Always & Only (Angels and Sunshine Book 1)

by Gabrielle G.

  Sighing, I pick up the pieces of my pride, kiss her on the cheek, and tell her I’ll call her. I throw a backward glance at her, but the door closes without her acknowledging me.

  I get into my car and lose my shit on my steering wheel. After a good five minutes of car hating, I pick up my phone and shout a text to Ryan, knowing she shouldn’t be alone right now and that I might lose his friendship over what happened if I don’t ask him to pick up the pieces.

  Me: Hey Man. Long story short, Jules and I were heavily making out (for the first time, don’t kill me) when she called me Paul, and I froze. I told her nicely that maybe she wasn’t ready. She threw me out of her apartment, and I think you should check on her. I feel like a gossip girl.

  He answers fast.

  Ryan: Wow… OK… ! Are you all right ?

  Me: Kind of… Because what else can I say? Maybe I should have ignored it. Then right now instead of texting Ryan, I’d be balls deep in Julie and enjoying every moment of it. Yeah, not going to share those details…

  Ryan: I’ll take care of it. Time for her to stop ignoring me anyway. I’ll keep you posted.

  I bang my head against the steering wheel again and try to breathe. That’s when I see, in my peripheral vision, a fucking photographer! In the time it takes me to drive home, the news is all over the Internet.

  “Ian Porter & Julie Legg: Trouble in Paradise? But Wait! Were They Together?”

  “Celebrities are Like Us: Ian Porter Loses It in His Car… In Front of Julie Legg’s Apartment”

  “Is Paul the Reason Ian is Losing It?”

  If only they knew…

  My phone rings and I know without looking at the caller ID that it’s Dex.

  “Yes, Dex,” I say as I sit on my couch, closing my eyes and waiting for the earful.

  “What is the one thing I told you?” he screams, as usual.

  “To keep it low…” I mumble.

  “And you couldn’t?” he says in an accusatory tone.

  “Clearly not.”

  “Okay. Publicist’s rant over. Best friend’s cap on. Do you need me to come with beers?” I must sound horrible for Dex to change gears. Dex’s range of emotions go from grouchy to grouchier, never nice.

  “Please.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty!”

  Jules is going to be double pissed when she sees the headlines. Dex is right. I should have kept away.

  Dex and I have been friends since we were kids. Our parents were neighbors, and we hung out every day after school. I was the first one he came out to, and I was there for him when he told his parents. He was there for me when I told my parents I wasn’t going to college but moving to LA to become an actor. When I received my first acting contract, he decided to go to law school. He wanted to be able to help me. As soon as he was a pro in everything contract and shit, he became my agent. After that, because he’s a hard-to-please control freak, he hated each of my publicists and he took that over as well. He always has my back, but history has proven that I should still be careful not to bend too much, so he doesn’t fuck me over. Asher is not only Virginia’s son, he’s also Dex’s brother’s. He’s our nephew. Dex was in constant contact with my sister and his brother, Clay, but was asked not to give our families any news. He knew about Asher and never told me. This almost ended our friendship. I felt betrayed that he hid such a secret about Virginia. I had no news from my twin for eleven years. She was an addict for more than eleven years, a parent for seven, and Dex didn’t tell me. I tried to reach out. I tried to see her. But I didn’t know where to start. Because of all the fights Clay and I had about her when we were in high school, she didn’t want to see me. People ask why I am such a good drama actor. Try to see the person you rely on sliding to hell and rejecting you. Try not being able to talk to this person for eleven fucking years. In a way, Dex always made sure she had my contact information if needed and she said he pleaded for me every time he could. He has assured me over the years he didn’t know about the drugs. Never saw my sister high. I’m not sure I believe him. He still sided with Clay for the custody hearing. Let my sister walk away to rehab with no rights over her son. This is why I never bend too much in front of Dex. I know he will fuck me over for his family. He already did and he will again. Nevertheless, as fucked up as it is, he’s the Matt Damon to my Ben Affleck, the Jughead to my Archie, the Ryan to my Julie.

