On Heartbreak Ridge: Movie Trilogy Prequel Novella (The Movie)

by Kimberly Adams

  . . .

  Gram’s porch was the length of her house, completely enclosed by waist-high brick walls and screens. I’d cried for most of the way there, not answering my phone when Matthew called five times.

  At the sixth ring, I replied with a quick text.

  Me: I’m here. I’m safe. Please don’t call me or text me.

  Before I could make it all the way to Gram’s door, his reply lit up my phone.

  Matthew: Thank you for letting me know. I was worried. I love you.

  Gram must have seen the lights from my car; she met me at the front door in her soft bathrobe, her blue eyes mirroring my own sadness.

  “There’s my beautiful girl. Come here.”

  That was all I needed to hear. I stepped into Gram’s kitchen, bending over to hug her. She was several inches shorter than me, and even smaller than I remembered.

  Her arms were strong as she held me.

  I broke into fresh tears, sinking slowly to the kitchen chair. She pulled a chair next to mine, smoothing my hair away from my face and pressing tissues into my hand.

  Gram always had tissues. The best kind, too, with aloe, and in lovely shades of lavender and pink.

  “I wonder, sometimes, if when God gave us our hearts, he knew how badly they were capable of breaking.”

  I could barely hear her quiet words through my tears.

  She pulled me close to rest my head on her shoulder.

  “Why is this happening to me?” I begged, focused on the sparkling diamond that my grandfather had slipped onto her finger, nearly sixty years ago. When he’d passed away, I was only ten, but I remembered the way my Gram stood strong and kept herself together.

  Unlike me.

  “If life doesn’t happen to you, Vivie, then it’s no life to lead. Never forget that. There will be moments that make you want to live again. Just you wait.”

  I gripped her hand, continuing to cry softly in her arms.

  Her

  K

  The trailer was lit up against the evening sky, and I cringed at the tacky Valley Video sign on the window. I watched some gigantic hillbilly exit the trailer, cringing as he palmed his dick and adjusted his balls for half an hour.

  “Jesus. What a fucking dump.” I gave a slow whistle, glancing at the only other car in the parking lot besides the Sasquatch’s pickup.

  A Cadillac, late nineties model.

  I assumed it was Robin’s. She was probably too proud to drive the Ferrari that Grandpa had left to me.

  Making my way up the stairs, I pushed the door open.

  It took me a solid second to register the scene before me.

  A girl sat up on the countertop, surrounded by mountains of DVD cases and candy. Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail, and the thin strap of her tank top kept sliding down her snowy white shoulder.

  She swung her legs, the longest fucking legs I’d ever seen. I swear to god, they started at her waist and never stopped. Jean shorts, cut off above the pockets, may as well have been bikini bottoms.

  Jesus. Christ.

  Her perky little chest bounced as she giggled at the TV. Her lips surrounded a ruby red lollipop, her tongue twirling over the candy as she peered closely at the screen.

  She was watching porn.

  Not a love scene- let me make that clear. She was watching straight up, poorly choreographed and horribly acted porn.

  She couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen years old.

  “Um…”

  I had no idea how to get her attention without startling the shit out of her. She spun around, dropping the remote to the ground. Batteries clattered under the counter in two different directions.

  Holy hell.

  Her startled gaze lifted to mine, and my chest tightened unexpectedly.

  She was fucking beautiful.

  Wide, sapphire blue eyes glistened like stars in the rain; I wasn’t sure if she was about to start crying, or if her eyes always sparkled like that.

  When I realized that she was completely mortified, I couldn’t help but screw with her- a little.

  “Please, carry on,” I insisted, gesturing to the old TV/DVD combo.

  “I’m checking for damage,” she mumbled, her shaking voice almost drawing a hint of sympathy from me. She tossed the lollipop in the trashcan, and I tried my hardest not to burst out laughing as the porn star on the screen broke into a series of falsetto cries.

  The woman shrieked like a car alarm as a guy dressed as a ghost fucked her from behind.

