I smirk and try to thrust myself deeper. “I’m getting there.”
“You are so horny.” She laughs. Just feeling her pussy vibrate around my dick makes it a bit more solid.
“It’s all you. You turn me the fuck on.”
“There’s no denying that we have sexual chemistry,” she says.
I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, and she winces. “Sore?” I ask.
“Very.”
“You have the best tits I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of tits.”
“I bet you have.” She smirks. “You just don’t pick up the skills you possess by osmosis.”
I chuckle, hoping to ditch the path this conversation is taking. There is no need to discuss my past sexual habits.
“Blood rushes into my chambers and I live again,” she whispers.
“Huh?” I say, wondering why the hell she said that.
“Nothing, it’s just how I feel at the moment.”
We smile at each other. My dick is hard enough to prod her. I grimace because the skin on it stings from the rubbing. “Damn, you’re just too fucking tight.”
She lifts one eyebrow. “Maybe you’re too big.”
We laugh.
“This can’t be the first time you’ve heard this,” I say.
“Men say all kind of shit when they’re inside of me. I’m particularly fond of ‘I love you.’”
I snicker and kiss her mouth. I don’t want to think about any guy fucking her besides me.
“When are you going back to L.A?” I whisper after forcing my lips off of hers. I just remembered that I have to leave soon.
“I don’t know. I have to stick around here for a while. My mother looked so small in that chair.” She lifts her hands above her head as she coils strings of her hair around her finger. Instead of biting on her nipple, I press my tongue against it to wet it and lick it.
She moans. “That felt good.” Her pussy rewards me by getting more wet and warm. I slip in and out of her with ease.
“You’re still going to be my production consultant?” I plug her and hold it.
She gasps. “If you want.”
“I do want.”
“Okay,” she wheezes.
Shit, I hate that I have to hop a flight back to L.A. without her.
“What are you going to do after I’m gone?” I ask.
Her fingers dig into my back, and she releases a breath. “Sleep?”
“Have I worn you out?”
“You’ve filled me up.”
“Am I filling you now?”
She heaves her head back against the pillow. “Oh yes…”
I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her until she comes and then I come. I ask her to stay put when I leave. I don’t want to see her when I pack, walk out of the house, and drive away. She’ll only remind me of what I’m leaving behind.
Chapter 9
A Third Party Reveal
I make it to the trailer at 7:45 a.m. the next morning. I slept like a baby after getting in last night. I had to fly into LAX and then take a car to Santa Monica Airport to pick up my own car. Friday night traffic was bad, but I made it home safe and sound. I called Angelina, but after five rings her phone went to voicemail. I left a message, asking her to call me as soon as she gets it. I miss her and her body. My dick is still raw from making love to her. I like her. I want her to be my girlfriend.
“Hello, Charlie,” Pearl mumbles as soon as she stomps in. Her frown makes her look more humdrum than usual.
“Hi, Pearl. Sorry about what happened. I’ll fix it.”
She glares at her bare desk. It used to be covered with neatly stacked papers, and there was a framed photo of her husband, two kids, and herself.
“She is an out-of-control bitch,” she says. I assume she’s referring to Monroe.
“What happened? Why did she fire you?”
“She called me your lackey and ordered the guards to escort me off the lot. It was fucking embarrassing. I know those guys. She must’ve fucked them too. I’m tired of those skinny bitches using their cooch to get ahead. The only reason they let me on the lot today is because I convinced them that I was here to see you. Plus, they felt like shit for treating me like a criminal.” She opens a drawer of her desk. She snorts, snatches out the photo of her family, and sets it back on top of her desk. She slams the drawer. “Bitch.”
Saturday morning has barely started, and she’s already exhausted me by being overly emotional about shit we’re going to fix. I really want to surrender and let Monroe run the entire production as she sees fit, but she’s been behaving like a four-foot-tall dictator from the start.
