by Cora Brent
Oz is the one who asks the question. “So what else is there?”
Gary seems slightly uneasy for the first time. “Due to your stipulations, your mother was not invited to participate in the show. However, Lita gave us an exclusive interview right before filming started. She had a lot to say. Particularly when she found out you were joining the cast.”
He points to Oz. Oz doesn’t react. I have a feeling I know what’s coming next.
Gary licks his lips and begins to speak again but Brigitte steps forward and cuts him off.
“My mother,” she announces, “was a fucking evil witch.” She struts in front of Gary, flings her red hair over her shoulder and gives him an icy glare. “If I were you I would pay no attention to whatever she garbage she spewed in that so-called interview you’re so proud of because it’s bound to be the sickest of lies. And we will contradict every damn one of them.”
Gary Vogel is amused. His mouth twitches and he taps a finger to his lips before answering. “I have no doubt. Nonetheless, you are aware that I am here for the same reason you are all here. To capitalize on a story. And Lita had a quite a story to tell us. In some cases the truth is, shall we say, immaterial.”
I hear Oz let out a slow hiss. I feel him stiffen with anger. I’m afraid in another few seconds the ‘story’ will evolve to include Gary Vogel being choked half to death.
“But this is not one of those cases,” Gary says quietly, his muddy eyes focused on Oz. “Did you know that my crew sends me highlight reels once a week? It’s enough to get a pretty solid idea what’s going on here. I know a good story when I see one. And Lita Savage has no role in it. At least not a role she would approve of.”
Gary grunts and heaves himself out of the chair. He takes a long drink from the bottle of water and then holds the half empty bottle out. Cate Camp silently appears and takes it from him.
“So that is all I have to share. I wanted to deliver the unfortunate news of your mother’s passing before the press comes calling. And I wanted to let you know that her last interview will never reach the public, not if I have anything to say about it. And of course I do. Naturally I could have delivered all this information to you remotely, but my new ride was begging for some sky.”
Gary strolls right past us and out the door without saying goodbye. The rest of us stand around with puzzled looks for a few seconds and then we follow him outside. He has paused about ten yards away and is squinting at the Harquehala Mountains.
“My god it’s fucking hot here,” he announces loudly and then returns to his gleaming personal helicopter. A few short minutes and one cheery wave of his fat hand later, he is back up in the sky. Gary and his machinery quickly disappear into the west while we stand on the ground and stare.
Montgomery shades his eyes and grunts. “You think a word of that bullshit is true?”
“Yes,” I answer because I’m sure all of it is true.
Spencer had removed his cowboy hat but now that he’s back under the sun he sticks it back on his head. “Well I’ll bet we’ll be hearing about it real soon. Place was a circus after Dad died. Parasites will crawl out of the woodwork and beg for a statement.”
Oz is still at my side. “You okay?”
I blink. I try to smile. “I am absolutely fine.”
I’m not, but it has nothing to do with Lita. I just want to crawl into his arms and rest against his warm chest for a little while. Only a little while. A mere decade or two.
Despite the fact that Lita was far from beloved by any of us, hearing that your mother is dead kind of turns the mood a little somber. We all just wander around, ignoring Cate Camp’s suggestions to visit the Blue Room and ‘unburden the grief”.
My brothers decide to make this a special occasion and take a trip to town together in Spence’s truck. It’s good to see them like that. Not about to kill each other and stuff.
Ava seems the most affected by the news. She retreats quietly to her bedroom and lays down in the dark. Brigitte hangs around the kitchen and tries to eat every bit of raw chocolate chip cookie dough that I mix together. She’s looking out the window, keeping an eye on Alden and Oz, who are apparently scouring the ground for interesting rocks.
The crew is filming. The crew is silent. The crew is doing their jobs. It’s funny how I don’t even really mind that fact right now.
Spence and Monty eventually return from Consequences with a pile of raw meat they plan on barbecuing. Even though Oz is helpless in the kitchen he’s something of a master cookout chef so he takes charge of the food preparations.
