Dirty Talk

by S. L. Scott

  I gasp for the second time tonight when I see it. I’m in awe of how pretty it is as he slips it on my finger. “It’s gorgeous. But why? And how? We can’t afford this.”

  “Don’t worry. I put enough down to make the monthly payments affordable until then.”

  “If we have to make payments, we can’t afford it.” I stare at it on my finger, growing attached to it already.

  “Do you like it?”

  I never want to give it up. “I love it.” I wiggle my fingers and watch how it sparkles on my hand. I look up into his gleaming eyes and feel overwhelmed with thankfulness for the amazing man before me. I never want to give him up. “I love you. Thank you.”

  “We’re going to get married one day. I promise you, Jane. I’ll make all your dreams come true. The wedding, the kids, the house. All of it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise and cross my heart.” He leans down again and kisses me. With a simple twist, he’s under me, my back to his chest, and we lie there in the water. His wet clothed arms wrap around my bare body, keeping me warm.

  …I unload the last suitcase from the car, not wanting it to be stolen while I sleep in a motel in the middle of nowhere. The place is rundown and making me feel like I might be killed if I take a shower. No, I won’t think of Psycho. I won’t take a shower here or sleep with both eyes closed. Nope, not gonna do it.

  I lie on the bed staring up at the swirly wallpaper they’ve hung. I’ve never seen wallpaper on a ceiling before, but I like getting distracted by the design. My eyelids grow heavy and my body starts relaxing. If only my mind would. Dreams weave throughout the night…

  A car is in the driveway when I walk up. I recognize it. It’s the same one he had in college. As I pass I remember all the times we had sex in that backseat. There’s a large scratch over the right tire. He was so upset when I hit that guardrail, but he was more worried about my safety, and never said a word about the damage.

  A cat jumps out from the bushes startling me. “Rascal,” I say, kneeling down and petting him like I had when I was seven. He died when I was fifteen. Hit by a car. I never got to say a proper goodbye or even bury him.

  Music comes from the house and Luke’s friend, Blaise, walks by with a guy I once shared a table with in Chemistry lab. I’m so confused. They don’t see me. I get up and walk to the door. It’s been left open, the music louder, the notes a blur. I don’t recognize the song.

  “Luke?” I call out.

  I walk inside when no one answers. The cat runs by me and I quickly move out of the way when it runs upstairs. “Luke?” I’ve not been here enough to feel comfortable in his space. Laughter draws my attention to the top of the stairs.

  A woman with long blond hair is stroking my cat. My childhood cat. Traitor. When she sees me, her voice is muffled, but I understand exactly what she says, “He’s happier without you. You left him and now he’s mine.”

  “I didn’t leave him forever,” I protest. “It was never supposed to be forever. I love him.”

  “He doesn’t love you anymore. You should leave before he sees you and you make him miserable all over again.”

  A tear falls down my cheek and hits the palm of my hand. When I touch my cheek it’s dry. But my shirt over my heart is wet. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed.

  My eyes flash open and I sit up, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath short. The dream was disjointed and chaotic, not making sense. What does it mean? I rub my eyes and roll onto my side. I’ve relived the time I caught him with that other woman many times, but I haven’t had a nightmare over it in a while. I’ll be seeing him soon and my anxiety over this reunion has seeped into my subconscious.

  When will I finally heal? This time apart was supposed to close those wounds, give us a fresh start as friends. Did I set myself up to be hurt all over again without even realizing it? I found myself in the cycle of wondering why he wasn’t calling or texting. Was he dating or seeing someone else? I gave him no reason not to, but I hate it just the same. Stupid dream. My heart feels broken. Again.

  It’s six in the morning, and I throw the covers off me. I’m ready to leave this motel and this nightmare behind. Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling onto the highway.

  I always hated that damn cat.

