FADE INTO ALWAYS

Part Three of the FADE series

KATE DAWES

Copyright © 2012 by Kate Dawes

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

~~~

ONE

Max called me a “dream girl.”

What was I supposed to say after that? Nothing, I hope, because I couldn’t have said anything at that moment even if I’d wanted to. There was no buildup to the crying outburst. It just happened suddenly.

Through my sobs I could hear him saying, “Let me come get you.”

I managed to say “Okay,” and he told me he was on his way.

I went to see if Krystal was around, to let her know Max was coming over and I was glad to find that she had gone out. I really wanted the place to myself rather than being locked up in my bedroom.

What was I going to say to him? What was he going to say to me? My mind raced with the possibilities. Should I tell him I was falling in love with him? Was it too much too soon, and would it scare him off?

I sat on the couch and flipped through the screenplay again. Reading the two main characters’ dialogue was like listening to them. That’s how good a writer Max was. And I could really understand why he loved it so much. He was born to do this.

There were some scenes throughout the writing that made me wonder if they were based on actual events or conversations, or if he’d made them up. If they were real, my heart would break for him. Even if they weren’t, they had still come from his mind, and so somewhere deep in his psyche—or maybe not so deep—resided all this pain. But also an intense desire to douse the flames of his past and move on to something just as beautiful as he’d conjured up on the page.

For a split second I thought it might be Krystal at the door, but then I remembered giving Max a key several days ago. He’d refused at first, saying he felt like it breached some kind of personal space that I was entitled to, and that he’d never just come and go as he pleased, but I told him that’s what I wanted.

The door opened and as he was turning to close it, I stood from the couch and made my way over to him. Probably too quickly. Too eagerly is more like it.

Max turned and took me in his arms. He tried to just hug me, but I forced my face to his and took his mouth hungrily. He met my advances with equal enthusiasm, and we stood there kissing for what must have been two minutes.

When things slowed down he said, “Let’s sit. I want to tell you everything.”

I shook my head. “No. Not now.”

I grabbed his hand and started heading for the steps, up to my bedroom, where I closed the door behind us, stepped toward Max and pushed his chest, sending him falling backward onto the bed.

“No talking,” I said, climbing up on the bed and straddling him.

I pulled his shirt up, revealing his stomach and chest, and licked—from his abs, upward, running my tongue around each of his nipples.

I slid one hand behind his back and beneath his belt, into his pants, cupping his ass.

If he had any trouble with me taking such forceful charge, he wasn’t showing the slightest bit of a clue.

I wanted to ravish him. Take him as mine. Have him the way he’d had me so many times.

Pressing myself into him, I felt him getting hard—my panties and his jeans were barriers, but still I felt the full effect of what I was doing to him. And as long as he kept letting me have my way with him, it wouldn’t be long until there was nothing between us….

“These need to come off,” I said, sitting up and unbuckling his belt. I moved off the bed, pulled his shoes off and yanked his pants down—along with his boxers. He was fully hard and I wasted no time moving back on top of him, pulling my panties off just before straddling him again.

I pressed my mouth to his and my tongue dove into his mouth. I rocked my hips, my wet pussy sliding along his rigid length. I got into a rhythm that could easily have made me come, and I kept going. Teasing him, gliding my warmth back and forth on him.

I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head, then unhooked my bra and tossed it aside. I leaned over his face, my breasts there for him to take.

And he did. Max’s tongue touched one of my nipples and a shiver of excitement zapped through my body.

Max was sucking on my nipples, hard, switching back and forth. He pressed into my breast and I watched as my flesh enveloped his face. Sometimes I hated having big boobs, but the way Max responded to them made all the annoyances somehow worth it.

He dropped his head back on the pillow. “I can’t wait anymore.”

I wanted to tease him longer, but the truth was that I couldn’t wait anymore either.

I slid along his cock until I felt the head notch against my opening. Max felt it, too, and moved his hips, pushing the head into me as I eased back and let it slide in.

“Fuck, Olivia,” Max hissed.

“That’s what you’re doing,” I said. “You’re fucking Olivia.”

My words caused him to thrust upward, his cock inside me to the hilt. I gyrated my hips around in circles, taking him in as deep and snug as I could get him.

