Wild

by Colet Abedi

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Well, it’s true,” she says. “Now you just have a name to the unbelievably gorgeous face. And it happens to be a famous one. Big deal.”

  Easy for her to say.

  But then, I guess she’s right. What is the big deal? It’s not like it meant anything more to either of us. He was as shocked as I was when I saw him.

  I could be cool about it.

  I just had to make sure I never saw him again.

  I hang out with Kerri for a little longer, then head to my bedroom. It’s late, way past midnight, when I finally crawl into bed. My stomach is full of pizza and a healthy amount of wine.

  As I’m about to fall asleep, my phone pings with a text message.

  I pick it up. The message is from a number I don’t recognize, but when I read it, my heart stops beating.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: I still can’t believe your name is really Wild. It’s a fucking crime.

  It’s Jamie.

  He has my number.

  How did he get it? Never mind that. There are a thousand ways he could have gotten it… but he’s texting me. Now. Past midnight. Why?

  I respond even though I know I shouldn’t. I blame it on the alcohol.

  ME: It’s spelled with a Y not an I.

  He types back almost immediately.

  JAMIE: And that’s supposed to make it less strippery? And in case you’re wondering, I do know how your name is spelled. But I prefer spelling it with an i. From what I know, it suits you better.

  I ignore the last part of the text and address the first.

  ME: Strippery? I thought you’re supposed to be a prolific writer and director.

  JAMIE: Stalking me?

  For a minute, I wonder if he knows I spent over an hour reading about him online when I got home. I die, like heart-slams-in-my-chest die.

  JAMIE: If it makes you feel better, I cyber-stalked you too.

  My mouth is dry. It does make me feel better, but I’ll never admit it.

  ME: Should I be worried?

  My heart is in my throat as I wait for him to write back. And when he does, I’m left breathless and completely horny.

  JAMIE: Very worried. Get ready, Wylder Alma Buchanan. The game is about to begin.

  Chapter Six

  Honestly, I don’t even know how I managed to sleep.

  Somehow I did, and to my shame, it was the excited kind of sleep, like beyond exciting. Filled with sexual fantasies. Lots of them. With Jamie Donovan.

  I want to play a game with him.

  Every kind.

  Even if it’s wrong. Even though he’s a notorious man-whore.

  If he’s about to start a cat-and-mouse pursuit with me, it’s going to take every ounce of self-discipline not to fall into his trap. How I’m going to manage this feat is a mystery, but I’m going to have to somehow find the willpower.

  The game gets real as soon as I arrive at the studio.

  I’m called up to Henry’s desk.

  He’s leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, the speaker to his phone headset perched up above his forehead. He eyes me suspiciously.

  “Why did you leave Donovan’s house so late last night?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I reply quickly, my eyes narrowing when I hear his tone. “I was waiting for him to give me an answer.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Excuse me?” I give him a cold look. “I don’t appreciate your tone or accusation. You were very clear about staying put until I got an answer from him, and you also warned me not to leave without the script.”

  “It wasn’t an accusation.” Henry’s tone is derisive. “It was an insinuation.”

  “Well, whichever one it is, I don’t like it.”

  He huffs and leans over his desk.

  “Come on, Wylder.” He lowers his voice. “You know he’s a notorious player. The man can’t keep it in his pants.”

  With a cock like he has, I can’t blame him.

  “You sound like a jealous ex-boyfriend.”

  “I am an ex-boyfriend,” Henry replies, fixing me with his gaze “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Looking out for me?” I’m horrified by the idea. “First of all, I don’t need you or anyone to look out for me. Second, I was given an assignment to do yesterday, and I completed it, so why are you giving me the third degree?”

  “Because he asked for you to come to the house today to take his notes on the script,” Henry says to my utter shock. “And even with you being so new to the business, I’m sure you realize it’s a highly unusual request.”

  The entire situation was highly unusual.