“Did she change the script again?” I ask, feeling obligated to get over my trepidation and stick with it.
“No, she didn’t, thank goodness. But she threw a tantrum when I told her she couldn’t hire Donald Light.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s a director.”
“What happened to Shane? Did he quit?”
“Unfortunately he’s still with us, and they’re still involved. She wanted Donald to come on as an assistant director.”
“Assistant director is a step down isn’t it? He accepted that?”
“Yes, he did.”
I grimace. What the hell is Monroe trying to pull? Is she boning him too?
“But he’s not cheap,” Pearl says.
“How much is he setting us back?”
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Shit!”
The door flings open. “What are you doing here?” Monroe says as she stomps into the room. “Both of you.”
I stand up so that we can fight on an even battlefield. “You fired Pearl?”
Monroe grits her teeth. “And she’s still fired.” She tugs her sweater off and tosses it on top of Pearl’s family photo.
Pearl glares at me, fuming.
I scratch the back of my neck. There are a lot of reasons why I haven’t been hard on Monroe. First of all, she’s Maggie’s best friend. Secondly, I wanted to get something started with her, but the way she’s been behaving makes me think that even if we started hot and heavy, we definitely would’ve cooled off by now. Truth be told, she’s a fucking brat. And finally, undertaking this project was sport for me. But one look at Pearl, and I’ve come to the realization that real people’s lives have been affected by the half-assed motives behind my decision to make a movie. But the best decision I made thus far was hiring Pearl. Jack referred her. He said she was top notch. So far she’s validated his recommendation.
I sigh hard and stroll over to Pearl’s desk. “Pearl, you’re the lead producer for this film, so…” I pick up Monroe’s sweater and toss it back to her. Surprisingly, she catches it.
“Fuck you, Charlie! She’s not back. This is my movie! My book!” She looks deranged with her face contorted like that.
I remain calm. “I’m not going to remind you of the level of my involvement in this project, but I do have the authority to kick your ass off this lot. And if you make one more foul move, your ass is out.”
I wait for her to bark back. I’m ready to get rid of her anyway. It will make shit a lot easier.
Monroe smashes her lips together as she deliberates. She’s emotional as hell but shrewd as shit. “Fine,” she says to my dismay. “Pearl can stay, but I’m not getting rid of Donald. He’s already contributed in a big way.”
“I’m not paying him out of my budget.” I point to Pearl. “Let that be the first thing you fix.”
“Then I’ll pay him out of my own pocket,” Monroe says.
I glare at her suspiciously. “Why is he so important to you?”
She looks at me with a sneaky smirk. I glance at Pearl. It appears that she too is suspicious. “How’s Angelina?” Monroe asks.
I grimace. “She’s fine.”
Monroe shakes her head. “You’re such a scoundrel, Charlie. And of all people, you’re fucking Daisy’s sister? Does Angelina know how yo
u stormed out of the wedding because you couldn’t stand to watch her sister marry your brother?”
I’m tongue-tied. Pearl’s phone rings. It’s like divine intervention. “It’s Pearl,” she says in her normal harsh tone. She pauses. “I’m back. He’s here.” She narrows her eyes at Monroe. “I know. It’s better for everyone.”
The production assistants trickle in right on time. I don’t have to respond to Monroe’s accusation, but I haven’t felt like a scoundrel from the moment I laid eyes on Angelina. I spend the rest of the day letting myself be pulled in a number of directions. I drive out to the lot in Burbank. Everyone wants my authorization for shit I care nothing about. I say yes to it all as long as we stay within budget, leaving it up to Pearl to give final approval.