Sometime later, right on the cusp of evening, when the divine smell of sizzling meat hangs heavy and we are all just doing ordinary things, it occurs to me that it all seems completely normal. Not the Savage version of normal, which was always a bit bizarre, but the everyday variety. When my sisters and I drag a table into the yard and cover it with a checkered tablecloth so we can sit outside and dine together in the twilight, it seems like the sort of thing any typical family would do.
And we are a family. All of us. Even if most of the time we don’t seem like it.
At the table Monty relaxes and discovers a sense of humor. He talks about the grotesque trauma of prison food and about how when he was inside he learned how to knit. Who knew knitting was a popular prison pastime? I have some trouble picturing a bunch of lumbering, hardened men dressed in orange jumpsuits, frowning over their double pointed needles and asking the guy in the next cell, “Hey, is this row knit or purl?”
I am totally aware of the fact that Oz is beside me the entire time. As night crawls closer, Spence and Monty find some mesquite sticks and show Alden how to toast marshmallows. Bree and Ava laugh and fuss when the little boy manages to get marshmallow goo all over his face. Alden grins and smears some spare melted marshmallow in Monty’s hair for good measure. I laugh as Monty struggles with being both annoyed and charmed as he scrubs marshmallow out of his hair with a napkin. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so freely.
Oz and I are the only ones still seated at the table. When I lean back slightly on the wooden bench he closes in. His arms circle my waist, his chest presses against my back and his breath is in my ear.
Of course my heartbeat immediately accelerates by a factor of ten and my panties suffer an instant soaking.
“Come with me,” he whispers urgently.
“Where?” I whisper back. Actually, it sounds more like a moan.
Oz pushes my hair aside and seductively trails his lips along the hollow at the base of my neck.
“Everywhere.”
I’m dizzy. I might have to just stay right here because I’m not sure standing is possible.
“Right now?”
He tightens his hold around my waist. Somehow a confident finger finds its way under the hem of my shirt to stroke the skin beneath. It’s not totally dark but it’s getting there so we’re somewhat obscured. But even if we weren’t I probably wouldn’t stop him if he shoved his whole hand down my pants.
“Right now,” he says and stands up, pulling me with him.
That kind of catches everyone’s attention. It’s like when there’s music playing and it suddenly cuts off, leaving everyone to stare in the direction it was coming from. There’s some awkward throat clearing and Oz wraps his arm around me, looking everyone defiantly in the face one by one before tearing his microphone off and leading me into the big house.
When a crew member attempts to follow us, Oz stops, tosses back, “I wouldn’t try that tonight,” and then slams the door in his face.
I’m breathless and slightly puzzled. I’m not so dense that I don’t understand what he’s got in mind, but what I don’t get is why we’re headed into Casa de Savage. It’s a place of history, and of heartbreak.
Oz knows exactly what he’s doing. As soon as we’re inside he picks me up without even pausing and heads down the hall.
When I say his name he stops and brushes his lips across mine ever so briefly.
�
�Shh, we’ve wasted enough time. And Loren,” he frowns, “take off your fucking microphone.”
My arms hold fast to his neck as he smoothly carries me to the bedroom. His skin smells of smoke and soap, a combination that strikes me as supremely erotic.
As soon as we’re in the bedroom he kicks the door closed, locks it and sets me on my feet. When I get a good look at his face I shrink against the wall. Not out of fear. I could never be afraid of him. But Oz’s mild manners of the past weeks have all been exhausted, replaced by something far more primal.
Staring straight into that kind of commanding lust would make any woman weak.
I’ve seen what Oz is like when he’s tender.
And I’ve seen him when he’s rough.
I can’t tell which side of the coin I’m looking at.
But then he cups my face gently into his palms, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Loren,” he says with supreme tenderness. “I swore I’d never kiss you again. At the time, I meant it.”
I swallow hard. “I remember.”
How could I forget? That night in the desert I’d begged him to use me hard. We said things to hurt each other. That was what I wanted. I wanted the bad memory.
