by Pamela Ann
“Work stuff, and, you know … since I’ve found you again, it hasn’t been easy.” Surprisingly, he was forthright with his response.
“I know. It’s been hellish, to say the least.”
“So, no one’s trying to harm you, right? For a second there, I thought you were in danger. If I overreacted, you know things can get crazy in Hollywood. You never really know what’s up.”
“I’ve figured as much.” Anyone living around here knew it, as I was learning myself. Opting to change the subject, I veered toward what prompted this call. “So, uh, what—”
“What have you been up to? It’s late there, isn’t it?”
Since he was so eager to know, I wondered if he was thinking that I was with Parker.
“I was out with friends.” And right on cue, there was a knock on my door.
Shoot, could that be Parker? Should I end the call and open the door? Damn. This was a sticky situation.
“It’s your boy toy, sweet tits,” Anton teased before pressing the buzzer.
Beyond relieved that it wasn’t Parker, I returned my attention back to the call. “One second, yeah? My friend’s at the door.”
With my phone secured in my left hand, I opened the door to find Anton sporting a silly grin with my shoes decoratively on the sides of his head as his antlers.
“Girl, I don’t know how you walk around without shoes on. It’s a little ghetto, but I won’t hold that against you when plastered,” he greeted with a twinkle in his eye.
Thinking back, yes, I was too drunk to walk with heels on.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He then spotted the phone in my hand and raised his brow before snatching it from my grasp in a span of seconds. “We deposited her safe and sound, Parker.” His brow grew higher. “Wait, you’re not Parker … Hmmm, and whom might you be, Mister, with a husky and oh so sexy voice?”
Oh, my God. He was sending me early to my grave!
“Dammit, Anton, give me back my phone!” I glared at him as I tried to take my device back, but he slapped my hand away, incredulous.
Anton then gave me a wicked look like he intended to find out what naughty things I had been hiding from him. “Oh, so you’re an old friend. Uh-huh. Okay, so how friendly are you, eh?” He giggled like River had said something flattering. “You actually sound familiar, but no name comes to mind.”
Shit. Of course Anton was one of millions who were obsessed with TVM. He would go hysterical if he realized he was speaking to his professed sex Viking God.
“Your name’s River.” He wiggled his brows at me while I stared with my mouth agape. “I’m Anton, by the way, in case you were wondering. Cara and I are neighbors, and I’m one of her best friends. Funny that she hasn’t mentioned you …” He was so engrossed in their conversation that he seemed to have forgotten that he hijacked it from me. “I love your name. It’s very earthy.”
Earthy? Like hell. How does he come up with these things?
“Anton!” I grumbled, ready to commit murder. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep asking River personal questions, and God help me if it ever came to that.
“Okay, well, I have to head back since little Miss Ghetto here looks like she wants to flay this fatty perfection alive. I’ll leave you two be, and hope I’ll get to meet you soon, Earthy River.”
Watching Anton’s mischievous face disappear toward the elevator, I immediately shut my door and leaned against it.
“I’m so very sorry. I’m so embarrassed right now. I hope you weren’t offended or anything.” My heart was thumping so loudly I could swear anyone within a mile radius could hear it. It felt as though I died a thousand deaths from mortification.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s always nice to meet the new people in your life. He seems keen on you and sounds like a decent friend.” River sounded like he hadn’t minded the intrusion. In fact, he seemed to have welcomed it.
“You have no idea. That man won’t stop hounding me now, wondering who you are.”
“Are you going to tell him?” He seemed reluctant to ask.
“I don’t know, because the second I do, there’s no taking it back.” It surprised me that I admitted the truth to him. But maybe that was a good thing. River had to understand why I kept him hidden. Divulging my secret would forever link me with him, and that was one of my qualms in trying to keep my past a secret. River had no place in this new chapter of my life.
“What are you so afraid of?” he pressed, willing to hear the truth from my heart.
You. Always. “Everything,” I managed to say. I was caught by surprise by how easily my mind responded. Yes, I was terrified of River and what having him in my life again entailed. He shook my foundations and threatened everything I had worked hard to attain. Engaging him would burn me, so it was no wonder I was beyond cautious to keep him at bay.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Cara. I’m here to protect you, if you’ll let me.” His words entailed everything. He was giving me the world on a platter. Above all, he was handing me his heart. He was unapologetic in showing me what was in it; what was in his soul.
It was too much too soon. Forever was too soon.
“River—”
“Cara,” he retorted with the same ferocity. One word, my name, and it contained everything I didn’t want to remember.
“You’re relentless.” Shaking my head, I stared at the cerulean vase on the coffee table, pondering.
He loved me. Deep down, I knew he still did. However, my heart distrusted him, and there was no way he could fix that.
“Am I? I didn’t realize.” He laughed melodiously, sending me straight to the shitters of memory lane.
His laugh was the sexiest thing I had heard in my entire existence. It was an absurd thing to say, let alone think it, but it was the truth.
“So, you’re drunk. I love a drunk Cara. You light up and come alive in such a beautiful way. I wish I was there to watch your animated face,” he carried on his jovial, teasing demeanor. And in the present state I was in, things could get shifty.
