done, I stopped and had sushi.

  I didn’t really feel that hungry, but I thought I’d better eat.

  When I finally came back to the apartment, I was expecting to encounter Gabe. But there was just Gucci waiting for me.

  So, I let her out onto the terrace, cleaned up after her, and then made her dinner. Then, I got started on dinner for Gabe and me. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I figured he would be.

  Turned out, I was wrong because he didn’t come home for dinner.

  I broke down and texted him at nine to check if he was okay. But he never replied.

  And, now, it’s ten thirty, and he’s not back. He’s been out all day.

  Even though I’m still mad at him, I am getting kind of worried.

  I know he’s a grown man, but he’s also on crutches, and getting around for him isn’t the easiest.

  I’m not really sure what to do.

  I’m sitting on the sofa with Gucci when there’s a commotion of voices and laughter in the hallway.

  Picking up Gucci, I get to my feet just as Gabe comes hobbling into the living room, minus his crutches, with about ten people accompanying him. And one of those people is beautiful and tall and blonde, and he has his arm around her.

  Just like he had it around me last night.

  Pain and jealousy shoot up my spine.

  “Speedy.” His voice slurs a little, and there’s a smirk on his face, but nothing’s cheery about the way he’s looking at me.

  His eyes are cold and empty. Like he’s telling me with his stare that he doesn’t care about me or what happened between us last night.

  And it really fucking hurts.

  “Is that a goat?” the woman propping him up says.

  I ignore her.

  “Where are your crutches?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I lost them.”

  “You lost them? How the hell do you lose a pair of crutches?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. I just did.”

  The blonde laughs. Gabe slips out from under her arm and walks—well, staggers closer to me. He reeks of liquor and cigarettes.

  “Now, be a good little employee, and get my guests some drinks.” He taps me on my nose with his fingertip and moves past me.

  Um, what the fuck just happened?

  I turn, my eyes following him. “What the hell was that?”

  He stops and looks back to me. His eyes are almost black.

  His friends have all scattered around the living room, some going out onto the terrace.

  “I said, get my guests some drinks. You work here, right?”

  “Last I knew, I was here to care for you, not be a waitress for your friends.”

  His face darkens. “Fine. I’ll get their fucking drinks.” He hobbles away, in the direction of the kitchen.

  I go to my room and put Gucci safely in there, and then I go into the kitchen to find him pouring drinks.

  “Where have you been?” My tone is snippy.

  “Out,” he answers without looking at me.

  “I got that. But all day? I thought you just had a few meetings, and then you’d be home. I was worried. I texted you.”

  His eyes lift to mine. “My phone died.”

  I try to control my temper and soften my voice, but it doesn’t work. “And you couldn’t borrow a phone to let me know you were okay? You must’ve known I would worry.”

  “No. I didn’t know. Because you’re not my fucking wife!” he roars.

  The force of his anger takes me back a step.

  Tears hit the backs of my eyes, but I r
efuse to cry. “I know I’m not.”

  “So, stop fucking acting like you are!”

  “I’m not!” I yell back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

  His hard eyes burn into mine. “But that’s just it. We’re not friends, Ava. You work for me. End of story.”

  Well, if that isn’t a slap in the face. My face stings with the pain from his words.

  “Okay.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “I understand.”

  “You understand what?”

  “That you’re a heartless fucking bastard!” I spin on my heel and start to walk away.

  He laughs harshly. “I never once claimed to have a heart. And do you talk to all your bosses that way, Speedy? Maybe that’s why you got fired from your last job.”

  That has me stopping and turning back to him. Undiluted rage is burning in my veins. “My last boss would never have treated me the way you just did.”

  Some unnamed emotion flickers across his face. “I don’t have to put up with this shit,” he bites.

  I laugh. There’s no humor in it. “That makes two of us. And you don’t have to worry about putting up with me anymore. Because I quit.” I stare him hard in the eyes. “Clearly, you don’t need me to take care of you anymore. You look like you’re doing just fine. So, I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” I don’t give him a chance to say anything in response. I storm out of the kitchen and to my room, and I slam the door shut. I fall back against it, breathing hard.

  Fucking asshole!

  Tears fill my eyes. But I won’t cry. I won’t fucking cry.

  I press the palms of my hands to my eyes, stopping the tears from coming, and I take cleansing deep breaths.

  I feel Gucci nudge her head against my leg. I move my hands from my eyes, and she’s staring at me.

  “I made us homeless again,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, baby girl. But I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

  “Baaahhh.”

  I like to think she’s telling me it’s okay, but then she nudges my leg again and trots to the door, giving it a butt with her head, and I know she needs to go outside.

  “Ah, right now, Gucci?” The last thing I want to do at this moment in time is go out there.

  “Baaahhh.”

  “Crap,” I mutter. “Okay.”

  I grab a hoodie, the elevator key, and my cell. I slide my feet into my flip-flops. Then, I pick Gucci up and leave my room.

  I’m going to have to walk through the living room.

  I take a deep breath. Holding my head up high, I quickly start walking through the living room.

  The music is playing. A couple of women are dancing together.

  I don’t want to seek Gabe out, but my eyes do.

  And they immediately lock with his.

  He’s sitting on the sofa with that blonde plastered up against his side. She’s leaning in close, speaking in his ear.

  Jealousy explodes in my chest, spreading the agony out to fill my whole body. Breathing through the hurt, I force my feet to move faster, so I’m almost breaking into a jog.

  When I reach the elevator, I jab the button a few times. “Come on, come on,” I mutter, tapping my foot, desperate for it to hurry up and arrive.

  It pings its arrival, and I step inside the safety of the elevator.

  “Ava.”