  CHAPTER 11

  ~Jane~

  HOTEL SAN JOSE’S TILED roof and green vine covered wall comes into view. The gray metallic sign is welcoming after the long journey. I park on the side and take one of my suitcases with me inside to check in. I’m given a room key and directions to one of the bungalows. The courtyard is quaint and quiet with posters on the fence advertising live music nights.

  Compared to my car and the room last night, the room is a change that makes me smile. It’s clean and spacious. This may be a temporary home, but it feels like just the new beginning I need.

  When I head back through the courtyard to get the rest of my belongings from the car, I daydream of finally having some real food, not fast or junk food I had on the road. I’m lost in thoughts of a large salad and a glass of sauvignon blanc when I hear my name. I stop, my back to the familiar voice. I collect myself, brushing my hair back away from my face. Surely it’s a mess. When I turn around, I smile. “Ian, wow, you’re already here.”

  “Yeah, a few days now. We scouted a few of the locations and did some setups to make sure they’d work.”

  I forgot about that part of the process. That means Luke is here. Somewhere. Looking around, I wonder if he’s staying here or if he chose somewhere else.

  Ian walks around the pool and greets me with a hug that I return. He’s very attractive. Not my type, but very good-looking. With his dark eyes set on mine, he smiles too Hollywood—insincerely. I’m not a believer in the practice of the casting couch, but I have a feeling he might be. He raises his blue-lensed sunglasses and says, “I think you’re going to like some of the locations we’ve chosen. They have a good vibe about them. You were concerned that setting wouldn’t project the emotions of some of the scenes, but I think you’ll approve.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Is it possible to have rehearsals there?”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and nods thoughtfully. “We probably can with a few. The others we had to get city permits, so if they do it, it will be with an audience and on the crew clock.”

  “Of course, I wasn’t thinking of that.” I motion toward the exit, a subtle hint I’m ready to go. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes, the schedule will be emailed later. We’re tweaking the first three days, then it should smooth out. Glad you made it.”

  “Thanks. I am too.” I rush to the car and grab a box before heading back to my room. My hotel room for the next month is situated in a row of three doors, with mine in the middle. Its design is sparse. Only the basics with concrete floors. I roll my case to the base of the bed and use the restroom. When I come back out into the main room, I hear the deep timbre of a voice.

  A voice I’d know anywhere.

  “I promise you, Jane. I’ll make all your dreams come true. The wedding, the kids, the house.”

  I used to love hearing him dream along with me. But that dream turned into a nightmare. The nightmare from last night flashes back and I close my eyes, then shake my head to clear my thoughts.

  From the one-sided conversation, it sounds like Luke is on the phone. I move closer to the wall where I hear his voice coming from—the space beneath the adjoining door. Pressing my ear against the wood, I listen. “I don’t know,” he says. “Today or tomorrow… A month… I’m not sure anymore… Of course I think about Jane. All the fucking time.”

  The door feels hot as if I’ve been burned and I jump back, realizing it’s my ears that are burning. His voice lowers and I miss what he says next. Feeling guilty and a little dirty, I rush out of the room. The door slams behind me as I hurry through the courtyard. Smiling at Ian again, I don’t stop. I don’t stop until I reach my car and hide inside. Closing my eyes, I ta
ke a deep breath. When I exhale, I start the engine so I can turn on the air conditioning before I catch fire from this Texas heat.

  The panic subsides and then reality hits me.

  Luke Anders is right next door to me. For a month.

  I’ve only been here for a minute or so and I’m sweltering. The air hasn’t cooled me off so I pull my shirt away from my sticky skin. A knock on the window makes me jump; my hand instantly covers my heart.

  Luke steps away from the car with his hands up in surrender. He mouths, “Sorry.”

  Shaking my head, I take another quick breath to calm myself, and push the button that slides the window down.

  “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was sneaking up on you.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassure him, my heart racing—from his close proximity or from being startled I’m not quite sure.

