“Hell no,” Monroe says. “The truth would ruin my mother. I wanted to give her a little solace even if she doesn’t deserve it.”
Angelina watches Monroe with an odd expression. “Well, what’s the truth?”
“You really want to know?”
“Please.”
“She spent more time in men’s beds and running her well-oiled prostitution ring than raising me. I hated her then, and I hate her now.” It shows on her face.
Angelina appears to contemplate that for a moment. She’s like a machine. I’m not sure if she’s enjoying this process or not. “That’s exactly how Clara Richardson is depicted in the story, and while you’ve succeeded in shaming her, you’ve also managed to make her look like a caricature. You’ve ruined her with an unrealistic, almost cartoonish, depiction.”
Monroe is frowning. She’d taken all of Angelina’s criticisms too well.
Angelina glances at me. I wonder if she’s asking for help until she says, “We’re going to have to find her humanity or you’re going to be spending a lot of time and money making a movie that’s bound to flop.”
Monroe looks off with a frown. Angelina raises her eyebrows at me, and my heart skips a beat.
“Okay,” Monroe finally says and clears the frog out of her throat. “Let’s do this.”
We stay throughout the night. Mainly I listen while Angelina talks Monroe through the changes and then types them up. The next morning, I send Mary, the assistant, out on a coffee run as soon as she gets in.
“Mint tea for me,” Angelina says while typing.
“I thought all scribes lived on coffee,” I say.
She pauses—more like freezes—and then returns to typing. I wonder why she did that. I find her puzzling.
Mary brings breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s nine-thirty at night. “The end,” Angelina says as she types three hash tags. I sign off on the script. Mary, who hung around for this moment, prints off copies, and gets them ready for distribution.
“I guess we’re in production,” Monroe says, beaming at me with tired eyes.
Angelina yawns as she stuffs her computer into her bag. “Congratulations.”
“We have to celebrate once we’re rested,” Monroe says.
Angelina slings her bag over her shoulder. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“I’m staying in downtown Long Beach.”
“That’s too far. Stay with me.”
“Or you can stay with me,” Monroe says out of nowhere.
“No, with me. We’re practically family.” I’m insistent.
“I don’t want to impose,” Angelina says and yawns again.
“You’re not imposing. And Daisy wouldn’t forgive me if I let you drive home in your condition. I have five bedrooms, and there’s only one of me.”
Monroe is about to plead her case when Shane bursts through the door. “Ready?” he asks her.
“Ready?” I ask Angelina. Although seeing Shane here agitates the hell out of me.
“Five bedrooms? Why?” Angelina asks.
I smile. “I ask myself that all the time.”
She snickers and massages her temples. “Why not.”
“Does that mean you’re in?”
She smiles tiredly. “I’m in.”
“I’ll drive.”
“But what about my car?” Angelina says.
“I’ll make sure it’s safe.”
She ruffles her eyebrows as she ponders. “Then I’ll get my overnight bag out of the trunk.”
“You have an overnight bag in the trunk?” I ask.
“I’ve had a lot of late nights like this so I’m used to crashing in someone’s guest room.”
I smirk at her, flirting. “Not the couch?”
“Not yet, knock on wood.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” Monroe asks, interrupting the moment we’re having. I tear my eyes away from Angelina to watch Monroe slip into her sweater.
Shane’s face lights up as if he’s going to hit the jackpot the second Angelina changes her mind and goes with them. Just entertaining the thought of fucking them both at one time is enough to get a man excited.
“Let’s go, Angelina,” I say forcefully, wondering why the hell Monroe is making this into a power struggle. I fling open the door. “I’ll drive.”
Angelina shrugs and follows me.
“Monroe, are you ready?” Shane asks.
I don’t hear Monroe’s response because I don’t give a damn what Monroe does from this point on.
Finally we’re out of there, and I’m driving on the 10 Freeway, heading to Pacific Coast Highway.
“You’re not tired?” Angelina asks. I glance over. Her eyes are closed. Her beautiful face is aimed in my direction.
Hell no. I’m too excited that she’s with me to be tired. “I’m like a roach,” I say.
Her chuckle is feather-light. “How so?”
“I’m always awake and into shit.”
“Sweet shit?”
I take a glance at her smile. “I thought it was ants who like sugar.” I’m enjoying the banter.
“Roaches too. I’m the roach expert. I’m from Louisiana.”
Her eyes are still closed. She resembles Daisy, but then she also has her own allure.
She opens her eyes and catches the moment where I’ve taken my attention off the road to study her.
“So what are we? Brother and sister by marriage?” she asks.
I’ve come to a stop at a red light. “Something like that,” I say.
She grunts thoughtfully. She’s looking at me as though we’re having naked pillow talk. “So you live in Malibu too?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. My skin is hot. I hope I haven’t turned red. “Too?” I croak.
“Daisy and Belmont live here. At least when they’re in L.A. Do you live near them?”
“You know you don’t have to call him Belmont. He’s Jack.”
“Does that bother you? Me calling him Belmont?”
“Kind of.”
She laughs. “How about I call him Jack if I get to know him better.”
