I Had to Let You Go

by Emma Quinn

  “What do you say if I refuse?”

  He laughed and ran a hand through his brown hair. In the two years I'd worked with him, I'd noticed grays begin to sprout out his temples. But unlike most men, getting older suited him and along with the scars along his cheeks he got in Operation Desert Storm, he was starting to look like a real bad ass. All that matched with his bulging muscles made all the movie villains I starred beside look as terrifying as a Teletubby.

  “Refuse,” he smirked, kneeling down beside me.

  I knew I'd fucked up. You don't refuse anything Gary tells you to do.

  “When I was interrogating terrorists in Afghanistan do you think they refused to give up their secrets?”

  “Erm...”

  “When I was hooking car batteries up to their nipples to spill state secrets do you think they refused?”

  “Er... No?”

  “Exactly. I've wrestled with the biggest and baddest. With the worst of humanity and nobody refuses me shit. So that means you're going to get back on your mat and give me another hundred.”

  The look in his eyes made my stomach curdle. I'd heard rumors about all the things he'd done when he was a CIA agent, but I was never sure if it was all just tall tales.

  But the more I got to know him, the more I realized that they weren't tales at all. They barely even touched the surface of what he got up to. One day I was going to find out just what Gary had done in his previous life and I was going to drop dead from fright.

  “Okay,” I said, flopping onto my stomach. “If it's a superhero you want.”

  As soon as I pushed myself into the first press up, I was sure my arms had turned to noodles. But propelled by the ferocity in Gary's eyes, I didn't dare stop.

  “That's it. Fifty more. Come on. Come on! More! Harder! Faster!”

  “Oh, Jesus, Gary you're going to kill him,” came a creamy voice from the doorway.

  We both looked up to see Mila standing dripping wet in the doorway dressed in a high waisted golden bikini. She was dabbing a small towel no bigger than a hand cloth to her wet hair and swaying her hips from side to side, the sunlight glittering off her smooth tan.

  I couldn't figure out who she was posing for, me or Gary. But then I saw the way she looked at herself in the nearby mirror and realized she was posing for herself.

  Such a vain chick, I thought as I forced myself to do another press up. But that's what I get for dating a Victoria's Secret model. They're not exactly famed for their modesty.

  She dropped the towel onto the floor and sauntered over, her legs moving across the wooden floor like a cat's.

  She knew I was watching her intently. Knew what effect she was having on me. I was a red-blooded male after all.

  I could also sense Gary's irritation at her interrupting us. He knelt down beside me and patted me on the back.

  “Okay we can leave things here for today,” he said. “You did great.”

  “Aw, you not going to stick around?” pouted Mila as she leaned provocatively against the running machine. “You could always train me.”

  It was no secret that Gary never liked her. He didn't have time for models. Thought they were air headed bimbos who had nothing interesting to say. I used to think the same thing at one point. That was until I met Mila. But if I was being honest I'd have to admit there wasn't a whole lot of talking taking place between the two of us.

  “I'm going to be on my way,” said Gary, gathering his things. “I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning. Remember, Ethan. No carbs.”

  “Not even brown bread?”

  “Bread?”

  He wrinkled up his face as though I'd just insulted his great ancestors.

  “If you want those abs popping out even more you'll never even look at bread again. Alright, catch you later.”

  He walked away briskly without saying goodbye to Mila. She didn't even wait until he'd closed the door all the way over before she started moaning.

  “I don't like that man. He's very rude,” she said, letting her latent Russian accent ooze out now that it was just the two of us. “He does not like me.”

  I pulled myself up and chugged down some water.

  “It's nothing personal,” I told her. “He's just an intense kinda guy. He's had a rough life.”

  “I do not care. I think you should get another trainer.”

  “No way, Mila. We've been training together since I arrived in LA. I wouldn't trust another trainer. Besides, Gary's the best. Why would I want someone else?”

  “My friend, Hilda has a nice man who teaches her yoga. You should hire him. He could train me too.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “Yeah, but Hilda has also slept with every trainer she's ever had. And I don't wanna do yoga!”

  Grabbing a towel, I mopped at the sweat across my forehead and walked over to the window. Another perfect Californian day was bursting across the sky. It was barely eight am, but it was getting hot already.

  “Anyway,” I continued knowing what I was about to say was going to wind Mila right up. “The only reason you don't like Gary is because he's one of only, like, three guys on Earth who hasn't followed you around with his tongue hanging out.”

  She bristled. I'd obviously touched a nerve. I knew how much she depended on her looks, and I also knew how fragile that ego of hers was below the perfect tan and doll-like features.

  She needed to have every man she crossed lust after her. Needed to be constantly admired to feel validated. I didn't blame her. This was Hollywood after all and most people out here felt the same way. It was just a great big city filled with wannabes with inferiority complexes who sought out acclaim and wealth as a way to feel whole.

  As I looked out the window, I wondered if I was one of those people.

  Perhaps some people could theorize my ambition to become an actor stemmed from a desperate need to receive the love I never got from my grumpy old dad. But maybe I was looking too much into it.