  I drink a couple of beers before he arrives, and we continue drinking to lost pussies and forgettable dicks, as it seems Dex isn’t getting any these days. After we polish off all the beer and hard alcohol in the house, I fall asleep on the couch like the loser that I am, smurf balls and limp dick in hands.

  Waking up to pain in my neck and dry drool on my face, I wish People magazine could see this edition of the sexiest man alive. After chugging a few glasses of water, some aspirin, and a coffee, I pick up my phone and text Jules an apology for the mess I created by pushing her too soon and losing it in front of a photographer. She answers in five letters:

  Julie: Sorry

  Nothing more and nothing less. In a hurry to get the fuck out of my house and not be late on set, I write a quick text:

  Me: I hope we can still work together.

  To which she answers: Yes, but let’s keep it professional.

  I swallow my pride and type the only two words I know can help me keep it together right now:

  Me: Fuck No!

  She doesn’t answer. I guess of course would have been a better answer.

  6 Julie

  There’s no greater pleasure than being a godmother. Seriously, spending money on clothes for a kid who isn’t yours is an incredible feeling. The guilt of what happened with Ian that permanently resides inside me while I spend any of my free time with Ryan and Joana is well hidden under hundreds of dollars of lovely items. Most days, I barely acknowledge the fire between my legs, the same one that gives me sex dreams about my best friend, his girlfriend, Ian, and any other person in the world, even Paul. I’m so turned on all the time that I got turned on sucking on a Starbucks straw.

  After the name incident with Ian, I had no choice but to speak to Ry. He gave me little choice when he barged into my apartment, demanding to know what was going on. So I spilled my guts and explained it all. The sexy thoughts, the need for sex, the name slip. In true Ryan fashion, he laughed. Of course he didn’t see the problem and said it was normal I had, and I quote, “rabid desire for him, who wouldn’t?”

  As my non-relationship with Ian is now strictly professional, we don’t speak. Well, I don’t speak. He asks about the script here and there, I guess using it as an excuse to remind me he exists, even if my answers are short or non-existent.

  I know from Ry that Ian feels guilty about the pictures and the new rumors. It is what it is. I don’t feel bad having my name—yet again—in magazines, especially as new women came forward in the Paul story. If I counted correctly, he slept with an average of two women per week during the last three years of our relationship—312 women, without counting the repeats. He’s finally being depicted as the pig he is.

  Speaking of pig, Ryan is deep into explaining to me, yet again, why he thinks I should sleep with Joana while he watches, and I suspect that he’s only half joking. He has been harassing me incessantly for a few weeks now, saying his idea is ingenious.

  “Jules,” he says while dropping all the baby gear we bought for his son on the kitchen counter, “you need rebound sex. If my best friend was a guy and he was hot for rabid sex with my fiancée or me, I wouldn’t propose the same arrangement. Having a girl as a best friend has its perks!”

  “Ryan, stop teasing her.” Joana is a real doll. “What Jules needs is sex with a stranger. Not with her best friend’s very pregnant girlfriend!”

  “Touché,” I say, trying to brush off yet again how much Ryan is a pain in my ass.

  “Define ‘stranger,’” he asks Joana.

  Ryan is always two steps ahead in everything. He’s too smart not to know where every con
versation is going. So as soon as I hear that tone from him, I’m on guard.

  “Someone she doesn’t know.”

  “Can it be an acquaintance?” he continues.

  “Yes, Ryan! What’s your point?” Joana asks, obviously annoyed.

  Ryan turns toward me, his eyes triumphant. He brought the conversation exactly where he wanted. “Do we consider Ian an acquaintance?”

  I ignore his question. We made a pact that Ian’s name should not be used in the same context as anything else but work. Ry always breaks our agreements though, because he’s a shit disturber. And sometimes I do too because curiosity kills the cat, the kitten, and the old lady…

  “Speaking of your buddy, any news about when he’s free to start the casting process?”