I loved driving him crazy. Watching the way his eyes narrowed. The way he breathed with an open mouth. The way his nostrils flared. The way he arched his back and tilted his head back as he drove into me from below.

I sat straight up and felt him as deep as I’d ever felt him.

Max reached up with both hands and cupped my breasts in his hands, then tweaked my nipples simultaneously with his thumbs and fingertips.

I rocked back and forth on him, then moved my legs so I was squatting over him. Max put his hands under my thighs to give me some support…and I started bouncing on his cock.

He looked down his body and watched me slide up and down on it. Watched himself disappearing inside me. Watch me taking his long shaft deep into my body.

He was gritting his teeth, and bearing them—animalistic—and I loved seeing the effect I was having on him.

“Slow down,” he said hoarsely.

“You gonna come?”

“Yes. Slow down,” he said, his voice deeper, commanding.

But I didn’t take his order. “You can’t make me. It’s my turn to control you. Just this once…”

And with that he threw his head back onto the pillow, thrust his hips up forcefully, and held them there.

I felt his semen pumping into me. The hot slickness making my bouncing feel even better for me, and I felt the first quiver inside.

“Oh yeah,” he groaned, feeling me clenching and milking him. “Come for me.”

“I’m coming…”

TWO

“Jump in and ask me anything you want,” Max said. “But let me start talking.”

We were in the kitchen, sitting at the table, eating apple slices, and cheese on sesame crackers. It was pretty much all I had there, but it was a great late-night snack. Max, as usual, was famished after sex. I had a glass of wine, and Max made himself a White Russian. I’d started keeping the ingredients there for him.

“Go ahead,” I said.

He told me all about Liza Carrow and how he had come to have his picture snapped by the paparazzi the other day.

Yes, they dated a few years ago. No, it wasn’t serious. It lasted a short time, and this was before she had landed the role on the soap opera.

I had a heavy, sinking feeling in my stomach as he told me this. Sure, I’d dated before Max and of course he’d dated before me. That was a given. But it was difficult listening to him talk about it now that my feelings for him were becoming so strong. For a few minutes I struggled to wipe my imagination clean of the images of Max fucking her.

Despite the turmoil in my stomach, I drank more wine, and a little more rapidly.

“I didn’t love her,” he said.

That’s the kind of thing someone usually says when they’re denying having the same feelings for someone else that they have for you. Was Max telling me something? If he was, I wished he’d just say it.

He continued: “But I won’t say I didn’t care about her. I still do.”

Oh, God…

“But not in the same way that I used to,” he went on. “When she called and asked if I would have lunch with her, she told me it was important, and that she really needed to talk to someone she could trust. She said she’d run out of options.”

Max took a sip of his White Russian, then reached for another slice of apple.

“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone. So I told her I’d meet her for lunch. We weren’t there long. We actually only had our drinks and an appetizer. The picture you saw was us leaving after only being in there for maybe twenty minutes or so.”

“Why so short?”

Max finished the last sip from his glass. “She told me she doesn’t know who the father of the baby is.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Could be any one of four or five guys.”

I had a piece of cheese in my mouth but managed to say, “Nice.”

Max sighed and looked at me with a grin. His eyebrows rose a little on his forehead. It was the kind of look someone gives you like they’re warning you: Here comes the crazy part.

“She asked me to say I’m the father.”

“Oh, shit.”

“But I’m not.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I kind of had that figured out already.”

Max smiled. “I’m glad you decided to trust me. I told her no, of course.” He poured more wine in my glass, and got up to fix himself another drink.

“She really thought you’d do it?”

“She’s desperate,” Max said.

Liza told him she didn’t want to face the media scrutiny of not knowing who the father was. And she said there was no way she was going to start a tabloid frenzy by getting the guys she’d slept with to take paternity tests.

“So,” Max said, “I told her it doesn’t matter who the father is. If someone asks, she should just say it’s private and she’s never going to reveal it. That it’s something she’ll only discuss with her child when the time is right. Oh, and I told her she needed to deny it was me. Not that I’ll be in the story for very long. It’s really about her. I just got stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time, and someone happened to know we had dated at some point.”

“But that was before she was famous, right?”

