by Kat T. Masen
“Gina.” I smile politely.
“Now, tell me, how did you both meet? Are you an actress?”
“Uh no, I’m a personal assistant.”
Her eyes peak with curiosity. “To Wesley?”
“No, Mother, to Em. If you must pry.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you look beautiful and I really hope you enjoy the night.”
“I’m sure I will Mrs…I mean, Gina.”
Gina examines the both of us, following with a fake smile. She latches onto Wesley’s arm which appears to make him uncomfortable. “Have you said hello to Carson?”
“I said I’d come to support the event.”
“Wesley, don’t start now.”
The tension mounts between them, broken by the guest speaker announcing the events of the night. We turn our focus before an applause erupts and music carries on. Wesley excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the corner with a napkin and some shrimp. Upon my second bite, my clutch begins to vibrate, prompting me to retrieve my cell.
“Milly, what have you done?”
Phoebe’s desperation catches me off guard, forcing me to move towards a room less noisy to be able to listen properly.
“Phoebe, what are you talking about?”
“Liam, he came back home and he’s been…”
“What, Phoebe? I don’t have time for this. Liam is a big boy,” I tell her, covering my guilt.
“Liam is a big boy? So what Liam said is true. You’re screwing Wesley Rich? My God Milly, have you lost your mind? You know what disease he must carry. I can’t believe you would do this to Liam. And why didn’t you tell me about Wesley?”
“Because, he was just a friend. I don’t know what Liam told you. Yes, we are now in a relationship. Liam and I are over. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you but I didn’t want to expose this just yet. It wouldn’t be good for my career. I hope you understand that.”
I could hear the breathing on the line; Phoebe’s wrath of fury ready to unleash.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You said you wouldn’t become one of them. You cheat on your boyfriend and with the worst possible guy. Next you’ll be snorting lines and shooting up like your new boyfriend.”
“That’s uncalled for!” A waiter walking past turns my way, quickly moving on with his head bowed down. “You don’t know Wesley. Just because you read it doesn’t mean it’s true. I haven’t changed. Maybe you’ve changed. I have to go now.”
“Well, just to make you feel better, Liam is fucking Sienna; the hot blonde from the pub.”
“Thanks a lot,” I respond rudely. “I have to go now.”
I hang up the phone without haste, letting out an annoyed huff. How dare she say those things to me. Despite our close friendship, her words were mean and hurtful. I turn the corner in a fluster, only to be blocked by a man. I don’t recall seeing him before; older yet dashing in his black tuxedo.
“You must be Wesley’s new girlfriend. Gina told me all about you.” He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “I’m Carson Cole. Gina’s husband.”
“Oh right.” I return the gesture, ignoring the fact that he held onto my hand much longer than I anticipated. “Wesley’s stepfather. Have you seen him around by any chance?”
He’s standing awfully close to me, making me somewhat uncomfortable.
“I haven’t, but you know, Wesley isn’t one to commit. Take it from me, darling, you don’t want to put all your eggs in one basket. You’re a pretty girl.” He glances rather obviously at my chest, his breathing fast paced.
“I should probably go find him.”
Carson grabs my arm, a little forceful. “Why don’t we go find him together. I think I saw him upstairs.”
“How about you let go of my arm?” I point out, biting down to stop myself from screaming. “I have to go.”
I turn left, unsure where I was heading. It’s a dead end, making me anxious as I know that Carson is close by. A door opens, a waiter exiting what looks like the kitchen with a tray full of canapés. I go inside, zig-zagging between the kitchen staff busily preparing meals. The other entrance opens up to a small patio where a few people are standing around smoking. I scramble through the grass, stilettos digging into the dirt till I’m back at the front.
Wesley is beside the fountain; a young woman in front of him standing rather close. I stop fast in my tracks, watching them from afar. I could only see her physique from behind; curvy backside in a tight white dress that stopped just short of ass. If it were any shorter, I was certain her anatomy would be seen by everyone here at the party.
The pumps she wore were gold and strappy, wrapping around her ankle and reaching her mid-calf. Her figure—slim, and exactly how the magazines depicted actresses. No doubt she was one.
I did, however, admire the color of her hair. A bright colored red that was paper straight and fell just above her waist. Though my gut is telling me that I shouldn’t be admiring a woman who has casually placed her hand on my boyfriend’s chest.
Wesley seems agitated, removing her hand abruptly and lighting up a smoke.
“Fuck off. What are you doing here?”
“Stop the games. Let’s go…c’mon, a quick fuck upstairs. You can take me up the ass…I know you loved it that way.”
Wesley smiles; my stomach swarmed with this sick feeling from his enthusiasm. This wasn’t the way to start a relationship. I could butt in, interrupt this so-called hookup, or I could act mature—trust in my boyfriend.
I so wanted to trust him…
His smile becomes a sinister laugh. “I took you up the ass so I didn’t have to look at your face. Go away.”
The woman attempts to slap his face, but Wesley is quick to hold her back.
“You asshole!” she shouts, defiant and stomping her feet. “The last time you chose to act like this, you paid a very high price, Wesley. I’m not sure you want to make the same mistake again.”
