Social Media

by JA Huss

She’s standing and on high alert when I enter the open space. There’s no light back here so I imagine she’s all sorts of freaked out.

  Good. Bitch.

  She lets out an audible breath of relief once she recognizes me and I take a lot of satisfaction in that.

  “Ms. Keefe, I presume?”

  “Yes, Mr. Asher.” She stretches out her hand but I ignore that gesture and take a seat in the old webbed lawn chair across from her.

  “Hmm. Well,” she says as she sits back down. “This is some place you have here.”

  “Yup. I love it. It’s the perfect place to have midnight meetings.”

  “It’s three AM, Asher.”

  “Discretion, Keefe. It’s all about discretion.”

  “Perfect. Then I assume we’re going to make a deal here?” She fishes through her bag and comes out with a small digital recorder. “Mind if I tape this?”

  “Tape away.”

  She turns the little machine on until the red light blinks and then mutters some words into it and checks to make sure it’s working. “OK, we’re ready. Why don’t you start by—”

  “Why don’t I start by telling you what’s gonna happen now?”

  “Excuse me?” She looks up with fake doe-eyes. Like she’s stunned. Like she expected this to go her way.

  She cannot be that stupid.

  “How. This. Will. Go,” I repeat slowly. “It’s simple really. You can fuck off. You can print whatever the hell you want. Photos of my wife? Fine. Stories about me? Go for it. But before you do that, Keefe… just make sure you tell your star reporter that I’ve got pictures too. And that shit will hit the public the minute I see my wife in your magazine. Or on your stupid little cable TV network. Or anywhere else for that matter. If my wife’s private photos exchanged on Twitter appear anywhere, her past goes public too.”

  Keefe clicks the little recorder off and shakes her head. “I thought you’d take the easy way out, Asher. I really did. But you’re gonna regret this. I can’t control her, I can only appease her. This was your only chance. I’m gonna let Amy go tomorrow. So whatever she does, it has nothing to do with me. And I could care less if you release things about her past. It’s not my problem.”

  “Oh, it is your problem, Keefe. Because whether you know it or not, that secret she thinks I’m hiding is not about me.” I wait for her smug look before I deliver the last line. “It’s about you.”

  “Ha,” she laughs. “Right. I have no idea what you two are talking about. I have no idea how you know each other so well. But I do know this. Your threats are as fake as your on-screen alter-ego. You having a superhero complex, Asher? Newsflash, asshole. The Invisible Man isn’t real.”

  “Oh, he’s real. Keefe. He’s real. He might take the form of well-concealed video equipment these days. But he’s one hundred percent real.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t know me.”

  “I know more than you think, Keefe. A lot more. You want to know what this is about?” I stand and she stares up at me. “You want to know what Amy has against me?”

  “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Movie Star.”

  “November, 14, 2005. Issue one of Buzz Hollywood. A press-printed paper circulates through the Hollywood clubs. Given out at the door while people wait in line.”

  She narrows her eyes but the anger is replaced with confusion. She doesn’t see it yet.

  “You ran a story that changed your life.”

  “So?”

  “It was a lie.”

  “It was not,” she bellows, standing up like she’s gonna take the control back. I smile and nod as I stare her down. “I had proof of that shit. Frankie Miller did not kill DeeDee Cisco, it was a suicide. We proved it. Not to mention I knew him personally from my time at UCLA. He was my graduate school advisor. And if it was false, believe me, he and I would both be in jail right now.”

  I stand up to take her down a notch as she is forced to admit how small she is compared to me. “He’s guilty as fuck, Keefe. And so are you.”

  She’s shaking her head, like that will make it right. “You don’t know anything. You’re bluffing, to make us back off.”

  “Honey,” I say, taking advantage of her confusion, “who the fuck do you think runs this town? You and the media whores like you? Really?” I laugh under my breath at her stupidity. “Come on, Carey. Step down off your pedestal. Take off the rose-colored glasses and see this shithole for what it is.”