Max smiled. “You’re so smart. That’s one of the things I love about you. I know where you were going with that question, and yeah, I think she might have leaked the lie.”

“What a bitch.”

Max ate.

I sat there thinking not about what we were talking about, so much as what he’d just said: That’s one of the things I love about you. One of the things? What else was there? And did he love me?

THREE

Sunday morning, lying in bed, we talked in depth about the script. Max wanted to know what I really thought of it.

“I told you, I love it.”

“You wouldn’t change anything about it?”

I paused, and that was my downfall.

Max said, “Tell me. It’s okay. I have a thick skin when it comes to my work.”

“Well,” I started, then trailed off…

He had been lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, but he turned toward me and propped his head up in his hand. “Tell me, Olivia.”

So I told him.

I loved the characters and I loved what he did with them. But there was one aspect of the girl’s reaction at a certain point in the story that I thought would work better if he changed it just a little. It wouldn’t throw the storyline off the rails, but it would add another dimension to the girl, making her motives and hopes and dreams more vivid.

Max rolled over and turned away from me. “I can’t believe you said that. You think my writing sucks. Way to destroy my confidence.”

I moved quickly and grabbed on to his shoulder, turning him back toward me. He had a big smile on his face.

“I’m just kidding,” he said.

I smacked his chest. “Jerk.”

“So now we’re committing domestic violence.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “And if you fuck with me like that again, it’ll be worse.” I reached down and grabbed his balls.

He chuckled. “Seriously, though, what you said about the script hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“Well, you’re not a woman. But you did a pretty good job with her, otherwise.”

He leaned in to kiss me and when he pulled away I said, “So you see me like you see that character when you wrote her?”

Max nodded. “Weird, huh?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I’ve never believed in fate,” he said. “But honestly, when I was writing that—specifically her character—it was different from all the other things I’d ever written before. Or since, actually. I’ve always had to work on characters for a long time, getting them right, changing things about them. But she was different. She just…came to me…out of nowhere, already perfect.”

I looked up at him.

He kissed me again. “Just like you.”

Later, as we were getting ready to leave to go out on Max’s boat, Krystal came barreling through the front door, looking a little crazed and acting extremely hyper.

She hugged Max, which was odd. Then she started talking rapidly about his movies and how much she loved all of them.

Max was gracious. He either wasn’t freaked out by her tornado-like behavior, or he was hiding it really well.

I asked Krystal if she had a cooler.

“Yeah, but it’s on the back porch and it’s filthy. I’ll wash it for you guys!” She was bizarrely excited about the offer.

“We’ll just get one at the store,” Max said. “Don’t go to that trouble.”

Krystal looked at me and placed her hand on Max’s shoulder. “This guy is amazing, girl!”

I was getting embarrassed for her. She was on something, no doubt. A total trainwreck. Sad.

She asked what we had planned that day, and then said she’d been up all night so she was going to try to get some sleep. I held back from saying that sounded like a great idea, and that maybe she needed to sleep for about a month or so.

When she was gone Max said, “Coke.”

“I was thinking something like that.”

We were headed out the door when he said, “So, when do I get to see her DVD?”

I knew he was joking so I hit him back with, “Maybe you and I should just make our own.”

“Don’t tempt me, Olivia.”

“Aren’t there sharks out here?” I asked Max, as we sat on the stern of his boat, getting ready to swim in the Pacific Ocean. We were a mile or so offshore. The water was calm, but all I could think of was how deep it was and all the creatures below the surface.

“Yep,” he said.

“So…why are we doing this again?”

He reached around to my back and untied my bikini top. “It’s just one of my ways of getting you naked.”

“There are plenty of ways for you to do that without making me shark food.”

We were about to skinny-dip. My first time ever.

Max chuckled. “It’s going to be fine. Really. California sharks mostly go for blonde girls, anyway.”

I watched him toss my bikini top on one of the cushioned seats. “I didn’t know you were an expert in marine biology.”

“You’re feisty today,” he said, slipping his fingers under my bikini bottoms. “I like it.” He knelt before me and lowered the bottoms. “I like this too.” He kissed me once between the legs.

“Excuse me, but why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Max remedied the situation by dropping his swim trunks.

I laughed.

Max looked down at himself, then back up at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He grabbed me. “No, you laughed. What’s so funny?”