  When I open the door, he opens it wider and I get out. I can’t help but take him in, my breath escaping me just like the first time I ever saw him. He’s stunningly handsome, maybe even more so. Definitely more so. One month without seeing him and now he’s trying to kill me. His rugged good looks, the T-shirt stretching across his broad, hard body, and a week’s worth of beard growth makes me want to rub my fingers and other things on it to see if it’s rough or soft.

  In a word?

  Damn. Hot.

  Fine, two words, but he’s worth breaking the rules for.

  And just like that, all my better senses fly out the window. “Have you been working out?” I regret saying it the second I do. I regret it doubly when that cocky smirk that made me fall in love with him appears, transforming his entire attitude.

  He pops a bicep for me, and replies, “I’ve gotten in a little gym time recently.”

  “Well, it shows.” Shut up, Jane. I wave my hand in the air, unable to control myself. “I’ve got a VIP ticket to the gun show. Any idea where I might redeem it?” What the hell am I doing? He drives me nuts and I fall for it every time.

  Luke laughs. Pretending to take the imaginary ticket, he stashes it in his back pocket. One arm goes out and then the other. “Bam. Bam! Check these babies out.”

  Now I’m a giggling mess. Running my hand over one then the other, I smile. “It was worth every dime I spent on that ticket.” I squeeze his muscle.

  He laughs and drops his arm. “And how many dimes did you spend?”

  “Ten shiny dimes for each.” I walk around to the back of the car and open my trunk.

  Luke chuckles even harder. “Glad you got your money’s worth then.” He comes around and grabs the large suitcase out, setting it on the sidewalk and pulling up the handle.

  I reach in the backseat and pull out the last box, but he moves in and grabs it for me. “Take the suitcase. I’ll carry this for you.”

  Rolling the suitcase behind me, we walk along the sidewalk back to the hotel as if we’re friends, as if we haven’t hurt each other’s hearts. I ask, “What were you doing out here?”

  “Getting coffee. I heard Jo’s is great. It’s next to the hotel.”

  “I could use one. The drive was exhausting.”

  He walks one step to the side and behind me. “Why did you drive?”

  “I wanted to have a car.” I hate lying, especially to him, but I’m not ready for him to know I don’t have a place to call home anymore or a place to store my car in LA for a month. I’ll have to face the fact of my reality once this film wraps, so I choose to hide my eyes and stick with the white lie.

  A silence pervades the journey as we walk through the courtyard. I stop in front of my door. Looking to his, I wonder if he realizes the relation of the two. Turning back to him, his smile is much nicer, more the sweet boy I once knew. I still struggle with what to say, so I awkwardly shift, and signal to the door behind me. “This is me.” I unlock the door, and step inside.

  “Right next door.” He follows me inside. After setting the box down on the table, he looks around the room. “Just like mine. It’s nice we’ll be neighbors.”

  “Quite the coincidence.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Maybe not?”

  “Could be fate, Janie.”

  “You never believed in fate.” I sit on the bed just as some of the old feelings come swirling back in the quiet of the room.

  “I believe in destiny these days.” He turns away from me and stares out the window.

  Looking up at him, he’s shadowed by the bright sun coming in through the window. His back is to me and I see those broad shoulders that used to eclipse me when he held me tight. So many hours and days spent in those arms that it makes me feel sad to see them without being able to touch him again. “How are we going to do this?”

  Walking across the room with a polite smile in place, his thumb runs over his bottom lip. He stops and leans against the adjoining door. “You’ve made it more than clear that we won’t be doing anything together.”

  “We shouldn’t have done what we—”

  “Don’t say it, Jane. I don’t need the reminder or the reprimand. I get it. It’s all in the past. Just how you prefer.” His tone is mean. His body language backs his words when he crosses his arms. Tense. Short-tempered.

  I walk to the door and open it wide. I don’t need to offer him a golden invitation to leave. He’s clearly ready and walks out without being asked. He opens his and before I shut the door, I say, “I hate this.”

  “You and me both, honey.” He goes inside his own room and the door closes to mine.

