Captive Films: Season One (4 page)

“What’s with young girls calling us old guys daddy?”

“Speak for yourself. You’re in your thirties, you
could
be her daddy.”

“It made him go limp,” Keatyn says, grinning.
 

“Oh, wow, that sucks. Can’t say I’ve ever suffered from that problem,” Knox confides. “Unless I was too drunk. And if that was the case, I didn’t really care much.”

“I’m going to go rescue her from making a fool out of herself,” I say, heading toward the bar.

“Let’s just have whatever they’re serving, Shelby. I’m sure it will be to your liking.”

She pouts but then says, “Fine.”
 

Once she has a champagne flute in her hand, she quickly chugs it, then leads me back to the coat closet, where she gets on her knees and tells me just how sorry she is about this afternoon.
 

With her lips.
 

And, damn, if I don’t enjoy it.

Friday, September 26th

Collin & Ariela’s residence - Connecticut

ARIELA

“We have drinks with the Pattersons at five. Don't be late this time,” my husband tells me before he leaves for work.

“Collin, I have an appointment with a new client at three-thirty. I'll do my best.”
 

He grabs my arm as I walk past him. “Quit. You don't need to work.”

“I like my job.”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a wife who works? It makes me look like I'm not successful enough. You should be having lunch, volunteering, and taking care of our kids.”

“We don't have kids,” I reply with a sigh. This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation.

“Kind of hard to have kids when your wife is frigid.”

“Kind of hard to be attracted to your husband when he's sleeping with his secretary,” I say under my breath.

“What did you say?”
 

“You heard me. I know. About
all
of them.”

He pushes me against the wall and pins my arms, his face turning red with anger.

“Don't you fucking say that. I love you,” he says, forcing his lips against mine.
 

I want to throw up.
 

I push him away. “Stop it.”
 

“You better get your shit together, Ariela. Your dad wants us at their country house next weekend with a bunch of clients.
And
their wives.”

“You're going to be late for work,” I say, changing the subject and knowing that will get him out of the house. If Collin is nothing else, he is punctual.

“You better be on time,” he threatens. “You don't want to piss me off.”

“I will be,” I say softly. He's right. I don't want to piss him off. It’s easier to do what he wants. Go through the motions.
 

He smiles, kisses my cheek sweetly, grabs his briefcase, and walks out the door.
 

As soon as I hear the garage door shut, I slide to the floor and cry.
 

How did my life come to this?

The sad thing is, I know the answer.
 

Because I let it.
 

I stop crying and pull myself together, getting up and taking a quick peek in the hall mirror to check my makeup. The girl staring back at me is almost a stranger.
 

My eyes have lost their zest for life. My hair is pulled back into a bun because Collin says it makes me look more proper. My shoulder bones are sticking out because I don't care if I eat.
 

Food has lost its taste.
 

No, life has lost its taste.
 

I grab my handbag off the counter. Today's choice is a classic Chanel bag. Collin bought it for me. I was excited when I unwrapped it, thinking how sweet it was that he bought it for no reason. But, later, I overheard him telling my dad he got it because someone else's wife had one.
 

He'd already bought himself a Mercedes, an expensive watch, and a summer home in Palm Beach. This bag was just another way to show his status.
 

And, to Collin, a perfect wife who doesn’t work is just another status symbol.
 

I set the alarm, get in my Range Rover, and head to my first appointment with a woman who doesn't like to be kept waiting.
 

I roll into the flower shop with two minutes to spare.

“You're late,” my mother says, kissing me on the cheek.

“Nice to see you too, Mom.”
 

She waves her hand at me and gives me a hug. “I love you even when you make me wait.”

“Maybe you shouldn't tell someone to meet you at nine when you really want them to meet you earlier.”

“You look thin,” she says, ignoring my comment, her brows furrowing. “Are you feeling okay?”
 

“I’m fine, Mom,” I say, putting on a smile. “Let's find you the perfect flowers for the event.”

She pulls me aside. “You also look like you've been crying. Your eyes are puffy.”

“Collin and I got into a stupid argument this morning.”

“What about?”
 

“Same as usual. He wants me to quit work.”
 

“Me too. I need some grandchildren. You've been married for six years. Don't you think it's time?”

“I’m not sure I want to stay married to Collin,” I say, shocking myself for finally admitting the truth.

“But you and Collin are the perfect couple. He treats you so well, lavishing you with gifts. Your father is about to make him a partner.”

“I’m pretty sure he's cheating on me, Mom.”

My mother rolls her eyes and leads me to a bench outside.
 

“Darling, powerful men like to have an occasional liaison. It doesn't mean they don't love you. Don't let that affect your beautiful marriage.”

I can't contain my shock. “You sound like you're speaking from experience, Mom.”

She takes my hand and pats it. “A man like Collin is never going to be faithful, but that doesn't mean he can't be a good husband and provider.” She laughs. “Why do you think all the tennis pros at the club are so good-looking? Why do you think I had a personal trainer for years?”

“You have
liaisons
too?”

