by Paige North
“What made you call me up again?”
“I didn’t call you,” I say.
“You had Sheldon do it,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Can you do anything without that man?”
“Yes,” I say. “But I prefer having him around for the mundane tasks.”
She pauses. “What, like asking a girl out on a date?”
I take a sip of my water, my non-answer her answer. She takes a drink of her wine. I wonder how Addison is feeling, if she’s okay. This morning I brushed it off but now I’m starting to wonder if I should check in on her.
I see a woman walk by on the sidewalk outside and for a moment I’m convinced it’s her.
Addison.
I sit up a little in my chair to better see. Even Monica looks back. But it’s not her. I wonder where she lives, and what she’s doing this evening.
“You okay?” Monica asks.
I look back to Monica. “Yeah. Sure. Should we order?”
Monica talks about her little business and even asks about mine. I don’t give her details. I never do, not to any woman. Asking for details about my business, other than what we do, is too close to asking me about my family and I do not talk about my family, not to any woman.
Soon she’s talking about her father, and the new deals he’s doing with one movie star or another—he runs one of the biggest talent agencies in the city and I’m pretty sure he forbids her from dating his clients. Otherwise, she’d have bagged one of them by now.
I wonder what kind of movies Addison likes. I wonder, as Monica talks about someone else’s work life, what Addison’s dream role is. Showing up to my house last night certainly wasn’t what she imagined for herself. I wonder if I could somehow make it up to her…
“…premiere next week if you want to go,” Monica is saying.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, shifting my focus back to her.
“I’m going to the big premiere next week and was asking if you wanted to be my date.”
I stare back at her for a beat, trying to ground myself back in the moment. “Your date,” I repeat, like a simpleton.
“What are we doing here, Rex, if not getting back together? Isn’t that why you invited me to dinner? I told Daddy that we were meeting and he was so happy. He thinks your company should get into the talent management business. He says why else are you based in L.A. if you don’t get more involved in movies?”
“We are involved,” I say, because it’s true—I have two production companies.
“I wouldn’t know, would I? You never talk about work. Which is fine, I get it. Keeps a good balance of work and life. It’s smart.”
Another dark-haired woman walks by outside, but she doesn’t have half the curves of Addison so I quickly look away. Still, it’s enough for Monica to turn to see what keeps grabbing my attention.
I scold myself.
She left without so much as a word.
Focus on what matters, and right now, that’s Monica.
The waitress brings out our food. I stare down at the grilled chicken salad. I think of last night, cooking for Addison, watching her eat with that robe hanging slightly open. I think of the way she bit into the burger I made her, chomping with gusto and real hunger. I bet the last time Monica ate a burger was when she was eleven, and then it was probably just one slider. I love that Addison hasn’t fallen into all the L.A. bullshit traps like no carbs, no meat, no reality.
“I was thinking about heading out to the house in Palm Springs if you want to join me,” Monica is saying, spearing an asparagus. “Something wrong with your salad?”
I look up at Monica. There is nothing wrong with Monica. She’s lovely and well meaning.
But what the hell was I thinking?
“Monica, I need to go,” I say.
She looks at me curiously. “Something back at work?”
“No,” I say. “I just…can’t. I thought this might work out, Monica, but I was wrong. I don’t want to waste your time.”
She sits back in her chair and tosses her cloth napkin on the table beside her dinner. Her eyes are blazing with anger and a pretty healthy dose of humiliation. I feel bad, but I won’t lead her on again.
She pushes out from her chair and gets her bag. She stands over me and says, “Don’t fucking call me again. And tell Sheldon the same.”
She marches out of the restaurant, but at least she didn’t cause a scene.
I run my hand across my forehead, thinking. I know I have to see Addison again, but how? I don’t even know her last name.
I pay the check and hand my ticket to the valet. I may not know how to get a hold of Addison, but I know the one person who does.
Twenty minutes later I’m pulling into the circle driveway of a huge place in Beverly Hills and refraining myself from slamming my fist on the gigantic front door. Now that I'm here, I’m anxious as hell. The need to check in on and see Addison has grown more intense with every moment since I decided that I have to see her again.
I’m like a fucking addict who needs his fix.
The door swings open and Damien stands there in lounge pants and T-shirt holding a glass of scotch. He gives me a surprised look.
“Rex? What are you doing here? Everything okay with the girl?”
“I need to talk to you about her,” I say. “I need to get in touch with her. Now.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Damien says, holding up his hands, the ice rattling in his glass. “If something went wrong, let me handle it, Rex. I don’t want you getting your hands dirty. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get the rest of her fee. That’s why I don’t pay in full upfront. I’m not an idiot.”
I scoff at that. “No, it’s not that, Damien. She was fine.” And I definitely don’t like his implication. “You’re the one who screwed up. I told you I wanted a wife, not some ridiculous girlfriend experience.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Damien says, zero regret. “I thought she’d be good though, man. She seemed like the perfect chick and I thought she’d get interested once you two met. Didn’t work out that way, though, huh? What’s her problem? Boring? Stupid? I can get you another girl. Just say the word.”
