by Ava Lore
“Oh, come on,” he said. “You can’t tell me you’re with him because you like his personality. You want the sex and the money. Well let me tell you one thing, sweetheart: he doesn’t have any money. I have it all. And any sex he gives you I can give you times ten.”
If there were ever words that could make a vagina shrivel up and clamp shut in self defense, those were the words. Unfortunately I only felt a wave of nausea and a sudden, fearful realization that I was too far from the set, too far from the people who could help me, too far from civilization.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated. It was stupid and sounded fake, even to my own ears. “I don’t want Manny’s money...”
But there was a horrible little doubt niggling in the corner of my mind. Did I want his money? Money that I needed so desperately? Was that my true reason for coming along on this trip? Had I just been hoping to find a sugar daddy all along? If Manny and I became an item, then my troubles would be over. I wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping on the streets, or brushing my teeth in a public bathroom.
Never again would I fear where my next meal was coming from.
Yago Reyes saw my hesitation and pounced.
Stepping forward, he reached for me, and I, too paralyzed by uncertainty to move, just watched him.
His hand found my hair, weaving his fingers in, and, as though I were nothing more than a feather or a balloon, he drew me toward him.
I could see everything in that moment: his dark eyes muddied with greed, the sweat twinkling on his forehead, the smudged tattoos on his throat, faded and bleeding. He looked like Manny, but a Manny who had been through a difficult life and succumbed to it rather than fought it. A Manny who let the world get to him, instead of a Manny who deflected the world’s sharp edges and cruel jokes with his own light laughter and devilish mischief.
In that moment, I saw Yago Reyes for who he truly was, and it shook me with fear.
Then the moment shattered as he leaned in, the fingers in my hair pulling against my scalp, holding me in place as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. “I think you know who to side with in this situation,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely audible above the blood in my ears and the waves crashing on the shore. “Now that you know there is nothing my little cousin can give you, you should come with me instead.”
Never! I wanted to scream, but then he lowered his face to mine and kissed me on the mouth.
My whole being rebelled at the touch of his lips on mine. NO!
But my body wouldn’t obey me. Instead of pushing him away, I simply froze, my mouth slimmed down into an impossibly thin line, keeping his tongue—disgusting, probing, like a slug against my skin—from gaining access while the scent of his cologne—so thick and cloying it was almost a palpable thing—made the bile rise in my throat.
My hands were still held tightly around myself, and I’d coiled up like a snake inside, even though I couldn’t force myself to break out of his embrace. Time slowed down, and inside my head I screamed and screamed.
He didn’t seem to care about how I responded, only that he had laid his hands and lips on me, taking possession of what he believed to belong to his cousin. Just like Manny’s money, just like Manny’s self-determination. He believed he owned all of it.
Not me, I thought desperately. You can’t have me.
My hands released my shirt, found his chest, and shoved.
He stumbled and pulled away, and as he did so a flash of anger crossed his face. He didn’t let go of me, but at least he was no longer kissing me. How to break free?
He smiled down at me, cruel and teasing. “So you don’t like that?” His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling against my scalp. I had no idea what to say, how to think, how to act. My body was a block of ice.
Reaching up with his other hand, he ran his fingers down my cheek, trailed them across my lips, and where he touched me I felt unclean, unwholesome. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, shuffle it off and leave it there in the sand, just to escape. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Let me tell you this. You might want to show me a little more affection. Wouldn’t want poor little Manny to end up in the nut house again, would we?”
Bile rose in my throat. Extortion. Blackmail. Coercion. Legal terms flew through my head, but none of them could help me now.
But to my surprise, Yago gave a little laugh and released me, pushing me away so that I stumbled in the sand, holding my hands close to my chest, my eyes so wide it hurt. “Think about it,” he said. “Reyes is a well-known name on this island. You let me know what you decide.” He grinned and winked at me. “Nos vemos, bonita.”
Bonita. I wanted to puke.