We were both laughing now. “Your tan lines.” I laughed, unable to get more words out.

He picked me up as if he were going to toss me into the ocean. I screamed and held on to him tightly.

“Relax,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

We got into the water and my heart raced. I’d never been in water this deep before, and while I was undeniably nervous about it, having Max there made me feel safe.

“Don’t splash,” he said. “That’s what brings the Great Whites.”

Okay, maybe not so safe.

I swam toward him and he took me in his arms. I wrapped mine around his neck. He treaded water for the both of us, holding me up, and I marveled at his strength.

The water lapped at our shoulders and necks. Max gave me a salty kiss, but I didn’t care if I swallowed a gallon of the Pacific’s water.

Later, out in the bright sunshine of the open sea, Max and I oiled each other up with suntan lotion. All that touching didn’t lend itself to a relaxing time lying on towels and soaking up rays.

We ended up fucking on the bow of the boat, our bodies slipping and sliding against each other as Max filled me and thrilled me as though it was our first time.

I talked to Mom and Dad early Sunday evening after getting back home, and they told me they were considering coming out for a visit in two weeks. I wasn’t expecting it to be that soon, and I started to mentally prepare for how I would handle the issues of Krystal and Max.

If they saw Krystal in the current shape she was in, it would just give them more ammunition in their war against me being in LA. If they found out about Max, they were likely to kidnap me and haul me off to some institution to have my mind reprogrammed.

Okay, maybe I was being a bit drastic in my worrying. But I really did need to find a way to minimize their interaction with Krystal. As for Max, I would simply tell him I wasn’t ready for him to meet my parents, what with our relationship being so new and all, and it would be easy to keep that part of my new life hidden. For now, anyway.

FOUR

Boring week. That is, until Thursday, when I got yet another call from our soon-to-be movie star client, Jacqueline Mathers. Based on all of my previous interactions with her, I thought for sure she was calling to demand another perk. But she wasn’t.

“I saw Max Dalton’s picture with that woman.”

Ah, shit. Not this. She had no idea I was involved with Max, so I had to hide my frustration as she asked me if I believed the denial from Liza Carrow.

“I do,” I said.

“I don’t. I keep hearing from other actresses that he has a casting couch that’s pretty worn out.”

She wasn’t the first person in town to say that about him. Krystal’s friends had been the first at that party a few weeks back. That was when I had my doubts about Max. But no more. I knew who he was, even if no one else did.

“I really don’t know,” I said. “It’s never come up in business meetings with him.” There. I tried some mild snark. Maybe she’d drop it.

“As long as I don’t have to do that. I mean, I already have the part, so he’s not expecting anything, right?”

It was a good thing we were on the phone and I could freely roll my eyes. “Jacqueline, don’t worry. It’s not going to happen.”

It was an odd conversation, to say the least. Not only because of the content itself, but also because I found myself on the verge of defending him like a girlfriend would. I mean, without the cursing and hanging-up on her part.

I kept my cool, changed the subject, and soon we were discussing scheduling and other details of the upcoming shoot.

After our call, I went in to tell Kevin about it. He laughed and said, “She’s going to be a handful to deal with.”

“Already is.”

He was reading something on his iPad and I had a brief flashback of him showing me the screen with that picture of Max and Liza in the tabloid rag.

Kevin said, “Let’s close up early and go have a cocktail.”

It was just after 4pm. Kevin’s suggestion was odd. He’d never asked me to go have a drink with him before, but when the boss wants to shut down and unwind, what can you do?

I figured it might be a good opportunity to pick his brain. I’d been learning a lot in the relatively short time I’d been working for him, but I knew there was so much more to absorb.

We went to an Irish pub around the corner. There was nothing authentically Irish about it beyond the name and the décor. I was beginning to notice that everything in LA was fake: the tans, the hair, the boobs, and even the restaurants. All made for show. No substance. But this was the life I’d chosen and I would learn to fit in.

Kevin ordered a martini, and I had a glass of wine. In the time it took me to nurse my drink to the last drop, Kevin had finished the martini, moved on to a straight Beefeater on the rocks, and was almost done with a second one.