  Ryan huffs and puffs like the annoyed big bad wolf he can be and, in an upset voice, answers, “Why don’t you ask him? I’m fed up being the divorced child giving news and intel to each of you without even getting two cakes for my birthday!”

  Of course Ry would make it about himself. I should really get used to that.

  “Awww, Ry! What would you like for your birthday, honey? A Lego set?” I answer.

  Joana chuckles. She knows too well the ridiculous baby she’s about to take care of for the rest of her life. I’m not speaking about the one she actually carries…

  “You know what I want,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

  I laugh at how ridiculous he is until I see Joana has stopped laughing.

  “Hey,” I tell her with a sweet voice, “you know he’s joking, right?”

  She nods, but her face is pale, and worry is written all over it.

  Ryan runs to her side and embraces her. “Sorry, Jo, I pushed the joke too far.” He sounds half sincere, half annoyed by her reaction. “You know there’s only you, right?”

  She nods again, and they leave me alone in their kitchen while they disappear, whispering their love for each other. Which I don’t mind. I know I’ve spent maybe a little too much time with them since the make-out session from hell. Ryan’s sense of humor is ridiculous, and his sense of protection over me can be overbearing, but I really thought Joana understood our friendship.

  Three days pass as I barely see the light of day, beating the shit out of my word count so well that the script is almost finished. I’m writing one of the most emotional passages when Ryan appears before me.

  “What are you doing here?” I say, annoyed by the interruption in my flow.

  “Picking up my best friend to go to dinner, like the plans we made yesterday?”

  Shit! If we made plans, it should have been written on a Post-it, glued to my computer so I wouldn’t forget, but there’s no fluorescent-pink sticky note anywhere. Because he knows me too well, Ryan looks around and finds the Post-it on the floor. He picks it up and holds it out to me.

  Epic fail. Knowing Ryan, I won’t hear the end of it. I can imagine him throwing one of his tantrums, I brace myself for it to start. To my surprise, he shrugs it off.

  “Where are you at?” he asks, snooping around.

  I close the computer quickly. I know he’ll read it soon, but I asked him not to read the script over my shoulder or be invested in the writing if he wanted to act in the movie. As usual, Ryan doesn’t listen.

  “Nowhere for the moment.” My voice is snappier than I intended, and I lower my eyes, avoiding Ryan’s piercing turquoise eyes.

  “Come on. Where are you at?” he says, crossing his arms.

  “Nowhere. Let it go,” I say, mimicking his posture.

  “Something I can help with?”

  “Ryan, please.” I sigh heavily.

  I don’t often refuse to let him get what he wants, but I don’t want him to read anything until it’s finished. We don’t fight often, but when we do, it can be explosive. Ryan tends to take a lot of room, and right now, I want him in a tiny box in my pocket. I don’t want him to be my rock. I don’t want him to be my best friend. I don’t want him to be standing in my living room uninvited. I want boundaries, and I want freedom. I want to do it alone. The fact that I haven’t heard from Ian in a few days has nothing to do with it. The fact that I feel like shit over another man and the way I treated him has nothing to do with it. What are best friends for if not for lashing out at when you are angry?

  “Jules, don’t be a pain! Why are you shutting me out?”

  He can be so condescending. I should have worn my “Don’t poke the bear” T-shirt because he has, and I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth.

  “Seriously, Ry? Fuck you! You are the giant pain in my ass! I know you want your Jules back, but she’s gone! I need space! And you don’t give me any. Ever! You’re like a fucking wrecking ball. All. The. Time! Let me breathe!”

  “Wow!” He shakes his head in disappointment.

  I know Ryan won’t let me get away with my outburst without pushing the real issue, but he stays silent. It doesn’t calm me though. Looking at him, I realize I’m still pissed off at him for forcing me to go to his party. I’m pissed he’s happy in a relationship while I’m single. I’m pissed he’s going to be a dad while my clock is ticking. I’m pissed at everything he has and I don’t and certainly won’t have for a while!

  But Ryan seems hurt by my words. I calm down slightly.