  “So you'll get a new trainer?” asked Mila.

  “No!” I said. “Absolutely not. Gary stays.”

  She huffed and walked over to a stack of nearby yoga mats where she pulled one out and began stretching on the floor. Pulling herself into the middle splits, she looked seductively over her shoulder at me and smiled. I watched as her wet bikini bottoms rode up tight between her legs and instantly grew hard.

  Urgh, why are you like this? You're like a cave man.

  Stretching even further forward, she pushed her ass up to give me a better view.

  “Aw, Mila why have you got to do this to me right now?”

  “Come on, baby.”

  “I can't. I've got to leave to meet Jules soon.”

  “He's just your agent. You can make him wait,” she said. “Fuck him. Or rather fuck me instead.”

  I found myself gravitating toward her without realizing, and suddenly I was right behind her, hands on her thighs and my cock ready to burst out the front of my pants.

  “You always talk so filthy,” I said, feeling her damp, bronzed skin.

  “You like me that way.”

  Reaching between her legs, she pulled her bikini bottoms to the side. She was dripping wet and ready to be entered.

  “No, Mila. I can't. Not now.”

  “Oh, please, Ethan.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

  “Sorry, honey. I promise I'll make it up to you later.”

  “Argh! You're an asshole!” she raged and tugged her bikini bottoms back into place.

  Any seductive softness on her face soon disappeared as she stood up, tossed her yoga mat haphazardly back into the corner and stormed off.

  “Hey! Where are you going?”

  “To see Hilda!”

  “Wait. Don't be mad at me, Mila. I didn't do anything wrong.”

  “You are a terrible boyfriend. A total dick.”

  “Er, what now? Where exactly did you get that from?”

  “You won't make love to me. What kin
d of man are you? Or are you no man at all?”

  I knew she wasn't just mad because I wouldn't have sex. She was angry because she wasn't getting her own way, and for Mila that hurt more than anything.

  “Calm down,” I told her. “There's no need to be such a bitch.”

  The fire in her eyes appeared instantly and with such intensity she could have turned me to stone.

  That's it. You've fucked up now.

  “How dare you?” she screamed. “After all I do for you and you call me a bitch? Me? A bitch?”

  “After all you do for me? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I followed her as she stormed out into the garden.

  “All you do for me?” I repeated. “Since when do you do anything for me? Except walk around here in your skimpy little outfits as though you're the fucking Queen of Sheba or something. I do everything for you. Pay all the bills. Bought all of this fucking house! I pay for all your vacations. All your clothes. Everything!”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned round.

  “Pffft vacations,” she spat back. “The last place you booked for me wasn't even in a good hotel. It was in a Hilton. Not exactly boutique.”

  “Well, if you didn't like it why didn't you buy your own hotel room?”

  She said nothing. Just pouted and huffed as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “It's like you just expect me to worship you just because you exist, Mila.”

  The look on her face told me that's exactly what she thought I should do.

  “Look,” I continued. “You might have been able to manipulate other guys easily but not me.”

  She could sense me pulling away from her, and stepped forward, laying a hand on my chest.

  “I'm sorry, honey. I don't want to fight. Can't we make up?”

  “Sure,” I sighed. “I'm sorry too. I've been up since four this morning and Gary's really been putting me through my paces. To say I'm cranky would be an understatement.”

  She reached up on tiptoes and kissed my cheek forcefully, but there was no passion behind her lips. It was as though she was merely going through the paces. Doing what she thought she was expected to do.

  “I think you should take some time off,” she suggested. “Just a week. Just you and me somewhere nice where we can relax and enjoy each other.”

  She stroked my chest and licked her lips.

  “You like the sound of that?”

  “I do but...”

  “But what?”

  “I have to train with Gary. Seriously, the studio is right up my ass at the moment. I can't slack for a single second.”

  “Urgh! It's always work, work, work with you!”

  “Of course it is, Mila! What do you think paid for this house?”

  She pulled away again, the small moment of intimacy between us vanishing quickly.

  “But I want to go on vacation!” she moaned, sounding like a five year old.

  “Well, by all means go without me. You could take Hilda. Hell, you can even take her yoga instructor if you want.”

  The fire in her eyes returned.

  “How about you book me somewhere nice,” she said.

  Oh, it's back to this again.

  I knew how the conversation was going to go. She was going to demand to go somewhere luxurious like the Bahamas and she'd insist she should have the best.

  “If you want to stay here with Gary...” she said, passive aggressively. “I suppose I'll just have to go have fun on my own.”

  “So where are you going?”

  “Wherever you buy the tickets for.”

  Once again she was running her hand up and down my chest with her big, blue, doe eyes staring up widely at me.

  “I've got a better idea,” I said, peeling her hand off me. “How about you pay for your own vacation. Seeing as you want to go so much. You're not exactly broke.”

  She recoiled back in horror as though I'd just asked her to eat a steaming turd.

  “Don't look at me like that,” I laughed.