Then he turned and walked up the beach, climbing the dunes and into the trees, disappearing like a demon into the shadows.
I don’t know how I made it back down that beach. All I remember is stumbling back onto the set, crying, tears streaming down my face, my knees shaking as though I had just been in a car wreck.
Whatever other faults he had, Manny noticed me first. He was standing off to the side while Carter and Kent argued something, but when I staggered into his peripheral vision, he turned, frowning, and saw me.
One minute he was down the beach in the water, and the next he was standing next to me, his arms around me, holding me up, pulling me close, keeping me safe. His whole body was wet, but I didn’t care. I felt his skin glowing warm beneath the layers of seawater-soaked clothing, and I opened my arms and fell into him, sobs burning up my throat. The sun fell across us, blazing hot, and I tried to hide in the cool cave of his body.
“Rosa, Rosa,” he chanted, over and over. “Rosa, what’s wrong?”
“Y—Yago...he...he grabbed me and he...he kissed me...”
No, that hadn’t been a kiss. It’d been a violation...
His arms tightened around me. “No,” he whispered. “No, I won’t let him touch you. Rose, I won’t let this happen again—”
I couldn’t speak. I just clung to him and prayed he wouldn’t let me drown.
* * *
“I’ll kill them,” Sonya was saying as she stalked up and down the length of the living room that night. “I’ll fucking kill them. I’ll put my own two hands on their necks and squeeze them until they pop. Until their brains boil over and explode out their skulls!”
“Holy shit,” Carter said from his perch on the couch. “You can do that?”
“Of course not!” she snapped at him. “But I’d like to.”
“No, I mean, can something make someone’s brain boil out of their skull? That sounds rad.”
Everyone turned and looked at him, and he grinned sheepishly. “I mean, if you’re not the one whose brain is boiling out of their skull,” he added. “Maybe lasers? Microwaves? It was just really specific...”
“Pyroclastic flow,” I said.
Everyone, who had previously been staring at Carter, turned to stare at me. I didn’t meet there eyes, just stared at the glass of wine—grape wine, this time—in front of me, and tried to summon my old, pedantic self from the wreck I had suddenly become.
Wouldn’t want poor little Manny to end up in the nut house again, would we?
No. No, no, no. But what was the alternative? Those hands, those lips, that slimy tongue on my body while the bile rose in my throat—
“What?” Carter said, pulling me back from the brink.
I blinked. What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah. Dumb, pedantic shit. “Pyroclastic flow,” I repeated. “Ash and gas spewed from a volcano. It’s so hot it’ll boil your brain in your skull. Happened in Pompeii.” The white wine in my glass twinkled as I lifted it to my lips and took a long sip.
“...Yes, well,” Sonya said after a moment, “the point is that I’ll kill them. Kent, you have to let me kill them!” As though she were a mother bird, she flitted to my side and sat next to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and making soft, comforting noises in her throat. “Don’t you worry, Ro
se, I’ll gut him from balls to throat for scaring you like that—”
“No one’s killing anyone,” Kent snapped. “That’d land us in more trouble than we’re already in.”
I couldn’t help but peek at Kent from beneath my eyelashes, amused that he was concerned about the trouble such a thing would cause and not the problem of, you know, actually murdering people. On the other hand, I could find no personal objections to the murder of Yago Reyes. It would have set my mind at ease. Not the most compassionate of responses, but hey.
The stink of sweat and cologne, the hateful rumble of his scratchy voice, those muddy eyes staring into mine while he—while he—oh, god, while he touched me—
“The police,” Rebecca said. “We’ll need the police.”
“Not the police,” Sonya replied. “If what Manny says is true, they’re all corrupted and gross around here.”
“You mean like all cops everywhere since the beginning of time?” Carter asked.
“Let’s not get smug,” Sonya snapped at him. “I mean we need private security. That’s not too hard to procure. Kent, can we do that? Weren’t we supposed to do that yesterday, in fact?”