  “Look. I need you to back off a little.” I stand up to clean the table so I can do something other than be small, and sitting with him being big and standing isn’t working for me. I’m suffocating.

  Ryan is still not uttering a word or moving an eyebrow.

  “I need to get ready, then we can go,” I add.

  “Don’t bother, I’ll give you space.”

  As Ryan turns to leave, I see the weight on his shoulders. Letting me breathe is hurting him. The thing is, I didn’t really want him to go. You know how you can push people away, but once they leave, you want to run after them? That’s precisely what I want right now. I want to run after Ryan and tell him I am sorry. Tell him that I’m not pissed because of him but because of Ian, that I want him to be holding my hand when I finally get back out there. But I don’t. I let him walk away.

  After a good, long, more than needed bath, I turn on my phone and open a bottle of wine. The screen lights up with messages from Ryan before he dropped by. I scan them quickly but decide I don’t want to feel guilty. Instead, I put on my big girl pants and do the almost mature thing I can do—text Ian. Well, after polishing off half a bottle of wine because I need liquid courage.

  Me: I fought with Ry!

  Still no hi, no small talk. Why can’t I interact normally with this man? I blame it on the wine.

  Ian: I know… Is it a fight if only one screams? From what I heard, he didn’t fight back…

  One of the many things I like about Ian is how he can pick up where he left off, letting go of any grudge. As if nothing awkward happened between us.

  Me: Of course, he told you. Are you BFF now? Can I get you matching T-shirts saying ‘Ian + Ryan forever’?

  At the bitch kingdom, Julie Legg is quickly becoming the queen. The idea of them being friends and talking about me irks me. I can’t stand not knowing every word they tell each other. Is it too much to ask to have them both focused only on me?

  Ian: He needed you tonight. When you did not answer his texts, he asked if I knew anything. As it seemed you disappeared for the last three days, he thought you and I were maybe together for the movie. He said you had plans.

  Me: We did.

  Ian: What happened?

  I was a raging hormonal bitch?

  Me: I forgot he was coming and wrote through the day. Then I did not want to tell him what I was working on. Then I added that I needed space.

  I gulp my wine as the guilt eats me alive.

  Ian: Not great timing Jules.

  Me: What do you mean?

  Ian: Not my story to tell. He is with me now. I’ll take care of him.

  Images of Ian taking care of Ry invade my mind. It feels dirty. I have nev
er had a fantasy about two men, even if I did watch some gay porn in college a few times. Nevertheless, I can see it vividly in my mind.

  Me: That sounds dirty. I press Send without overthinking.

  Ian: What are you insinuating?

  Is he for real? Should I spell it out for him?

  I feel the ache between my legs. I can’t understand why the image of Ian sucking Ryan is so attractive. I’ve never thought of him getting sucked by Joana. I try to imagine Ian sucking another man, but it doesn’t have the same affect on me. I can see Ian between Ryan’s legs, holding his dick while his eyes hold my gaze as I watch them from the corner of the room. The image is burned into my head, like a gif on Tumblr, the loop going over and over. I think of what Paul said at the party.

  “Of course you two dickheads are there to protect her. You always wanted to fuck her! Do you think you can double penetrate her?”

  Another text from Ian fills my screen.

  Seriously Jules, I don’t think he is in the right mindset to be “taken care of” by anybody right now.

  Me: But would you? I really don’t know what is coming over me. Drunk texting is dangerous. My pussy is aching for his answer. I think I could bring myself to orgasm just brushing my clit a little and replaying this mental image. The empty bottle of wine might have helped take down some inhibition.

  Ian : Wouldn’t be the first time…

  I wasn’t expecting that answer. Does he mean with another man or with Ryan? I’m at a loss for words. I know I need to respond, but pleasure surges in me. I need to come.

  Me: With Ry?

  Ian: Jules, listen; this is not something I’ll speak about by text message. First, I don’t kiss and tell. Second, Ryan is not the one I want to make come. If the idea of men having sex together turns you on, don’t be afraid to tell me. But you might have more chance to watch Dex having sex than me…