Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (86 page)

Mark walked up to the hot tub and gave it a little pat.

“This here is my pride and joy. She's beautiful, isn't she? There's a tonne of settings an you can even do little water displays if you want,” he said, before adding, “And I've heard from the ladies that the water jets feel incredible. Wanna give it a try?”

He winked at me and I felt sick.

“No thank you Mark. I mean, it's really nice of you to offer but I'm starting to feel a little queasy,” i said, which wasn't exactly a lie. I clutched my stomach for emphasis. If there was one thing in the world that wasn't sexy it was vomit. That should put him off nicely.

Mark's face fell.

“Oh god, that sucks. Do you need to go to bed or something? I thought we could hang out for a while,” he said, “If you're not in the mood for the hot tub we can watch a movie.”

“That's so kind of you but I think I need to sleep this one off,” I said. Mark badgered me a little more before he finally gave up and showed me to the guest bedroom. I locked the door when he left, just in case.

I got into bed and looked at the ceiling. This had been the worst night of my life. I cried and cried.

Dane

It's funny. People care so much about movie stars in theory, but in practice they don't give a shit. Sure, they want to know about us. They're like vultures picking at every intimate detail of our life that they can get. A broken relationship or a taboo pregnancy is like a jackpot to these people. They live off of our suffering.

I'm not complaining. I get it. I've always gotten it. Movie stars lived privileged existences. We never had to worry about not being able to afford rent or the medical help that we needed. We had teams of expert trainers on hand to make sure we didn't gain weight in the wrong places. Fuck, we even got to skip the line at theme parks most of the time. It was a sweet life in a lot of ways. That didn't meant that there wasn't a price to pay.

People were desperate to know who I was dating and if I'd really settled down or if a bad boy could ever change his stripes. However, after Savannah left and I found myself feeling too depressed to get out of bed in the morning, no one gave a shit. It was fair enough. It was my own damn fault for
not dragging myself out of bed, but my energy was completely drained. My argument with Savannah kept repeating over and over in my head. I kept thinking of what I could have done differently. I kept thinking what I could have done to stop her from leaving with that piece of shit. I tried to push the thought of the two of them together out of my mind, but it kept cropping up. I even dreamed about it for fuck's sake. I was

receiving some sort of prestigious award for being the best actor in the universe or some shit like that. Savannah was presenting it to me, wearing a sparkly evening gown and red lipstick. Her smile was so big that I knew she was proud of me. I felt proud too. I'd done something good. Then that son of a bitch appeared from nowhere and grabbed her. He was touching her and kissing her and I could do fuck all about it. I sank into the ground, trying to shout but I couldn't make a sound. It was hell.

I'd lost track of the days now but I could tell by the impressive scruff that was growing on my face that it'd been almost a week since I'd seen her. The only times I'd bothered to get up was to make myself some ramen or to bathe.

My phone was ringing off the hook and I had plenty of people knocking at my door, but I ignored them all. I just couldn't face that shit right now.

I was just heating up some leftover noodles one evening when the doorbell rang again. Once again, I chose to ignore it. It was probably Craig, calling to tell me that I hadn't been photographed chasing enough tail lately so the magazines were starting to say I was gay. Whatever. They could say whatever shit they wanted about me and it didn't matter. I didn't feel like being a movie star today. This caller was oddly persistent, however. When they didn't get an answer, they rang again. And again. And again. They knocked too, so hard that their knuckles must have been in immense pain. Jesus Christ, what was with the desperation?

My heart began to beat faster and I wondered if it was Savannah. Could she really have come back? No, of course not. She was as stubborn as a mule. There was no way she'd come back to me after I'd hurt her like that. I didn't blame her to be honest. But then, who was at the door? Craig didn't have the patience for this shit. I glanced at the clock. The person had been knocking for over forty
minutes. Maybe I should see who it was.

At least if it was a crazed fan it might lighten up my day. I could show them the state of my beard and my ratty pajamas and dash all of their hopes of what their favorite movie star would be like in person. I was great at doing that. Maybe if I was really lucky they'd murder me and someone would make an award winning documentary about it. That would be a cool legacy to leave behind. Just as long as Mark didn't direct it.