Shane calls me to the studio early Sunday morning to finalize the storyboards for Tuesday’s shoot. Also some woman named Lacy wants me at the costume fitting later this afternoon. I call Pearl and ask her why the costume department is calling me. Apparently word has gotten around that I’ve finally tied a shock collar around Monroe’s neck, and now I’m wanted at every pre-production meeting she scheduled just to make sure she doesn’t do something crazy. This Donald guy is in about every meeting I attend. He hasn’t said anything to me. He only looks at me as though he has a secret, which is strange as hell, but I’m too frustrated by Angelina’s silence to pay him any mind. By the time I make it home, I fall on my bed. I’m too exhausted to seethe about how she’s ignoring me. Instead I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Many hours later the ringing of my cell phone awakens me. I sit straight up and rush to grab it. I look at the name on the screen. Fuck, it’s Pearl.
“What can I do for you, Pearl?” I say, rubbing the corners of my eyes.
“Three of the accounts have been frozen because that stupid ass Monroe replaced me with made several attempts to access them with incorrect passwords. They won’t reopen the accounts unless you verify them in person.”
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
As soon as I hang up, I try Angelina again. The call goes straight to voicemail. I try to remember if I ever saw Angelina check her cell phone in all the time we were together. I hadn’t. She’s one of those artistic types who spew out poetry while making love. People like her don’t cleave to their cell phone as if it’s a third hand.
I contemplate calling Daisy to see if she knows what the hell is going on.
Daisy…
When I picture her, my dick doesn’t tingle. I don’t want to make love to her. I’ve stopped secretly hoping for the day when she and Jack part ways so that I could take another shot at her. Shit, just admitting that to myself is shameful enough.
It’s still too early to call Daisy, so I put it off until later. Instead I go for a run, shower, and head to the bank to unfreeze the accounts.
On Monday afternoon Pearl suggests I catch the final table read just to make sure the script is the way I want it. What the hell, I say, and drive to the studio even though it’s the last place I want to be.
They’ve already started by the time I arrive. Mandy bats her eyelashes at me as soon as I walk in. Monroe is watching me too. It’s been three days since I’ve heard from Angelina, and now I’m in the room with two beautiful women who are definitely into me. Neither of them would ignore my calls. I still haven’t called Daisy because I haven’t had the time since I’ve been waking up way too early and not catching a moment’s reprieve until late in the night. This movie owns my ass.
All the chairs at the table are taken, so I stand against the wall. One of the production assistants raises his finger to catch my attention and starts to get up from his chair. I gesture for him to stay seated. No need to relinquish his seat for me. Not only should it be first come, first sit, but also I welcome the distance from the action. I’ve been putting on a good show, but I’m more than ready to leave this shit behind me.
Mandy says her lines while batting her eyebrows at me. “Then show me how to make you a man.”
I snicker quietly because it’s kind of funny that she’s too loopy to know when to give up. That’s probably why she always gets what she wants. She’s like a stalker and one day her prey will be too weak to resist her. But I’m just a means to an end. She’s never going to give up on Jack. He says he’s never fucked her, but I think he has. Mandy’s like that woman in the movie Fatal Attraction who boiled the pet rabbit. Jack and Daisy better watch out.
“Not before I make you a woman,” the actor who’s playing Juan La Costa replies.
“He thrusts his hand up her skirt with intense passion,” the narrator says.
I let my mind drift back to the pond. Angelina’s leg is curled over my shoulder and my fingers are stimulating the insides of her snug pussy. I’m remembering that look on her face. Shit, I’ll never forget it. I lick my lips. My tongue wants to taste her clit. My dick is cooperating with my thoughts. I squat against the wall and close my eyes until that memory and the effect it’s having on me fades.
Mandy and this guy are still exchanging lines. I’m not paying attention. I’m just waiting for this to be over. After what seems like eons, it is.
“Tomorrow we shoot!” Shane shouts. Everyone claps, whistles, and hoots.
Faces I recognize with names I can’t remember keep asking if I’m excited about tomorrow. “Yes,” I reply without the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. I’d rather be jamming out with Jacques Blanchard on the back porch. I miss that shit. Having Angelina in my bed and front row access to Jacques Blanchard was too good to last. I don’t have that kind of luck in my life—that’s Jack’s territory.