  Butterflies start to dance around in my stomach. Lord, Jamie wasn’t playing with me last night. He was dead serious.

  Time stops around me.

  “He asked for me?” I hate that my voice sounds breathless.

  “Did you not hear what I said?” Henry says in that douchey way of his. His pale-blue eyes look me up and down. “What did you guys talk about?”

  “Nothing,” I respond quickly. “The script… I sat outside his office for over five hours by myself waiting for a response.”

  I hate that I even feel the need to give Henry any type of explanation. He doesn’t deserve it, but the last thing I want is for him to start rumors about me, and I put nothing past him.

  “Well, you obviously performed your assignment very well,” Henry goes on to say. “Because whatever you did, he wants you to come back.”

  Explicit X-rated pictures of what I did with him come to mind. My sex-starved body grows hot with desire. After a moment, Henry gives me a sly smile, and I have the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

  Honestly, what did I ever see in him?

  “Screw. You.” The words come out before I can stop them.

  Henry’s mouth drops open, like jaw-to-the-floor open. “What did you just say to me?”

  “Why don’t you think about what you’ve been insinuating for the past five minutes before looking so indignant,” I respond, trying to contain my anger. “I’m pretty sure if I recounted the story to human resources, they’d be very sympathetic with me.”

  I think Henry wants to strangle me. I’d love for him to try.

  “Just get to the house and get his notes,” Henry snaps, and he turns to look at his computer, dismissing me. “No matter what time you leave, I want them typed up and sent to me. This is all David cares about right now.”

  My mind races as I try and come up with a way out of my problem.

  “I can’t go,” I tell him simply.

  “Wrong answer.” Henry starts typing, completely ignoring me.

  “I’m serious, Henry,” I say, trying and come up with an excuse. “I have a doctor’s appointment.”

  It’s a lie. I don’t have any appointment, but how can he still make me go when I give him this excuse.

  “It’s right at lunch, and it’s a woman’s thing,” I tell him with a wink, laying it on thick. “You know how that it is.”

  “Do I look like a woman?”

  I smile in amusement and cock a brow. He set himself up for that one.

  “But he specifically asked for you,” Henry says pointedly.

  “Send Kerri,” I tell him easily. “Don’t you think he’ll be happier with her?”

  I can’t believe I said that. I want to take back my own words, but there is no way I will do this assignment. I can’t go to his house again.

  No way.

  “Fine,” he finally says.

  I turn to leave, but Henry’s words stop me cold.

  “Wanna grab a drink after work?”

  Henry must be crazy, like certifiable cuckoo.

  “Why would I ever do that?” I ask him, shaking my head in horror.

  “Cause once upon a time we had a thing.”

  “Once upon a time?” I repeat. “We were dating last month, and you were cheating on me. Like the whole time.”

  Henry shrugs.

/>   “Things happen,” he says and gives me that smile I used to think was kind of cute. “Let’s kiss and make up.”

  I’m so confused for a moment that I don’t know how to answer and then reality dawns on me. He thinks Jamie Donovan is interested in me, so now I’ve become desirable to him again. He thinks he let go of a good thing. The power of celebrity never ceases to surprise.

  “I’d rather not,” I say.

  “Think about it,” Henry replies when I start to walk away.

  I don’t answer.

  Instead, I go back down to the interns’ office and text Kerri with an apology and a prayer emoji in gratitude. She sends an audio note back expressing her disappointment in me, but says she’ll take on the task.

  She promises to give me a full report when she leaves his Malibu compound.

  I try my best to immerse myself in my work and not think about Jamie Donovan or how hot he is or how good it would be to fall into bed with him.

  It’s hard to do, but eventually I’m able to relax.

  I find myself obsessively staring at the time. When it’s lunchtime, I leave the office and go to the Grove. It’s exactly what I need because I go straight to Barnes and Noble and get lost among the books.

  My phone pings. It’s a text from Kerri.