“Yes,” Kent replied. “I’ve already called the label. They have better contacts in the area than we do. They’re sending a sec team over as soon as they can get one off Oahu.”
“Hmmph, I guess we’ll see if they’re up to the task,” Sonya said, as though she thought she could protect the house better than a couple of guys in Kevlar vests. “In the meantime, you and Manny should take the upper bedroom.”
This last part was to me, and for a moment I forgot how hurt I’d been by Manny’s rejection and my eyes found his. He gave me a smile, soft and warm, and for a moment I believed everything would be all right.
My mind was slipping around, and I was trying to get a grip on things, but all I could come up with were inanities. “Why don’t you guys have security anyway?” I said at last.
Sonya made a disgusted noise.
“A lot of ‘celebrity security’ guys are just thugs with no training,” Carter said. “Except for Manny, we all know self-defense techniques, so there’s usually no need. But this is different than an enthusiastic fan, so we should probably get a real security company out here. Guard the property rather than our persons.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Take the upper bedroom, darling,” Sonya said to me. “I’ll sleep on the porch.”
“No,” Kent said, “I’ll do it.”
Sonya scowled at him. “You think I can’t handle it?” she snapped. “I’ll wreck their shit if they try to get in here!”
“I know you will,” Kent said, “which is why I’m going to sleep on the porch. I’ll get them to go away without shooting them in the kneecaps.”
To my surprise, Sonya pursed her lips, then sighed. “Fine. You win. Rebecca, want to share a room tonight?”
“What?” Rebecca said. “Can’t I sleep on the porch with Kent?”
“No,” Kent said. “Stay in the house with Sonya.”
“Oh,” Rebecca said, sounding cranky, “so you think I can’t handle myself when the big bad banditos come calling?”
Kent pinched his nose and closed his eyes. “No,” he said, “that’s not it, I just don’t want to worry about you...”
Sonya sashayed away from me and over to Rebecca and took her arm. “He just wants to imagine you and me having hot lesbian sex in his bed,” she stage-whispered. “Indulge him.”
“Sonya, you are nasty!” Rebecca told her, turning to Kent. “We’re not going to have hot lesbian sex.”
“Maybe,” Sonya interjected. “I’m good at seduction. I haven’t turned my wiles on you yet.”
“Oh, god, Kent, let me sleep on the porch with you...”
But Kent’s brows had drawn down into a frown and he was studying Sonya and Rebecca with a thoughtful tilt to his head. A tiny smile played on his lips.
“Kent!” Rebecca squealed.
Sonya laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said to Kent, “I won’t ruin her for all men.” Her grin was wicked as she added: “Probably.”
My mouth had dropped open as I stared at this weirdly charged back-and-forth bantering, but at that moment Manny tugged on my arm and I looked up at him, blinking.
“Come on,” he said, giving me a gentle smile. “Let’s go get set up in Sonya’s bedroom.”
Manny gathered our things from the back porch and led me upstairs to a beautiful room at the head of the stairs that looked out over the back ‘yard’ to the beach and the ocean. The bed, all white sheets and white down comforter, had been pushed up against the window so that whoever laid in it could look out at the ocean while they fell asleep. I could see why Sonya had laid claim to this bedroom.
Wordlessly we disrobed, and I climbed into bed wearing nothing while Manny followed me. I didn’t feel like sex, though. I just wanted to curl up to him and feel his skin on mine, and he seemed to understand this without me saying a word. He opened his arms to me and pulled me to him. The hard planes of his body pressed up against mine, and I closed my eyes, turning my face to his chest and inhaling deeply.
We stayed like that for a long time, listening to the soft swish of the ocean waves on the beach below. Downstairs the rest of the band was still discussing strategy for the next few days until we were scheduled to get back to the mainland. Their voices rose and fell in undulations, sometimes shouting, sometimes laughing, and always lively. It was comforting to hear them. Ice water still ran through my veins and my stomach still churned from Yago’s assault, even though I was hours removed from it, and knowing there were people here and now looking out for me, looking out for Manny, knowing we weren’t alone in the world...