It didn’t turn out how I thought it would. But then, nothing has.
My voice is the thickest of whispers. “Oz. Oscar. Kiss me now. Please.”
He shuts his eyes briefly and lets out a small groan. He tips forward and presses his forehead lightly against mine. At the same time his body grinds against me with hard, urgent need. My hands travel eagerly down his strong back, craving to feel more skin.
I need more. I need it all.
If I don’t get all of him soon I don’t think I can hold onto sanity. I want him so bad I can’t see straight.
But I want this first.
When our lips touch, it’s soft, tentative, contradicting the frantic hunger ready to bust right through his pants and take me where I stand. I move my hand lower to cup the hard outline of him and he inhales sharply. Yet the kiss remains tender. His tongue slides against mine in a slow dance that’s sweet agony.
The very first time he kissed me I knew that kiss would be the gold standard forever. Until this moment it was. I’m lost in this kiss and I don’t ever want to be found.
But there’s a more primitive part of me that can’t take it anymore. My hips start rocking against him in rhythm, mad for relief. When his hands leave my face and travel between my legs I groan into his mouth. I’m grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up and running my fingers along hard, smooth muscle that never ends.
Oz breaks free and pulls back. His eyes are blazing and he yanks his shirt over his head with one fluid motion.
“Wait,” he growls when my trembling fingers begin to undo my own shirt. His hands cover mine and his deft fingers go right to work. “That’s my job.”
He’s quick and sure, sliding the fabric down as he runs his lips along my right shoulder.
“Oz,” I breathe, reaching for his pants.
The sight of his dick straining to be released is hypnotic. Every muscle between my legs twitches expectantly. I’ve never needed anything so much.
Oz is in charge right now though. He flashes a sexy, knowing grin and carries me the short distance to the bed. Once he’s got me on my back he gets between my legs, circles my waist with his big hands and rolls his thumbs over my belly.
“We’ll get there, Ren. But first you’re going to hear this.” His strong thumbs travel lower and lower until I gasp, then bite my lip, trying to compel my body to stop writhing in the most wanton manner.
He’s doing it on purpose, teasing the hell out of the most sensitive place I own and stopping short of letting me get too close. I raise my hips, straining wildly against his fingers. I’m so ready I swear I could come if he would just finish sliding my shorts down. He smiles at my struggle, content to tease until he decides I’m ready.
Then his smile fades and his mood grows intense once more.
“A long time ago I fell hard for you, Loren Savage. I never really got up again. I don’t want to rehash how we hurt each other and why. I just want us to have a future.”
He holds my gaze while he slowly runs his hands up over my belly and over my breasts, gently tugging the straps of my bra down before nimbly unhooking the back.
“Our future is here,” he whispers, leaning forward and lightly kissing my chest, just above my heart. “And here.” He moves up to my mouth and kisses me with furious passion. When my arms pull him closer he backs off, grins at me wickedly and moves down my body. He slides my shorts off with excruciating leisure before tugging my panties down with his teeth. While I’m biting my tongue and trying to stifle the urge to buck my hips like a lust-starved nympho, he flashes me a grin that says he knows all about my desperation.
“And here,” he whispers before sliding his tongue inside me for one final, unbearable torment. I nearly scream when he withdraws. But screaming won’t give me what I want.
Instead, I get right up on my knees, flatten my palms against his chest and push him back. Since Oz is likely ten times stronger than I am he could stop me easily but he lets me straddle him. He also lets me do whatever I need to do to get his pants open and his dick released. We lock eyes and I bend forward. When I get my mouth on him a groan rips out of his throat and his hands press the back of my head. I lick the shaft and teasingly suck my way to the sweet spot. Slowly I slide my lips over him until the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat. That’s when he stops me.
“No,” he demands in a half strangled voice. “I need to watch your face, Ren. I need to watch you the entire time.”
Oz lifts me with one hand while searching through his pants with the other. He extracts a condom and gets it rolled on before pulling my legs around him once more and gripping my ass, kneading the flesh.