“Watch your mouth, Damien,” I say frustrated. This guy really is scum. I can’t believe I bought anything he was selling. “I don’t want some other girl. I want Addison.” It feels pretty terrible having to tell this guy that he actually did send me the right girl, if for the wrong reasons. He’s lecherous as fuck.
“Ah, okay then,” he says, a grin playing across is greasy face. “She must have done better than expected then, huh?” He takes a swig of his scotch, a splash hitting his chin. He doesn’t wipe it away. “She’s a good one, am I right? Very sweet and innocent. Yeah, I know my girls, that’s for sure. She give you good service?”
Before another word can come out of his mouth I grab him by scruff of his T-shirt. “Watch your mouth, asshole. Just give me her name and phone number. That’s all I want.”
“Get your hands off me, Croft,” Damien says, and tries to push my hand away. But I can see the flicker of fear in his eyes as he watches me. I pull him closer, so ready to deck him that my free hand is clenched and ready to go.
“Just say one more thing about her,” I say. “I dare you.”
“Look, you took a shine to her, that’s cool,” he says, his hands out to the side. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Just give me her info, fucker,” I say.
“Alright, alright,” he says, and I release him long enough to follow him inside. He gives me her number and address.
As I’m leaving Damien seems to get his balls back.
“Be careful, man,” he calls as I fire up my car. “If you want a business arrangement with that girl like you told me, don’t let your emotions get in the way.”
I rev the engine and put the car into gear.
“But you’re young,” he yells. “You’ll learn the hard way!”
I drive off, hoping I never have to see that pric
k again, thinking only of seeing Addison.
ADDISON
I can’t sleep. I toss and turn on my foam mattress, thinking a million thoughts at once.
One thought: money. I need it.
Also: I need another audition. I need to keep this roof with its water-stained ceiling over my head.
Another thought: Rex. Actually, two things about Rex—what I did with him, and how I felt with him.
I’ve shaken off the feeling of having done anything like prostitution. That’s not what I did. Sex is not what I went there for and it’s not what he wanted me there for.
I freaked out about it, and I ran out of there without even saying goodbye.
I wish I hadn’t done that, because I actually had an incredible time, looking back on it now.
Once I got over the complete awkwardness of that whole marriage thing, I have to admit that I had a really good time talking with and hanging out with him. I would have never guessed that I could get along so well with a rich good-looking guy like Rex Croft.
When I picture him in the kitchen, making me dinner as we laugh and joke I get all the butterflies again. God he looked so hot moving around his kitchen so easily, but cooking me dinner wasn’t the hottest thing he did, not by a long shot.
The way he made me feel in his bedroom…the way I wanted him out on the roof…
It was pretty chicken shit of me, plus kind of mean, to just leave the way I did.
I wouldn't want some guy doing that to me, even if the festivities of the night were done and complete. Still, I'm smart enough to know that he doesn't want to see me again.
I’m just one of many, and surely not the hottest he’s had or seen or wants. Rex Croft can get any girl he wants. I can’t imagine a world in which he’d want me. But that’s okay, I tell myself.
I’ve got the memories of that one night to last me a very long time.
I turn on my side, trying again to force sleep. I hear a ping—my phone. I reach over to the cardboard box that serves as a nightstand (covered in a sheet to hide the fact) and grab my phone.
It’s a text from a number I don’t recognize and that’s not stored in my phone.
I’m outside. Want to come in and talk.
My heart races.
Who the hell is this? I think of the auditions I’ve been on and what creeper might have my information. I pick up my little stun gun that I carry with me—can’t be too careful in a city like L.A.—and I slowly pull back the thin curtain and look down at the street.
Standing beneath the street light—it’s him. It’s Rex. He’s standing next to a swanky Porsche and is looking up and down the street, his phone in his hand. And then he looks up at my window.
What in the world is Rex Croft doing outside my apartment?
He raises his hand in a small wave, and I find myself doing the same back, mostly because I’m confused as hell. He points to the building’s front door. I move away from the window.
I probably shouldn’t let him in—why is he here and how did he find out where I live? But he is a rich guy, and rich guys always find a way.
I grab a cardigan and wrap it around myself, the best I can do in lieu of a robe. All I’m wearing is a short T-shirt. As I press the buzzer to the front door I look around for a pair of pants. God, I can’t keep being naked around this guy. As I’m tossing through dirty clothes there’s a soft knock on my door.
I creep over and slowly open it, sticking my head around the corner.
As soon as we look at each other, a small grin edges across both our faces, surprising me. I quickly look away, and Rex clears his throat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I know it’s late,” he says. “If you want me to go I will. I just…I had to see you again, Addison. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say, feeling more than okay.
“I’m glad,” he says.
We watch each other for a moment, his amber eyes heavy on me. I decide to let him in. I open the door wider, and he steps through.
I shut the door and am mortified for a reason that has nothing to do with my not wearing any pants—Rex is looking around at my studio apartment.
He’s seeing the dump I live in without me having had a chance to spiff it up, not that anything I could do would help much.
“It’s…small,” I say, stating the obvious.