  Shutting my door, it slams harder than intended. I stand with my back to it, wondering how we went from laughing to irritated so quickly and if the entire month of shooting is going to be like this.

  I may have made a huge mistake closing this deal. But the deal is done, so I’m going to have to bend or he is. We can’t continue with so much tension between us or we’ll end up in a screaming match or worse… back in the sack like we were a month ago.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sleeping with Luke Anders doesn’t solve problems. No matter how amazing the sex is.

  Damn him.

  * * *

  “SO THIS IS what love looks like these days?”

  “You don’t know?” Scalia, the makeup artist, asks in between drags from her clove cigarette.

  Fortunately she blows the smoke away from me. With my eyes still on the lead actors, we watch them rehearse. It’s obvious their attraction is off, their hands awkwardly placed on each other—his on her shoulder, hers not able to stay still on his leg as if she’s uncomfortable. “My love was different,” I reply.

  She laughs and holds her vodka martini straight up, ready to sip. “Oh darling woman, what was your love like?”

  I’ve drunk too much. My tongue has become slippery with secrets. But I’ve had to watch Luke for the last two hours talking to the crew, greeting each one, getting to know them, being friendly and outgoing—ignoring me—and I’ve become irritated. I take another sip from my wine glass, but nothing reaches my mouth. I look down and it’s empty. “Shit,” I mumble.

  Scalia offers me her glass but I shake my head. “I don’t mix or I’ll be a sloppy mess.”

  “I think you already are.”

  “I am not.” I stand too fast for my body to keep up. I waver but am steadied just as fast.

  “Careful there.” Luke, looking like his gorgeous self, holds my upper arm.

  “I’m fine,” I snap, my happy-hour mood ruined long before by other insidious feelings like jealousy.

  His hand disappears and I miss the feel of it along with everything else about him. I take a step, but by the third, I face plant into Luke’s super soft burgundy shirt.

  “You sure about that?” I hear a chuckle mixed in with his words.

  Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I pretend I’m sober. “Is this shirt made of cashmere? Very fancy, Mr. Schmancy Producer.”

  “It’s called cotton.” His smile is in place, but I can tell he doesn’t find me as f
unny as I find myself. “Did you eat dinner?”

  “Oh God, don’t be the parent. I have a mom, thank you very much. Or maybe you’ve forgotten all about her by now.” Looking up at him, I whisper, “She still asks me about you.”

  “And what do you tell her?” His fingers rub gracefully over the bare skin of my arm that he hasn’t yet released, and I swallow hard, liking it so much more than I should.

  “I don’t talk to her much because I don’t know what to tell her about my life.”

  “Tell me about your life then.”

  “I’ve nothing to tell that would matter to you.”

  “You matter to me.” His hand drops to his side as he looks around, pretending this is a casual conversation when my heart would beg to differ.

  “When we were together it was a mis—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.” He looks right into my eyes, making sure I see the emotion behind his words. “Don’t ever think that again.” He leans closer, and lowers his voice. “What do I have to do?”

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  We’re momentarily distracted by the music when the band begins playing again after their short intermission. A few couples start to slow dance and when he looks back to me, he says, “Dance with me, Janie. Just like old times.”

  The sky is full of stars, the music slow and romantic, and the man before me my very own Kryptonite. Janie. Him calling me that with such affection to his tone causes me to move closer, wanting to feel secure in proximity alone if not in his arms. I take his hand and place my other on his shoulder. “We were a love story with an unhappy ending, but here we are two years later dancing in the moonlight in Texas. I couldn’t predict this.”

  “Would you change it?”

  “The ending. I’d change that.” I don’t look up, not able to look into his eyes that will match the night sky above and make my heart ache for an ending that will never be.

  “Jane?”

  “Hmm?”

  An involuntary smile crosses my lips when warm hands touch my waist. I open my eyes to see his set on mine. We stop dancing. “Remember that bar we used to go to back in San Diego? Rocky’s?”