Like The Wind

by Bengtsson, J.

  “But getting stopped on the street isn’t the same as what happened today. It was pandemonium, and that’s not normal by anyone’s standards. This was bordering on assault. You have to see that simple fan encounters don’t include suffocation.”

  “I know, but typically when it gets out of control like that security is there to control it.”

  “Typically? What happens when it’s not typical?”

  “Today happens, that’s what.”

  The tightness in my chest spread as dread filled my lungs. As much as I wanted to stand by his side, I wasn’t sure I could give up my autonomy. I respected my laidback lifestyle enough to want to protect it from Bodhi’s feverish one.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I felt him stiffen. “Sure.”

  “You say you’ve been famous your whole life. How did it all start?”

  He pondered for a few beats. “I was discovered at a mall when I was two. Did some modeling, commercials, and then I got my first television series at four and that’s when it took off.”

  “So you were juggling work and school?”

  “I had on-set tutoring.”

  “You didn’t go to school?”

  “Not the traditional kind, no.”

  “Huh, so you never had teachers telling nerdy math jokes, or prom, or Friday night football games?”

  “No, no, and no.”

  “Do you ever feel like you missed out?”

  His granite jaw appeared to tighten and I wondered if I’d hit a sore spot.

  “Maybe sometimes, but I didn’t hate growing up on television, or at least I didn’t until my star burned out. Then it became the opposite of fun.”

  I gently ran my finger along his arm, encouraging him to continue. By his jittery disposition, I surmised this was a truth he wasn’t used to sharing.

  “There’s a black hole that opens up when a child actor gets too old to play little kids but too young to play teens. Actual teens are generally cast aside for ‘Hollywood’ teens—twenty to thirty year olds. Once I hit sixteen and started puberty, I was done for. I couldn’t get a job in a mouthwash commercial, that’s how thoroughly I’d been tossed away.”

  “It must have been hard on your self-esteem.”

  “It was, but even harder on my father’s. He’d made a name for himself in Hollywood and it wasn’t a good one. Let’s just say he was the stage dad from hell. You would’ve thought he was the star the way he carried on about every little thing. People only put up with him because I was popular and, in order to keep me around, they had to deal with his shit. But having Tucker by my side was like carrying around two hundred pounds of baggage. Once I’d grown out of being cute, Hollywood couldn’t dump me, and him, fast enough.”

  “I can’t imagine you not being cute.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised. Have you ever heard of that Chinese guy who sued his wife for giving him ugly kids—and won? He claimed she’d deceived him by having plastic surgery and not disclosing her ugly duckling status from the beginning. Well, Breeze, you’ve officially been warned.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe you were ever an ugly duckling.”

  “Well, okay, not by most people’s standards, but certainly by my father’s. See, I’d had the audacity to go through puberty in a less than attractive manner. A growth spurt left me tall and gangly with a spattering of pimples and unacceptably crooked teeth.

  Tucker decided my lack of job opportunities was because I wasn’t good-looking enough so he went to work fixing my outside. I went through six months of the acne treatment that required monthly blood draws and minimal contact with the sun. I was put on a regimented weight gain diet while working out with a trainer two to four hours a day. I spent nearly two years in braces, after undergoing a surgery to align my back teeth because apparently, celebrities weren’t allowed to have a slight under bite. And the icing on the cake came when my father deemed my post-puberty nose too wide at the bridge and arranged for a nose job on the day I turned seventeen. Happy birthday to me.”

  Bodhi’s story blew my mind. His father’s maniacal insistence on beauty was like Munchhausen by Proxy for the Hollywood crowd. What Tucker had subjected him to constituted abuse and Bodhi didn’t even realize it. I was beginning to get a better picture of a father-son relationship that was no partnership. Tucker was the king and Bodhi his loyal subject. No wonder he felt the need to deceive his father. Freedom for Bodhi did not come for free.

  “But even after he’d fixed my physical issues, I was still unemployable in the business because my father was like kryptonite in the casting circles. That’s when he decided to switch gears and tackle a different avenue toward fame and fortune… music. The idea was to turn me into a pop star and, in turn, make both of us matter again.”

  “Did you even want to be a musician?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it before that, but I’d been in both music and voice lessons since I was five, so it wasn’t such a farfetched plan. I’m no Freddie Mercury but I have a fairly decent singing voice. Pair that with the 2.0 Bodhi upgrade I’d gone through and Tucker had stumbled onto a legitimate business plan.

  He handpicked four other teenage boys to join me in forming AnyDayNow. Several producers jumped in to provide the capital when it was determined that my father might have a winning hand. And he did. Within a year of forming the band, Tucker had morphed from an overbearing stage dad into a music industry power player.”

  “And you became a teen idol by no choice of your own.” I realized I was sounding like Debbie Downer but there was nothing inspiring about a story where a full-grown man filtered his dreams through his son.

  Bodhi nodded. “The funny thing is, back then, it never occurred to me to mind. I’d been groomed for stardom, so it was a natural process for me.”

  For the first time, I saw Bodhi’s life for what it was— manufactured. Everything that had happened today at the ice cream parlor was just the after effect of a father living vicariously through his child.