“Sweetheart.” He touches her face, admiring her lips with a longing gaze. “You are the mistake. You’re everyone’s mistake. Now carry on, I’m sure Carson is waiting for you in his office. I’ve heard he likes young ass too. Right up your alley.”
Her words were jumbled, and with an irritated huff, she disappears back into the house leaving Wesley alone. Whatever I just witnessed, seemed surreal. It was like I walked onto the set of a soap opera. People sleeping with random people, deceit, lies. This wasn’t me.
No, me was hanging out with my best friend back home, lying on the grass out back and counting the stars while we consume large bags of marshmallows and discussed Phoebe marrying a prince of some small country which led her to becoming a queen. Foolish, out-of-this-world but nevertheless—it’s what we did.
Tonight was too much for me. The events, the people, losing my best friend and Wesley’s promiscuous ways. I couldn’t rid myself of the ill feeling that nestled its way and just sat in the pit of my stomach. It could be the shrimp, but I knew deep down it was more than that. This, all of this—is another world to me. It terrified me.
And when something drove fear into me, my reaction was always to make it go away. Do whatever it takes.
Taking slow breaths, I walk towards the fountain. Wesley’s eyes meet mine with an annoyed expression.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he barks, irritated.
“Not hard, I assume. Can we go now?”
A gust of wind blows between us. Wesley’s expression softens as he puts his arms around my waist and pulls me into him.
“Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”
“Just not my thing,” I lie, coupled with a forced smile. “Let’s have some fun. Take me somewhere fun.”
It’s as if he knew that what I needed was to escape reality. A sardonic grin spreads across his handsome face, his intentions anything but good.
“You want to have fun? I know just the place…”
Wesley Rich was on a mission.
My heels drag across the dirt; my balance
compromised as he pulls my hand, stopping at a locked fence. There’s a large padlock hanging off the latch, and a sign saying No Trespassing.
Between balancing a smoke on the corner of his mouth and trying to break the latch—he was getting nowhere.
Inside my purse sat a pocketknife. An impromptu purchase during my first night here. Removing it from the secret compartment, I slide the knife out and jimmy the lock till the latch opens.
“How?” Wesley asks, scratching his head in confusion.
“Did I know how to break a lock? Let’s just say that back in high school, I had this constant need to hang out under the bleachers.”
He tilts his head with an impressed grin. “So much I have to learn about you. But for now, you wanted fun…I will give you fun.”
I follow his lead, keeping close, with my eye searching the surroundings. The sign outside said Funland Amusement Park. It was no Disneyland. Just a small booth at the front and some rides scattered around the field.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You said somewhere fun. This is called Funland so why the hell not?”
His hand disappears into the pocket of his jacket, moments later removing a flask. I didn’t want to know what was inside. After tonight’s phone call from Phoebe and Carson’s sleazy moves—which I decide to keep from Wesley, so not to anger him—I was more than happy to drink anything and make it all go away.
“Okay, shall we hit the games first?”
I can barely answer; the spirit burning my throat and making my head spin. God…this tasted awful. It almost makes me dry heave, yet I manage to stomach whatever sat inside that flask.
I don’t know why he bothers to ask me what I wanted to do since he does what he wants anyway, pulling the tarpaulin off the game and finding a switch nearby. The clown’s head turns on, eerily moving in the dead of the night while Wesley laughs and shoves balls in its mouth.
“Everyone’s a winner right?”
He climbs over the clown’s head; a large thump sounding when his feet hit the metal floor.
“Take a pick, my lady,” he says, bowing.
“We can’t steal that.”
Minutely shaking his head with an annoyed expression, he yanks some bills out of his front pocket, shoving it in the clown’s mouth. “Better? I’ll fucking pay for one. Now pick.”
“Wesley, you don’t have to.”
“So what if I didn’t win it?” Another cigarette makes its way into his mouth; the smoke lingering in the air. “I want to buy it for you.”
“Fine, the purple monkey.”
With a pleased smile, he pulls it off the wall, passing it to me. “Sweet, aren’t I?”
He jumps off the side, spinning around like a crazed lunatic. “If only life was like this—an amusement park. Laughing all day long. Cotton candy on tap.”
“I’m sure there’s a downside to it,” I say out loud, without thinking.
“Why do you have to be so cynical?”
“Uh hello? Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vigorously shaking his head, he finishes the remains of the flask, following with a satisfied moan. “Now, you wanted to have fun. Have fun with me.”
He grabs my hand, taking the monkey and leaving it on the ground, bringing me close to his body and leading me into a waltz, right in the middle of the amusement park while he sings Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You. It’s corny, cheesy—yet perfect at this moment.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh as he dips me. “Who would have thought you were a closet Barry lover?”
“And you’re beautiful. Just for tonight, be crazy with me.”
I laugh again, spinning around. “There, crazy enough?”
He shakes his head, determined to get me to let loose and be wild. “You can do better than that.”
