by Hamel, B. B.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”
I looked at Misty and she smiled, picking up the menu.
“I’ll have the Caesar salad, no croutons please.”
Of course. We go to one of the most expensive steak houses in the whole area, and she wants to eat a salad. That should be a crime. Someone should seriously show up and throw her out.
If the waiter was as offended as I was, he didn’t show it.
“Very good. And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the prime rib, medium rare.”
“Very good. I’ll put those in for you right away.”
He took our menus and walked out.
The cameras hovered around us, and I could have sworn I saw the sound guy stifle a yawn. I knew exactly how he felt. Jess made an urgent motion, probably trying to get me to talk. Misty leaned forward on the table, sipping her drink and smiling at me.
“So, Based. What do you like to do?” she asked.
“Please. Call me Lincoln.”
She giggled. “Sorry, I keep forgetting. I can be so silly sometimes.”
“Right. Well, I like to play piano. And pinball sometimes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds . . . interesting.”
“Not really. What about you?”
“I love to party. Do you like to party, Lincoln?”
I made a face. Was she fucking serious?
“Sure. I guess.”
I took a sip of the whisky, savoring its smoky flavor. At least the drink was decent. I took another sip, hoping that the warmth would dull the annoying night I was having, when suddenly I almost spit it out. Under the table, I felt the unmistakable sensation of someone’s foot slowly climbing up my pant leg.
I sat up straight, moving away from Misty’s roaming appendage.
“Uh, anyway,” I said.
Her smile never faltered. “Have you jumped at all lately?”
“Not since the accident.”
She pouted. “Really? I never thought that would stop you.”
I clenched my jaw. “Really. Turns out, when you shatter both your legs, it’s pretty fucking hard to walk normally afterward.”
She giggled. “You’re so silly. Tell me about the last time you jumped.”
“You want to hear about my accident?”
“Please?” She batted her eyes at me. I wanted to take a fork to her skull.
“I’d rather not.” I took another sip. Actually, more like a gulp. I was going to need ten more drinks before Misty became tolerable.
“Humph, fine. You’re no fun.” She pouted.
I leaned forward in my seat. “How about you tell me about the most painful memory you have? Does that sound fun?”
“Lincoln.” Jess’s voice cut through the brief awkward moment. I glanced over at her stern look and grinned.
Misty laughed, deciding I was joking. “You’re so funny!”
“See, Jess, I’m hilarious.”
Jess shook her head as I turned back to Misty.
The whole night was incredibly surreal. Really, it should never have happened, considering what I had done at the end of the charity event. Last I heard, Brent’s broken kneecap was healing nicely, but that only pissed me off.
He deserved worse than what he got. Sometimes, I pictured his face as he yanked at Brie’s arm, and rage filled my entire body.
“What is your absolute favorite drink, Lincoln?” Misty asked me.
“I don’t know. I’ve always been a whisky guy.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Daddy always drinks whisky. You’re so much like Daddy.”
“And what does Daddy do for a living?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, something boring. Something to do with investment banking. But who cares?”
“So long as he keeps giving you money, right?”
She laughed. “Exactly! I have to admit, though, there’s something sexy about a man drinking whisky.”
I raised an eyebrow, putting my glass down. I might have underestimated exactly how horrible this girl is, I thought to myself.
“Why do you think that is?” I asked, not caring about the answer.
“It’s masculine. I love men when they’re manly.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. “What do you think is manly?”
She sipped her drink and leaned forward, practically shoving her tits in my face. “I love tattoos, like yours. And men that aren’t afraid of anything, like you.”
“Got it. So you think I’m manly.”
“Extremely.”
I remembered the crack of my cane against Brent’s knee, and again against his ribs. I remembered kissing Brie, and later, once we got home, shoving her up against the wall of her bedroom and fucking her senseless. We didn’t fall asleep together, but I did work her body over and over again.
That next morning, the day after the event, I woke up with morning wood like crazy. But I wasn’t sweating, and I hadn’t dreamed about the crash.
Brie was like fucking medicine or something.
And to top it all off, once I went downstairs for my usual PT session, Brent wasn’t with the crew. Some new guy had taken his place. When I looked at Jess, she just shrugged.
“Brent’s fired,” she had said simply. “And he’s not pressing charges.”
“How is that even possible?” I had asked her.
“We have him attacking Aubrie on film. He figured it would be better to let it go than to risk getting labeled as a rapist.”
I had to admit, despite everything with Jess, I wanted to give her a big, fat fucking kiss on the mouth. Her obsessive and authoritarian nature was finally working in my favor.
The days slipped by, and I kept sneaking into Aubrie’s room at night. And we didn’t hear a word about Brent after that.
Those were some of the best nights of my life. It was Aubrie and more Aubrie, her body and lips and everything mixed together in sweating exertion. We spent all night together and only parted when it was clear we were about to both pass out from exhaustion.