  “So how do you feel about it all now? Do you like being a teen idol?”

  “Uh, I didn’t mind in the beginning. It was flattering, all that attention. But as our star status exploded, it became more difficult. Now, I just feel like I’m playing a part, you know?”

  “So why don’t you leave?”

  “It’s not that easy. Everything I am and everything I’ll ever be has his signature written all over it. He not only owns me, he owns the band. Every step we take, every decision that’s made, goes directly through him. Managing AnyDayNow put him on the map, and Tucker Beckett won’t settle for anything less than world domination.”

  Gripping his chin, I turned his face toward mine. “You do have a choice. It’s your future and no one has the right to dictate it for you. If I were you, I’d hire an outside lawyer and figure out exactly what your obligations are.”

  “You want me to leave the band?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want or what Tucker wants. What matters is what you want. Whether that’s as a member of AnyDayNow or not, you owe it to yourself to find out what your rights are so you can go into the decision informed.”

  I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Whether he’d thought of this before or not, I couldn’t read, but certainly he was giving my advice some consideration.

  “And does the same go for us?” he asked, a sly smile displacing some of the gloom. “What matters is what I want?”

  I laughed. “Oh, no. In our relationship, think of me as your overbearing manager.”

  “Hypocrite.”

  I tucked back into his side, my head in the crook of his arm. God, how I wanted to be all in with this amazing guy. Like 100% in. “I really like you, Bodhi.”

  “But?”

  But… even setting aside my fear of rejection could I really see myself changing my entire life for him? That was the question I couldn’t answer.

  “But, your fame—I’m not going to lie. It scares the s
hit out of me. You see the way I am. I like country western bars and shopping at Marshalls. I’m afraid that big ball of energy that hovers over you is going to swallow me whole.”

  “Why do you have to make it difficult? You could’ve stopped before the ‘but’.”

  “I could have, except the ‘but’ is a really big deal for me. If I can’t see myself thriving in your life, isn’t it better for me to walk away now before our feelings get all tangled up?”

  “I don’t ever want you to walk away from me. I won’t let you.” Bodhi hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me backwards on top of him. Enveloping me in his strong arms, he kissed my neck while his fingers skated over my ribs. Waves of desire and giggles swept through me.

  “Let me up,” I demanded with absolutely no conviction.

  “Would you please stop squirming?” His hands slipped further down my body. “You’re like a worm with arms.”

  “Then stop with the torture fingers.” I said, reaching back and making contact with his balls.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Displacing my hand before I had a chance to latch on, he pinned it against the mattress. “You’re mine.”

  “Dream on.”

  “No dreaming required.”

  And he was right. Bodhi’s hand continued the seductive descent, sliding into my pajama shorts. I gasped when he touched my most sensitive spot, teasing with lithe fingers. Releasing my wrist, his free hand roamed lazily over my breast. Once his fingers found my nipple and circled the pebbled tip, I had no fight left. I gave myself over to him to do as he wished. And he knew just what to do. My breathing intensified with each stroke of his capable hands and I found myself moving smoothly to the rhythm of his beat.

  “Bodhi,” I whispered.

  “Shhh.”

  “I just… we need to… oh god.”

  The sensations were building so fast that words failed me. I was acutely aware of his brawny body curved into me from behind, his hardness pressing into me. Lips like silk danced skillfully down the back of my neck setting my tingling skin on fire. Yes, whatever the obstacle, we could work through it because I’d be damned if I let him find himself another dime somewhere down the road. He was right. I was his.

  Bodhi shifted, his warmth leaving me but only momentarily so he could change our position. He was on top of me now, his powerful body dwarfing me in both size and need. I opened my legs, wanting him inside. Slowly he entered, my body trembling, reigniting. The heat was back and I was flushed with need. He was mine.

  Like slow moving torture, his measured, deliberate thrusts held me rigid on a sword’s edge. I wanted to scream at him to go faster, but I trusted him and his ability to take me where I needed to go.

  Driving my hips up to meet him, I urged him on. Bodhi groaned, no longer able to keep up his methodical rhythm. Frantic in his need, Bodhi increased the pace. I looped my arms around his neck, slick with sweat, then pulled him toward me.

  “Kiss me,” I said.

  His gaze dipped into mine a moment before our lips met.

  Moving as one, we climbed to dizzying heights. His hand slipped between us, fingers searching for the magic spot that would send me flying.

  “You feel it?” he rasped.

  And I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the sex or the warm glow occupying every square inch of my chest.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. The answer was yes. Always yes.

  So I nodded.

  And then his lips were on mine again. He swallowed my gasp and the moan that followed. And when he met the end of me one last time, I let go.

  20

  Bodhi: Mother’s Day

  We planned to meet at a gathering of rocks overlooking the beach. I’d insisted on a wide-open space so I could easily escape if need be. Although I’d thought about asking Breeze to come along, in the end, I decided this was something I needed to do alone. And I was glad, because the minute I laid eyes on my mother, the emotions surging through me were more than I wanted to reveal to the girl I was falling in love with.

