by Candy Sloane
“Can we eat first?” I asked, hoping I’d be able to satiate at least one of my hungers.
“No,” Garrett said, “we are on a production schedule. You are welcome to get a plate and carry it with you.” He walked away before I could respond.
He was punishing me. Not only for moving too slowly with the Gasms, but because he must have heard the crack I’d thought I’d only mumbled the day before about his performance in the helicopter.
Allie and I went over to the buffet and loaded up our plates, or at least I did. I grabbed a huge steaming pile of eggs, bacon, pancakes, a muffin, and some sausage gravy.
Allie had fruit and a yogurt.
“You do know this will be on TV,” Garrett said, staring at my plate as we took our seat at the first table: Kappa and Wheels.
“Is there something wrong with a woman eating on TV?” I asked, taking a big bite just to spite him.
He had no answer to that, but yelled to the crew, “If she gets anything on her face or in her teeth, stop filming so we can fix it, please.”
I loved how he assumed I didn’t know how to use a napkin.
He handed me a sheet of paper with questions on it. “Use these to keep the conversation going.”
Kappa continued eating as Garrett yelled, “Action!” He didn’t even look up. Unlike me, I guess he’d gotten used to the cameras.
Wheels had no food in front of her.
“Not hungry?” I asked, taking another bite.
“Everything is contaminated with aborted chicken fetuses.”
I choked on my food, but Kappa went right on chewing.
“You wear a leather jacket,” Allie said, popping a grape into her mouth.
“Hey,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I didn’t buy it. This was given to me by my ex-girlfriend.”
Garrett glared at me from off-camera. I guess asking Wheels if she was hungry wasn’t quite the sparkling conversation he’d had in mind.
I looked down at the questions. They were all about sex and definitely not breakfast conversation. Now, if Scott and I were alone…
“How about we talk about your ex-girlfriend,” Kappa said between bites, “instead of which came first, the chicken or the aborted egg fetus.”
“She’s dead,” Wheels said. “That’s why I always wear this jacket.”
If this were a real date it would have been going terribly.
“You kill her?” Kappa asked.
Allie hid a gasp behind a sip of coffee.
“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking questions,” I said, holding tight to my sheet. Garrett hadn’t yelled cut, so it was quite possible he was cool with this. Drama was drama, right?
“So you ask her,” Kappa said, “that’s the rumor going around the Gasms.”
There were rumors going around the Gasms? Of course there were. It was like summer camp with all the condoms and alcohol you could want. I’m sure rumors weren’t the only things going around the Gasms.
The alarm beeped.
“Great talk,” Allie said, rolling her eyes.
“Come back anytime,” Wheels waved.
I decided to ignore that she really hadn’t answered whether she’d killed her ex-girlfriend or not. But the mystery definitely made me consider not eliminating her just to stay alive.
The next table was Private and MD.
I’d barely had a chance to eat anything yet. I took another bite of food as Garrett yelled, “Action.”
“Feeling okay today?” MD asked. “Sometimes concussions can take a few days to manifest.”
I nodded. “Not sure about Garrett, though.”
MD laughed. “Well, I did notice he’s not eating.”
“What happened?” Allie asked.
“In medical terms Garrett experienced what we would call emesis.”
Allie stared at MD with a confused look on her face.
“He threw up yesterday while we were in the air.”
“Seriously?” Allie laughed.
“From just that little helicopter ride?” Private asked. “He wouldn’t make it past day one of basic training.”
“Chris, you’re supposed to be leading the conversation,” Garrett commanded.
I grimaced. I liked this conversation. Making fun of Garrett was way better than anything that would come from the questions he’d given me. I stared at them, ten blush-inducing, get-to-know-your-darkest-desire questions stared back.
“I’ll go,” Private said with a smile, the soldier blood in his veins forcing him into battle first.
“Tell me your craziest sex story,” I replied, choosing the tamest one.
He looked at the timer on the table. “In thirty seconds?”
“You were the one who wanted her to ask you a question, buddy,” MD shrugged.
“That’s a good point,” I said. I looked for a different question, “Tell me what you like…”
“You,” he replied before I could finish. He reached out for my hand. “What I’d like is to get to know you a whole lot better.”
MD spit-laughed.
I felt myself blush, in spite of the cheesiness of his response.
“Someone with pretty eyes like yours must have a lot to say,” he said.
“Jesus, are you taking your lines from a Nicholas Sparks book or what?” MD replied.
“At least he knows how to treat a woman,” Allie said.
“She seemed to like the way I treated her yesterday.”
Allie turned to me for an explanation, and my mouth opened in an O. With everything that had happened with Scott, I’d kind of forgotten the whole make-out session with MD. Of course, while I was making out with him, I had been picturing Scott.
I snuck a longing look in his direction. He was behind one of the cameras, focused right on me. All I wanted in that moment was to be crushed in his embrace. My senses spun just thinking about it.
Wow, I was in deep.
“Earth to Chris,” Allie said, moving her hand in front of my eyes. “What happened yesterday?”
Luckily I didn’t have to respond, because the alarm beeped.