I look around us. There’s a bumper car lot on the right but bumper cars weren’t exactly living on the edge. In front were a few kiddie rides, and beside them—this spinning Octopus. It wasn’t that ride which caught my attention, it was the adventure crazy house beside it. Standing tall, oddly shaped mirrors in front with stairs and a spinning circle on top. It reminded me of the movie Grease when Sandy gets her groove on at the end.
“Okay, you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.”
I pull his hand, leading him to the adventure house. The mirrors show our reflection as we walk past; our bodies morphing from abnormally short and fat, to tall and skinny. We both laugh at ourselves, moving inside where the ground becomes uneven and it’s incredibly dark. The moonlight provides limited light, but I didn’t care. I was terrified and excited at the same time.
My hands clutch onto his shirt, pulling his body into mine, allowing me to bring his lips closer. The beat of my heart thickens; his lips warming mine and tasting so goddamn good.
“I don’t know what it is when I’m with you,” I breathe between kisses, lost in this man that consumed me in a way I had never experienced. “You’re so…”
“Bad?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“And I’m nothing like you’ve ever had.”
“Yes,” I repeat, running my hands through his hair.
The warmth of his lips leaves mine; his body distant with a bitter smile. “I thought you were different.”
The loss of contact leaves me uneasy. It takes me a moment to respond. “What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s not a question,” he responds, flatly.
Adjusting my dress that moved during our heated kiss, I straighten my posture trying to get a hold of myself. “Maybe I should go.”
“I thought you were different.”
“What does that mean? Different to who? Okay, so I love to read and would rather spend my night playing Monopoly. This wasn’t my scene tonight. So I’m different, who cares? The world needs different. Not everyone can be like you and Emerson.”
The words came out harsh, not at all like I had intended. I was frustrated we were even having this conversation when a minute earlier I was caught up in the best make-out session I had ever had.
“Do you think you’re the first girl that has called me bad and told me I’m like no other man you’ve been with?”
“No…” I trail off, pausing. “But it’s the truth. You are bad—for me. Every part of me says not to be with you. You will hurt me and I’ll end up with a broken heart and have to move back home because I can’t deal with the shame. You’re not like any man I’ve been with. The last four years were spent with Liam. Liam is caring. He’s kind. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
“And I’m none of those things,” he answers, smugly. “I don’t fucking care about anyone, right?”
“What do you want me to say?” I throw my hands up with frustration. “I can’t seem to win. If you want the truth, this is it. You’re not Liam. You are Wesley. The guy that has gotten on my nerves and crawled under my skin. The same guy I haven’t stopped thinking about every day since that day in the café. The same guy I’ve fantasized being with not because he’s bad but because he does something to me…this butterfly-sick-to-the-stomach feeling. The thought of his hands all over me makes me want to throw all caution to the wind and live for this moment.”
“I’m right here,” he whispers, closing the gap between us.
“I know you are.”
The tip of his finger runs down my cheekbone and across my bottom lip. My eyes close—focusing on my internal sensations—controlling my breathing while his gentle touch consumes me. With a slight tilt, his mouth has found mine, the warm sensation and taste of desire finds me again.
This slow, sensual pace heightens all my senses until he pushes me against the wall, slamming our bodies together, his tongue feverishly battling with mine.
I pull away to catch a quick breath, gulping for air as if my life depended on it.
“You’re bad for me.” His face is buried in my chest, kissing my ski
n eagerly. “Too innocent.”
“A little innocence never hurt anyone.” I latch onto his shirt, pulling him up so I could taste his lips again. “Good girls can turn bad too.”
“No,” he breathes; a silent plea in his tone. “Your innocence is sexy. In fact, a fucking turn-on.”
I grin, touching his cheek softly. “Oh really?”
“Shhh, stop talking. I need to fuck you now.”
I’m falling for him; into this blissful moment as his hands wander across my body, each part he hasn’t touched—begging to be noticed.
The wall is sticky, and my dress gets caught against the rough edge. I didn’t care. I wanted him—here and now. His palms slide under my dress, against my thighs with a slow, burning ache. My body reacts to him; grinding against his hardness and dry-humping him between our clothes which suddenly becomes a nuisance.
I fumble with his buttons, wanting to expose his chest and run my hands against his skin. Though the lighting is poor, the desire in his eyes burns through me as I spread apart his shirt and admire the view. He is just like I imagined; ripped, muscles in all the right places and so very manly.
There’s several tattoos on his chest, but I can barely make out the images.
My hands move on their own accord, against his chest, circling his nipple as he moans softly into the air. I had never experienced this type of lust; the need to have my way with him like a fantasy come alive.
The grip of his hands is tight against my ass; small, yet forceful squeezes until he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist for support.
“You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re begging for it.”
I grab his belt buckle that begins to dig into me, unbuckling it quickly and unzipping his pants. Balancing against the wall, fumbling for his pants and losing myself in his ravenous kisses—becomes exhausting.
“I’m not the one begging for it,” I pant, so out of breath, my throat dry. “You are.”
Wesley laughs into my mouth; a grin forming on my tired face from this game we play.
“Is that so?”
I pull his hair, detaching his mouth from mine in order to give him a nod. The more we played this game, the more turned on I got. I felt him everywhere. I wanted him everywhere on me.