Rex turns back to face me, and all thoughts of my crappy little apartment fall away when he looks at me. “Your apartment is fine, Addison,” he says. “Better than fine, in fact. Because you’re here.”
I pull the cardigan tighter around my chest but his eyes don’t roam over me—they stay on my own eyes, like they’re the only thing he cares about seeing. Me—he only wants to see me.
That’s what it feels like but that can’t be the truth. Not with a guy like him.
“Look,” I begin. “I’m sorry I ran out on you this morning. I just…last night was a bad idea. I mean, I had a great time with you and all, but taking a job like that is totally out of my character. I came here to be an actor and I shouldn’t have taken a job like that, even if I thought it was just a one night thing…”
“Addison, it’s fine,” Rex says. “I don’t care how or why you showed up at my house. I’m just glad you did.”
Neither of us moves. His eyes are still on mine, so soft as I squirm under his gaze. I remember the way his thick brown lashes laid heavy on his cheeks this morning as he slept.
“I just don’t know if it’s such a good idea, you being here,” I say. “Obviously you’re looking for someone different than me—”
“No,” he says, cutting me off. “That’s the thing. Addison, I came here tonight because I’m looking for you. Not someone else.”
He takes one step toward me, and it’s like the air in the room is slowly falling away.
“Yeah, but don’t you want…” I begin, but it’s like I don’t have enough oxygen to get the words out. What I want to say is, Don’t you want a wife? Or someone hot? But he takes another slow step toward me, and all I can do is stay rooted to the spot in front of the door.
“Don’t worry about what I want, Addison,” Rex says. “What I want is standing in front of me. Looking pretty freaked out, I might add,” he says.
I grin, because my shoulders are up by my ears.
“I’m not freaked out,” I say, even though I kind of am. More than that, I’m intimidated. More so than any audition I’ve ever been on, and that’s saying something.
“Good,” he says, almost a whisper. “So tell me what you want. Do you want me here? Or do you want me to leave? I’ll leave right now if that’s what you want.”
I futz with my cardigan again, tugging it around me as Rex watches me. His hair has once again fallen over his forehead, shadowing his eye.
One thing is for sure—I’ve never felt this way around a guy before in my entire life. Not that there’s been many guys—a high school boyfriend who treated me like shit and a two-week fling at summer stock. But still.
Rex, I suddenly realize, has me back up against the door without so much as touching me. He’s got me nervously moving away from him but also—well, wet.
I can feel my pussy reacting to him, throbbing between my thighs at his presence.
He leans one hand against the door, half pinning me in. He leans close to me, his breath a warm tickle on my cheek.
So quiet I can barely hear, he says again, “Do you want me to leave?”
Words don’t come, so I shake my head no.
He puts his other hand on the door behind me, locking me in place.
“Good,” he says. He dips his face closer to mine, and I keep thinking he’s going to kiss me. I edge my chin up but he stays just far enough away from me. My pussy is now clenching, begging for touch.
I squirm under his intense gaze and total presence. He moves slightly and takes the front of my cardigan in his large, smooth hands. He looks down, assessing it, rubbing the fabric betwe
en his fingers. His eyes flick up at me and he grins. Then he pushes the sweater back off my shoulders and down to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my small T-shirt.
“Much better,” he says. My arms are still pressed close to my sides, and when he runs his hands up my skin I break out in shivers. He leans in slowly, his face inching closer to mine and I wait, trying not to pant, my lips parted in anticipation.
When he’s close enough he slides his tongue across my bottom lip. I gasp. He takes my face in his hands and tilts my face up to his, raking his tongue across my lip again and then gently sucking it, releasing it quickly.
All I can do is try to stay standing and let him do what he wants. Finally his lips are fully on mine and his tongue plunges into my mouth, caressing my tongue as I try to give back as much as he’s giving me but my head is spinning and I hardly know what day it is.
When he pulls away he looks down at me, brushing my hair back. I reach out for him at his waist, feeling the soft fabric of his pants, the smooth leather of his belt. Keeping my eyes on his, I tug him closer.
“Eager?” he says.
“Stop teasing me,” I say. My body is already on the verge of exploding, my mind is long gone, and all I want is this gorgeous man to cover my body with his.
“You have no idea,” he says. Rex kisses me again, deeper than before, more urgently as he grinds his hips into mine.
A small moan escapes the back of my throat as I feel his hard member pressing against his pants, pressing into me. All I want is my hand back on him, remembering how big and thick his dick was in my hand last night, and then in my mouth. The memory, and having him right here, makes me start fumbling at his belt, my hands shaking as I undo his buckle and start at the zipper.
Rex steps back, a look of amusement on his face. “You really are eager, aren’t you?”
I stop, slightly embarrassed. “I…I don’t know…what you want me to say…” my voice fades to a whisper.
He puts his hand over his cock, still so far from me in layers of clothing. “Is this what you want most of all, Addison? I walk in the door and you want to suck my cock?”
My eyes flick from his hand covering his dick, moving mere centimeters over himself, and up to his eyes, which watch me closely.