My plate was still covered in food. I stuffed a blueberry muffin in my mouth as much out of hunger as to avoid answering the question still on Allie’s face.
We moved to the next table: Tongue and Cowboy. Garrett kept the camera rolling.
“You going to be able to keep your food down this time or should we get you a bib, Lone Ranger?” Tongue asked as we sat down.
“Sounds like there’s some kind of stomach flu going around,” Allie laughed.
“The only flu going around,” Cowboy nodded at Tongue, “is whiskey flu.”
“Shut up, boy scout. I need to do something to break up the monotony of this place.” She looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry, no offense.”
“It’s cool, I get it.”
“I’m having a great time here,” Allie smiled.
“Me too,” Cowboy agreed.
“You are such a suck-up,” Tongue said.
At the mention of the word suck, I stole another look at Scott. His hand was steady and firm around the lens. I craved that hand, wished that it could be focusing on me instead of the camera. I felt my tongue dip out of my mouth. I needed to stop. If I kept moving my eyes and tongue around uncontrollably, people were going to think I was having a seizure.
“Questions,” Garrett yelled.
I looked down at the paper. “If you could have sex with one celebrity and no one would ever know, who would it be?”
“I think everyone is going to know,” Tongue said, indicating the camera.
“I don’t understand,” Cowboy said. “Why would sleeping with a celebrity be embarrassing?”
“It’s your secret crush, you know, like you and Blake Shelton,” Tongue said.
I laughed only because I knew Cowboy wasn’t gay. Tongue knew it, too. She was just giving him shit.
Honestly, of everyone I could choose to spend more time with here, I would hav
e chosen her. She was hilarious.
Cowboy flushed but kept his composure. “Listen, if I wanted to sleep with Blake Shelton I sure as hell wouldn’t hide it.”
Tongue opened her mouth to say something.
“Don’t you dare make a Brokeback Mountain joke,” Cowboy interrupted, just as the alarm disrupted the howling laughter erupting from everyone else’s mouths.
The last table was Hose and Tattoo. I was still starving, but all the food on my plate had gone cold.
When we sat down they were already in mid-conversation, or rather mid-argument.
“Listen buddy, while you hang out with guys all day playing with your fire hydrants and tubes, I make music. It’s no less important.”
“I save lives.”
“So do I,” Tattoo said, sitting up straighter, “Art saves lives.”
I looked over at Allie. Her eyes were wide.
“Hey, who’s ready for a sexy question?” I announced, trying to break them up.
“Next time someone is stuck in a burning building, instead of sending a ladder up, I’ll send a guitar. We’ll see how they do.”
“You’re so literal. Let’s say that person just had a bad breakup or lost their job. What’s a ladder gonna do?”
“Speaking of literal,” Hose replied.
I was prepared to ask, Which sex toy best describes you, when Hose trained his eyes on me.
“Chris, who do you think is more valuable to the world, Jim Morrison or me?”
“Um,” I stalled.
“She doesn’t want to upset you. The answer is me,” Tattoo said. “She’s a librarian. She clearly sees the value of art.”
“Maybe we should let Chris ask a question instead of answering yours,” Allie said, sitting as far back in her chair as she could.
“How many musicians were people calling heroes on 9/11?”
“You guys always go back to 9/11,” Tattoo said, rolling his eyes. “Listen, thanks for doing your fucking job.”
“You stupid prick.” Hose shoved his chair back with a screech and stood.
Tattoo followed. They stood at opposite ends of the table, Allie and I cowering in our seats.
I was waiting for Garrett to yell cut, but I also knew this was what reality shows killed for, an actual on-camera fight.
Considering I wasn’t bringing the performance he’d hoped for, at least maybe the contestants could.
“I’d dare you to hit me,” Hose seethed, “but I wouldn’t want you to break your instrument.”
Tattoo responded by launching his empty cereal bowl at Hose. Well, it wasn’t so much empty as filled with pink milk. I guess he’d had Fruit Loops.
He also had shitty aim. Instead of hitting Hose it bounced on the table, and its contents landed all over me.
Lukewarm, sticky, pink backwash milk splashed all over my face and glasses.
Awesome.
“You stupid dicks,” Allie said.
I eased off my glasses and wiped the milk from around my eyes, off my lips. I could taste sugar. It dripped from the ends of my hair.
What was with this place and getting covered in liquid all the time?
Don’t even make a joke.
“Cut,” Scott yelled, “cut.”
Thank goodness. I think Garrett might have just gone on filming.
Scott ushered me up from the table and out of the room. He led me into the hair and makeup room and handed me a washcloth.
“Why don’t you give us a minute?” he said to the two makeup artists who’d been watching the live feed.
They headed out and closed the door.
I wiped at my face.
“Let me,” he said, reaching for the washcloth and grazing my hand with his fingers, “let me finish that for you.” He had a sly smile on his face. He was clearly trying to make me forget what happened by making me remember last night.
“Be my guest,” I replied, somehow managing to give him that knowing smile right back even while covered in sticky milk.
“You doing okay?” he whispered.
“Aside from every scene we tape ending with me being totally humiliated, I’m doing great.”
“The helicopter scene didn’t end that way,” he replied.