“If? Why If?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know Daisy that well. Maybe she’s just being nice because...”
“Because of what?”
“Because my mother’s sick—very sick.” She sighs.
I take a long look at her. Angelina’s hair is pulled back into a ponytail. The kissable parts of her face are on full display. The light turns green, and the time I can spend indulging in her beauty ends.
After another moment, I say, “Daisy’s not inauthentic. If she wants you around it’s not because she pities you.”
“Is that so?” She puts her hand over her mouth when she yawns.
“It is certainly so.”
“They’ve just gotten married, haven’t they?”
“Yep.” I’m shocked that I don’t want to punch something after answering that question.
“He’s a very good-looking guy.”
“That’s what I hear.”
She snickers, detecting my cynicism. “You’re just as good-looking.”
I scoff.
“You are. You’re brothers so you look alike but have different styles. I’m surprised how much Daisy and I look alike since we have different mothers. I guess our father has strong genes.” She chuckles.
“Jacques Blanchard?”
She signals her agreement with a hum in the pillow-talk tone.
“He’s a legend.”
She nods slowly.
“Here we are.” I pull up in front of the subterranean garage and press the remote control to lift the door.
Angelina inches her body forward to examine my house. It’s your average single-story beach house with lots of windows. I had it rebuilt and moved away from the cliff four years ago after having a geological test done. The guy said the cliff was unstable, and the house was too close. A series of h
ard rains and it would take a tumble.
“Very nice,” she says.
“Thanks.” It was my design concept from top to bottom.
I get out of the car and open the door for her. As she gets out I sneak a peek at her heart-shaped ass. She bumps into my crotch. I look her in the eyes for any signs that she felt my stiff.
“After you,” she says, sing-songy. As far as I can tell, she didn’t feel it.
I turn the lights on once we’re inside.
“Is that the…” She steps toward the glass windows in the living room. “Ocean?”
I stop behind her. “Nice?”
“Very nice. I don’t know why the ocean makes me miss the bayous. It might have something to do with nature.”
“How long have you been in California?”
“Two months. I’m here off and on, whenever I take a job. The lease is up on the furnished apartment I’m renting next week.”
Being that close to her ass is driving me mad, so I step beside her. “Then what?”
“I’ll probably go back to Louisiana, if my mom lets me. If not, then Manhattan. I have friends there.”
“Whoa. If she lets you?”
Angelina turns to stare off in the opposite direction. “She doesn’t like for me to see… The way she is. She has stage-four cancer, and it’s spread through her body. I can’t believe she convinced me to stay away. She’s very charming.” Angelina sniffs and wipes her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just sleepy.”
I want to ask if I can give her a hug, but I’m still hard. So I hold my hand out. I’m pleased that she takes it.
“I’ll show you to your room,” I say.
My heart and dick are both throbbing as she walks a step behind me. She’s Daisy’s sister, for goodness’s sake. My palms are sweating. Her hand is warm and a little damp from wiping her tears.
We arrive at the bedroom next to mine. “Guest room number one,” I say.
She steps inside, turning in circles, inspecting the space. “Very nice. Very beachy and manly.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“Absolutely.” She touches me on the shoulder, and I glance at her hand. “And thank you for saving me from the drive to Long Beach tonight.”
“Anytime…” I want to throw her on top of the bed and get real intimate with her heart-shaped ass, which is why I say goodnight but invite her to knock on my door if she needs anything. I’m hoping for anything.
Chapter 3
The House Guest
I take a lukewarm shower. An hour later, I’m on top of my bed staring at the pattern-less ceiling. I wonder what Angelina is doing. She took a shower earlier. I passed her room as I went to the kitchen to get a drink. The lights were on, but it was quiet in there. I’m jolted by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I look at the name on the screen. It’s Monroe.
I hesitate. I don’t really want to talk to her tonight, but maybe she’s calling about the script. So I slide the talk button. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Are you asleep?” She’s putting on a seductive purr.
This is clearly not a work-related call. “I answered the phone, didn’t I?”
“Are you alone?”
“No, Angelina’s here. But you know that.”
“Is she in your bed?”
“Why would she be in my bed?” Monroe doesn’t say anything. “Isn’t Shane in yours?”
“He left. I told him I had a headache.”
I snort. “Do you?”
“Not if you come over.”
“Are you propositioning me?”
Her laugh is alluring. “Only if it’s working.”
I flip on my side to look toward the room where Angelina is sleeping. I don’t know what I want at the moment. I’ve been waiting a long time to receive a call like this from Monroe. Angelina is Daisy’s sister, a tiny voice says in my head. It’s best to forget about her if I can.
“It’s working,” I say and sit up. “I’ll be there soon.”
Monroe’s house smells like vanilla. Candles are burning in the foyer and in sconces on the walls in the hallway. It’s an elaborate scheme, but Monroe’s entire presentation is ostentatious. She has nothing on but a tank top and thong panties. Her legs are long; her ass is scrumptious, and so are her tits. So why the hell can I only remember that heart-shaped ass that got me all hot and bothered earlier?