He was getting looser in his story-telling, and I sat in rapt attention listening to the gossip he had inside his head but had never even hinted at. Maybe he was beginning to really trust me as an employee, and maybe this meant I was being formally welcomed as a long-term member of his team.

Oh, what he had in store for the agency! Kevin was extremely ambitious, and when he spoke of where he wanted to see the agency in ten or fifteen years, I believed with every confident word he spoke that he would indeed succeed and see his dreams come to fruition.

I declined a second glass of wine when he asked if I’d like another.

“Come on,” he said, “you’re with the boss. I won’t care if you’re a little late tomorrow.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

He lifted his tumbler and threw back the rest of his gin. “You wouldn’t turn down a second glass from Max, would you?”

I just looked at him. Awkard.

He put his hand on my bare knee, and I suddenly wished like hell that I’d worn pants that day. “Let’s get out of here.” He squeezed a little and started to slide his hand up my thigh.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said, moving off my chair at the bar table. “Are you okay to drive home?”

Kevin stood and moved toward me. “Olivia, I’ve kept this out of the office but here…I can’t help myself.”

Ugh. Just what I wanted to hear from my boss. To think just minutes ago I was letting my imagination run wild with a bright future in the business and Kevin as my mentor. So much for that.

“I think you need to call a cab when you leave. Bye, Kevin.”

I got out of there quickly and as I got to my car he was jogging toward me. Shit.

“Wait,” he said. “I just thought…you know…”

“What?” And then it hit me. “Oh my God. You think because I’m sleeping with Max, I’ll sleep with anyone? Just to get noticed and work my way up? Well, you’re wrong. And no way will I do it to keep a job. I quit.”

“He’ll hurt you.”

I glared at him. “Maybe so, but at least he has some class.”

Kevin stood there shocked. He didn’t try to stop me, either with his voice or with physical force. Thank God. I didn’t know if I could handle another man being physical with me. I had pepper-spray in my purse, always easily accessible, and Kevin would have ended up lying on the parking lot, writhing around in the gravel, clutching his eyes.

The only eyes with tears in them were mine, though, as I tore out of there and headed for home.

My phone rang three times on the way home. All calls from Kevin. He left a voicemail each time, then sent a text: I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Plz listen to my msgs.

I didn’t listen to them. I called my voicemail and deleted each one before I heard the first syllable out of his mouth. There was nothing he could say to reverse what had happened, and there was no way I was going to work for him anymore. I just couldn’t. There’d be no way to get past the weirdness. I had made my decision by the time I pulled up to my apartment complex. I’d told him I was going to quit, and I was going to stand by it.

Even though Kevin’s touching had been limited to my knee and my thigh, and it was only for a few seconds, I still felt the need to take a shower. I cried as I scrubbed that leg harder than I’d ever washed it before.

Krystal wasn’t home, so I had the place to myself, but I still locked myself in my bedroom. I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling wondering what I would do after quitting the job. Was it pathetic to think that Kevin would give me a recommendation? I was pretty sure I could get one from him. Hell, I was pretty sure I could get anything out of him with the threat of telling Max what had happened. Max could very well cut all business ties with Kevin and his agency, but that would mean hurting Jacqueline as well. She was innocent in all of this and considering she was under contract with Kevin, it wasn’t as though she could go off on her own and keep the role in Max’s film.

Damnit. My mind was swirling with confusion and too many side issues that I didn’t need to worry about at the time. What I needed to be thinking about was how to handle being unemployed, surviving in LA, telling my parents all of this or lying to them when they came to visit, and how to explain to Max why I was no longer working for Kevin.

Of course, I could fake forgiveness and go back to work there and make everything seem fine. Except I’d only be making it seem fine to everyone else. It wouldn’t be fine with me at all. And I was finished with the part of my life where my happiness, comfort and well-being took a backseat to anyone.

FIVE

I didn’t even bother contacting Kevin on Friday morning. No phone call, no text, no email, nothing. I just didn’t show up. I didn’t hear from him, either, which pretty much told me he knew I’d never be back.

I spent the day trying to figure out what I would do next in terms of work. No good ideas immediately came to mind, and I decided to put off the worrying for the weekend. Bright and early Monday morning, my new job would be finding a new job.

Max texted me around noon: House or boat this weekend?