  She stares up like a befuddled child.

  “Mine.”

  “Liar,” she screams at my back when I turn away. “You’re a fucking liar. I’m telling Amy to go to print with those photos. They’ll be all over the internet in two hours!”

  I stop so I can give her a sidelong glance over my shoulder. “And your precious tabloid will be bankrupt before the week is out. So choose wisely, Keefe. There will be consequences.”

  I walk back onto the thick tree-covered path and climb back up the hill to the security building and wait for Ray. He comes through the door laughing less than five minutes later.

  “Don’t get cocky, Ray. I have the means to take her down, but I’ll go down with her if it comes to that.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two - Vaughn

  #WelcomeToMyWorld

  NINE WEEKS LATER

  “GRACE?” I whisper in her ear. “You awake, sweets?”

  “Mmm.”

  At five AM, I take that as a no. “I’m leaving for work. I have to go in early for makeup.” Nine weeks have passed since I brought her home from the hospital and my Grace is still moping. It’s making me crazy. “You want me to send a car, Grace? So you can have lunch with me later?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles.

  That was a yes? I don’t want to ask her again in case I’m mistaken. I’ll take whatever I can get. “OK. Be ready at one.”

  I kiss her on the head and pull away, glancing down at the long scar running down her thigh. It’s still red and raw, but it’s healed. Her limp is gone. She’s been working hard at physical therapy. Bebe saw to that. God, I owe Bebe hard. Grace actually listens to her. Me? She’s still a little rebel with me, but Bebe snaps her fingers and Grace falls in line. Reluctantly, but she does. So I have Bebe to thank for Grace’s quick recovery.

  I stand up and grab my bag so I can head out to the studio.

  First day of actual filming for IM3. Not that I haven’t been working my ass off for more than a month already, since I’m co-directing this time around. I let out a sigh as I walk into the garage and climb into the 911. When I took the IM1 deal I was hoping there’d be a part two. But part three? That’s pretty cool.

  I start the car and rev the engine, backing out slowly so I can turn around in the driveway and head down into the city.

  The drive into the studio is quick, since five AM traffic on Saturday is light. I’m waved through the front gate and two more after that. I drive slowly on the lot until I find my parking spot.

  After the success of part one, we all figured there was a good possibility we’d make it all the way to a trilogy. But after the success of part two, it was a done deal. Three weeks after release, they sent me the script. I signed off on it that same day. The writing was phenomenal. The budget was out of this world. We were all set.

  And then my co-star, Scarlett, had to pull out. She got a better offer that conflicted with our schedule.

  We could wait for her or—

  “Vaughn, baby! Oh God! It’s so good to see you again.”

  We could hire someone else and change the script around a little. “Valencia.” My ex-Disney co-star. My ex-girlfriend. She jogs over to me from the door of her trailer and greets me as I get out of my car.

  “Oh my God, this is so great! I’m so happy we are working together again!” She wraps herself around me like an octopus. Valencia has always been one of those touchy-feely people. “I was so excited when they called to offer me the part. Did they tell you how excited I was?”

  Who? But
I just smile as I pry her hands off me. “Of course they did. That was the first thing they said.” I smile warmly at her and give her a little push to get her walking as I contemplate how thick I have to lay it on to keep her happy.

  This is the game in showbusiness. Everyone wants to feel special. Everyone has a huge ego that needs to be stroked. Everyone requires personal attention.

  I figure it’s no skin off my back to give people these things. And that’s why I’m so successful. I’m a compliment whore.

  “Oh, please, Vaughn. I know better.” She leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my cheek. “But thank you.”

  And then she grabs onto my hand and follows me into my trailer, talking a mile a minute. I barely have time to throw my keys down before my set assistant is thrusting a cup of coffee at my face and insisting I head to makeup.

  “Valencia,” I say again. “Gotta run, hun. Catch you later.”

  Probably not. We’re not scheduled to even be on set together until tomorrow. But what does it hurt to be polite and excited to see her? Nothing. Why save it up for another day? That’s stupid. And goes against the first lesson in Hollywood.

