Orlando (Blackmail #1)

by Crystal Spears

  She laughs. At least she’s somewhat happy. “The lawyers want to know if you want the Aspen home. I told them I’d give you a call. I haven’t talked to you in a week, so it made sense to say hello and ask you myself.”

  If she is calling to ask me, it’s obvious she does not like how they are splitting things up. “They tried to give you the Aspen home and the Cancun home, didn’t they?” I ask.

  Neri exhales. “Yes. You know I only want the Aspen home, but your lawyer seems to think you want it, too. I told him you wouldn’t be happy with that decision.”

  She is right. I bought that home for her. I can’t stand the cold, and the only reason I went to that home at all, was for her. I hate skiing, so why the fuck would I want that property. My lawyer knows this shit. “Babe, you take the Aspen home. I’ll take Cancun.”

  She laughs. “Thank you. I didn’t want Cancun.”

  I chuckle. “I know, Neri. Are they dividing everything up how we want it, besides the problem with the homes?”

  She ruffles what sounds like paper. “From what I can see. I’ll make sure you get the paperwork before they send it off.”

  I thumb the empty spot on my finger where my ring used to sit. It is a habit. I have been married for the past eight years. It will be weird when it sinks in my brain.

  “Did they change what I asked them to?” I ask.

  So help me, if they didn’t change infidelity as the reason for the divorce, I’m going to fire them both. She had asked for a divorce before she cheated. I don’t see it as infidelity in my eyes. I see it as a cry out for attention. She would have never hurt me that way if she hadn’t asked for one several times.

  “They changed it to irreconcilable differences.” Her voice sounds so sad and discouraged. She has been beating herself up over the scandal. She was going to let them put infidelity down and I would not have that shit.

  “Neri,” I sigh into the phone. I hate when she gets upset. “Stop, alright.”

  I may not be able to see her, but I can tell by the breathy tone in her voice that she is exhausted. “Work late?” I ask as I walk towards Friday’s cabin.

  “Thirteen hours straight today. We got behind on filming last week, and we’ve been trying to catch up ever since.”

  I bend down to take off my shoes so I can walk easier in the sand.

  “So how is Friday?” She changes the subject.

  This is a topic I don’t like discussing with my wife. It is always odd. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea of a divorce, and how topics like this will become our new normal. “She’s good, a little sad. She isn’t her usual spunky self.”

  Neri knows Friday is always happy because of the stories I used to tell her about Friday and me as kids.

  “Friday isn’t cheery?” Neri says in disbelief. “What did you do?”

  Is my wife asking me what I did to my best friend? A person she never an attempt to get to know? What is up with that shit?

  “What makes you think I did something?” I chuckle to cover my nervousness from the question.

  She says her next words with exasperation. “Because, I know you, and you must’ve pissed her off.”

  I grip my shoes in one hand, and dig my toes into the sand, contemplating what I should say. Should I tell her the truth? Should I tell my wife I tried to seduce another woman? What does a man do in these types of situations?

  “Spit it out, Orlando.”

  I peer out at the ocean. The bright moonlight shines on the waves as they crash against the shore. The breeze calms my nerves, and I decide to spit it out.

  “I made a pass at her, and she got pissed because we’re still married. She knows I don’t believe in divorce, so I think she has a problem trusting me.”

  There, I did it. I stand still in the stand and wait for my wife’s response.

  “I could talk to her,” she responds.

  That would be odd. Yeah, not happening. “No, that isn’t necessary.”

  Neri snickers. “Orlando… I’ve moved on. You should be able to move on, too. I’m serious. I can talk to her.”

  Still not happening, and I can’t ignore the sting that springs in my chest when my wife admits that I should move on as well. I will always love my wife, and it still hurts that we’re getting a divorce, but I love two women, and my wife isn’t in love with me anymore. All of this is confusing.

  “Lando, it’ll be all right. You’re going to all right,” Neri whispers.