Just reading it gave me a smile, even though I hadn’t yet told him about not working for Kevin anymore, and for all Max knew I was at the office.

Me: What? We can’t do both?;)

Max: We can do whatever you want.

Me: Okay, how about you dress up as a pirate and rescue me from danger and have your way with me on your boat?

Max: As long as I don’t have to talk in a pirate voice.

Me: Oh, then forget it. :(

We decided we would play it by ear—no firm plans, just do whatever we wanted hour by hour. It sounded like heaven to me.

But I knew I’d have to mention the whole Kevin thing to him. I just couldn’t decide whether to do it at the start of our weekend. I wanted to hold back until Sunday so our weekend wouldn’t be tainted by the unpleasantness of the story, but I also thought Max might want to know right away. I decided I would play that by ear also—if the time seemed right, I’d bring it up.

Krystal came home around 11 a.m. I was sitting in the den, reading some of the Hollywood tabloids on my iPad and having a cup of coffee.

“Are you sick?” she asked as she came through the door.

“No. Worse.”

“What’s wrong?”

She sat down beside me and I told her the whole sordid story. Tears began to flow again. Krystal hugged me and I sobbed into her shoulder.

She handed me a tissue. “What did Max say?”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“He’s gonna be pissed.”

I nodded as I wiped my eyes.

“At least you’re not in my situation,” she said.

I looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Olivia. You know.”

I looked down at my hands that were balling the tissue anxiously.

She said, “You saw the DVD. You saw me come in the other day after staying up all night on coke.”

“Jesus, Krystal. Cocaine?”

She nodded and shrugged, and told me everything. It was a confession of sorts, almost like I was a priest and she was a parishioner. I listened with sympathy, and at one point I grabbed her hand as she started to cry.

“I got mixed up in this because of the money,” she explained. “Now…I can’t get out. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why can’t you just stop?”

“And do what?” Her voice came out with more than a little touch of frustration, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. “I’ll never get a real acting job. I’m fucked.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I really am,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out forcefully through pursed lips. “I’m in debt. Big time.”

It was the drugs. She was getting paid to do porn, but a big chunk of it had been going to feed her coke habit. Then she started getting it on “credit” with the dealer, and now, to my horror, she was sitting there telling me she owed the guy about twenty thousand.

It turns out the dealer was also the guy hooking her up with various porn gigs. It was almost like he was a pimp, I thought. And then, just as that thought entered my mind, she said that’s what the guy had in mind for payback. He was going to pimp her out.

“Holy shit” was the only reaction that came to mind. What the hell had she gotten herself into? “It isn’t Marco, is it?” I had met that guy weeks ago when I walked in on the two of them just as they were probably getting ready to have sex in the den. It didn’t take me long to pick up on his creepiness.

“No, not him,” she said. “He’s got his own problems. I haven’t even talked to him in like a week or so.”

“Can you just…leave? I mean, go back to Ohio? Get away from here?”

She shook her head. “And, what? Go back to my parents’ house? Ha. Very funny.”

“I didn’t mean that, I just—”

“I know,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

We sat there for a little while longer, commiserating with each other. Here we were, two Midwestern girls trying to make it in the big city, both now totally screwed by failure.

Later, around 5:30, Max came to get me.

Krystal was in her room taking a nap. She’d been in there for almost two hours. I told Max before we left I needed to check on her. I cracked the door just a little, saw that she was facing away from the door. She was sleeping, breathing deeply, and was probably getting the only rest and relaxation she’d had in a while. I decided to leave her a note on the kitchen counter.

“Coming down off a high?” Max said.

I looked up from the paper. “You have no idea.”

“What is it?”

I folded up the paper and laid the pen on top of it. “I’ll tell you later.”

We got to Max’s house and the first thing he did was run a warm bath. We lathered each other up. I faced him as he massaged the shampoo into my scalp, and I massaged his cock.

It started when he told me to tilt my head back so he could rinse my hair. “Hold on so you don’t fall.”

Instead of reaching for his shoulders or his waist, I took his semi-hard erection into my hand.

He laughed. “That should work.”

“Gee, I wonder if that’s what you wanted me to do all along.”

“No.”

My mouth dropped open. “What? Fine, then.”

“If I wanted you to do that, I would just tell you to.”