  Attitude is everything.

  I check my watch as I walk over to the set and enter a tan metal door that leads to makeup. I wonder what time Grace will get out of bed. She spends entire days there sometimes. She has therapists but I don’t think they are doing her much good. They’re not really allowed to discuss her care, but one did say Grace mostly sits in silence when she goes. A few words muttered about her day are considered progress. I don’t know what more I need to do to help her recover.

  As soon as the door closes behind me, the sights and sounds of work fill my ears. Work invades my worries about my wife and it’s a relief.

  I’m not the Invisible Man for these opening scenes. I’m just Griffin. We’ve deviated from the original story considerably after the first movie. And so far the Invisible Man hasn’t had much luck in the love department. But I have a feeling that will change in this movie. Valencia only does sexy these days, so I’m sure they added some scenes to show off her amazing body.

  She looks great, I will give her that. At twenty-nine, she’s more beautiful now than she was at sixteen when we dated.

  But beauty was never her downfall. She’s just too bossy for my taste.

  I endure the hour-plus of makeup time and then wander over to the set, reading my script before we start. It doesn’t take much to get into this character. Movie three should be ridiculously easy in that regard.

  I spend the next seven hours waiting, acting, waiting, waiting, acting, and eating. In that order.

  But every minute that passes is one that I’m not spending with Grace. Every minute that passes I miss her more. While I’m waiting, when most of the others in this scene with me are looking over their scripts, I think of Grace.

  I think of her lips. And the way her pillow smells like her shampoo. And the way her eyes turn this amazing blue when we’re in the pool at night. It’s surreal. Sometimes I make her swim with me at night just so I can see her eyes turn that color.

  I picture babies. Baby girls, mostly. Little tow-headed princesses with those same turquoise eyes. I picture holidays together. And buying a new home. Soon. I want that to happen soon. I picture all these things whenever I have a free moment.

  When lunchtime approaches, I can’t stop looking at the door. This will be the first time she’s ever been here to see me at work. I might be nervous.

  A flash of light as the doors open, letting in the outside world. And there she is.

  I want to be on this set when she comes in to find me for lunch. I want to be here, in front of all my co-workers, when she enters this life with me. I want to introduce her and show her off and be proud and happy that she is mine. And I want everyone here to see that.

  “Grace!” I call out as she looks around, uncertain.

  The whole place goes quiet.

  Daisy Bryndle seems like a phantom. She disappeared after Grace was airlifted off that dreary Nebraska farm and never came back. I know Grace still struggles. She accepted Bebe’s advice about physical therapy. She’s done a good job putting it behind her.

  I wave at her as I get up off my chair and walk over with long strides. I take her in my arms and kiss her on the lips. “God, I missed you,” I say into her mouth.

  “It’s only been a few hours.”

  “Too many. Now come on, I’ll introduce you to the crew.” I take her around and give her dozens of names she will never in a million years remember. And then I call the lunch break and lead her outside towards my trailer.

  “Slow down,” she laughs as I pull her along. “What’s the hurry?”

  I open the door to the trailer and wave her in. “You’re the hurry, Kinsella. Now up.” She climbs the stairs and I smack her ass as we enter the trailer.

  “Don’t be a caveman, Asher,” she throws back.

  That Asher shit used to bother me. But ever since she called me that back in the hospital, I take it as a term of endearment.

  I scoop her up in my arms and walk her back to the bedroom. I look down at her face before I do it. I want to see the thrill in her eyes, the smile on her face. “Don’t do it,” she warns me.

  I throw her down and turn her over so fast the idea of struggle never enters her mind. “I owe you so many spankings, Mrs. Asher.”

  “No!” she protests, laughing.

  “Oh, yes.” I pull down her shorts and my dick gets hard just looking at her bare ass. Fuck. I smack it good and hard and she yelps out as her cheek turns pink.

  “You can’t spank me here.”