I follow her down a hallway. It’s wide and hollow. This house is too big for one woman. “Do you want a drink?” she asks.
I figure we should just go ahead and start the festivities. I grab her from the back and push her up against the wall, grinding my half-hard dick against her ass. She spins around and shoves her tongue in my mouth. I don’t see Daisy’s face while kissing her. I don’t see anyone—not even her. I tell myself that I want this as I stuff fingers into her warm and wet pussy. My dick is getting harder.
“Fuck me right here,” she whispers breathlessly.
I suck the skin of her neck between my teeth as I take a condom out of my pocket. She kisses me greedily as I rip the wrapper. Her tongue fucks my ear as I spread the rubber over my dick. When it’s on I lift her legs off the floor, and she fastens them around my waist. I fumble at the crotch of her panties.
She gasps, grinding her pussy eagerly against my cock. “Yank them off.”
Her wish is my command. I tug at the flimsy string on her hip and they unsnap from somewhere and I’m clutching red silk.
We exchange grins. I like how easy she made it. I kiss her mouth, tasting her tongue. I murmur over how soft she is and pin her tighter against the wall. Her fingernails dig into my back through my shirt, and her legs still have me in a vice grip. Monroe moans, as if aching to be penetrated. She whimpers when I thrust my dick inside of her. I pound the fuck out of her. Monroe is an experienced pleasure-seeker so she knows how to sway her hips at the right angle to catch an orgasm. I’m doing all the heavy lifting, but she’s the one who’s running the show. Her pussy springs to life around my dick. It’s turning me on.
“You like that, baby?”
“Don’t stop,” she cries. Our noises echo around us.
The faster I go, the harder it is to keep from spraying one off. She sings my name in a high-pitched tone. Her pussy pulses and her body trembles. That’s my cue. “Shit!” I shout and thrust my head back and come so hard that my legs almost buckle. I hold firm on my feet until I’m done.
“Round one,” Monroe says and circles her tongue around mine.
I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, and then slowly let go of it. “I can’t stay,” I say, panting.
“I’m not going to beg you, Charlie Lord, but I want you to stay.” The bottoms of her feet slap the floor.
“Shit.” I catch the condom before her hasty movement yanks it off. “I still can’t stay,” I say, and for two reasons. First, I still can’t get over flying all the way from Martha’s Vineyard, willing to concede and walk away from any day-to-day involvement with her goddamn movie only to find her half-naked and alone with Shane. Granted, we weren’t in a relationship, I give her that, but of all people—Shane? It’s a tough one to forget even after forgiving. Secondly, I’m eager to return home and be wherever the hell Angelina is. I’ll admit that I like being around her. She’s intriguing as hell.
“So you just wanted me to get you off?” she snaps.
I point up the hallway. “Isn’t the bathroom up that way?”
“Yes. You didn’t answer my question.” She’s leaning against the wall with her hip poked out.
“Isn’t that why you called?”
“Not for you to fuck me in the hallway and then leave. What did you do, sneak out of your house or something?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Huh?”
“I know you’ve got a thing for Angelina.”
“What?” Was it that obvious? I have to say something to lead her off the Angelina track. “It’s Shane. He’s the reason.” I throw it out there. It’s worth a try. It’s even sor
t of true.
She snickers and pushes away from the wall. She walks to me seductively and takes me by the shoulders. “He was something, someone to do. That’s it.”
“And what am I?”
She grabs at my cock, but I stop her. “I thought we were considering being something more.”
Her vibrant eyes and damp skin are scintillating. In the looks department, she’s a twenty. Personality-wise, Monroe’s a wildcard like me. She’s with me today, and tomorrow who the hell knows. I’ve known her since junior high school. That’s how long she and Maggie have been friends. She’s always been beautiful, but she never did it for me. I would’ve never guessed we’d end up like this. However, I figure I should stay a little longer.
I go flush the condom and take a piss. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with me. I want to be here and then I don’t. I’m walking on shaky ground; everything’s changed.
I find Monroe in her bedroom. She’s stripped naked and is lying sideways on top of her high bed. The curtains are open. The trees on the hillside are dark, but the glowing city lights trace the blackness. I climb up on the bed and stretch out beside her. Monroe flips onto her back, and I grip a handful of her closest tit. Her nipple is firm against the palm of my hand.
“So does this mean you’re going to stop halting progress?” I ask as I pinch her nipple. She sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth.
“Does this mean you’re not going to give me any more shit about hiring Mandy Hill?”
My once inflating dick—deflates. “Why her? Of all the actresses we can afford. She’s bat-shit crazy.”
“But she’s a great actress.”
“But she doesn’t look anything like Clara Richardson.”
I’m waiting for her comeback. I turn to see why she’s still quiet. She’s studying my face. “You’re handsome, Charlie. You certainly are Jack’s brother.”
I snort, remembering that was exactly what Angelina said. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“No, really. And your body is fantastic.” She slides her hand across my chest. “All those years I couldn’t see it. I mean, I could see it, but I thought you were a junkie.”
I chuckle. “A drug addict junkie?”
Say You Love Her Page 3
