Loved In Pieces (The Intentions Series)

by Carla J Hanna

  “Darling! You must get up!” Franz woke me. “We need to get fab-u-lous.”

  I woke up and extended my arms for him to hug me. He leaned over and pulled me out of bed, cradling me. “Happy birthday, Marie! I love you, darling.”

  I smiled as I stood up. “Love you, too, Franz. I’ve missed you every day.”

  Rex hired Franz as his stylist and both Mom and I loved him. He personally looked over-the-top trendy, but he dressed his clients perfectly. His clothes did not flatter his own body because he had a false sense of self, but he knew his client’s body type and chose the most flattering clothes imaginable. I asked Franz to prepare me for tonight and to select the clothes Manuel would wear. My birthday party was a public event. I hoped Manuel could handle it. It was our first public date and I did not want him to feel scrutinized. I emailed Franz Manuel’s sizes and he got Manuel something casual but stylish. I hoped Manuel wouldn’t feel stupid in the designer clothes.

  I took a five-minute shower and put on my robe. Franz was ready for me in Mom’s bathroom. He started on my hair while I buffed my nails. When he finished with my hair, he was on to the makeup. I read a textbook. Franz finished before I finished reading.

  “I have just one more section to read. Is it okay?” I asked.

  “Sure, darling! You look stunning as always. You’re a masterpiece. They say you’re the modern day Mona Lisa. It’s such a pleasure to work on your exquisite canvas. Your features allow such versatility!” Franz fiddled with my hair again.

  “I see you in movies and in ads, but seeing you in person with makeup on just freaks me out,” Manuel interrupted. He had arrived and was standing in the doorway looking confused and pissed, actually. With little warmth in his voice, Manuel added, “Hi, Franz.”

  I laughed, trying to lighten his mood. “You’re dating a celebrity. Sorry.” It didn’t work. Manuel’s face was sullen.

  “Right on time,” Franz announced, clearly annoyed. He expected a glowing compliment from Manuel, not the torch of brooding energy emanating from Manuel’s being. “Please get into your clothes. I put them in Marie’s closet.”

  “What clothes?”

  Manuel could be so clueless. His negativity was still searing the room. I explained, “I bought you some clothes for tonight. It’s going to be hard enough for you to see yourself online and in the tabloids. Are you sure you want to come tonight? I want to show you off but won’t be hurt if you bail.”

  “Oh, right. Of course I’m coming, Marie.” He left to get dressed. Franz and I raised our eyebrows to communicate the apprehension we experienced. Within seconds after Manuel left, we felt lighter.

  Franz added, “Darling, yours are here.” He pointed to Mom’s walk in closet. “You only need Spanx. The bra is built in. I’ll zip you up.”

  I changed into a very sexy dress. It was a fitted wool jersey scarlet cocktail dress. It was short to show off my legs and had a deep V-neck to show off my natural breasts. The hem was lined with blue and purple sequins. It fit perfectly and was quite comfortable. The beautiful shoes were an open-toed red leather with a purple stiletto heel. I was going to struggle with them and would put them on at the last possible moment. Bummer.

  “I love the dress, Franz. You’re amazing. Thank you!”

  “You’re eighteen now so you can finally show off your so very sexy assets.”

  Franz zipped me. He twirled me in my bare feet. We did a salsa, a little shuffle. I kissed his cheek. He beamed with pride, smiling appraisingly.

  Manuel was in the doorway, clearing his throat.

  Franz looked pissed and sulked to clean up his artist’s tools.

  “I think you look hot!” I said to Manuel. He was wearing a black stretch knit fitted cotton tee that showed off his strong chest and biceps and dark jeans with a handsome belt. The belt had an interesting buckle that was mostly covered by the hem of the tee. His chest looked bigger than normal and his waist looked thinner. The jeans looked perfect but had some bling on them, which I knew he hated. The shoes were nice, too. He looked sexy. Wow, I thought to myself. A tingle ran down my spine.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled.

