Dirty Talk

by S. L. Scott

  * * *

  I WAKE UP with the sun, but the light gives me no warmth. Running my hand over her side of the bed, the sheets are cold. I’m alone. Silence fills the small space where she once filled it with her beauty, where we once filled it with our love. No evidence of her remains.

  She’s gone.

  Images flash through my mind causing my head to pound. Kissing Reese. Making love to her. The intensity of her eyes on me as I moved in and out of her. Her tear-streaked face. The look in her eyes when we knew our time was up.

  Sitting up, I rub my eyes and yawn. I get dressed and go back to my room. When I open the door, there’s a note on the floor. I pick it up and sit on the corner of the bed to read it.

  Danny,

  You always were a good liar.

  I laugh, some of the weight looming over my shoulders lifts, and I continue to read.

  We may never have New York or Paris, but we’ll always have Marfa.

  See you around,

  Reese

  Holding the note in hand, I fold it closed while staring at the wall. Yes, we’ll always have Marfa, but I want more.

  Three hours later, I’m sitting on a plane in El Paso, waiting to take off. Becs is next to me reading a magazine. I have my phone on the tray in front of me, my headphones plugged into them. She says, “You should call her, or at least text her.”

  “What you do know about ‘her’ when it comes to me?” I ask, a small grin tugging on my lips.

  “I have eyes. We all do.”

  “I might have screwed up.”

  “With her?” she asks, seeming surprised.

  “No. By opening that wound. Um, I mean door.”

  “Wound. Door. You’ve got my attention. Which is it? Wound or door?”

  “Door,” I say, trying to convince her of the story Reese and I concocted back in LA on that first trip.

  She shifts, angling toward me, so I try to stop this interrogation before it begins. “Nothing’s going on, Becs. Just forget about it.”

  “From the way Ms. Carmichael looked this morning, she won’t be forgetting about it anytime soon.” She picks her magazine back up, thumbing through it as if what she just said is meaningless when it means everything.

  “You saw her?”

  “I did. Bryker, Vittori, and Reese were checking out and heading to the airport together.”

  She stops, so I encourage, “Go on.”

  “I was drinking my coffee in the sitting room off the lobby. I had a clear view of them. She was laughing, carefree. I might venture to say happy. She looked relaxed considering the hour. Maybe this was a mini vacation for her. You know what a rat race Manhattan is.”

  Becs reads me too well. “Or maybe a certain hot male model spent the night making her forget about that rat race.”

  I turn back to staring at my phone on the tray.

  Her elbow nudges me on the armrest. When I look at her, she says, “I won’t tell anyone, Danny. I can’t be bought and I don’t sell out my friends. I consider you a friend. I hope you know that.”

  Real friends are hard to come by. In this business someone’s always looking for how to use you in one way or another to further his or her career. So when I give my trust, it’s because the person has proven trustworthy on more than one occasion. Becs has never used me or been anything but honest with me. “Thank you. I consider you a friend as well.”

  She giggles and says, “Now that we’re established friends, she was glowing. Noticeably different in the way she moved with such ease and laughed so lightly.” Listening to her describing Reese, I imagine her in my head, and hope I made her feel that way. “Vittori even commented on the difference.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I didn’t hear the first part, but when Bryker left for the car, Vittori told her she looked, and I quote, ‘happy.’ And then he added, ‘and freshly fucked,’ end quote.”

  I don’t say anything, but my grin grows.

  She adds, “Our secret, but if I had to give a description to the police, I might use those same three words for her.” She laughs quietly and opens the magazine back to the page where she left off, not expecting me to confirm or deny. Becs leaves me sitting there in the knowledge that Reese left feeling much like I feel now. With no regrets.

  CHAPTER 21

  ~Danny~

  MY PHONE RINGS and I answer while walking onto my patio. “Hello?”

  “Are you still scouting or do you want the week off before you head to New York?” Mark often forgets the basics in human interaction.

