Page 100 of Wanting What's Wrong

Davis chokes on a chuckle grunt. “All we really wanted was to be out of the stifling small towns that raised us.”

I nod. “Small town life doesn’t look all that bad from where I’m sitting.” I cock at eyebrow at a short director that shallremain nameless leading a wideeyes young guy down a hall into the Satan’s den.

It turns out that being actors wasn’t really for us, but we forged a friendship in the hardships of those first years that became a bond that will never break.

He’s had my back in ways no one else will ever know, and I owe him my life. Literally. I admit, I am not great at making friends, but I excel at making enemies. I pissed off the wrong guys bouncing at some white-hot trendy club one night. When I walked to my car at 4 AM, they were waiting, along with a handful of their friends.

Let’s just say, they weren’t there for a friendly fist fight. They had knives and some other firepower. I had two of them down when one got me from behind, the cool steel at my throat as two others grabbed my arms and another pressed the barrel of a gun to my forehead.

It was the all-is-lost fucking moment but in rides Davis. He came from behind, sweeping three of them down with a baseball bat and brass knuckles. From there, I got my footing back and we finished that deal without looking back to see who might not get up again.

From the news the next night, two of the attackers were in intensive care and the others got patched up and sent on their way. That was the end of that, but if not for Davis? I’m sure I wouldn’t be breathing today.

“Fuck, man.” I roll the Cubano in my fingers, the smoke drifting into the thirty feet of open air above while a crew of actress slash model types stare my way, working their way closer. “What have we been doing all these years? All the work, what’s it been for, really?”

Davis swallows, considering me while the group of females toss glances our way, whispering and posing.

“You having an existential crisis, brother?” Davis sniffs, then puffs his cigar, the smoke billowing above his head. “Not likeyou, but you haven’t been like you for a damn minute. I know Lilith was a friend but didn’t think it would hit you this hard.”

“She was a friend.Justa friend. You are the one that put me here. You called in your favor big time, bro.”

He nods as my gut twists, tension behind my eyes sending bolts of pain deep into my skull.

“Yeah, sorry, bro. We were sitting right here when you agreed to the biggest PR marriage of the decade. Now, you’ve got a stepdaughter and a society that sees you as the grieving husband. The long-suffering stepfather. Wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.”

“Fucking right, it wasn’t,” I grunt, but complications aside, it brought me Lennie and showed me something I never dreamed I could have.

Davis set up the marriage with Lilith Sparrow, Lennie’s mom. The beautiful but troubled former shining star of blockbuster Hollywood. Only, she had demons. Oxy and alcohol and whatever else she could get her hands on.

She was getting herself clean, and Davis wanted to revive her career. We sat here at this same table drinking scotch when he called in his favor. I would marry Lilith, all PR, all setup. Stay married for one year. A huge prenup, all details in a contract. He guaranteed it would get her the starring role in the movie of the year, and it did.

She rose like cream after the wedding. She stayed clean-ish for a while. All was right with the world. We settled in together with Lennie, and it felt like family. We were six months in, and Lilith started having trouble breathing. Sixty days later, I stood next to Lennie at her funeral with promises made, a sixteen-year-old to raise, and no fucking idea how to do that.

I’ve kept my distance. I had to. I can’t fucking let her touch me. But lately, she’s been pushing. Brushing against me, touching my hand when I make her morning tea. If she knewwhat those little touches do to me, she’d run into the fucking Hollywood hills and never look back.

She’s nineteen now, and my dick has been hard since the day she became legal. Before that, I don’t know how I kept it together. Probably sheer stubborn will. My mother's voice, the only real grounding force in my life left, always tells me there are some wrongs that can’t be explained away. There are some wrongs, even if no one else knows, will destroy you and those you love.

I rest my cigar in the glass ashtray put here specifically for me. Fuck, smoking isn’t allowed anywhere in fucking California, but it doesn’t apply to me. At least not here. Not tonight. I used to think being the puppet master of Hollywood made me special somehow. Gave me meaning. I was wrong.

I press my fingers into my eye sockets. Where the fuck is Lennie? Ten minutes in this place is a fucking lifetime, and anything could happen. Why did I let down my guard and give her some rope?

I shift forward to stand, adjusting myself because my erection is throbbing, but Davis reaches over and grabs my forearm. “Let her be for ten fucking minutes, man. I get it. I see. You take your responsibility seriously, but she needs to grow up.”

From my vantage point, with Davis across from me, I have a panoramic view of this glass house. I’ve always been hyper-aware of my surroundings. I should have been in the military, but I took a different route.

Motorcycles, classic cars, acting then business. I dabbled in a few organized bike clubs, but the hierarchy and politics always pissed me off. Acting was just more politics and other shit that didn’t feel right. I started representing a few up-and-coming talents and found my niche. I was hella convincing and a hard-ass negotiator. I had an eye for the x-factor, the it-girl or guy for the moment, and those first few solid contracts I landed propelled me to where I am today.

I wasn’t sure what suited me in a bigger way until Lennie tiptoed into my life. I’ve never been in love. Not even close. Not until I let my feelings surface for Lennie when I felt like I wasn’t being a perverted degenerate.

I didn’t meet her until after the set-up wedding was over. That was a fucking mistake. If I had met her before, I never would have gone through with it.

I would have waited for her. Fuck, the waiting has nearly killed me, but I’m nothing, if not a stubborn motherfucker.

Her eighteenth birthday was my coming out party. Before that, I was in a daze.

I catch sight of Lennie’s light blue button-up blouse, her signature black ribbon tied in a bow around the collar. She thinks those khaki pants and blue shirts she wears whenever she leaves the house make her somehow unattractive or invisible. Her curves belong on some old Hollywood pin-up poster, and they’ve become more sinful as time passes.

She takes my fucking breath away. In all my years in this industry, there’s never been a woman more beautiful. Her nearly white-blonde hair with self-cut bangs and a bob, red lips, and pearl-like skin embodies purity. She’s naive and unaware in so many ways. Bubbly one second like a wind-up toy, then click, and she’s all dark poetry with wisdom beyond her years.

---