  KERRI: Just left his house. He didn’t give me the notes. He said he’d deal with them himself. Sorry.

  I smile. I can’t help it.

  I’m kind of relieved. Kerri is hot, like seriously drop-dead-gorgeous-hot. Most guys can’t get enough of her… and Jamie sent her away—pretty quickly from the sounds of it.

  ME: Thanks for trying.

  KERRI: Np. He ain’t bad to look at. I think you should reconsider.

  The butterflies in my stomach come back in full force.

  No, he ain’t bad to look at, as Kerri said. But unfortunately, I know what kind of trouble his kind will bring me.

  KERRI: Anyway. I enjoyed the ride out. I’ve got an afternoon of runs, so I’ll see you at home tonight. Peace.

  I send her a thumbs-up emoji back. I pick up a newly released biography, pay, and make my way back to the office. I try not to analyze my feelings, why I’m so relieved Jamie sent Kerri on her merry way because I so don’t want to go there. I tell myself I’m not allowed to care. It doesn’t matter what he does.

  Or who he does it with.

  Or in what position he chooses to do it in.

  My pulse quickens when I think about that mouth, that cock, and how well he does it in every position we tried. Dear Lord, am I never ever going to feel that beautiful body of his again?

  I can’t even go there.

  I go back to work, and the rest of the day thankfully goes by without any drama. I cancel a drinks meeting I had set up with an assistant to a literary agent I happened to admire. Her client roster is pretty impressive and consists of the who’s who of writers in the business. Normally, I’d never cancel, but the last thing I want is an evening where I’ll be forced to make conversation. Especially when I want to make a good impression.

  I just want to be left alone.

  With my sinful thoughts about Jamie.

  I pull up to our small, Spanish-style home in Hollywood Hills. Under normal circumstances, neither Tony nor I would ever be able to afford rent in a place like this, but our situation is not normal. The home is a rental of one of Kerri’s father’s friends. He’d given the spacious three-bedroom home to Kerri for a “good price,” whatever that is, and she didn’t want to be alone. Tony and I each rent a room from her for practically nothing in LA standards. I know Kerri pays much more than us, but then her dad covers all her expenses, so she’s lucky that way.

  We’re both grateful to have her.

  She’s so generous and kind; sometimes it blows my mind.

  I walk into an empty home. I’m relieved to have some space to myself, thinking I’ll try to write. I haven’t typed a word in the script I’ve been writing since the day I visited the sex club.

  I throw my purse on the blue-tiled, kitchen counter top and walk into my bedroom. All three rooms in the home have their own bathrooms. Mine is in my room like Kerri’s, and Tony is shit out of luck and has to walk out into the hall. Since he’s the guy, Kerri made that decision for him. He wasn’t very happy about it and had made a sound argument about women’s lib.

  We both ignored him.

  My room is an explosion of pictures tacked to the wall, along with maps and dream vacation spots around the world. The only things that really matter to me in my room are my three plants. They’re cactuses, and I happen to love them more than life. I’ve had them for just over ten years. They’re each around thirteen inches tall, and their names are Tom, Dick, and Harry—short for Thomas, Richard and Henry. Seriously.

  They’re my plant kids.

  My bed is outfitted by none other than a bed in a bag I purchased from Target. It’s baby blue and plain. The room is big enough for a small desk and a dresser I purchased at Ikea. This home is the most comfortable place I’ve ever lived in. I actually love to come home after work. Tony and Kerri have really become my family in every way.

  I quickly undress and jump in the shower.

  The hot water feels incredible on my body, so I stand there and let it wash over me. It does wonders and helps me relax after my anxiety-filled day, thanks to Jamie fucking Donovan. I mean seriously, what does he think he’s doing? What kind of game is he trying to play?

  A picture of his sexy face comes to mind. If he didn’t happen to be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever set eyes on, it would be so easy. And if he didn’t have magic hands and a magic…

  Oh, no.