  “Yes, my trip went great. The client is pleased with the photos and I still have the next gig in New York lined up. Thank you for asking.”

  He chuckles. “I have a shit ton of work to do. Sorry about that. I heard from the ad agency. As you know, they are happy. Which makes Vittori happy, and in turn, makes me happy. Now about the other job. I have two offers to work with you. I know you put location scouting aside to focus on modeling when work picked back up, but we haven’t talked about your return to it or photography job offers. Do you want to stop by the office and go over the offers?”

  “Are they worth considering?”

  “I think so.”

  “How about lunch on you?”

  “Deal. Let Jody know time and place.”

  “Got it.”

  After showering and getting ready for the day, I head downtown. I stop in a shop down on Melrose. They’re holding a suit for me. It was sent by Vittori that I’m supposed to wear to a benefit tonight. I try it on for fit. It’s been tailored to a T. I might have to take this with me to New York.

  In the car, driving to the restaurant, Luke calls. I answer, “What up?”

  “What do you have going on tonight?”

  “A charity event.”

  “Got a date?”

  “Why? You offering?”

  “Fuck no. I’m meeting some girls at a club tonight. I need a wingman.”

  “It’s funny how I’m paid millions and am the current Sexiest Man on the Planet title holder and I’m the wingman.”

  “Some need more help than others.”

  I joke, “I’m thinking about getting that title engraved on my tombstone.”

  “You’re so full of yourself. You need to come spend time with the little people and gain some perspective back.”

  “Sounds like a solid plan. I’m game.”

  “Two girls. Are you looking?”

  “Not really.”

  “I take it all went well with Reese?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “No pleading shit with your best friend. You two hooked up?”

  I don’t bother answering. He carries on anyway. “So you’re up for tonight, say eleven?”

  “I can meet earlier. The event starts at six. I’ll be done by nine.”

  “Meet me at Hud’s at nine thirty.”

  “Later, dude.”

  The valet takes my car as soon as I park at the restaurant. Walking in, I see Mark and Jods at a table by the far window. I lean down and kiss Jods on the cheek. “Always lovely to see you.”

  “You too.”

  I reach over and shake hands with Mark. “Not lovely to see me?” he jokes.

  “Ravishing,” I say, sitting down.

  We place our orders before we dive into business. Jods hands me a file while Mark starts going over each offer, listing the pros and cons of continuing to scout. “You’re a name now, Danny. This is just a bonus. So if you don’t love doing this, spend your time more wisely and focus on the modeling.”

  I read over the offers, mainly the dollar figures. “They’re good money.”

  “They’re good money for people who aren’t named Danny Weston. You make ten times that in a day.”

  “I’m not attached to location scouting. It was just a way to branch out a few years ago. The photography I enjoy and I’m good at. I know how to get the best from models, but I think right now it’s more a hobby than something I want to focus on for
money.” I close the file. “I say no to all three.”

  “I’ll let them know. I think this is wise for your career right now. You’re at the top of your game and from here, it’s the stratosphere.”

  “Top of my game makes me think I can only go downhill from here.”

  “No, that’s not what it means. It means we choose our next steps carefully. How are you feeling about acting?”

  Shaking my head, I instantly reply, “Not that keen.”

  “As I mentioned in my office, you don’t have to audition for some of the roles. Easy gigs.”

  “I don’t need easy gigs. I’m working a lot as it is.”

  “What about the future?”

  “We can talk then. Right now, I’m not feeling it.”

  Mark smiles. “Good. I think that’s wise. As for Vittori. How’s that going?”

  “Well. I leave in two days for New York, then we’re off to Paris two days after that.”

  “So you sure you want to eat that burger?”

  Tilting my head, I’m annoyed and hope me giving him the evil eye gets the job done.

  He blows me off. “Do you have to take your shirt off? Jody?”