“Well, of course, dear. It's only fair.”

My head feels like it's going to explode. I didn't sign up for this when I said I do. Actually, I wouldn't have said I do if my dad hadn’t practically dragged me down the aisle.
 

“We better not keep Diane waiting too long, if we want the best flowers,” I tell her. I can’t deal with this right now. And I know my mom, she won’t stand for my questioning her about it.
 

I take my mother back into the floral shop and expertly guide her into making the right floral choices for the political fundraiser she's hosting in a few weeks. I’ve had everything else planned for months.
 

After I walk her to her car, she says, “You are such a talented event planner. There are so many worthy charities that could use your help.”

“I love my job, Mom.”

“I know you do. I just meant . . .”

“I know, and thank you.”

As she pulls away, I walk across the street to a coffee shop, wishing it were a bar.
 

Everything I thought about my parents’ relationship was wrong.

I married Collin because my dad told me I’d have a good life, like he and mom had.
 

I shut my eyes tightly, realizing that’s exactly what I got.

A husband who has liaisons.
 

I know everyone has to choose what kind of a relationship works for them and I can’t deny it seems to work for my parents, but I know this.

It won’t work for me.

I order a cup of coffee and jokingly ask the cute barista if he could throw in a shot of rum.
 

He laughs, takes my money, and hands my cup off.
 

I plop down on a couch, trying to wrap my head around my mother’s confession. My eyes blur as I stare at the coffee table in front of me, not really seeing the newspapers and magazines piled on it.

Until something catches my eye.

A cover.
 

A photo.

A headline.
 

Captive Films: Exclusive interview with Keatyn Douglas and Riley Johnson.
 

It's not unusual to see Keatyn on a magazine cover. She graced six in our senior year alone.
 

But, to my knowledge, Riley has never been on one with her.

I gently touch his handsome face then quickly flip the pages to find the interview.
 

Exclusive Interview:
 

Captive Films’ Keatyn Douglas and Riley Johnson

“Keatyn, tell us how Captive Films got its start.”

“Our first project was a remake of
A Day at the Lake
, starring Luke Sander as Vince, myself as Lacy, and Jake Worth as my boyfriend, Matt.”

“That movie was a box office hit. And you were both how old at the time?”

“Almost eighteen,” Riley says. “We filmed it over our summer break.”

“How did you come up with the name Captive Films?”

Sexy Riley rubs the scruff on his face and says, “It was a nod to both holding our audiences captive and how we met.”

“How you met?”

They share an inside joke, then Keatyn says, “You’ll just have to see the movie.”

So there it is, folks. Go see the trilogy that’s taking box offices around the world by storm.

I look at the other photos of them. Riley looks good.
 

There were a lot of good-looking boys at Eastbrooke, but Riley was just so much more.
 

And I was madly in love with him.

Maybe it's not all Collin’s fault that our relationship sucks. I've never given him my whole heart.
 

I'm scouring the captions when there's a tap on my shoulder.
 

I look up to see the guy who took my order with a cup in his hand.
 

“We called your name like four times.” He sets the cup down and gives me a boyish grin. “Mind if I join you?” As he’s sitting down, he extends his hand. “My name’s Riley.”

“What!?”

“I said my name’s Kyle. Are you okay?”

I smile, trying to pretend that I’m not rattled. “I’m, um, having a rough morning. Haven't had my coffee yet.” I grab my cup and take a drink.
 

“It's almost lunchtime,” he says. “You free?”

“For lunch?”

“Yeah, at my place.”

“Are you hitting on me?”
 

He grins. It's a naughty grin and reminds me of the one Riley used to give me before he'd lead me to the furry rug at Stocktons, our secret hangout at boarding school.
 

“Just how old are you?” I ask.

“Nineteen. Age doesn’t matter. I think you're hot.”

I blush.
 

And it feels good.
 

“I’m married,” I reply, looking down at the clearly visible four carat diamond on my hand.
 

“I don't want to marry you.” He leans closer, causing an irresistible smell of coffee and musk to invade my senses. “I just want to fuck you. Over and over,” he adds for good measure, sliding his hand across my knee.
 

I look into his big brown eyes, full of desire.
 

I haven't felt desired in a long time. Sex with Collin has become perfunctory.
 

I swallow hard and take another sip of coffee, actually considering it.
 

I need to feel wanted, lusted after.
 

“First thing I'm gonna do is undo that bun. I bet you have gorgeous hair. May I?”

“Uh huh,” I say as he reaches around me, his mouth so close that his lips brush mine.
 

I’m looking at Kyle but, instead, I’m seeing Riley in front of me, shirtless, telling me he couldn't wait to undo the bun I had been wearing for parents’ weekend.
 

I feel my hair cascade down my shoulders. It's freeing.
 

“Oh, Riley,” I say out loud.
 

“My name is Kyle, but you can call me whatever you want. Finish your coffee and let's go.”

I smile at Kyle, grab his cheeks, and kiss him straight on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Uh, for what?”

“For making me remember what it feels like to be desired.”