Except I hadn’t told them what Yago had threatened.
Wouldn’t want poor little Manny to end up in the nut house again, would we?
His implication was clear: sleep with him, or he’d pull the trigger.
An ache pulsed in my chest. I didn’t want to tell Manny. I had the stupidest idea that he might actually commit himself before he let them touch me, and that wasn’t acceptable. That meant they won. Of course, they would win anyway, if I...
God. Fuck. Don’t even think about it...
My whole body tensed as I thought about it anyway, and a shuddering breath shivered in my throat.
Manny felt me curl up in horror in his arms, and he nuzzled me, kissing me softly as I shook with cold and disgust. Disgust with the situation, and disgust with myself for not being stronger, for not speaking up when I had a chance. Just like I had with Clint, who sold me down the river before I could even open my mouth...
Manny’s chest rumbled as he spoke to me, and I buried my face in his shoulder, trying to soak up his warmth. “Shh. Don’t worry, Rosalita. We will fix all of this tomorrow,” he murmured as his fingers found my hair.
With long, soft strokes he soothed me, calming the trembling fear until at last I fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Thirteen
The sand beneath my toes was cold the next morning as Manny and I walked on the beach, heading nowhere. I’d awoken before dawn in a cold sweat from dreams I couldn’t remember, still wrapped in Manny’s embrace. Now the sun was coloring the sky pink, but gray clouds hung low over the mountains, and rain was on the wind.
I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the fear inside of me.
It was a beach just like this one... I kept thinking. I could still taste those foreign lips on mine, even though I’d brushed my teeth three times already this morning.
Manny walked next to me, his hands in his pockets, his golden eyes inscrutable as he stared ahead of us. I could tell he was thinking about something, but I didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought. He so rarely seemed to give anything any kind of deep, serious consideration that I knew something was up.
He’d been quiet when I'd awoken, too. He had said nothing, though his arms around me had been comforting and solid, and I’d found I didn't mind hi
s silence. It beat us saying anything that we might regret.
The previous morning seemed years ago, and I had to strain to remember it, but when I did I felt even worse. Before Yago had so rudely intruded, we’d been having a difference of opinion that could have been easily solved with talking things out. Now there were bigger problems, and we were both flying somewhat blind. No words came to me that sounded appropriate for the situation, so I’d stayed as silent as Manny until I felt strong enough to leave his arms.
I’d kissed his cheek before I’d rolled out of the bed, and he’d taken my hand and squeezed it. Reassuring. Strong. Nothing irrevocable had happened yet.
I drifted into the bathroom to try to scrub the stink of yesterday off me, and after I’d finished brushing my teeth for the third time he’d appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and looking tall and strong and so handsome it made my chest hurt.
“We should go for a walk,” he’d said. The sun hadn’t even begun to kiss the sky at that point, but I’d agreed readily. Anything to distract myself...
There were men stationed outside the house when we’d left. Big, burly men, wearing black and looking intimidating. The security the label had sent. I’d tried not to stare at them as we passed, but Manny had given one of them a nod—a guy with pale skin and red hair, built like a Viking—and now he trailed behind us on the beach, a shadowy reminder of all the problems that had lain in wait for us here in paradise.
The memory of how Yago had melted out of the trees, appearing without warning, without a sound, had me squinting around us. Houses loomed off to our right, black against the graying sky, hulking like beasts, and as we passed a small collection of plants, just thick enough to hide someone, I felt my whole body tense up, and my feet itched to hurry.
Hurry scurry, get out of the way...
Warm fingers closed over my hand and I jumped, a squeak caught in my throat before I realized it was just Manny.
“It’s okay,” he said. His voice was low and rich against the constant murmur of the waves, and I wanted to fall into it. I turned my hand in his and laced our fingers together, taking comfort from the feel of his warm, calloused palm against mine.