  Looking through her binder, she runs a finger down her meticulous notes. Stopping three-fourths of the page down, she taps it. “You might,” she says, looking up sympathetically. “There’s a clause that says you might. It’s better to err on the safe side.”

  With the best timing ever, my burger is delivered. This calls for another evil glare in Mark’s direction. I push the plate away, and before the waitress leaves, I ask, “Can I get the burger to go and order grilled chicken lightly seasoned with a side of in-season veggies sautéed in light canola or vegetable oil, no butter?”

  She smiles, picking up the burger. “Of course. I’ll put that order in now.”

  Jody is about to dig into her salad, but looks like she feels bad. “Sorry.”

  Mark says, “I’m not. This burger is damn good. You hitting the gym after lunch?”

  “I guess I have to. I have a benefit to attend tonight.”

  “Ah yes. Make us proud,” he adds, wiping his mouth.

  I respond silently with my middle finger expressing how I feel about watching him eat what I’m craving. He’s lucky I like him so much, and he gets me the good gigs or I’d walk out on his ass right now.

  Damn lucky.

  * * *

  “DANNY?”

  “Over here.”

  “Look here. Look here!”

  “Danny Weston?’

  “Right here.”

  Angling left, I keep my smile minimal. That works best on the red carpet in photos. Unaffected. Even if I am, I pull it off like this is just another day in the life. I turn to face forward, tucking my hand in my pocket and raising my chin. This angle is always a good one in a well-fitted suit. Shows the lines down my body and highlights my height. With both hands in my pockets, I give the paparazzi to the right a new expression, a slight smirk and steely gaze before being directed to move to the next spot for photos.

  The paps think they know what they want. They don’t. I do. I give them what they don’t even realize they need until I deliver it. And then they devour it—eating out of my hand.

  I stop on the X marked out on the carpet and repeat the last stop.

  Once I’m inside I head straight for the bar. “Bourbon on the rocks.”

  The drink is set down and I leave a tip. “Thanks.” Turning to face the room, it’s filling up. I see a few familiar faces but no one who inspires me to cross the room. I’m fucking starving, but don’t see anything on the buffet I can eat before this photo shoot. My mind wanders while staring out one of the large windows. I should take a jog in the morning. I can’t drink too much tonight. I need sleep, but I definitely need at least one to take the edge off.

  Since leaving Marfa, I’ve been off my game. I’ve wanted to text Reese a thousand times, but I’m starting to think she wants the time apart to figure out what’s happening in her life and with us.

  Chuckling to myself, I find it funny that I assume I have this all figured out. All I know is that Reese Carmichael has made me reconsider my dating habits. I also don’t want to eat crow with Luke. I’ve told him to go after the girl, so I can’t sit idly by and let her walk away again. But I’m more confused than ever. Despite what Becs said about Reese’s mood after spending the night with me, I’m reminded of her closing sentiments.

  We may never have New York or Paris, but we’ll always have Marfa.

  “Hello.”

  I follow the melodic voice and look beside me. A woman, beautiful blonde with her hair up—classically styled, black dress, not too revealing and pretty. Hazel eyes lit up by the bright day before us, and a confidence that comes with a comfort in herself. I’m guessing she’s in her late twenties, but you never know in this town the way Botox flows like champagne. “Hello,” I greet her. “I’m Danny Wes—”

  “Weston.” She glances down embarrassed. “Please don’t consider me a stalker. Oh, maybe I am.” She laughs. “I was hoping to meet you tonight.”

  Turning toward the attractive woman, I ask amused, “Were you now?”

  She whispers, “My father is a philanthropist. This cause is personal for him, so he wanted it to be perfect, and of course raise a lot of money.”

  “I left a donation check at the door.”

  “Oh his behalf, I thank you. I must confess that I requested the invitation be sent to you.”

  I’m intrigued. “And why is that?”

  “I can’t imagine my reasons are much different from any other admirer.”