  “You want me to pay for my own vacation?” she gasped. “What will my friends think of me if I do that? They'll think I don't have a real man.”

  “Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mila. Just pay for your own damn vacation.”

  “I will not!”

  And with that, the rage blazed in her eyes once again and before I knew it, her right hand was flying out toward my face. It all happened so fast, and I soon felt the searing heat of her hand print rush through the skin of my cheek.

  “Ow! What the fuck?”

  I held a hand to my face and felt it burn.

  “You just hit me, you fucking psycho!”

  There was no remorse on her face, nothing that showed she regretted what she did.

  “That's it,” I said. “Get your shit and get out.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. It's bad enough you swanning around here with your monster sized ego. It's bad enough that you treat me like shit, that you flirt with all my friends, that you refuse to pay for anything. But now you're hitting me? And why? Because I won't pay for your vacation? You can get the fuck out.”

  She began to sob heavily into her hands, but I couldn't help but notice there were no tears in her eyes.

  “Honey, I'm so sorry,” she cried. “I don't know what came over me!”

  “Get out.”

  “You don't mean that.”

  “I'm serious. Get your shit and get out.”

  I walked away from her, leaving her pretending to cry. I waited for the sadness and anger to well up inside me, waited for the heartache. But as I walked back into the house, I realized I felt no heartache at all.

  Instead, my body felt lighter and my head was clearer.

  “I should have done that a long time ago,” I said to myself as I entered the bedroom.

  As I looked in the mirror, I looked over my muscles that had been carefully sculpted over the last few weeks. They were by no means small to begin with, but they were now reaching the superhero proportions the studio wanted. I'd never looked better. Or felt better either.

  “You're free at last,” I said to myself. “Free and single and every penny in the bank is now yours once again.”

  7

  Sophia

  “ M

  om. Mom. Mom! Mommy! Mommy, Mommy!”

  “Oh, my God, Luca what is it, honey?”

  “I'm bored. Are we there yet?”

  “We just left the house twenty seconds ago,” I laughed. “How can we be nearly there yet?”

  “How much longer will it take?”

  “Luca... We drive this same route to Aunt Emily's house every single day. You know how long it takes.”

  As I pulled up at a red light, I looked into the rear view mirror and spoke to his reflection. He had both his phone and iPad playing simultaneously on his lap while scribbling in a coloring book. All the while he was also looking out the window and moaning continuously. It was like he had five brains working at once. I'd never known a kid to be so hyper. It was like he was wired to the freaking moon.

  But he'd always been that way. He practically flew out my womb screaming and chatting. And he seemed to hit all his milestones in record time.

  He was talking and walking before all the other kids and already he had been advanced a year in elementary school. Even then, he left all the other kids for dust and the principal was already talking about maybe placing him up another year.

  He was a bright kid all right. And he was beautiful too. At moments like this I found myself lost in his image. I watched him in the mirror, examining his perfect face, his dusty blond hair and bright, blue eyes. He looked nothing like me with my dark hair and olive complexion. Nope. He looked just like his father. Was his absolute double. Soon enough he'd be hitting his teens and turning into the heart throb that his celebrity father had become.

  Not that he knew who he was...

  I'd told him precisely nothing about Ethan. As far as Luca was concerned I was
both his mother and father, and in today's modern world, especially in New York, a single mother household wasn't exactly unheard of. So, as far as I was aware, Ethan never felt strange or out of place, and he took our small, but loving family, as normal.

  So far he'd not even uttered a word about who his father was, but I knew there was going to come an inevitable time when the dreaded f-word would be spoken.

  I'd prepared myself as much as I could. Thought of all the things I could say to him, but somehow they never seemed enough.

  We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I always told myself. Let's just hope he never asks who his dad is.

  “Mom! It's green!”

  Behind us, a car honked its horn and I realized I'd been staring into space long after the light turned green.

  “Ah, shit!”

  I hit the gas and sped away.

  “Sorry, honey. I was daydreaming.”

  “About anything nice?”

  “Uh?”

  “Were you dreaming about anything nice?”

  “Of course, I was. I was dreaming about you.”

  His eyes met mine in the mirror and he smiled.

  God he's such a beautiful kid. I'm the luckiest mom on Earth.

  At last, he returned his attention to his devices and fell quiet, and I navigated my way around the chaotic New York traffic. I could never quite get used to it. I'd been living in the city for two years already but I could never get used to how busy and loud it was. It made my little hometown of Pikeville look like some tiny village out of The Hobbit.

  “Okay, we're here,” I said, rounding the corner.

  He was already yanking at his seat belt as I parked up.

  “Wait,” I said, noticing him reaching for the door handle. “Let Mommy get the door.”

  “I can do it myself!”

  “I know but it's busy outside.”

  Climbing out, I opened his door and he jumped out with his coloring book in one hand, his iPad in the other and his phone thrust into his pocket. He was wearing his new coat and shoes I'd just bought him from the new upscale department store that opened at the end of the block. I'd almost fainted when we got to the till and the girl behind the counter told me how much they were, but I was sure he was worth it.