I answered the door and even though I'd prepared myself for disappointment, my heart sank just a little when Savannah wasn't standing there. At least it wasn't Craig. It was in fact Chrissy, dressed down in sweatpants and a hoodie. Not exactly the glamorous attire most people were used to seeing her in. I couldn't blame her for dressing down. Having to be beautiful at all times couldn't have been easy.

“Thanks for finally answering,” she said. Then she took a double take at the sight of me, “Jesus Christ, you look rough! The beard looks awful on you!”

She forced her way into the house before I could close the door on her. I didn't need her coming in and yelling at me about how awful I looked, but it was better than being alone.

“Nice to see you too, Chrissy,” I said, “What do you want?”

Chrissy wouldn't even talk to me properly. Instead, she dragged me upstairs to the bathroom and forced me to shave my face. She even made me have a shower though I told her that I'd had one already today.

“I don't care,” she said, “You need to freshen up. I'll wait downstairs. You better not come down in your underwear by the way! I expect you to be fully dressed. Then we'll talk.”

I wasn't one to take orders (maybe that was why so many directors hated me) but Chrissy had a way with words. I showered, shaved and threw on a fresh t-shirt and jeans. By the time I joined her in the living room I was feeling marginally better.

She smiled when she saw me.

“Now, isn't that much better? You look great,” she patted the spot next to her on the sofa, “Sit with
me.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. My tone wasn't aggressive. I was only realizing now how much I missed having company. If that company couldn't be Savannah then Chrissy would have to do. “Because I'm worried about you. No ones seen or heard from you in forever and everyone's worried. The tabloids are saying you have a drug problem,” she said. I rolled my eyes. She should know better than to believe that.

“It's bullshit,” I said. Chrissy nodded.

“I know. At least if you were on drugs there would be an explanation for all this. Why are you hiding yourself away? You didn't come to that premiere the other night for that new movie about the robots. The director was talking about putting you in the sequel and everything. It's not like you to miss an opportunity like that,” she paused and looked me right in the eye, “It's that girl, isn't it? The pretty blonde girl? She's the reason you punched Mark in the face and she's the reason you're acting this way. It's obvious.”

“That's bullshit,” I said, but Chrissy knew me too well.

“Mmm hmm. You just decided to knock a guy's lights out for no reason, right? Come on, we both know that's not true. It's OK to admit you have feelings for her,” she said. I hated that expression. I hated how accurate it was. Savannah gave me so many feelings, so many crazy, contradictory feelings that I couldn't even think straight when it came to her. I had feelings for her all right, and I hated it. I wanted to go back to being the cold, snarky bastard I'd always prided myself on being. The old Dane Reynolds didn't have feelings for anyone. He got what he wanted and moved on with his life. That strategy had always worked for me. Things only started to get bad when I messed with it.

“I don't feel anything towards her. We were just fuck buddies,” I lied. It was the only way to get Chrissy off of my case. It didn't work anyway. She saw right through me.

“You love her, don't you?”

“Please don't,” I said. Thankfully, Chrissy didn't push me. I think she was afraid that I might

actually have a break down if she did. Who knows, maybe I would have. I wasn't feeling like myself at all.

“Look, whatever the issue is, you can't lock yourself away like this. Well, technically you can but you shouldn't. Just because you don't have to worry about money doesn't meant that you shouldn't do anything with your life. You need to be out having fun and networking! You're at the peak of your career, honey, but things can get even better for you if you make the effort. You can't let some girl ruin this for you,” she said.

“It's not a girl,” I said, but Chrissy didn't care. She just continued with her spiel.

“Do you realize how many guys would kill to be in your position? You can do anything you want! Wanna start a music career? Record labels will be lining up down the block to represent you. Feel like doing an art show? Any gallery would be happy to display your work, even if it's complete garbage. Fuck, you could even start a fashion line if you wanted to. Lots of famous people have done it,” she said, “I would but I'm not super creative and I don't like the idea of slapping my name on something I didn't do.”