  Franz looked at me, afraid to point out that Manuel needed some more work. “The hair? Could I?”

  “Oh, of course, Franz. Thanks.” I answered. I pointed to the chair and looked at Manuel. “Manuel, please sit here. Franz will only take a minute.”

  “What? No.” Manuel did not budge from where he stood. Now the torch discharged hostility. Poor Franz.

  “Manuel, be good. This will only take a minute and it won’t kill you. Please, for me, for your mom’s scrapbook.”

  “Fine,” Manuel pouted and slammed his body down into the chair. Franz and I ignored his little temper tantrum. I put on my jewelry and shoes.

  Franz wet Manuel’s hair, put some gel in it, plucked his eyebrows, dusted his face and was done within five minutes. Manuel was agitated the whole time and his body was tense.

  “Thank you, Franz! Manuel, you look great.”

  Manuel did not look at himself in the mirror and stormed out of the bathroom. I shrugged an apology to Franz and kissed his cheek. Then I followed Manuel into the kitchen.

  “Manuel, why the hostility? You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes I do. It’s your birthday.”

  “No. I’d rather not go with you if you’re going to be pissed the whole time. It’s hard enough for me to go in the first place since I get so nervous. Seriously, Manuel, what’s wrong?”

  He sighed, “I’m just not sure about your birthday present and got into an argument with my mom. She thinks my dad and I ganged up on her. It’s just…” He shook his head. “This day isn’t going well.”

  “It’s okay if you bail. I’ll come home right after they sing me Happy Birthday and cut the cake and then we can celebrate my birthday together.”

  “No. Just stop going on about it, Marie!” He immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m your boyfriend and am coming to your party. I love you.”

  Franz was coming to my party, too, so we left when he was ready. I figured Manuel made his choice and I would not take on any responsibility for his brooding. Holding hands, but not speaking to each other, Manuel and I walked with Franz outside to the waiting limo.

  “Where’s my driver, Sashi?” I asked the driver. I needed to be sure he was legitimate.

  The driver responded in broken English, “He’s sorry he could not make it. He left you this note.”

  The note said, “Happy 18 birthday, Liana Marie. I’ve seen many of your birthdays and am sorry to miss this one. Please don’t offer anyone a ride with you. Be safe. I took vacation and will drive you soon. — Sashi.”

  I looked at my texts from Sage and confirmed that Sashi would not be driving me.

  We all got into the limo and the new driver closed the door behind us. The trip to Malibu was quiet. Franz tried to fill the silence with ideas for what I’d wear to my summer awards shows. Manuel had his arm around me and kissed me several times but I could tell that he didn’t want to look at me since I looked so different from the girl he loved. That the same girl was me, but I was also Marie Michael, the actor, or more accurately, I was Muse.

  The first part of the party was at my favorite sushi restaurant off the PCH in Malibu. It was in a small strip mall with a grocery store anchor. I loved their black cod with miso, sea bass wrapped in bacon, and shrimp tempura sushi with filet mignon on the top. It was a small place so I only invited forty people for an intimate dinner. In planning the event, this was the part of the night to which I looked forward. Everyone there was special to me. I stayed in the same seat throughout the dinner and sat between Manuel and Mom who flew down for my birthday. She floored me when she gave me the title to our house on Flathead Lake in Montana. I loved going to our lake house, and it was now mine.

  My guests moved about the room so that everyone had a chance to chat with me and meet Manuel. The music was low, so I didn’t have to yell or struggle to hear
the conversation. It was perfect.

  Next was the main birthday event. In the same shopping center, we transformed a large, empty retail space into a hot dance party. The birthday party was more of a Muse promotion than anything else. I recognized some of the set’s props in the decorations. We invited close to four hundred people and the press, of course.

  Manuel did great the whole night. I introduced him to everyone and never left his side. He smiled but was definitely out of his element. He still had a hard time looking at me and mostly looked at my chest when he did look at me. Being with Manuel made the night much better than any event I had gone to alone.