“I thought you loved me drunk because you used to get away with whatever you wanted to do with me.” Word vomit much?
“I did,” he murmured with a definite smile in his tone. “And you did give me free reign over that sweet body. Jesus, how I loved it when you submitted to me. Fuck, Cara.” There was no doubt he was transported back to the past. As was I.
The memory of us entangled in bed sent a shiver down my body. How he took charge. How he kissed and grazed my skin with his teeth. His vigor and passions … and how insatiable he was. He could go on and on until I was sated and unconscious from exhaustion. He loved just as he dreamed, larger than life, by giving his all, heart and soul, without restrictions. When he made love, I knew it with every fiber of his being, and each cell in my body hummed for his possession. He loved, he took, and he conquered, no holds barred.
No man could compare. I knew that now. He just made me realize how true that was.
This was bad in epic proportions. If only Parker could make me tremble the way this man could …
I loudly sighed, feeling the weight of a losing battle.
“Cara…” he said smoothly, looking like he had been vividly picturing me in a lurid way.
Biting my lip, I savored the sound of my name coming from him. “Yeah?”
Damn him. How was it possible he turned me on like no other man could?
“I love you. I fucking love you,” he confessed before adding, “And I’ve got to go, but I just wanted to say that I hope you can forgive me. Speak to you soon, my love.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond before ending the call. It was a good thing since I had none. None to voice out loud, anyway.
How could he just state he loved me like it was the most natural thing in the world? How?
Like every encounter I’d had with him, I was left reeling and slept not a wink.
I couldn’t love him still … or I would be doomed forever.
/> Chapter Eight
For the next week, I was consumed with reading scripts and wondering which one would be best to audition for. It was the greatest of distractions, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it.
Parker and I seemed to have a silent agreement not to press the tense underlying current between us. We simply carried on as if we were perfectly fine, and for the time being, it suited me well. Now he was coming over tonight, and I was making dinner. This would be the first time I had seen him in a week since he had a tight schedule. He was set to leave for New York in two days.
I made Ina Garten’s penne alla vecchia bettola with a simple garden salad and filet mignon medallions. It wasn’t difficult to follow through, and it was one of my favorite go-to menus for guests. This was also my first time cooking for Parker, and I was a little hyped to hear his feedback. He was a major foodie and loved to dine at Michelin star restaurants. God knew mine couldn’t compare but it was still beyond delicious. I just hoped he saw the effort I put into it.
He arrived on my doorstep at exactly six-thirty with a bottle of wine in hand.
“What’s for dinner?” He took a whiff before he beamed and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You cooked? Oh, baby, that’s amazing of you.” Kissing my cheek, he then spun me around to face him. “I’m sure you already know I’m a picky eater, so don’t get too offended if I don’t like something,” he warned before leaving a chaste kiss on my lips.
His facial expression had gone from soft to a cocky smirk, which irritated the hell out of me. The idiot couldn’t simply enjoy the fact that I had painstakingly catered to him.
“Gee, thanks for the heads-up.” Why did I even bother? Regardless, it was too late to shove this idea down.
“All I did was warn you. I don’t want to end our night arguing again, so don’t get annoyed with me, Cara.”
If only I was annoyed. I was something all right, but annoyance wasn’t it. And for fuck’s sake, couldn’t we just enjoy something without him dampening our time together with some unruly comment? I got it that he was high maintenance; there was no arguing about that.
Instead of focusing on the negative vibe he gave off, I tried my damnedest to concentrate on making the table and placing the food in their serving dishes.
“So, any news on the auditions front? Liked, any scripts?” Parker tried small talk, to which I replied a curt “some” and carried on with setting the table while he busied himself by opening the bottle of Malbec he brought.
We dined in uncomfortable ambiance. Every topic he dwelled on were mostly about him, and I needed not bother replying. It was one of those moments when he got so enthralled talking about himself that it was to the point of nausea. He wasn’t normally so self-absorbed, but when he did, it could go on for quite a while.
“This is surprisingly good,” he paid me a compliment, half an hour too late.
“I’m flattered,” I commented sarcastically.
He made a shocking statement after he had criticized that I didn’t use organic ingredients. God help the normal folks who didn’t shop at Whole Foods. It was an appalling crime apparently, according to Mister Hollywood here.
“I have to get up early to meet my trainer at Runyon Canyon tomorrow for a hike. I had to book months ahead, but he’s the best, so I can’t complain. Why don’t you join me?” He offered an olive branch. “With your healthy appetite, you need to keep it in check. They look at your figure, too, when you audition. Keep that in mind.”
And he just had to keep yapping. Typical Parker.
Keep my figure in check, he said? No, fuck you very much. I wasn’t fat, though I wasn’t claiming to be in the greatest shape of my life, and I definitely didn’t need those derogatory words.
“I’m fine,” I bitingly snapped back. “Enjoy your hike.” Taking a hard stance, I had another helping of pasta.
“Don’t take offense. I’m only concerned for you because, if you don’t watch out, your thighs will get bigger the more waffles you shove in your mouth. Let’s be honest, you eat those bastards on a weekly basis.”