“It probably would have if Garrett hadn’t taken care of it for me. Of course, not like that will be on film.”
“True,” he said, his eyes resting on mine as he laughed, “but you do look adorable.”
“You don’t have to say that. You’re not playing for ten thousand dollars.”
“No,” he said, “I’m playing for you.” He turned to check that the door was completely closed, swung me into the circle of his arms, and kissed me. His lips skated over mine sweetly, softly, but still drugging me into submission, the velvet warmth of his kiss revealing the total opposite of the guy he’d been on the phone. I found it no less attractive than his dirty-talking macho side.
“Mmmm,” he murmured, licking his lips as he pulled back, “Fruity Pebbles.”
“I think it was Fruit Loops.”
“What kind of man eats Fruit Loops for breakfast?”
“Tattoo,” I laughed.
Scott kissed me again, feverishly this time, the kind of kiss that usually leads to more. We probably had only moments before someone interrupted us, but I couldn’t help sliding up against him, my back arching like a cat. “Guess I should get in food fights more often,” I purred, my trembling limbs clinging to him.
“Anything that can give us uninterrupted alone time is fine in my book, V. Speaking of, I’m going to try to visit you later.”
“How?” I asked breathlessly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, sliding his hand along my lower back, “I’ll figure it out.”
“But what about the Gasms? Garrett will get pissed if I don’t spend alone time with one of them.”
His brow wrinkled, but his eyes didn’t move from mine.
What about you, your job? I couldn’t help think.
“Just hang with a Gasm before I get there,” he suggested.
I smirked. “You want sloppy seconds.”
Laughter floated up from his throat. “Nothing about what’s going to happen between us is going to be sloppy, V.” He walked toward the door to let the makeup team back in. “That is, unless you want it to be.”
Garrett let me have drinks with Tongue by the pool instead of in my room. That placated him, especially because we ended the night with a kiss—an on-camera, longer than a minute kiss with tongue—with Tongue and with tongue.
It was a good kiss, a fine kiss, a kiss that before Scott would have been everything I ever thought I deserved.
I knew differently now. When it came to Scott my desire was bottomless. I hoped we might actually be able to finish what we started together in person this time.
It was 1:30 a.m. when he finally knocked on my door. I didn’t care. I would have waited up all night for him.
Well, I did get worried once 1:00 a.m. hit. But I figured if I fell asleep while I was waiting he’d have even more to make up for than he did already.
Considering his penance on the phone, I was into that.
I answered the door in a sheer hot-pink teddy and matching just-as-sheer panties.
The outfit was probably meant for a Gasm, something Kappa might like.
Who was I kidding? Anyone with a working dick would have liked it, and people without one might not have that problem anymore.
“You look amazing,” Scott said after he’d walked inside. He stood against my closed bedroom door and slid his tongue against his lips. I hoped he’d run the tip of it all over me. Slick it against every curve and crevice, every willing inch of skin.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I replied, remembering I didn’t need to fantasize anymore. He was here—shirtless and in pinstriped blue pajama pants tied at his tight and tauter- than-I-could-have-even-imagined waist. He’d always seemed muscular in a T-shirt, but what he had underneath was stunning—broad should
ers framing lean, worked muscles.
And it was mine—all mine.
“The pj’s are a nice touch,” I said.
He gave a slight shrug. “If I got caught in the hallway I was going to pretend I was sleepwalking.”
I burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“I know, right, I didn’t really think it through all the way. To be honest”—he shifted closer to me—“I kind of stopped thinking the first moment I saw you.”
“Here’s to body over brain,” I said, breathless just from his words.
“Oh, before I forget”— He grabbed for a book hidden in the back of his pants— “I brought you this.”
It was one I’d brought with me. A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf.
“You rescued her for me.” I hugged it to my chest. “Thank you.”
A spark of eroticism flickered in his eyes. “Just don’t read it right this second.” He took it and tossed it on the bed behind me.
I hadn’t been planning on it, but his command made me want to play with him a little bit. I turned and pretended to reach for it.
Before I could, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. “Words are for later, mouths are for now.” He kissed me lightly at first, his lips soft and warm, then with more force, my tongue folding in so completely with his that it was hard to know where he ended and I began.
“This is so high school sleepover,” I whispered into his lips when we finally came up for air.
He gave me a puzzled look.
“Like when your best friend has a hot older brother you want to sneak away with after she falls asleep,” I explained.
He snaked his finger along my breastbone. “We can play that game,” he said, sliding it up to my cheek. “We can play any game you want, V.”
“What about the cameras?” I asked, glancing at the bed.
“We’ll have to play in the bathtub, but I definitely think there’s room for two.”
We rushed into the bathroom, and I moved to turn on the faucet. I wanted him in that bathtub, naked, water glistening like sweat on his skin, his hard dick breaking the surface, but he had other ideas.
“We don’t need water to get wet,” Scott said, pulling my hand away from the tub and spinning me around. He slid his tongue down my neck, steadied his hands at my shoulders, and forced down each strap of the teddy to expose my breasts. He worked one nipple into his mouth and circled his tongue around it.