  The party planner took me from Manuel to the center of the room for me to receive my birthday cake and blow out the candles. The cake was a several-tiered light pink fondant with white bows. The number “18” was on the ribbon of the bow. It was a beautiful cake. Everyone sang Happy Birthday and then I blew out the candles to a rushing sound of camera clicks. I smiled for the cameras and thanked everyone for celebrating with me.

  I slowly made my way back to Manuel. He had not left the place from where he was standing with me before the cake presentation.

  “You ready to go?” I asked Manuel.

  We could barely hear each other even though we were right next to one another. He practically yelled, “Can we do that? It’s your party?”

  I took his hand and headed toward the front door. The music was not as loud there. I responded, “Exactly. It’s my party and I can do whatever I want.”

  He questioned, “But shouldn’t you stay? Do you want a piece of your cake?”

  I said, “I can’t eat cake. But you can get a piece if you’d like.”

  “I’d rather go, but I don’t understand why you want to leave your own party. I can see that you’re having an amazing time.”

  I looked at him and shook my head. I always left these parties early because I didn’t like them. I was uncomfortable, hiding my nervousness. But he watched me and had decided that I was having a great time. I was an actor. Self-promotion was the key to getting a good role, key to success, and a very important, integral part of the business. Even though I was free from some contracts, I was bound to Muse. I had a responsibility to enjoy my own party.

  He probably worried that this was far better than prom. I was used to the scene. I did like the people, but I couldn’t compare it to the prom or to being with him. This was different, but not better.

  I explained, “Rule #1: the people in this business are in this business because they want, seek, and must have attention. Psych studies have shown that 50-60% of Americans see themselves as introverts, not extroverts. You have an entire room full of extroverts here, with the exception of us, who are energized from the crowd. You and I are drained from it. Rule #2: the extroverts here will not notice if we leave my party. Rule #3: Hollywood parties are excessive and indulgent. That does not mean they are better than other types of gatherings with friends.”

  Manuel was still not convinced. “What about Franz?”

  “Mom is dropping him off on her way back to the airport.”

  Manuel finally smiled. “Okay, let’s go,” he said confidently.

  As we walked out the front door, camera lights flashed in such a burst that Manuel stood motionless with his eyes blinded. Photographers yelled at him, asked me questions, demanded to know who he was. I was confused because I was sure my publicist would have given them facts about whom I was dating. Nevertheless, I spoke immediately to help poor Manuel.

  “Hey, one at a time. I’m happy to answer questions about my boyfriend,” I commanded.

  I stood patiently, holding Manuel’s hand and smiled until the photographers became civilized. I looked at Manuel. He stared at me. I let go of his hand and put my arm around him. He still stared at me.

  I did not raise my voice and continued to smile. “This is my boyfriend, Manuel. We’ve been best friends since preschool and grew up together in Santa Monica. We attended our high school senior prom and started dating.”

  Again, I smiled as I finished the sentence, looking pretty, blinking quickly so the photo wouldn’t show my pain.

  A photographer I knew asked politely, “Marie, good for you. It’s nice to see you happy. How long have you been dating?”

  “We’ve been dating since March. Prom was the weekend after the Constantine’s Muse wrap party.”

  Uh, oh. I said something they didn’t expect. Photographers were nudging us and shouting out questions, questions about Byron and about Manuel. I looked to Manuel and he looked absolutely pissed. I did not want him to hit anybody. He’d get sued.

  I grabbed his hand and took off towards the limo. I ran in the darn stilettos, pulling Manuel with me. I opened the limo door and rushed inside. Manuel followed me and slammed the door closed.

  ~ | ~ THE GIFT

  It was the wrong limo. Manuel and I both looked over to a man and a woman having sex, mostly clothed. The man slid off the woman to the side and the woman covered herself. I recognized both of them immediately. The man was Byron. The woman was the lighting specialist.

  Stunned by the absolute ridiculousness—the improbability—that this was happening, I laughed. It was the same response I had when the guys lost to me in strip poker or when I felt uncomfortable at an inappropriate comedy show.