  Easy for her to say. She isn’t the one breaking the belief she has held since she was a child. I’ll admit this divorce plagues me more than it should, considering I tried to fuck Friday against the wall.

  “Listen, Neri, I’m going to see if Friday is okay.”

  I stop walking when I come up to Friday’s place. I have no idea how to approach this.

  “Gotcha, I’ll talk with the lawyers,” she says and I can tell she is smiling now.

  “Bye, Neri,” I reply before I swipe the off button.

  ***

  Chapter Four

  Part One

  Friday

  You told him to do what?

  Working this close with Orlando is more than difficult. It is almost impossible. Everything between us seems off. At least when we were younger, we knew how to keep our distance. As adults, it is a lot harder. When he first met Neri, it was one of the hardest things for me. With the paparazzi, everything is broadcast loud and clear. I had to watch them publicly fall madly in love. Watching the man you love fall in love with another woman, is heartbreaking and tragic.

  The moment I realized I had lost any chance of maybe being with Orlando was at the premiere of one of Neri’s movies I attended for publicity. He whispered, “Hello Bucket,” and I, of course, blushed and ran to the bathroom later on to bawl my eyes out. Orlando will never know how much it gutted me to watch him love another woman.

  A knock sounds at my door, and my heart speeds up, knowing Orlando is on the other side. He is the only one that would dare bother me without calling ahead first.

  “Open the damn door, Bucket. I know you’re in there,” he shouts through the thin wood.

  With timid steps, I stroll towards the door, my hand going to the knob and turning it. When I crack the door open, I lean against the frame and peer at him. His shoes are in one hand, his feet covered in sand, and the saddest look on his face.

  “What do you want, Orlando?” I speak my words soft as a whisper.

  His empty hand lifts and pushes against the door. I stumble backwards, losing my grip on the frame.

  “We’re going to figure this out,” he says as he stalks past me.

  Figure what out? He’s freaking still married, for god’s sake. I kick at the door to shut it. I’m not an angry person. I hate what anger makes a person say and do. It is one emotion the world could use less of, and here I am experiencing the one thing I hate to freaking feel.

  “Orlando, you need to go,” I say as I turn towards him.

  He drops his shoes to the floor, and his green eyes glare at me as I move towards my chair. It looks like I’m not the only one feeling a little anger right now.

  “You haven’t spoken a word to me, not even when I was directing. What’s going on with you?” He follows my lead and sits in the other chair.

  Should I tell him the truth? Should I admit everything, from past to present? Falling in love with your best friend is never something I would suggest doing. In fact, I would go above and beyond to advise others not to follow my lead. It is tragic to your heart.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I say as I get comfortable in my chair. Well, as comfortable as a person can get, when her body is itching to be near the person sitting close to her. My anger dissipates by the second. Talk about mind altering. A man should never be able to control a woman’s emotions like this.

  “You can start by telling me the damn truth. Tell me what the hell is wrong. Friday, you’re not one to hide what you’re thinking.”

  I w
ant it noted that a person should never know another person this well. People are allowed their secrets, the things they don’t want to share, their thoughts.

  “What do you want to hear? Huh,” I say, growing frustrated. This is something I’m not used to, as well. I’m a simple person. “You want to hear that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? You want to hear that I hate how you married someone else? You want to hear how your divorce saddens me, but makes me happy at the same time? You want to hear how I can’t stand being near you and not touch you,” I cry out, as my fingers dig into the arms of my chair.

  Orlando says nothing. His face is blank. He crosses and uncrosses his legs as he searches for something to say. My heart pounds against my chest cavity as I wait for him to respond. I don’t know what I want him to say back to me. In all honesty, I’m confused myself.

  “Bucket,” he whispers as he slides from the chair onto his knees in front of me. His head lowers to my lap, his arms reach behind me, and he hugs me close. The sound of my nickname, coming out in a whisper from his lips, breaks me, and tears stream down my face. His grip tightens as he looks back up at me with his own watery eyes and croaks, “I don’t understand why you never told me any of this.”

