Authors: Jillian Dodd

Captive Films: Season One (35 page)

I shower at work and put on an all-black suit. Keatyn says I look vicious in all black, and I’m not only feeling vicious, but also hungry and ravenous. I never imagined when I went to talk to Ariela last night that she’d be wearing lingerie.

Or that we’d make love all night long and all morning.

I can’t wait to get there, but I decide last minute to switch cars, driving to my garage space and hopping in the Viper I got on my eighteenth birthday. It’s neon green with black stripes and totally badass, not to mention fast. I don’t drive this car much, just enough to keep it in working order, mostly because it brings back too many memories. Memories of Ariela. Trips we took. Sliding the front seat back as far as it would go so she could sit on my lap when we went parking. Kissing for hours. Loading picnics in the trunk. It seems like the perfect car to drive tonight.

On the way, I pick up the big bouquet of pink peonies I ordered, her favorite flower. The ladies in the shop all swoon over my choice and tell me she’ll love them.

I tell them I just want her to love me.

I’m on top of the freaking world.

I see another car in the long driveway, but don’t think anything of it. I grab the flowers off the passenger seat and practically skip down the path to the guest house.

But when I turn the corner, I see Ariela and a man.

He’s wearing a blue blazer and sliding his hands across her shoulders. Her shoes are dangling from her hand like she didn’t have time to put them back on.

I hear her say something about marriage and know instinctively that man is her husband.

And I know she just slept with him.

Especially when he delicately touches her face then kisses her passionately.

My heart stops beating.

I turn around.

Drop the flowers.

Walk to my car.

Get in.

“Fuck!” I yell, hitting my non-casted fist on my steering wheel and suddenly hating this fucking car.

I look over and see a few pink petals still lying in the passenger seat.

What the hell was I thinking? This is not me. I don't need fucking flowers or fancy dinners to get laid. I just flash a label, a black card, a hundred dollar bill. Girls wait in line.

I peel out of the driveway and grab my phone.

“Dawson!” I say, when he answers. “I need you to get to the airport immediately. Captive business. You’ll be gone over night. Meet me in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes? But I thought—”

“Don’t say it,” I say, using my harshest tone. “Just get there. Now.”

“Shit,” he says. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

Next, I call Knox. “Dude, we’re going to Vegas tonight. Meet me at my plane in twenty.”

“Can I bring Jennifer?”

“This isn't boy scout dance night. This is go to Vegas, get buck wild, get a tattoo, close the strip club down because we paid all the girls to come back to our room—the penthouse with the pool, bowling alley, stripper pole. You remember the one—trash a hotel room, and steal a Bengal tiger kind of night.”

“Hell,” he says, “I barely remember half of what we did that night. Sure, why the fuck not. Hey, wait, I thought you were going on a date with—”

“Don’t fucking say it and don’t ask,” I warn. “Are you really bringing Jennifer?’

“I’m not sure. I need to find out how she feels about strippers.”

“Dude, she's anti-stripper. Every girl who isn't a stripper is anti-stripper.”

“Should I call my guy? Have him hook us up?”

“Absolutely. And, hell, the good news is if we bring Jennifer, we can write the whole fucking thing off. A
Daddy's Angel
contract celebration.”

“You gonna invite Keatyn?”

“No, and don't you fucking tell her. But invite Buckner and Phillips. We’ll get the old crew together.”

“Buckner is married and Phillips came out of the closet.”

“No shit? I watched him do lines of coke off a stripper’s ass. It was the best thing ever. Whatever. We’ll make our own party.”

“Hell yeah, we will. Are you sure you're not mad at me about Jennifer?”

“Nope. I don’t need that shit. We hung out. I let her drive my fucking car. And still no action. If you wanna pretend you’re in high school again, so be it. But I don't need to work that hard to get laid.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, she mentioned that you two hadn’t done it.”

“When did she mention that—wait a minute. Did you screw her already?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Knox fucking Daniels, that's why I love you, you pussy getting dog you.”

“Well, what can I say, she liked it Knox style. What happened with Ariela?”

“You are not allowed to say her name again, ever again. But when I went to pick her up, she was kissing her husband.”

“That bitch!”

“Tell me about it.”

“You do need to fucking party. Vegas, here we come!”