Our bare chests press together and we stare into each other’s eyes. He isn’t inside me yet. I feel him; so hard, impatient, ready to enter. I’m just as impatient. I’m aching to stretch wide enough and take all of him inside.
We pause in the same breath. We are frozen together, an inch away from joining. His heartbeat is right there, right on the other side of mine.
My fingertips trail lightly along his square, rugged jaw.
“I love you, Oz. Not just for what we were. But for what we are now. For everything we’re going to be.”
He grabs my hand and kisses it lightly, the sexiest of gentlemen.
“I love you too, Ren. I never stopped. I never will.”
Then he drops my hand, grips my hips and slides into me hard. I’m wrapped around him so tightly I can’t imagine ever letting go.
We go slowly the first time. We ravage each other the second time and the time after that. We fall sleep in each other’s arms.
And when we wake up we start doing it all over again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
OZ
They are leaving. I’d be a two-faced prick if I said I was sorry to see them go. I’m not. I’ve been counting down to this day. Since the crew seems a little behind schedule, I join Monty in scouring the property for cameras, screwdriver in hand. Cate Camp does her bouncy-titted run over to the house, trying to stop me.
“Don’t rip them out, Oz! Just cover them with something for now. Remember, Season Two is likely to start in the spring.”
I ignore her and successfully remove the camera mounted on the wall behind the kitchen sink. She scowls when I hold out the electronic souvenir so I just toss it on the table and move on.
The rest of the crew really isn’t so bad. They’re just guys with cameras trying to get a job done. It’s just that I don’t like being the job.
Rash is carefully packing up the van. He waves as I exit the house and head for the barn. I wave back. We already did our handshake thing. I don’t see any reason to do it again.
Sometimes I get an uneasy feeling about what’s still on the horizon. After all, Gary and friends
can do whatever they want with all this footage. That’s what it means to be at the mercy of someone else’s project. I remember scoffing to Brock that I couldn’t give a wad of armpit hair what they turned me into for the sake of ratings. I feel differently now. Not because I’m looking out for my reputation. But because I don’t want this whole thing to kill theirs. I’m not just talking about Ren. I’m talking about the rest of them too. In a roundabout way I’ve finally started thinking of them as my family.
Ava and Alden are out in the yard feeding the chickens. It’s the kid’s favorite thing to do. I stop by and throw a fist full of cornmeal in the air. It scatters everywhere, the chickens lose their peck-happy minds and Alden laughs so hard he plunks right down in the dirt. There’s no other option but to laugh just as hard.
“Best sound in the world.”
She has managed to sneak right up on me. She has a talent for doing that. Ren stands there on the other side of the chicken coop looking like a million gold bucks with loose hair, cutoff shorts and a peasant-style top that has just enough of a see-thru quality to get my gears moving.
“Best view in the world,” I counter, joining her on the other side of the gate. We start walking hand in hand and when we’re beyond the caretaker’s house, no one else in sight, we stop.
When I get my arms around her she melts right into me. It’s good. I’m holding my dream girl close and neither of us cares who knows about it. At this point I actually have a grudging kind of affection for the whole stupid show. God knows it gave me the push I needed to reclaim what I’d lost.
“Oh!” Ren exclaims suddenly and pulls away. “Gary called. He called my cell phone which I thought was a little weird but it turned out to be a suspiciously nice conversation.”
“Oh yeah?” I turn her around so her back is against my chest and my arms are crossed over her body. We stare out at the mountain views while I breathe her in. “How’s that?”
“He started off by telling me he’ll arrange a private screening in L.A. so we can see the episodes before they air. He’s expecting the show to be a huge deal. I warned him that people want scandal and dirty laundry. They don’t want to see a happy ending. He just chuckled and said, ‘Very wrong. That’s exactly what people want, Miss Savage.’ I don’t know, maybe he’s right after all. We’ll find out soon enough. That screening he’s talking about, that’s supposed to be in August. Next month.”