  I smack her again and this time I let my fingers slip between her ass cheeks so I can find her slick pussy. “Goddamn, Grace. I must not be fucking you enough at home if you’re this turned on with two spankings in my trailer.”

  She’s pressed into the thick comforter on the bed, so she turns her head and gives me a wink. “I’ve been waiting for these spankings for months, but you look like someone else right now. It’s weirdly erotic.”

  Mmmm. Fuck. I forgot about the makeup. “It’s too weird to let me fuck you?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “No, Master.”

  Oh, fucking hell. I yank her shorts all the way down to her ankles and unbuckle my belt as fast as I can. She moans, still watching me with her head turned to the side, when my cock is finally in my hands.

  I lean over her back and bite her shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

  “Please,” she begs. “Do it hard. Fuck me hard.”

  We haven’t had rough sex since before. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been craving it. I was gonna fuck her hard anyway, but her invitation takes away all my doubts. My hand slides back between her ass cheeks and I stick my fingers inside her pussy. She groans and wiggles enough to make me feel like she’s resisting. Like she wants me to take her, whether she wants it or not. This makes me crazy with desire.

  I position the tip of my dick until it’s pressing against her warm, soft folds and then I stop.

  “Tell me what you want, Grace.”

  “You,” she whispers immediately. “Just you.”

  I ease into her slowly. Not pushing hard enough for her, because her pussy clenches around my dick and she rams her ass backwards until I fill her up.

  “Harder,” she begs. “Fuck me harder.”

  I don’t, of course. “Don’t boss me, woman,” I tell her instead. “I decide how hard you need to be fucked.”

  I decide she needs to be fucked very hard right now. But I’d rather save that for tonight. So I ease back out of her, just as slowly.

  She moans with disapproval, but before she even has a chance to whine about it, I ram back into her, my thighs smacking against the back of her legs.

  “Like that, you filthy bird?”

  “Yessss,” she whispers. “Yessss.”

  Her voice alone is enough to make my cock throb with want. I thrust a little harder this ti
me and another. “Yes, please, more,” is whispered into the blankets on the bed.

  “I think you should come to work with me every day. Let me make you my trailer whore. Keep you tied up on this bed, your legs spread open for me, your pussy dripping wet as you think of all the ways I will fuck you wild when I come for lunch.”

  Goddamn, I might come from my own dirty talking.

  “Do it, Master. I’m yours to use as you please.”

  I pound her for that remark and she starts to moan a little too loud for a back lot trailer. So I pull out, flip her over, and place my hand over her mouth as my cock slides back inside her pussy. “Shhh, you wild thing.” She breathes hard through her nose as I continue to pump. Her legs wrap around my waist, her thighs pressed against my hips, squeezing as she tries to keep me close when I pull too far away.

  I thrust one more time, pushing as deep as I can get. She stiffens a little with the force, her pussy gripping my cock so tight it can only mean one thing. Her reaction fuels my desire to have her. To spill my come inside her. My head falls back automatically and I feel the release and it’s over.

  I growl out my satisfaction as her legs, weak and trembling, unwind from my hips. I fall on top of her, my pants still mostly on, her shorts still around her knees. And I pull her over so her face is resting on my chest. She breathes hard and heavy, panting as she tries to calm her racing heart. And then things slow… the rhythm, the pulse in her neck as I kiss it tenderly, my own heart… slows.

  “I love you,” she says quietly.

  “I love you back.”

  Someone pounds on my trailer door and breaks the moment. “Yeah,” I call out.

  “Five minutes, Mr. Asher,” they yell back.

  “I’m bored at home,” Grace says.

  “I’m sorry, sweets. You can come here every day if you want. You can come all day. I’d love for you to be here. But it’s boring here too.”

  “Maybe it’s better to be bored together?”

  “It is,” I say, kissing her neck one more time. She’s calm now, the wild ride behind us. “It is. Stay here in my trailer and rest if you want. Or go for a walk on the lot. I can get someone to take you around?”