  Marni Easton—my mother—was already there when I arrived. She’d been easy to identify since I’d kissed her photograph every night before bed until I was probably fourteen years old. But the woman sitting before me was not the same fresh-faced girl of years past. Life had taken its toll on Marni, and each year she’d lived without me had weathered her beyond expectation. I suspected hers was an aging that had more to do with unhealthy lifestyle choices than the natural process by which the body matures.

  Still, she made a valiant effort to spruce herself up for our meeting. Make-up clung to her skin, settling in the deep lines bracketing her mouth. Dark brown hair touched her shoulders, pulled back in the front and secured with colorful clips. Her bright and cheerful clothing appeared carefully selected, as if she were trying to disguise her true self behind a perky facade. If not for the cigarette shaking in her right hand, I might have bought what she was selling.

  As I closed the gap between us, she stood on unsteady legs. After one last furtive puff on her smoke, she dropped the butt and smoothed a hand down the front of her blouse. Any lingering doubt that Marni Easton was my birth mother was put to rest the minute our gazes collided. Our eyes were the same shade of blue. The frosty hue didn’t translate to the photograph I’d cherished for years, but in the early morning light they were truly striking.

  She stepped forward, her hand extended in greeting. I stopped, fists clenched and buried deep in my pockets. She hadn’t earned the right to touch me. Not yet.

  Marni’s arm dropped limply to her side and she shifted her feet. “You cut your hair,” she observed, a small smile curving her lips.

  I nodded, not even trying to hide my grimace. All the years of silence and that was the best she could do? “I needed a change.”

  “Well, with your looks I suppose you can make anything work, can’t you?”

  It was one of those awkward questions that didn’t require an answer, so I just shrugged.

  “You were always the cutest baby. People used to stop me on the street to tell me how adorable you were. And now look at you, all grown up— a star.”

  Her dreamy expression unsettled me. It was like staring into the eyes of a gushing fan, not my flesh and blood. Who exactly was she seeing when she looked at me— her son or a member of AnyDayNow? Though my guard was already up, it sealed tighter.

  “I heard about the fire and was so worried. Were you hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine. Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but I have a lot of questions. Can we just skip the banter and get to it?”

  Clearly ‘getting to it’ stressed her out. Clasping her hands, she knotted her fingers, eyes darting around to avoid my gaze. When she finally looked at me she swallowed hard, then nodded tentatively.

  Now that I had her undivided attention, I jumped into the deep end without floaters. “Why did you leave me?”

  She seemed stunned. Why, I wasn’t sure. Wouldn’t that be the first question you’d expect to be asked if you hadn’t seen your son in over twenty years?

  “Is that what he told you, that I left you?”

  The way she emphasized he with such bitter contempt, I imaged we were in for a rough ride.

  “No, I drew my own conclusions since you’ve been absent my whole life.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I hope you understand that Tucker Beckett is not who you think he is. His real name is Eddie Watts. And where I come from, he’s a nobody.”

  Indignation rose up on my father’s behalf and I wasn’t sure why. Probably because he was there. He’d stuck around. Which is more than I could say for the woman in front of me.

  “He’s not your father, Bodhi,” she said flatly. “You’re not even blood related.”

  I’d heard it before. She made sure to put it in her letter. But did she think that made a difference? Excused her in some way?

  A scowl coated my features. “Tell me then. Who is Eddie Watts?”

  “He’s my s
tepbrother. After you were born, I was struggling financially and I went to him for help. He took us in.”

  “Sounds like a nice thing for him to do.” So far my father was the hero in this story.

  “That’s what I thought, but when you were about a year old, I had an opportunity for a job in a different city and I left you with him. When I came back a couple of days later, he refused to let me in. Accused me of abandoning you. You have to understand, I was trying to do right by you. Get clean.”

  Her eyes widened as if she’d revealed too much. I half expected her to slap her hands over her mouth.

  “Were you a junkie?”

  She pulled her shoulders back. “I had a drug problem, yes.”

  “Do you still have a drug problem?”

  The slight twitch of her lip didn’t escape my notice. “I’m clean now, but I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve struggled my whole life with addiction. I’m trying, but it’s not always easy.”

  I had a feeling it was the most honest thing to come out of her mouth, and I was not without sympathy for the woman. She seemed truly beaten down by life, and I had no doubt it had been a difficult one. It also explained why Tucker was so militant with me when it came to alcohol and drugs. If I had a strong family history of abuse, it made sense he wouldn’t want me around the stuff. Which was no easy feat given the environment I grew up in.

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Despite my problems, Eddie didn’t have the right to steal you.”

  “What do you mean he stole me?”

  Marni’s lip curled, her eyes distant, as if she were lost in another place and time. “He took you away from me, Bodhi. I came home one day to an empty apartment. Eddie disappeared and took you with him. He stole you. You were mine and he fucking stole you.”

  Taken aback by her hostility, I glanced her over. She wasn’t the ‘clean’ mild mannered woman she pretended to be. At least I knew where I got my acting talent.

  Her eyes widened in response to my quirked brow. Suddenly she was left to soak up the spill with a series of carefully selected words.