Then, of course, my mother insisted that I go on that stupid date I had agreed to. She set everything up, even getting a limo. Jess said it would be great for the documentary and would really show me in my element. As if a limo and an expensive restaurant were my “element.”
The waiter returned, yanking me back into the present moment. Misty threw back her martini and asked for another. “Just as dirty,” she said with another wink at me.
I finished my drink and asked for another as well.
The steak was delicious and was a good distraction as Misty began to ramble on about her dress designs and about some new handbag she had bought with Daddy’s money. I thought she said it was a “Monica Lewinsky original,” but that couldn’t have been right.
I was half listening, and I mostly grunted at the appropriate moments. As I took juicy, delicious bites of steak, followed by smoky and full-bodied sips of whisky, I was imagining what I was going to do to Aubrie once I got home.
Misty paused and stared at me, and I realized I had missed something she said.
“Right, totally,” I grunted.
She laughed. “You love to wear silk thongs too?”
I grinned. “Not me personally.”
She leaned forward. “If that’s something you like, maybe I can show you what I’m wearing.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
She wasn’t deterred. “Are you sure?” she asked, pouting. “I think you’d like it. Pink and easy to rip off.”
Is this girl for real, or is she too drunk to notice the cameras? I thought to myself, glancing over at Jess. She was barely concealing a smile.
I looked back at Misty. “You know this isn’t a real date, right?”
She smiled and finished off her second martini. “Maybe. But I can be very convincing when I want to be.”
I sighed. “I’m sure you can be, Misty.”
&n
bsp; She smiled at me. “Have you ever fucked a blonde in a limo?”
I almost choked on my steak. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“Do you want to?”
I winced. “No, thanks.”
“Mmm, come on, Based. I thought you were fun.” She gave me a little smile.
“Sorry, Misty. We need to keep this strictly professional.”
“That’s perfect. Because I strip on the weekends. I can show you my profession.”
I almost fell out of my chair, and I could have sworn I heard someone in the crew snorting with laughter.
“You strip? I thought your dad was loaded.”
“He is, but stripping is fun. I love when men throw money at my bare pussy.”
I couldn’t help it. As soon as she said “bare pussy,” I burst out laughing along with the crew. She was the most absurd person I had ever met in my entire life.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, leaning back. She looked surprised.
“Nothing. Just that phrase, ‘bare pussy.’ Do you really think that’s going to work?”
“You fucking asshole.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, fuck you. Do you have any idea how many guys want to get some of this?” She gestured at herself, and I burst out laughing again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re very desirable,” I said between laughter.
“You piece of shit. You’re passing on the best sex of your life.” She leaned forward. “I have no fucking gag reflex.”
I completely lost it. I leaned back in my chair, bellowing as she turned redder and redder, clearly beyond pissed off.
“Fuck this and fuck you. They should call you Pussy Carter.”
“Oh, come on, wait,” I said as she stood up. I made no real effort to stop her, though, too busy cracking up.
“No. You had your chance. Go fuck yourself.”
I watched as she stormed out of the room, swaying slightly. After a minute or two, I slowly regained my composure and noticed that most of the crew was laughing along with me. Everyone except for Jess, of course.
“Did you really have to do that?” she asked me.
I took a bite of my steak, chewing slowly. “No, I didn’t have to. But did you hear that shit?”
“She wasn’t bad looking.”
“She’s an idiot. It would be way too easy.”
“I didn’t realize you were picky, Based.”
I gave her a look. “You know damn well that I am.”
She paused. “You settle up. We’ll wait for you at the car.”
As if on cue, the crew began to break down the lighting and to turn off the equipment. I turned back to my meal, biting into the last bit of my steak and sipping my whisky.
All in all, it wasn’t such a bad night. I felt a little bad turning Misty down like that, but she should have known better. It was always a bad idea to put yourself out there right on camera.
It definitely was not the worst date I had ever been on. At least I got steak.
Chapter Seventeen: Aubrie
I hated feeling jealous.
There was nothing worse than jealousy, especially when you knew that there was no real reason for it. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I remembered what Misty looked like, and when Lincoln was forced to go on his date with her, I wanted to hide under my bed.
I knew I had nothing to worry about. I was just being stupid. He didn’t want to go on that date.
But there was still that nagging sense of jealousy looming over my shoulder. He must have sensed it, too. Before he left, he found me in my room, pointedly trying to ignore everything around me.
“How do I look, Brie baby?” he asked with a grin.
I glanced up. He looked amazing as usual, especially dressed up in his suit.
“You look fine,” I said.
“Playing it cool. I like it.”
He walked across the room and sat down on my bed, pulling my body against his. He laughed and kissed my mouth and my neck.
“Don’t you have a date?” I asked him.
“Am I sensing a little jealousy?”
“Not at all. Just reminding you.”
“Don’t worry. You’re the only thing I want.”
I pushed him back. “Cut it out.”
“Really. Hey.” He grabbed my face and pulled me toward him. “I’m not happy about this thing, either, but it’s only a few hours.”