“Savannah's a designer,” I said quietly. I shouldn't have been surprised when this piqued Chrissy's interest.

“Really? That's cool. Do you have any samples of her work?” she asked. During our lazy afternoons Savannah and I would have sex in my bedroom or maybe the living room. Afterwards I'd watch some TV or read a book while she drew evening gown designs. I didn't know a thing about fashion but even I knew that they were good. I loved hearing her describe how she'd make them too. Though I didn't understand the technical jargon it was really sweet to hear how passionate she was. It made me fall for her even more.

“I have some drawings around the place. You can look at them if you want,” I said.

“I'd like that,” said Chrissy. Then she shook her head pityingly, “My god Dane, you really love this girl.”

“Stop saying that.”

“All right. But just because I'm not saying it doesn't mean it's not true. You're crazy about her, that much is obvious to me. It's sweet, but I hate seeing you so cut up about it. She's just a girl,” said Chrissy. That was what cemented it for me. Chrissy didn't understand at all. Savannah was so much more than just a girl. The 'plenty of fish in the sea' argument didn't apply here. She was too beautiful, too clever, to perfect to be replaced.

“You don't get it,” I said, “This girl is perfect. She's beautiful and so bitchy, not afraid to disagree with me on anything. She doesn't care that I'm a movie star. If she thinks I'm being an idiot she'll tell me.”

“Ah, that's always refreshing,” said Chrissy, nodding understandingly.

“Yeah, it really is. She looks great in my shirts and she has the cutest little laugh. She blushes really easily so teasing her is a lot of fun. She's smart too, a lot smarter than me but I'll never tell her that,” I said. Chrissy was grinning at me now, obviously trying to suppress a giggle, “Do you think this is karma coming back to bite me from all the years I spent fucking girls over?”

Chrissy nodded.

“Without a doubt. That doesn't mean you can't get her back,” she said. I leaned forward, intrigued. I was sure that Chrissy would just spew some problem page advice that didn't apply to my situation at all, but even if she did I wanted to hear it. Any chance of being reunited with Savannah, even if it was only for a day would be worth taking.

“How can I get her back?” I asked. Chrissy laughed.

“Jesus, you really are a changed man aren't you? Why couldn't you have been like this when we were screwing around?” she asked. I didn't even crack a smile.

“How can I get her back?” I asked.

“Get me her sketches,” said Chrissy. For once in my life, I did what I was told without arguing. If this could help me win her back then I was on it. I just hoped that whatever it was that Chrissy was planning would be enough.

It would take a lot.

Savannah

I quickly found a way to pay Mark rent that didn't have anything to do with money or sex. Well, for the most part. A few sacrifices to my dignity had to be made, but nothing major. He didn't insert anything into me and I didn't have to put my mouth or hands on any of his body parts. It was a fair deal.

It was a good thing that I came up with the idea soon because it soon became clear that the sick excuse wasn't going to work for long. Mark's boner for me was persistent and patient. He attempted to seduce me at every chance he got for the first few days until I thought of something to distract him. It wasn't that difficult. I knew men and I knew how they worked. I had to appeal to his ego (which, as a director was rather sizable to begin with). So I suggested we make a film together.

I dropped it into conversation when he cornered me in his home made movie theater and was about to kiss me.

“A film?” he pulled away, “I thought you didn't act?”

“I don't. Well, I didn't. But I was thinking that maybe our film won't need much acting, just like you said. It could be more arty and surreal,” I said. Mark nodded thoughtfully.

“I like it. It could be a character study filmed around the house with some real soft focus. We could play up your ethereal look and make you look like a fairy or an angel -no tacky ass wings, but maybe a flower crown? And a slightly erotic undertone?” he said. I could quickly see the direction his mental boner was pointing in turning from me to the film.

“Sure, that sounds cool,” I said, but 'erotic undertone' made me nervous. Still, if it was what it took to let me stay here I might as well do it. I decided to push my luck a bit, “I could design the costumes?”