  Sure, I want to make a fool of myself by getting rejected because he fell in love with someone else. I would never break up any relationship. My morals, on top of Orlando’s morals, are good reasons why I kept my mouth shut. Orlando may be one of the hottest men alive, but he is very conservative when it comes to relationships. He is as strict in his beliefs, as I am in mine.

  “We never acted on our attraction. We moved to California to pursue careers, and next thing you know, you’re dating Neri, and then, a few years later, you were married. I don’t know what else you want me to say,” I respond, my words cracked by my dry, itchy throat.

  Orlando stretches upward, his knees holding him as he looks straight in my eyes, without his arms loosening their hold on me.

  “I knew there was an attraction. I knew there was love. But what I didn’t know was that you were in love with me, Friday,” he mumbles as his lips brush against mine. “I didn’t know, I swear, I didn’t.”

  My eyes slam shut as my senses revel in his closeness. I take in how his body feels pressed against mine, how his lips make mine tingle, and how his tears mirror my own.

  “You can’t,” I croak out. “You can’t kiss me.”

  I won’t go against what I believe, or what he believes. I won’t be that woman who touches another woman’s man.

  Orlando shoves away from me, gets off his knees, and paces the room. He’s good at that, pacing, that is.

  “I’m getting a divorce. I don’t get you! You say you’re in love with me, say you want me, and you keep fucking denying me!”

  I don’t know if he thinks it’s going to happen, or if, after all this time, he has agreed to give the divorce. I know Neri wants one, and Orlando wouldn’t grant her one for the longest time. And I know, with every fiber of my being, Orlando wouldn’t lie to me, but that doesn’t mean he’d be truly invested in me if he were telling the truth. Orlando loves hard, and his love for Neri is still there. I can see it in his eyes.

  “Jesus, Friday, this is so fucked up. You know what? I’m pissed at you,” he growls while he stomps around. “I don’t believe in divorce, and here I am granting my wife one because she’s given me no choice, and the reasons I find myself doing what she wants is because of you. I want to be with you. I always have and always will. But I can’t fight stubbornness, Friday. I can’t. Make up your goddamn mind. Get your head together this weekend. I’ll see you on set Monday morning.”

  My eyes trail Orlando’s body while he strides to the door. He doesn’t turn around to take one last look at me. His hand goes to the knob, turns it, and leaves me all alone as he shuts the door behind him. The sound of the door mechanism echoes throughout the quiet room.

  How did we go from spilling our feelings to arguing?

  ***

  Orlando

  Scene 98 Act 1

  Scene Location: Ann’s hotel room

  Characters in scene: Ann, Domas, and Eddie

  Scene Description: Domas opens the bottle of wine sitting on the bar in Ann’s room, pours himself, Ann, and Eddie a glass while Ann shifts nervously about, her first threesome making her nervous. Domas hands her a glass of wine and afterwards, moves his free hand to rub her bare thigh.

  Domas

  Don’t be nervous, Ann. We’re just going to fuck you senseless is all.

  Ann

  I’m more excited than I am nervous.

  Eddie

  You’re shaking like a leaf, baby, and you’re gonna tell us you’re excited?

  Ann

  I’m more than excited. I feel liberated. Well, I’m about to anyways.

  (Ann sexily strips while Domas and Eddie saunter up to Ann and finish helping her out of her clothes)

  Eddie

  (Runs his right hand down between Ann’s legs)

  Directing this scene in front of me is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Grant you, I had reasons why I wanted to do the rewritten scenes after the weekend was over. One, I am pissed at Friday. And two, if, by some fucked up miracle, we work past the divorce bullshit and end up together, I can’t watch her do something like this later. It is hard enough to watch it at this moment, and I can imagine it being much harder in the future. I’ve never before wanted to rush the end of a film I was directing, but this shit has to be over soon. I don’t know how much more I can take. Watching my best friend, a woman I love, getting fucked by a total of three men during this last installment, is an excruciating pain in my gut.