“I know. It’s not a big deal. You’ll be on camera, anyway. So it’s not like you can screw up too badly.”
He grinned. “You’d be surprised.”
“Okay, go annoy someone else.”
“You mean, go annoy my date?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
He kissed me one last time and stood up.
“See you when I get home.”
“Sure. Whatever.” I gave him a wave and went back to checking Facebook.
He laughed as he turned and left.
And later that night, after the house was quiet and everyone was asleep, he snuck into my room. At that point, he had gotten me off a dozen times. But that night, for whatever reason, he was insatiable.
Which is why I woke up sore the next morning. It was a bittersweet soreness, the kind of dull pleasure you got from hard work. All jealousy had been completely and thoroughly banished.
I stretched and climbed out of bed. The hardest part about my relationship with Lincoln, or whatever we were calling it, was that he could never stay over. Everything between us was hidden, secret gestures and looks during the day, and sweaty and rough touching at night.
Even then we had to be quiet. As much as I wanted to scream his name, I had to settle for digging my nails into his back and whispering it into his ear. The last thing we wanted was to wake up his mom or my dad.
I slowly got out of bed and walked out into the hall, heading to the bathroom. I went through my usual morning routine, my mind still lingering on the night before.
Lincoln’s arms wrapped around my body. His tongue between my legs. His strong hands grabbing my hips as he thrust himself again and again into me. The sheets grasped between my hands. My face pressed down into a pillow, trying not to moan too loudly.
I finished brushing my teeth and washing my face, pushed open the bathroom door, and nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Hey, Aubrie. Good morning,” Jess said.
“Jesus, Jess, you scared me.”
She was standing across the hall, leaning her back against the wall. Under her right arm was a gray plastic square that I didn’t recognize.
“Sorry about that. I was just looking for you.”
“What do you need?”
I glanced around the hall. No cameras. That was good at least.
“Well, I wanted to show you something.”
“Can it wait? I haven’t even dressed yet.”
“It can, but I think you’ll want to see this.”
“What is it?”
“Footage. From Lincoln’s date last night.”
I blinked at her. “Why would I want to see that?”
“I’ve noticed how close you two are getting. I figured you might want to know what kind of guy you’re dealing with.”
I stared at her, my heart suddenly racing. Did she know about Lincoln and me? No, there was no way she knew anything. She couldn’t possibly know.
“Sorry. I don’t really care, honestly. We’re not that close.”
She smiled. “I know. I have to admit, I have an ulterior motive here. I was hoping you’d give me your opinion on it.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell if it’s a little too much. And everyone else around here is afraid to say no to me.”
She gave me a big, winning smile, and I sighed. I had to admit, I was pretty damn curious about the footage, but I was finding it hard to believe that she gave a shit about my opinion. Still, if I really didn’t care about it, then it might be best just to sit through it anyway. Just to throw her off my scent.
> I had nothing to hide. Or at least that’s what I was telling the world.
“Okay. Fine. Let me get dressed real fast.”
I moved past her and walked into my room, throwing some clean clothes on.
“Okay, come in.”
Jess walked in and sat down on the bed, placing the gray thing flat on the comforter. She flipped open the top and I realized that it was a portable DVD player. I laughed.
“I haven’t seen one of those in a while.”
She grinned at me. “Yeah, I know. The film industry can be a little backward sometimes.”
I sat down next to her. “So what’s the point of this again?”
“No real point. Just trying to get a second opinion. Ready?”
“Sure. Ready.”
I wasn’t ready. Not even close to ready.
She hit play.
I watched as Lincoln and Misty walked into an expensive-looking restaurant and were lead into a private room. Lincoln looked like his usual confident self, despite the cane, and Misty was dressed in an entirely inappropriate outfit. She clearly was trying to shove her tits in Lincoln’s face.
He pulled her chair back like a gentleman, and they settled down to order drinks.
“Dirty martini for me,” Misty said. “Extra dirty.” She gave Lincoln a look as she said it and winked.
The camera cut to Lincoln. He was giving her his usual grin. Was he seriously falling for that bullshit?
Next, Lincoln ordered a whisky, and the waiter left.
“So, Misty,” Lincoln said. “Let me ask you something.”
She leaned forward, batting her eyes at him, pressing her tits together. It was almost disgusting the way she was throwing herself at him. “Okay. Ask me anything you want. I’ll tell you absolutely anything.”
The camera showed Lincoln’s satisfied grin again, his eyes clearly raking up and down her body.
“How old are you, Misty?” he asked.
“Twenty-three.”
She was clearly lying, but Lincoln just kept smiling at her. The waiter returned with their drinks, and they ordered their food.
Of course she gets a salad at a steak house, I thought to myself bitterly.
Once the waiter left, Misty spoke.
“So, Based. What do you like to do?”
“I like to play the piano.” The camera cut to Misty’s reaction, a big smile, and then back to Lincoln. “What about you?”
