Page 13 of Unwrapped

I don’t reply.

Good.

Let him walk in expecting to see me looking hot as fuck. He probably thinks he has a night with me moving under him ahead. Instead, he can play with himself. I’m certainly never touching him again. But now I’ll be alone on Christmas instead of in Cabo with him. But I’d probably be at the swim-up bar at the pool alone anyway while he’s glued to his cell and laptop. He’s always available—to everyone but me. Truthfully, I didn’t want to go to Cabo for the holidays. I live in the Sunshine State. I was hoping for something more romantic, like a cabin tucked away in the snowy woods; where dozens of Evergreen trees would catch the snowflakes on their lush branches, and the moonlight would reflect the flakes, making them twinkle like a thousand diamonds. I only had seven good Christmases and the first four didn’t count since I can’t remember them. My mother wasn’t cut out to be a mother. She was selfish and cruel but other times she’s try. Maybe it was all an act, the days she doted on me. But I didn’t care. I was thirsty for her attention and love and I hoarded every second I could get. Maybe that’s why I always fall too soon. Too hard. I’ve never felt completely loved. Ever. And It makes me desperate to know what it would be like.

Sighing, I blow a lock of hair from my face. The only place a Christmas like that exists is in a Hallmark Channel Movie.

I don’t need him.

The orgasms he gives aren’t worth the humiliation of being stood up anymore, I’m especially when my eight-inch vibrator can do the same thing. I’m done coming in second place when I want to be someone’s first place prize.

I park in my spot in the garage and walk up three flights of stairs to my townhouse overlooking the Santa Monica Pier. My mother was and wasn’t a lot of things, but she left me this place and I’m grateful for it. Mama was a real sex kitten well past her cougar expiration date. She was every man’s wet dream when she was young. She loved hard and left them hard. She fell into the world of glitz, glamour, drugs and sex. She was never without cigarettes and champagne. Every photograph of her in my album has her holding both, one in each hand. I’m sure posters of her in a shiny bikini still hang on some old fart’s wall. Mom was a famous model who was in almost every music video in the eighties. But showbiz life burns you out: the sex, the drugs—the men. She tried her hand at acting after she had me and managed to land some B-rated movie roles. She was better actress than she ever got credit for, but no one wanted a has been and by 1989 that’s exactly what she was.

My father could be anyone from a bass guitarist to an executive producer. Exactly who—is anyone’s guess. I’m tempted to order one of those Ancestry DNA kits. But in the end, my finger hovered over the computer one-click away from “the order now” button. Instead, I closed the browser out. Knowing who he is won’t change my past now anyway. My fingernails curl into my palm. But what if he could have made a difference? That question haunted my childhood.

I shudder despite the warm California December air. What if he’s some dud? An eighties rock-star wannabe that just fucked mom at an after-party in Beverly Hills. At least she kept me.

Sighing, I run a hand through my thick hair. My best friend, Jenny, thinks I’m more beautiful than my mother ever was, but for some reason none of the men I’ve dated have panned out into anything serious; something that’s lasted. Jenny’s beautiful herself and married to a famous Hollywood entertainment lawyer. She has a house in Malibu, three kids, and even a god damn golden retriever.

I laugh bitterly at my sorry Charlie Brown Christmas tree sitting in the corner, undecorated; one that I rescued from the dump behind the building.

It looked sad and lonely. Just like me.

Even my three houseplants seem days away from dying. Suddenly, the walls of my spacious apartment start closing in.

I need to get out of here. I’m suffocating despite the ocean air coming through my windows. The first day of my holiday break starts tomorrow. I don’t have to report back into work until January second. I don’t even need to work. My mother was a lot of things—greedy wasn’t one of them. Being a sex goddess in the seventies and eighties paid well. When she died after a long battle with lung cancer a few years back, she left me three million in cash and her house in Beverly Hills which sold for a few million more. But I can’t shop all day. I want to do something fulfilling with my life. I graduated from UCLA with a degree in early childhood education and a master’s in counseling. Shortly, after graduate school, I found a job in Compton working as a school guidance counselor. It’s dangerous. My car’s been jacked twice. But once I earned the trust and respect of the students; they protect me. Well, as much as they can. I wised up and bought an old clinker car to drive to work. I wear thrift shop clothes to school. It can’t hide my inherited beauty, but it hides my wealth. That’s why I enjoyed dressing up for Grant so much. Wearing expensive designer clothes is a luxury that I don’t take for granted. After long, hard days of helping troubled students, I wanted to feel sexy, desirable and forget my stress and worry over the kids in bed, under a sexy as fuck man as he treasures my body with his skillful touch.

Damn.

Grant. Why did he have to take me for granted?

As if on cue, my cell rings.

“Shiloh? Where the hell are you? I drove across the city to meet you and cut my clients short.”

“It’s over. Go fuck yourself tonight, because I won’t be doing it anymore.”

“You don’t mean that baby,” he tries to sound husky and sexy, trying to entice me. He does have a gifted dick, but I’m done with it. I have more self-respect than to give it up to him again.

“Don’t be like this, baby. I’m sorry I got angry at you. Work—”

“I don’t want to hear one word about your damn job, Grant. I hope it keeps you warm at night, since it’s clear you put it first.”

Despite my tough words, I’d be lying if the thought of spending Christmas alone is appealing. Part of me wishes I could spend Christmas cuddled up with Grant. But knowing him, I will end up alone. Dumped again, for some idiot celebrity who overdoses; or some other Hollywood actor who gets drunk and makes a scene on Christmas. Grant wouldn’t even consider me; I’d be left behind in a nanosecond. Work comes before everything in his life.

I cross the wide plank floors to my bedroom, catching my own eyes in the mirror as I slip off my heels. Flopping back on the bed, I facetime Jenny.

“Shiloh? Why aren’t you on your date? He didn’t! Again?”

“He did. And it’s over. I gave him the boot.”

“It’s about time.”

“I know. But it still sucks.”

“I know.”

“What am I doing wrong, Jenny? Am I so unlovable? No one ever wants to keep me?”

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