He shouldn’t be provoking me when I was holding a steak knife.
“Back off, asshat. You sure aren’t Jenny Craig, so shut it or I’ll stab you with a fork.” I was never a violent person, but seriously, Parker had the tendency to bring this side of me out. It was frightening. However, not only did he just insult my body, he had hijacked my appetite, too. Damn him.
Unceremoniously getting up from my chair, I plucked my wine glass from the table and strode over to my balcony, hoping to God that watching the sunset would calm me. At this point, I was ready to call it quits. Maybe it was for the best. I barely knew the man, so it wasn’t my fault when he turned out to be Mister Asshat.
“Relax, okay. Sheesh, it’s not that serious. I’m sorry you didn’t like me prying in your business. I just want you to be in the best shape of your life. I meant well, babes.”
I was beyond persuasion.
“Whatever,” I muttered without looking back at him.
This was my home. My safe haven, and he just managed to taint that. Maybe it seemed like a minor thing, and I might be overreacting, but his insults went deeper. It scraped into those scarred tissues that had healed, but those I had never emotionally recovered from. So no, he would never understand how one reckless comment could affect me.
“So, I guess sex is out of the question tonight?” he begrudgingly asked, evidently exasperated.
That made me see red.
I should throw the wine in his face. That would spell out a big screw you, fucker.
Turning around to face him, I wanted to stomp on his balls. “Fuck to the yes.”
Parker looked perplexed at my reaction. What had he expected? That I would welcome him with open arms? Ugh. I couldn’t believe he expected sex? After those hurtful comments? Did he expect these glorious thick thighs to open up to entertain him? Ha. He could think again.
“I’m going to leave now, I don’t want this to escalate further,” he said, looking nervous all of a sudden, which was so unlike him. “I’m going to try to see you before I fly out, if you’ll let me.” He took a few steps toward me then halted. “Goodnight, babes.”
His eyes told me that he wanted to kiss me, but had decided against it, leaving with a mere nod from me.
At this point, I wasn’t furious anymore. More like indifferent. I realized that I didn’t want to be stuck in this shell of a relationship. It was a good thing I had discovered the vast differences we had. The question now was: when was the right time to end it with him? I could have done it moments ago, but Parker seemed to have sensed that.
The clarity of what I intend to do next made me feel as though the clouds had been lifted and all the confusion immediately vanished. I was ready for the next chapter, and even though I would be single and back on the dating market, that didn’t mean I would go back to River. No, that certainly wasn’t the plan.
//
Today was the third day this week I was prepping for an Indie movie audition. Those were the only scripts available, and I didn’t mind that they were Indies since I believed it was a good platform to show off my craft without needing to worry about other things, like a bigger production film could have. Consequently, a lot of actors made it their launching pads to get better movie roles.
So, here I was, ready for that next stepping stone, dressed in all black.
I was on my way out when Kells called to ask if I wanted to meet for lunch later today.
“Sure. Same spot?” I hurriedly muttered as I stepped out of my door before I pulled out my keys to secure it.
“Same spot. Text me when you’re done. I’ll meet you there, yeah? And oh, best of luck to you, Sprinkles.”
She used Anton’s moniker for me. That warmed my heart.
“Will do. Thank you mucho.” I beamed as I strode down the hallway, primed for an hour of a grueling audition. Addison had assured me that they were impressed with my performance in Clover as Janet Samu
els, the sister of the main character who also happened to be his confidante, who was also notoriously sharp and did most of the negotiations behind his back to get the essential contracts to secure the deal for their family business empire. She was the backbone of the family amidst the scandals her brother was involved in. Their other destructive sister was bent on sabotaging anything their parents built.
I had no qualms portraying a strong character. In fact, I blossom in them. I was in my element. It’s the greatest feat to feel such profound connection to a character. For a newcomer like myself, it would be a great honor to get this role.
As expected, it took a little over an hour. I was calm and composed, ready to take on the role they had intended me to depict. And suffice it to say, I believed I nailed it nicely.
On my way out, I informed Addison how it all went, and she was confident that we would be getting a call for a second read-through. Afterward, I sent a quick message to Kells, telling her I was on my way.
We met in République on south La Brea, one of our favorite places to lunch. They had an eclectic menu from classic French cuisine to Asian dishes with a French twist. The flavors were bold and savory to the point of nirvana. The execution, undeniably sublime. And yes, we couldn’t get enough.
“I’ve got news. I just got this gig to be the main makeup artist for this huge band.” She was literally jumping up and down as we ordered our dishes at the counter. With her lethal looks, it was quite a reaction coming from her. She resembled Eva Green, smoking hot but could cut a person with a mere look. The combination was potent.
I murmured my thanks while I finished paying the cashier before diverting my attention back to my overjoyed friend. “That’s amazing. Congrats, Kells. What band?” She worked with tons of artists before, but she had never reacted with such zeal.
Walking toward our table, we took our seats before she responded. “It’s The Cold Conflict. They’re British. Do you happen to like them?” Kells reached out for the bread and broke a piece before abundantly buttering it with gusto.
Hell to the yeah. It was no wonder she reacted with such fervor.