It’s nine o’clock, which gives me just enough time to call Daisy and ask if her sister fell off the edge of the earth. Monroe catches me before I can make a break for the door. Donald is with her, and he’s checking me out.
“So how did you like it, Charlie?” she asks.
“It was good.”
“Well, Angelina Blanchard’s a good writer.” She turns to Donald. “You know her, don’t you?”
Here we go. I knew she had an angle.
“I know Angel. Monroe told me she fixed the script in the last hours.”
I glare at Monroe, and she’s wearing a cunning grin.
“Is she coming back around?” he asks.
“No, she isn’t,” I say with a snarl. “Why, are you looking for her?”
“I’m always looking for Angel. She’s hard to catch.”
I’m suddenly experiencing vertigo.
“They worked together, when, last month?” Monroe asks this fucking guy.
Mandy hugs me from behind, shoving her fake tits against my back. “How was I, Charlie?”
I’m in hell.
Monroe narrows her eyes at Mandy for spoiling her fun.
“Did you know her mother died Saturday night?” Donald asks, undeterred by Mandy’s intrusion.
“Did you know that, Charlie?” Monroe asks, taunting me.
A lot is happening at once. Mandy is hanging on my back like a damn spider monkey. Monroe is fighting dirty. And this guy is insinuating that he has more than a casual acquaintance with “Angel.”
“I got to go,” I say as I maneuver Mandy off of me. I step away, massaging the back of my neck.
I call Daisy as soon as I get in my car.
“Hello,” she says, as carefree as a bee. She must’ve seen my name flash across the screen.
“Did Madame Beauchamp die?” I ask, my tone harsh.
“Charlie, is that you?”
“It’s me,” I say, softening my voice. “Did Madame Beauchamp pass away on Saturday night?”
“Yes, she did. I’m here with Angelina. She told me you left on Friday.”
“You’re in Louisiana?”
“Yes. Why are you so upset?”
“I know you’re her sister, but why the hell hasn’t she called me?”
“Wait. Are you and Angelina involved?”
“I thought we were,” I say before realizing what I’m
doing.
“But you just cut a weekend short because you were on your way to be with Maggie’s friend Monroe. So you’re now involved with Angelina?”
“Things changed.”
“That fast.”
“Why the hell are you asking me these questions, Daisy?”
“Because she’s my sister, Charlie. And before Monroe it was me.”
I’m so angry that I want to pound the steering wheel. “Did you say anything to her? Can I speak to Angelina? Is she around?”
“Get a grip,” Daisy says.
I try very hard to compose myself. “Daisy, what did you say to her? And is whatever you said the reason she hasn’t called me, not even to tell me that her mother died?” I’m seething.
“Maybe.”
“Then could you please explain?” I say, forcing myself to remain calm.
“Belmont and I were talking about you. He mentioned that you are in love with me. I told him that she had a very strange reaction to everything that was said.”
My throat is tight, threatening to choke the hell out of me. “What was her reaction?”
“She said she was tired and went upstairs.”
“Maybe she was tired.” I hope.
“She’s been tired since we got here. This was different. I knew it was about you.”
“Shit!” This time I do beat the steering wheel with the heel of my palm. “Shit!” Daisy is silent. I think she might have hung up. “Hello?” I say.
“I’m here, just waiting for you to bring the tantrum to a close.”
“I apologize, Dais, I didn’t mean to yell in your ear, but I l—” I was about to say that I love her, but that would mean that I deserved her. “I like her.”
“Listen, Charlie. She is upset. Clearly Belmont and I said too much. We had no idea. But…”
“But what?” I’m snippy.
“A lot of people would say that Angelina and I favor.”
“If you’re trying to insinuate that this is about you, then you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Are you sure?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. This fucking conversation is giving me a headache. “Daisy. I am not in love with you. I probably never was.”
Say You Love Her Page 11