  My eyes find Gabe hobbling toward the elevator.

  I jab the button for the ground floor. I don’t want to talk to him, no matter how childish that might be. I just want to get away from him right now.

  “Where are you going?” he says, his voice demanding.

  But the doors close on his words, and the lift starts to descend.

  I exhale and hug Gucci tight to my chest, burying my face into her soft fur.

  When I reach the ground floor, the lobby is empty. The security guard must have just stepped away from his desk.

  I walk out of the lobby, heading for the back of the building, and out into the communal garden.

  Once outside, I put Gucci down on the grass, and I go take a seat on one of the benches.

  I get my phone out and bring up Candy Crush to play while I wait for her to do her business. I’m not exactly in any rush to go back upstairs.

  But something makes me change my mind, and I shut Candy Crush down and open up Google.

  Then, I type in Gabe’s name in the Search bar and hit Enter.

  The screen fills with links and stories. I go to Recent News.

  At the top is Radar Online. Always the first with a story.

  I click on the link, and the headline says something about Gabe appearing to have a broken leg.

  Broken foot, dipshits.

  They need to do better with their so-called journalism. And then it goes on to say how he’s been hitting up the bars all day.

  So much for his meetings.

  There are pictures of him from earlier. In one picture, he’s in a booth with a bunch of people I don’t recognize, and next to him is a pretty brunette, his arm around her.

  Someone’s been busy tonight.

  Fury rains down on me.

  I just can’t believe him! The fucking asshole!

  He was out partying with other women while I was feeling crappy all day, sitting and worrying about him when he hadn’t come home, thinking something had happened to him.

  Going out and getting drunk isn’t the smartest thing to do when you’ve got a broken foot, but obviously, he doesn’t care.

  So, why the hell should I?

  Because you have feelings for him.

  Ugh! I hate that I like him. The big fucking jerk.

  It’s clear that he doesn’t give two shits about me. He’s up there with another woman, doing God knows what with her right now.

  The thought of him with her makes me feel physically sick.

  At least I know he won’t be having sex with her because of his foot. That’s the reason he wouldn’t sleep with me.

  Or maybe he was just saying that. Maybe he just doesn’t want you, my insecurities scream at me.

  This morning, he acted like last night never happened, and then he went out partying and brought people back to his apartment. And he’s currently cozied up on the sofa with that blonde.

  So, yeah, clearly, it’s me he doesn’t want.

  Well, fine.

  But, when I do go back up there, if he’s in his bedroom with that woman, then I’m going.

  I’ll pack my stuff and leave tonight. Because there is no way that I’m sleeping in that apartment while he fucks someone else in his bedroom.

  He might not care about me, but I do have feelings for him, and I’m not putting myself through that.

  I shove my cell in my pocket and look over at Gucci. She’s running around, jumping in and out of the bushes, looking happy.

  Well, at least one of us is happy.

  I let out a long, sad sigh and stare up at the sky, trying not to think about what’s going on up in Gabe’s apartment right at this moment. Or what he might be doing with the blonde. If he’s touching her like he touched me last night.

  Instead, I force myself to think about what I’m going to do tomorrow when I’m once again homeless and jobless.

  Gabe

  I’m an asshole.

  A complete and utter fucking asshole.

  I’ve hurt Speedy. The one person who didn’t deserve to be hurt by me. The one person I didn’t want to hurt, but I went and did it anyway. And I did it fucking spectacularly.

  I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I put it there. It almost brought me to my knees.

  I could barely look at her this morning, knowing I was going to hurt her.

  And I know she thinks I’ve been fooling around with that blonde tonight, but I haven’t.

  I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t.

  I just want Speedy.

  She’s been on my mind all day. I can’t think of anything but her. How she tasted. How she looked in
my bed. How she felt against me.

  Knowing all these things makes me want her so much more.

  I had to get out of the apartment today. I couldn’t be around her. So, I lied and said I had meetings.

  I didn’t.

  I called up some drinking buddies, and I was out all day.

  But I knew I had to come home at some point, but being here, alone with her, just wasn’t an option. I knew what would happen the second I saw her.

  I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

  So, I invited everyone back here. And I acted like the fucking bastard that I am.

  But, now, she’s gone, and I don’t know where she is.

  I’m worried. It’s late. I don’t want her and Gucci out alone.

  I tried calling her, and it went to voice mail. I texted her, asking her to come back home, but she’s ignored it.

  Guess this is a taste of my own medicine for ignoring her text earlier and making her worry.

  I cleared the apartment of everyone right after she left.

  I want to go look for her, but I’m stuck because of my goddamn foot. I can’t fucking drive.

  And her car keys are still here on the coffee table, and so are mine, so she’s out there, walking around.

  I’m going to call the driver back and have him drive me around until I find her.

  I’ve just pressed call on his number when I hear the elevator ping its arrival.

  I hang up the phone and move toward the elevator.

  She comes in with Gucci in her arms. Her eyes look red, like she’s been crying.

  You did that, asshole.

  “Where have you been?” My words come out sharper than intended.

  She puts Gucci down and walks past me without a word.

  “Ava, I asked, where the fuck have you been?”

  She whirls around, her eyes narrowed. “What business is it of yours?”

  “You live in my place. That makes it my business.”

  She laughs. “Fuck off, Gabriel. I was going to go in the morning, but screw this shit. I’m going now.”

  An emotion I don’t recognize grips my chest.

  “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

  “You’re stupid! And a gigantic asshole! And I’m out of here.” She moves quickly through the apartment.

  I’m not as fast as she is because of this damn boot, but I catch up to her in the hallway. I grab hold of her wrist, and she whirls around on me. Her eyes are wide and fired up, her cheeks flushed.