  “Happy birthday, Marie,” Byron smiled, not at all embarrassed. “So you’re still with Manny?”

  “Yep. Hi, Claire, this is Manuel, my boyfriend. I’m sorry to barge in.” I chuckled again, “I thought this was my limo.”

  Manuel frowned. I kissed him. He was tense.

  “This is your limo. I was borrowing it. I just got here. Claire and I saw each other in the parking lot. I saw your driver smoking outside and had Claire give him $100 to be back in fifteen minutes. He let us sneak in. I thought this would be a comfy place to shack.”

  “You know he’s a prick, right?” I said to Claire. The three of us chuckled. She did know and didn’t care.

  Byron defended himself, “It figures you would leave your own party. You always leave early. Sorry, though.”

  “So just now,” I asked, “what the hell was going on with the photographers? They didn’t know who Manuel was and my publicist should have clued them in. They went crazy when I told them we started dating at our senior prom.”

  “Shit, Marie.” Byron said, “Now you’re the one with your fucking foot in your mouth.”

  “What? I’m…”

  “Richard wants us to be a couple for the premiere,” Byron explained.

  “Oh. Well he should have asked me, so I could say, “No way.” Thanks for the heads up, late.”

  I smiled at Manuel and squeezed his hand. He was as stiff as a statue. But I still felt the hilarity of the moment and shook my head laughing.

  “So this is just too much. I’m stuck here with my boyfriend, with you guys half-naked, and a gaggle of photographers who saw us get into this limo. The driver is out counting his money. I’ve already messed up the premiere’s spin, and I want to go home and have a nice quiet night with Manuel. Any suggestions on how we’re all gonna get out of here?”

  They laughed. Not Manuel, poor guy. I tried to snuggle into the statue.

  Claire moved away from Byron, which exposed him, and he casually pulled up his pants, wrapped his condom in a tissue, and threw it in the trash can in the limo’s bar. He poured drinks. Manuel looked shocked.

  “Don’t worry about it, love.” I said to Manuel out loud. “He’s a dick. Everyone has seen it.” The three of us laughed again. We were having fun now.

  “Easy solution to being stuck in this limo together,” Byron said. “We’ll take you home.” He handed everyone a drink.

  Manuel grumbled to Byron, “You’re an asshole.”

  Just then, the driver got in. “Time’s up,” he announced.

  I answered back. “Byron told me your arrangement. Now take us home immediately. Byron will be paying you for the car tonight.” I looked at Byron.
He shrugged a ‘sure.’

  “Wait,” Claire interrupted. “I’m going to Marie’s party. Baby, call me anytime, and we’ll finish what we started.” Claire crawled onto Byron and kissed him passionately. She put his hand in her crotch. “It’ll be waiting for you.” She licked his lip and then left the limo. Photographers shouted at her over the percussion of camera clicking. Then we left.

  Byron finished Claire’s drink and got into the bar again. He gave Manuel another drink and lit a cigarette. He asked, “So you two are lovers? How long have you been dating?”

  I knew what he was exposing. I answered as confidently as possible, “Since our disaster night together, Byron, of course.”

  “Not prom?” He grinned at me and looked at Manuel. “You’re a lucky guy. She rejected me, as you know. But honestly, I don’t know if I could have your patience. She’s worth it, of course, but I’d get frustrated.”

  Manuel glared at him, “Shut up. She’s mine.”

  “I know. But she’s wounded. Has your love been enough for her?”

  Manuel fumed, “I’m warning you that I’ll kick your ass.”

  “Of course you will. But you’ll always wonder what I do to make her tremble.”

  I yelled, “Shut up!”

  “Marie, we both love you. We could work together, give you pleasure you’ve never known. I just participated for the first time about a week ago, made my friend’s wife have the best orgasm of her life, made her so happy. It was a win for everyone.”

  I shook my head, “There’s no possibility, Bryon. Gross!”

  “I could be like a director, coach him, tell him how I melt you.”