  “You’re going to do what to me?” The character Ann giggles and flirts with Eddie.

  “I said I’m gonna fuck that fine ass of yours while Domas wraps himself in that sweet pussy. Now, drop down to your knees and suck my cock,” Eddie orders while snapping his fingers at Ann.

  Beautiful Friday drops to her knees and wraps her small, delicate hand around his cock. As she lowers her head, she opens her mouth and sucks him down her throat. The slurping sounds echo in my headset, and anger boils my blood to a degree that I have never felt before. No man should ever have to watch a woman he loves slurping on some porn star’s dick. Not ever. My foot bounces off the ground with a speed my mind can’t keep up with. My fingers tap against the side of my director’s chair, and it takes everything in me not to yell cut, as my Friday bobs up and down on the character Eddie.

  Domas kneels to the floor behind Friday, his hard cock covered in latex. He scoots forward, lifts her ass a few inches off the floor, and rams into her pussy from behind. This forces her forward, gagging her on Eddie’s dick. My eyes narrow. Tears brim her eyes from the ruthlessness of Domas’ assault and making her choke on the dipshit she is sucking.

  The scene is professional. No mistakes are evident, and I would be foolish to call for a break in the middle of it. It has to be done and over with as soon as possible, and delaying it with a short break will not only make Friday more impatient, but me also.

  Eddie pops his cock from Friday’s mouth and turns her body to face Domas. She secures her legs around his body and he slams into her. Eddie presses on her back, lines his cock up to her puckered hole, and with one firm push, plunges balls deep in her ass.

  Her moans are fake. They have to be. I may not know the sweet sounds of Friday in pleasure, but I know my old friend and those noises can’t be real. Maybe it is wishful thinking on my part. I wouldn’t doubt it. I told her I was pissed at her, and Friday may never show she is upset, but deep down, I know she is. What woman wouldn’t be when a man tells you he is pissed at you and then leaves right after saying so without resolving the issue?

  The scene is almost over now. I’m thankful. Fuck, am I goddamn thankful. This business has to stop. Whatever she is hiding, she has to let me know. I can’t protect her if I don’t know every detail about why she is doing this. I also have t
o make a phone call and get this divorce shit over and done with.

  No more feeling sorry for myself or ruining what Friday and I could have in the future by delaying the inevitable divorce. I’m not compromising my beliefs and morals. I’m giving my wife what she wants. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask her to cheat or to fall out of love with me. It happened. I did all I could to fix it. And even though it hurts, it is imperative that I move on with my life as Neri has. In order for me to do that, Friday has to tell me why she is here. She is hiding something, and we can’t move forward for that reason.

  We can’t start something when she is keeping secrets from me.

  Friday falls back against Eddie’s chest and releases a loud moan as both men roar out in pleasure. The scene winds down and without wasting a second, I yell cut.

  When Friday’s PA runs her robe over to her, I give it a few moments and then walk towards her. I gesture with my hands for her to come with me. She doesn’t smile nor speak a word, but follows behind me without making a sound.

  We reach a quiet spot on the set, where the fake bathroom meets the hall to the character Ann’s hotel room. I peer around to make sure we are alone and no ears are listening before I talk.

  “We need to talk. You have to tell me why the fuck you are doing this, Friday. No more secrets. I love you. In order for us to move forward, you’re going to have to tell me why,” I say in a hushed tone, not wanting to upset her or draw attention to us.

  She shifts on the balls of her feet, her hands gripping at the drawstrings of her robe. “I got to make a call before I can say anything. I’m not the only one involved, O. In order to tell you everything, I have to clear it with someone else first,” she answers me back in a quiet voice. “Let's wrap up the day and meet back at my bungalow, and I’ll answer your questions later.”

  I can deal with that. I nod my head and say nothing as I walk back to my director’s chair to prepare for the next scene. Anticipation and dread fill me as I think about finding the answer to this fucked up shit we have found ourselves in.