  “You’re an admirer?”

  “I feel silly admitting this to you. I’m a not-so-secret admirer, I suppose, since I’ve outed myself.”

  “So my not-so-secret admirer knows me and my name, and yet, I know nothing about you other than you have great taste in men.” I chuckle. She laughs, then sips her champagne.

  She offers her hand and I take it. “I’m Anna Collins.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Anna Collins.” No ring. Eyes on mine. “For a stalker, I don’t think you’re living up to the reputation.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re much too restrained.” I tease, “I don’t think you even swooned since meeting me.”

  That makes her laugh again. “Well, maybe I’m not a stalker after all, but it is very nice to meet you.” She finishes her drink. “And I’ve been swooning on the inside.”

  “If I wasn’t enjoying your company so much, I might be offended by your lies.”

  “No lie, but it does take a lot to make me swoon.”

  “Well, I’m here if you need smelling salts.”

  “Ahh, you make the ladies swoon and then help revive them. You’re quite the man, Mr. Weston, but I guess I knew that already. What I didn’t expect is how charming you’d be.”

  Smiling, I say, “I think I might be undeserving of all the compliments.”

  “I read how active you are with different charities, and I was impressed. You’re handsome and generous with your time and money. I never get star-struck, but you seemed to do it to me.”

  “My apologies,” I retort playfully. I take another sip of my bourbon. “So you invited me just to meet me?”

  “No, but selfishly I benefit. As does the charity.”

  I lean against a column, my attention on her instead of the view outside. “I’m happy to be of service, Ms. Collins.”

  Taking a step back, she seems to blush under my gaze. “I’ve taken too much of your time with my ramblings over a small infatuation. I should go and mingle.” Her hand waves toward the room behind her. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Weston, to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Collins.”

  Looking back out the window, I finish my drink. A tap on the shoulder gets my attention. I smile when I see her.

  Anna says, “Sorry for bothering you again, but I was wondering if you were seeing anyone?”
<
br />   An eyebrow is raised from her boldness, but I can’t stop the smile. “If you want me to be honest, then I would have to say my current relationship status is complicated.”

  Exhaled disappointment is expressed. “Well, it was worth a try.”

  “I appreciate the interest,” I say, and because I hate letting people down, I add, “If the situation was different—”

  “It’s fine. And thank you. Maybe another time things will be less… complicated.”

  “Maybe.”

  I watch her walk away this time, wondering if I’m making a mistake. I’m pretty confident the mistake I made was letting Reese get away ten years ago. I take my phone and decide to text her, consequences be damned.

  Me: I miss the way you smell.

  Shrugging, I make no apologies for the heavy-hitting message. Just as I’m tucking my phone away, it buzzes. Flipping the screen on, there’s a message from Reese.

  Reese: You smelled me?

  Smiling, I type: And more. I also miss the taste of you.

  Reese: Danny…

  Me: Reese…

  Reese: We shouldn’t do this.

  Me: We should.

  Reese: We can’t.

  Me: We can. Tell me what you miss about me.

  Staring down at my screen, I wait, but nothing comes. When the screen goes black, I sigh and go back to the bar for another drink. Right as I’m about to order, the screen lights up. Stepping off to the side, I turn my back to the crowd for privacy.

  Reese: I miss you tasting and smelling me. I miss the way you taste and smell. I miss the way your scent lingers on my skin and hate that when I showered it was gone. I miss so much I shouldn’t.

  Me: There is nothing wrong with the way you feel. I feel it too. This isn’t wrong. We’re not wrong.

  Reese: I could lose my job.

  Me: It wouldn’t be a job worth having then.

  Reese: Says the millionaire.

  Me: I can’t make you any promises when you won’t believe in us.

  Reese: Believing in us equates into risking my career. I can’t give up everything I’ve worked for on the unknown.

  Me: I’m not the unknown. You know me better than anyone. Like I know you better than anyone else.