  I leaned my whole body to the right to glance past the girl, looking at the TV screen and grinning. “I think the damage… has been done.”

  Her entire expression softened. Long, dark lashes framed those amazing eyes, and she gave me a lazy smirk. “A customer complained that the disc was scratched,” she protested evenly.

  “Don’t let me stop you from doing your job,” I teased.

  She was fucking adorable. I settled on nineteen, trying to remember that me and my morals had just been reunited. Seducing this small-town princess would be a one-way ticket to a place I’d already been and was trying not to return to.

  But fucking hell, she was a princess if I ever saw one. Perfect cheekbones, soft lips, wide eyes. Curves that didn’t belong on her young body, but were there nonetheless.

  Oh, they were there.

  “Are you Robin’s brother?” she asked tentatively, and it was then I realized that she was obviously an employee.

  I was a little surprised that Robin was actually making enough money to hire an employee, but there was no other reason for this girl to be standing behind the counter.

  She was about 5’5”, and a stain had begun on the milky white skin of her neck and crept up to her cheeks. Something about her reminded me of Snow White, the Disney princess with dark hair and big eyes.

  Comparing her to a cartoon princess, based on what was going on in my pants, seemed almost sacrilegious.

  “This is standard procedure, then? This used to be a family-friendly place,” I teased, maybe a little more forcefully than I’d intended.

  She blushed, swallowing hard and lowering her eyes. “No one comes in here this late anymore on a weekday… unless they want porn.”

  Holy shit.

  Just hearing her say the word porn was slightly better than actual porn. My eyes darted to the candy at her side, focusing on the row of suckers. “Maybe I just came for a Blow Pop.”

  Holy hell, that fucking impetuous eyebrow of hers arched, and so did my dick. “Fifty cents.”

  She belonged on the screen. Every small movement was bigger than life; she was animated with each sound and gesture that she made.

  Either that, or I was completely in over my head.

  “Really? Don’t I get the family discount?”

  She leaned slightly forward, and my gaze skipped right to her chest.

  “Everything has a price.”

  Heat. From my cock to my chin, spreading like wildfire. I wanted to lift her up on the glass counter and fuck the smirk right off of her face.

  She didn’t come off as bitchy or haughty like Kelsey. Instead, she gave me the distinct impression that she’d never flirted with anyone else in her entire life.

  That I was it.

  Pure. Virginal.

  I felt like a fucking wolf.

  Grinning, I glanced at the paperback on the counter next to her, and heard a low moan escape from her throat. A chick with giant boobs was sprawled across the cover, and a man covered both of her tits with his hands, his mouth trailing along her bare neck.

  I considered for a moment that maybe, just maybe, this girl had some kind of sexual addiction.

  Awesome.

  She grabbed her long, dark ponytail between her fingers, and the auburn highlights shone in the dim trailer light. Nervously, she twirled her hair in her hand. “I’m an editor. Hence, the highlighters. Not that it’s any of your business,” she snipped.

  Highlighters? I noticed them then, lined up even
ly next to the paperback.

  Hence?

  “Hence, huh?” I grinned, trying not to look at her legs. God, I wanted to look at her legs. “Not that I asked,” I challenged.

  “Are you Robin’s brother?” she repeated her question, and I sensed some desperation in her tone.

  Okay, I was done teasing the hell out of her. Extending my hand, I met hers easily. “Keaton,” I said, turning up the charm to ir-fucking-resistible.

  Her palms were damp, and I suddenly felt like a complete and utter asshole. Here she was, trying to make a few bucks in this small, nowhere town, and I was purposefully making her nervous.

  “Vivian Hale,” she replied, clearing her throat. “Laney Hale’s granddaughter.”

  Laney Hale… Old Mrs. Hale? My Sunday School teacher?

  Vivian. I hadn’t heard an older name like that come through my office doors for a long time. “You have a classy name,” I commented appreciatively.

  She was still on her toes, I could tell, trying to determine if I was genuine or not. “Thanks. I’m named after a movie character.”

  As I digested her adorable explanation, I decided that I’d do anything short of commit murder to keep her talking. “Really?” I urged.

  “Pretty Woman. Julia Roberts.”

  God, she was so embarrassed. And that was when I realized she had just rounded our conversation back to sex, given that Vivian in Pretty Woman was a hooker.

  “I guess Snow White would have been a little too arrogant,” I replied, leaning into her. I had to tuck my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her, which made me feel like a fucking lecher. She smelled fresh, like summer sunshine.

  Real.

  “Keaton, huh? As in the actor?”

  Startled from my sniff-fest, I raised my eyebrows, laughing. I needed to know if she was legal.

  Now.

  “You’re a little young to know the great Michael Keaton’s work,” I challenged, ready and waiting. The bait was laid, the trap set. Tell me your age.

  Tell me you’re old enough to consent, please, for the love of all that’s holy.

  “Are you kidding me? Beaverjuice? It’s a classic.”

  God, she was witty.

  And cute.

  And no, no fucking her or anyone, that wasn’t why I was here.

  What in the hell was I thinking? She was turning off the DVD player as I forced my eyes away from her gorgeous body. “Come on, I’ve got to be around here somewhere.” I scanned the DVD cases against the wall, and she stepped out from behind the counter.

  “There you are. Right below Unforgiven.” She reached under the Clint Eastwood movie, pulling Mr. Mom from the shelf.

  Below Unforgiven. Exactly where I belonged.

  “Well, this is completely unacceptable,” I chided playfully, accepting the movie from her hands. “Mr. Mom hanging out with Clint Eastwood?”

  “These are classics. See?” She gestured to the make-shift sign above the shelves.

  “Old isn’t necessarily classic. Unforgiven has earned its place. Mr. Mom? Come on.”

  I almost stopped looking at her perfect little ass long enough to enjoy our conversation. Truly, legitimately enjoy every word between us. I hadn’t had this much fun talking to anyone for as long as I could remember.

  Definitely not since Kelsey.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you. Robin has been talking about you non-stop. She said you haven’t been home in years?”

  “Seven,” I agreed.

  As if on cue, her eyes darted to my left hand as I set the movie case back on the shelf.

  My ring.

  She swallowed hard, backing away. I felt the cold wall erect itself between us, and she pulled away from me, hurrying back behind the counter. “Luke’s wedding has been the talk of the town. Well, I guess everything is the talk of the town here. Robin’s doing some last minute stuff tonight, and then the rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, right? In Pittsburgh? You’re the best man, right?”

  Her rambling voice wavered with nerves, and I was tempted to reach out and touch her arm, explaining that I was going through a divorce.

  Which would have been completely inappropriate, but god I wanted to.

  Her cell phone buzzed then, and we both glanced down at her lit-up screen.

  103 Pine

  She grabbed the phone, typing with just her thumb.

  OK

  “Yes… yes… and yes,” I answered all of her rapid-fire questions. “103 Pine?”

  “Pizza delivery,” she explained. “I have to close the store down for a few minutes…”

  “Pizza delivery?” I smirked, thinking, at first, that she was fucking with me. When I watched her retrieve her purse and car keys, I realized that she was completely serious. What in the hell…? “Video store, editor, and pizza delivery girl. How many jobs do you have, exactly?”

  I’d offended her; I could tell by her jerky movements and irritated sigh. “I’m an actress. Or, I will be. Someday. For now, I need money, and I need to move out of my grandma’s basement. But, you probably could have read my life story in the section over there marked ‘Comedies.’”

  Groaning, I laughed, unable to resist her flirty banter. Actress?

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  Okay, maybe Robin had orchestrated this whole thing after all. “Actress? Well I’m guessing, Vivian Hale, that my gossiping sister told you that I’m a director?”

  Cue the utter and complete shock. I was ready for her to bat those beautiful lashes and fawn all over me. Any minute now.

  Any minute.

  Instead, she ushered me out the door, rolling her eyes at me as she stalked toward the Cadillac. “Riiight. I’ll bet that’s what you tell all the girls.”

  I could only laugh incredulously, trying my hardest to take her in.

  Was she real?

  Her eyes widened, and her arm lifted slowly as she pointed at the Ferrari. “That is a 1961 Ferrari GT.”

  Cars? She knew cars? Get the fuck out of here. “Actually, ’62. Not quite Ferris Bueller’s car.” I threw the reference out there, waiting to see if she got it.

  “It was Cameron’s. Dad’s. And this car is worth- like eight million dollars.”

  Scoffing, I tucked my hands into the pockets of my cargo shorts. “Ten.”

  Her jaw hung open, and my dick decided to get all rowdy again as she moistened her lips. She was stunning in the moonlight, and I longed to reach out and pull the band from her hair, letting the thick, dark waves fall over her shoulders.

  “What do you… direct?” she asked quietly.

  For the first time in all the years since I’d left home, I was actually a little embarrassed to talk about myself. Instead, I deflected, trying to relate to her. “This was my grandfather’s car. It’s been in my mom’s garage. My grandfather left it for me.”

  “And you’re driving it? You’re going to drive it back to California?” she cringed, gaping at the car. “How could you do that?”

  I laughed, moving around her to open the door of the Cadillac. “You only live once, right?”

  Now, I was closer to her than I’d ever been, and my whole body responded before I could check myself.

  I needed to touch her.

  I took a step toward her, my hand sliding up her forearm to her elbow. I could almost see her mind turning as a myriad of emotions ran through those expressive baby blues of hers.

  All I could think about was her mouth on mine.

  I wanted to taste her. I still had no idea how old she was, but I was going to kiss the fuck out of her as soon as I had the chance.

  And I was thinking that now was as good a time as any.

  She startled me as she nodded toward my hand. “Is your wife here with you?”

  I blinked, glancing down at my hand and motherfucking myself from here to kingdom come.

  What was I doing? What the fuck was I doing?

  Stop. Now.

  I will fuck this girl up before those doe-eyes can bat at me
twice.

  “No. Listen, I know you have to go… but do you have Robin’s number?”

  “You don’t have your own sister’s number?” she asked, almost astonished.

  “I haven’t called her in a while.”

  She slid into the driver’s seat, looking down at her phone. Shooting me a hesitant look, she finally relented. I memorized the number as she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. “Um, you want to write this down?”

  I grinned, tapping my temple. “I have a good memory. Now, your number.”

  She exhaled skeptically.

  I continued to stare at her. Relentless.

  Finally, obviously against her better judgment, she rattled off her number without a breath.

  I grinned excitedly. “See you soon, Vivian.”

  She paused for a long moment, finally sighing.

  “No, you won’t… so I guess, have a nice life,” she said pointedly, starting the car.

  I turned before reaching for the Ferrari’s door, disappointment eating me alive. “You’re not going to the wedding?”

  She shrugged. “Like I said, I just moved here in June. Plus… I have to run the store all weekend.”

  Run the store…?

  Goddamnit.

  I knew exactly what I wanted, and now I needed to figure out how to get it.

  I wanted her. As my date, for the weekend, for the wedding.

  I wanted her in my bed.

  Think.

  She obviously needs money.

  I had money.

  A lot of money.

  Confusion swept over her expression, and finally she waved her fingers at me before throwing the Cadillac into reverse.

  “I’ll wait here,” I called.

  She slammed on the brake, turning back to me. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll wait here. Until you get back.”

  “Why? For what?” She was aggravated, and I was enjoying it. “What are you waiting for?”

  I knew how to do cocky, and I knew how to do charming.

  And I knew how to melt them together to form fucking tempting.

  I sauntered over to her open car window, squatting down and folding my arms over the side to gaze up at her.

  “I may have a job opportunity for you.”