  Why did I go there? In less than thirty seconds, my thoughts turn sinful, and I’m picturing the way Jamie went down on me.

  I’m burning up in no time.

  Goose bumps rush over my body. My hand slowly travels past my navel, ready to take care of business—

  “Wylder!” Kerri’s voice breaks in and interrupts what’s about to be an incredible sex fantasy.

  And just like that…

  There goes my mood.

  “Yes?” I call out in frustration. “I’m in the shower!”

  “I need you?” Kerri’s voice pleads.

  Seriously?

  “Now?” I ask in disbelief, responding to the urgency I hear in her voice.

  “Yes!”

  I grumble silently and turn off the shower. I quickly dry off and think about my fantasy before Kerri rudely interrupted. I burn with longing. The anticipation of settling into that beautiful dream again makes my heart rate pick up in excitement.

  I slip on a pair of my baggiest grey sweat pants that do absolutely nothing for my body and a thin grey tank top. I forgo the bra because, well, they’re irritating and sometimes it’s really nice to let them hang free. And I know Tony always appreciates when Kerri and I walk around the house like that.

  “Wylder!” I hear Kerri shout again.

  “Coming!” I scream back at her as I open my door and head out to the family room.

  I stop in my tracks when I see the scene before me.

  Jamie. Fucking. Donovan.

  He’s sitting on Kerri’s tan-colored Restoration Hardware Cloud sofa that happens to be the single most comfortable lounging experience ever. He’s leaning back in the damn thing like he owns it.

  He’s wearing a Dodgers baseball cap, faded jeans, and a baby-blue, faded T-shirt that looks like it was made for him. I want to drool. I probably am. He’s so freaking hot. He smirks and cocks his head to the side, and his emerald green eyes trace the length of my body, starting at my very bare feet, moving to my completely unattractive sweat pants, and lingering for an uncomfortable amount of time on my breasts.

  My nipples harden.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  He notices. His lips slacken, and I see his chest move like he’s taken a rapid breath before his eyes meet mine dead on.

  If Kerri wasn’t there, I would have run an
d jumped into his lap, like no stopping me. But Kerri, who I’m going to have a serious freaking talk with after Jamie leaves about who her loyalty should lie with, is watching the two of us like we’re part of some entertaining movie or something.

  “Hot damn, you guys have some serious Fourth of July, firework-style chemistry,” Kerri says and whistles.

  I feel my face burn. I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re so dead.”

  “He wouldn’t let up,” Kerri says with a shrug, not intimidated in the least. “He said he’ll only give you his notes on the script.”

  “What a load of bullshit.” I practically snort and look over at Jamie. “Only me?”

  He has the audacity to smile.

  I’m instantly wet.

  Goddammit.

  “Kerri believed me.”

  He probably smiled at her like that, and she couldn’t resist. Secretly, I don’t blame her, but I’m still going to give her hell later.

  I push my wet hair back from my face and stare at Jamie. “So what are your notes?”

  Jamie leans back in the couch and extends his arms across, eyeing me. He gives me a lazy smile, showing perfect white teeth.

  “I lied,” he says. “I called Darren on my way over here and gave him my notes already.”

  My pulse quickens at his words.

  He came here to see me.

  I mean, I know that, but he’s openly admitting it in front of witnesses—well, Kerri, but still… What is going on here?

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask him coolly.

  Jamie lifts a brow and watches me, undaunted.

  “You seem very hostile and angry for someone so young,” he finally says, and his eyes flicker over my face.

  “Excuse me?” My voice creeps up like ten octaves.

  Jamie shrugs.

  “Usually when someone is so outwardly bitter, it’s when they hit middle age,” he explains like he’s talking about something as trivial as the weather. “But you’re like what, twenty-three, twenty-four?” he asks curiously.

  My mouth drops open.

  “She’s twenty-two about to turn twenty-three in two weeks, and oh my God, you’re my fucking hero!” Kerri exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement.