The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE)

by Nelle L'Amour

  “Did you go on a diet?” he asks, still in awe of my appearance.

  “It was more like a cleanse. I was forced to go to some holistic spa for a few weeks while Brandon was in the hospital. The food sucked. If I ever see a chia seed again, it’ll be too soon. And alcohol was strictly forbidden.”

  “Oooh!” Jeffrey sympathizes. “That’s horrible.”

  “And on top of that, they forced me to work out. I’ve never sweated so much in my entire life.”

  “Well, at least it paid off. You look amazeballs. Wait till Chaz sees you. He’s going to friggin’ freak.”

  Chaz Clearfield is Jeffrey’s significant other. A successful fashion designer. “Is he stopping by?”

  Jeffrey glances down at his vintage Mickey Mouse watch. “He should be here any minute. He’s been at Nordstrom’s firming up an order.”

  “Yay!” I adore Chaz almost as much as I adore Jeffrey. They’re perfect together.

  “And look! There he is.”

  My eyes dart to Third Street where Chaz is dropping off his Jeep with the valet. He spots us immediately and joins us.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he gushes, giving me a double-cheek kiss. And then he does a double take. “Oh my God. What did you do to yourself?”

  He takes the chair next to mine. Jeffrey fills him in on my spa vacation after ordering iced teas for all of us from our waiter. The chilled beverages come quickly, and I take a sip of mine while Jeffrey blabbers on. Chaz is all ears.

  “Zoeykins, you need a whole new wardrobe. You absolutely must come down to the showroom and pick some things out.”

  He’s right. My clothes are all baggy on me. While I’m definitely still not the perfect Size 6 (nor will I ever be), I’ve definitely dropped a size from my normal Size 12.

  “Wow! I’d love to—that is, if I can get away long enough from the tyrant.” Who, thanks to his amnesia, hasn’t noticed my new trimmer body, I add silently.

  “How’s Mr. Beautiful and Bossy doing?” asks Jeffrey, who’s heard all my horror stories.

  I roll my eyes. “You don’t want to know. It’s worse than before. I think he’s bi-polar. Plus, now I have to contend with barbs from his stuck up fiancée.”

  “You should slap that rude bitch,” quips Chaz.

  My eyes widen. “You know Katrina?”

  “Spare me, yes. That bitch tried to stop my friend Jennifer from marrying Blake Burns.”

  “The network Blake Burns?” Who Brandon is having lunch with this very minute.

  Chaz nods. “Yup. That one.”

  “Holy guacamole!” I exclaim after he tells me how she stalked and drugged him and then had the audacity to show up at their wedding and object to their nuptials. Yikes! She’s not just any bitch. She’s a veritable psycho bitch. Devious and toxic. Does Brandon know this? Should I tell him?

  Jeffrey takes a sip of his iced tea. “If you ask me, honey, your psycho boss and the bitch are a perfect match. Don’t you just love that name—Bratrina?”

  We all burst out in laughter. Maybe Jeffrey’s right.

  The waiter returns and takes our orders. Wanting to keep my weight down, I ask for a half-order Chinese Chicken salad with the dressing on the side.

  “Zoester, go for the full-size,” insists Jeffrey. “I promise you won’t gain a pound.”

  He doesn’t have to twist my arm. I’m starving. I go for it.

  Over a sinful piece of double fudge chocolate cake, which we share (I can’t resist), I mention that Brandon has amnesia. I got so caught up with all the Katrina dirt I forgot to share that.

  “I know,” says Jeffrey.

  I gulp down my mouthful of chocolate sin. “You do?”

  “Pops told me.” Jeffrey’s dad, Pete, who we both call Pops, is a homicide detective for the LAPD. In addition to being my loving surrogate dad, he was the one assigned to investigate my mother’s brutal murder. The senseless death of his beloved twin sister enraged him. He swore he would hunt the gunman down and personally give him his due. No matter how hard Pops worked the case or close he came, Mama’s killer was never found. To this day, it haunts me that he’s probably still out there. My stomach churns. I can still see his face. For a split second, I’m five again and he’s pointing a gun at me. I shudder. Jeffrey’s voice hurls me out of the terrifying memory.

  “He’s investigating Brandon’s hit and run accident. Given that he’s a huge star, there’s a possibility some crazy stalker tried to deliberately run him over.”

  A shiver slithers down my spine. “You mean like a m-murder?” The word is hard for me to say.

  Biting into another serving of the chocolate cake, he nods and then swallows. “He may want to talk to you.”

  “Ooh!” coos Chaz, a total gossip hound.

  There’s one last chunk of the cake remaining; Jeffrey insists it’s mine. I politely decline. I’ve lost my appetite. The thought of someone trying to kill Brandon, my Kurt Kussler, sickens me.

  Brandon

  The Conquest Broadcasting Executive Dining Room is a formal restaurant filled with tables draped in white linen and Hollywood types, mostly men, dressed in either expensive designer jeans or suits. Blake Burns, whom I recognize thanks to Zoey, is impeccably dressed in the latter. He could be a movie star himself with his dashing good looks and athletic build. I’m shown to his table by the maître d’; along the way many people reach out their hands to shake mine and welcome me back. It’s hard to believe an asshole like me is so well liked.

  Blake rises as I approach his table and then rounds it to give me a man hug. “Welcome back, man. You gave us a fucking scare. How’re you doing?”

  Taking facing seats, I tell him I’m doing well. I decided on the way here that I wasn’t going to tell him about the amnesia. What point would that serve? I found out enough about him and Conquest Broadcasting from the file Zoey put together to fake an intelligent conversation, something that shouldn’t be too hard to do since I’m an actor. About my age, Blake, I learned, is the heir apparent to heading up all of Conquest Broadcasting after his father retires. He began his career as a male model, did some acting, and then decided he preferred being behind the camera. Upon joining his father’s company, he started up a successful porn channel, SIN-TV, which was spun off into an even more successful women’s erotica channel by his talented colleague and wife, Jennifer. The woman whose life he saved. Blake Burns, unlike Kurt Kussler, is a real life action hero.

  A silver-haired waiter, in the standard white jacket and black bow tie uniform, brings us menus. “Good to see you back, Mr. Taylor,” he says warmly as he hands me mine. I guess I’m a regular around this place. Blake and I peruse the menus and order, each deciding on the Conquest Club Sandwich with a side of potato salad and some Cokes. I’m hungry as a bear. The sodas, in old-fashioned Coca Cola bottles, arrive quickly.

  “Everyone was freaking out we were going to lose our number one star,” begins Blake.

  “Nah, I’m the man of steel. Invincible,” I counter with a chuckle.

  “That’s what I tell my wife and she actually believes me.”

  I laugh again. I like Blake. He’s a real guy. A straight shooter.

  He takes a chug of his Coke. “We honestly didn’t think you’d make it to the Golden Globes. Congratulations on your nomination. We’re all rooting for you.”

  Thank God, I googled myself. I would have had no idea that I was nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Dramatic Series. I humbly thank Blake.

  He takes another swig of the soda. “Are you ready to get back on the set? It was quite a challenge writing you out of the show. We almost had to shut down production. Run a couple of repeats.”

  “Can’t wait. It’s a killer episode. I’ve got my lines down.” I don’t tell him that I’m still trying to figure out my character and the show. And that I haven’t finished reading the most recent script, let alone rehearsed it.

  “Awesome.”

  Our lunch arrives. Blake and I both dig into the overstuffed sandw
iches.

  “Hope you can come to the focus groups tonight,” he comments, after swallowing a biteful.

  I saw those on my schedule, but forgot to ask Zoey what they were all about.

  “Definitely.”

  “Great. We’re testing out the idea you had for the season finale. We want to make sure it works. It’s quite a twist.”

  My stomach bunches. I have no idea what it is. I’m eager to find out.

  “By the way, we want to show the season finale at MIP.”

  MIP? “Cool.”

  “We think it’ll generate a lot excitement with our international broadcasters and licensors. You know, you’ve become a commodity…a brand.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Hot sexy action hero. Women love you and men want to be you. Your Q-Score is through the roof.”

  “What’s a Q-Score?”

  “Remember?”

  No.

  “Your popularity rating. You are the number one actor in the world. You’re even more popular than Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Holy shit is right. We’re going to beef up our marketing and merchandising efforts. There’s a Kurt Kussler movie in the works as well as a series of books, and Megatoys approached us about developing a line of Kurt Kussler action figures. Who knows, a Kurt Kussler animated series could be next. My wife Jennifer, who’s a guru when it comes to kids’ programming, thinks that’s a great idea.”

  “Wow!” I lift my Coke bottle to my lips and take a long sip while he tells me I have a hefty profit participation in all ancillary merchandising. I make a mental note to share this information with my business manager Scott. Feeling comfortable with Blake, I change the subject. Maybe he can offer me some insight into my personal life. “Do you know my fiancée Katrina Moore?”

  Blake’s blue eyes darken. He pinches his lips and then responds curtly, “Yeah. What about her?”

  “Do you know we’re getting married live on TV? It’s a ratings stunt for her reality show.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brandon.”

  “Getting married live on TV?”

  “No, getting married to Katrina.”

  I’m taken aback, but before I can ask him what he means by that, he apologizes.

  “You know what, man. Forget I ever said that. It was totally out of line. I wish you and Katrina much happiness, and if we’re invited, Jen and I will try to attend.”

  I ponder his interesting choice of the word “try.” Wouldn’t most people say, “love to attend” or “would be honored to attend?” Maybe, I’m reading too much into it. I mean, they’re a super busy power couple and probably have tons of equally important overlapping events. I let it go. But not soon enough.

  “Well, there you are!” That voice. I recognize it immediately and so does Blake. His face goes ashen. I look to the right, and there she is striding toward us in her six-inch stilettos and a thigh-high pencil skirt. Katrina! With her bouncing hair, pearly white smile, and long-legged gait, she exudes sex and confidence. Every eye is on her.

  “What are you doing here?” asks Blake before I can. His raging eyes narrow and his fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white.

  “I thought I’d stop by and say hello to the two of you.”

  “How did you know I was here?” I ask as she slinks into the vacant chair next to mine.

  “You shouldn’t be so careless, darling. You left your schedule at the pool.”

  Before I can reply, Blake jumps in. He’s still glowering at her. “How the hell did you get on the lot?”

  She tuts. “Blake, darling, does Mommy have to wash your mouth out with soap?”

  Blake is clearly seething. His lips flatten into a thin, angry line.

  “How did you?” I repeat. Security at the gated entrance is extremely tight. It doesn’t matter who you are.

  “Easy peasy, as Blake would say. Money talks, people walk.”

  She must have bribed the security guard. I bet Blake is going to fire his sorry ass.

  My eyes fix on her as she bats her cat-green eyes at him. “It’s been a long time, Blakey, hasn’t it?”

  Blake inhales and on the loud exhale, he says icily, “So, Kat, you’re a big star now.”

  Blakey? Kat? Do they know each other intimately? Former fuck buddies? This is not the time to ask. I keep my big mouth shut.

  Katrina sneers. “I would have been a bigger star if you’d picked up my show instead of that rinky-dink cable network.”

  “It wasn’t a good fit.”

  “I’m sure it was a better fit than your wife’s skanky little pussy.”

  Blake’s cheeks flare and I can feel my own reddening. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Jesus, put a lid on it, Katrina. What’s wrong with you?”

  With a smirk, she slides out of the chair and saunters off. “See you later, Brandy-Poo.”

  I’m mortified. How could she embarrass me like that in front of my boss? The second most powerful man at Conquest Broadcasting.

  “Man, I’m sorry for that. I don’t know what got into her. Maybe she had too much to drink.” Which I know isn’t true because there was no trace of alcohol on her breath, and she sure as hell couldn’t walk in those heels sloshed.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  I can’t help myself; I need to know. “Did you and she have some kind of thing?”

  Blake tightens his lips once more. “My father always says: ‘Sometimes the past is better left behind.’ I’ll leave it at that.”

  The irony of his words gets under my skin. If only I could remember mine. In the meantime, I’m going to find out what their story is.

  Brandon

  I’ve barely stepped inside my house when Katrina comes sprinting up to me. She’s dressed in a very skimpy bright red bikini that exposes her voluminous tits and her long, toned legs that seem to extend to her armpits. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is streaked with tears. Looks like she’s been crying.

  She flings her arms around my shoulders, clinging to me, pressing her firm breasts against my pecs, so I can’t take another step without taking her with me. In her mile-high mules, she’s eye level with me.

  “Let go of me, Katrina.” My voice is gruff. I’m still reeling from her mortifying behavior in front of Blake Burns.

  She runs one hand along the side of my jaw and bats her eyes. “Oh, Brandon, you have the right to be mad at me. The way I behaved today was so out of line. I’m so, so, sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  She holds me in her feline gaze imploringly. I draw in a sharp breath through my nose and exhale. “We need to talk.”

  She nods. And then a seductive smile slithers across her billowy lips.

  “Let’s take it outside.” Her cloying floral cologne is smothering me. I need some fresh air.

  “Can I pour myself a glass of champagne first?”

  “Fine.” I stab the word at her while she ambles to the kitchen with the grace of a gazelle. Her platinum mane cascades down her back and bounces along.

  Five minutes later, we’re seated on my terrace, my back to the guesthouse where Zoey resides. The January air is balmy. I cut to the chase.

  “So, what’s the story with you and Blake Burns?”

  Seductively folding one bare leg over the other, Katrina takes a sip of her champagne. “I never really wanted to tell you about him, but I suppose I have no choice.”

  “Level with me, Katrina.” My voice is authoritative. I’m all ears.

  She sets the crystal flute on the small table between us. And with a lick of her upper lip, she begins.

  “Blake and I have known each other almost our entire lives. Our families were best friends, and we went to the same schools right through high school. During a vacation in Capri, we fell in love. And I never stopped loving him. I thought I was destined to marry him and so did Mommy. It was a match made in heaven. Like royalty. We were practically engaged.”

/>   Her eyes narrow. “Then that repulsive peon, Jennifer McCoy, stepped into the picture, and when he chose her over me, it totally broke my heart.”

  My eyes bore into her. “Are you saying you’re still in love with him?”

  She flings her head and huffs. “Hardly. I hate his guts for what he did to me. And I hate his wife even more. The bitch did something really evil and manipulative that I can never forget. Or forgive.”

  “Like what?”

  Her face darkens and her voice grows cold with fury. “I can’t talk about it, but let’s just say it’ll follow me everywhere.”

  She brushes her long manicured nails across a faint scar below her collarbone that shimmers in the late afternoon sun. I’ve never noticed it before on account of the high necklines she favors. It looks like the remnants of a former tattoo. A five-letter name. I can vaguely make out the first letter—a “B.” “B” like in B-L-A-K-E? While curious, I fold my arms in my lap and let her continue.

  “So, darling, when I found out you were having lunch today with Blake, I couldn’t resist.”

  Despite her explanation, another surge of anger blasts through my chest. “It was an important business lunch, Katrina. You had no right to be there. Your behavior and the things you said totally mortified me.”

  “I couldn’t help it. I was just acting out my anger.” Her pouty expression begs for sympathy. “I hope you can understand.”

  No, I don’t understand, but the past is the past. Not dwelling on the irony of that thought, I blow out a breath. “Just don’t let anything like that ever happen again.”