“Oh really.”

He looked at me. “Touch it, Olivia.”

The warm water sluiced through my hair and ran down my back in soapy waves, and Max got fully hard in my hand. I loved how it got longer and thicker under my touch. When I looked down I saw now that he had grown to a length that broke the surface, with at least half of him straight up out of the water.

“Like a periscope,” I joked.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Maybe you should do stand up comedy.”

“You think?”

“No.”

I squeezed him—hard.

“Easy now.”

Max pulled me against him and I slipped my hand away. His erection was pressed against my stomach—slipping and sliding around on it—making me want it inside me.

He pressed his lips to mine, pulling my tongue into his mouth, then sucking on it like I sucked when his cock was in my mouth.

Max kissed his way down my neck, then across the top of my chest. He pulled me closer, up onto his lap. His erection was perfectly notched in my cleft and I just wanted him to do it, do it, do it…

But he didn’t. He teased me, rocking his hips as he moved me back and forth so I was sliding along the length of his cock. Which, honestly, was almost enough to make me come by itself. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to come with him inside me.

I pressed my face to the top of his wet head as he sucked on my nipples.

“I hate not being inside you, Olivia.”

“Then do it.”

“Not just now,” he said. “Always. I wish I could be inside you all day, every day.”

And with those words, he shifted a certain way and entered me. I moved my hips to ease him in. Each time we did this, I loved the way he stretched my tightness.

This was slow, sensual sex. It was more like making love than fucking. I wondered if he felt that way, too, but I didn’t dare ask him. I feared not getting the response I wanted to hear.

And as I thought about that—while sliding up and down on him—my eyes started to tear up a little.

When Max noticed he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Everything is…perfect.”

Max pulled me closer and we kissed as we climaxed together.

After the shower, I put on one of his button-down shirts and Max wore only a pair of jeans as we sat at a bar table in his kitchen and ate dinner.

“Something’s on your mind,” he said. “Is it Krystal?”

Actually, that wasn’t it at all. I was distracted by the ongoing debate in my head about whether to tell him what happened with Kevin and the fallout from it. I also was on the verge of asking him if he had felt the same thing I did in the bathtub. But the Krystal issue was good enough for now. Plus, I’d already promised him I’d tell him.

And so I did—complete with all the details she had given me.

“Jesus,” he said. “Twenty grand. Where’s she going to get that?”

“No idea.”

“You know what that means.” Max stood and took our empty plates to the sink. “She’s going to end up working it off.”

I got up and walked toward him. “I can’t decide which is worse. That or the coke.”

“Both.”

I stood next to him as he rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. His face was a mask of concern, and I assumed it was about Krystal, even though he hardly knew her.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

He closed the dishwasher, started it, and picked up a towel to dry his hands. “Let’s get her out of trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll pay the guy off.”

Whoa.

“On one condition, though,” he said. “She has to check into rehab.”

“Are you serious? You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t even know her.”

Max took me in his arms. “But you do. I’m not going to let you stand by helplessly watching a friend ruin her life.”

“Max…I don’t think—”

“Let me do this. Let us do this.”

SIX

I woke up Saturday morning, lying on my side. I had my back to Max, and he was just about ready to slide inside me. I looked over my shoulder at him. He was looking down, watching what he was doing. “I could wake up like this every day. Awesome alarm clock.”

“Funny. But I can’t help it, Olivia.”

“I was being serious,” I said, and put my head back down while Max brought us both to an early morning orgasm.

After we showered Max drove us to Marina Del Rey, where we boarded his boat and set off for Catalina Island. I had heard of the place and was under the impression that it was only for the wildly rich and the tourists. I guess I qualified as a tourist, and since I was with Max, the rich part took care of itself.

Max pulled the boat up to the marina. A dockhand was there and called out to him. “Hello, Mr. Dalton.” The guy climbed aboard and said he would take care of the docking. I saw Max slip him a hundred dollar bill before we got off the boat. Valet parking at a Marina. Who knew?

We spent a good part of the late morning and early afternoon taking a tour of the island. It was gorgeous—lush green trees and bushes, incredible views of the ocean and the island’s various canyons—like nothing I’d ever experienced.

And it only got more intriguing, as the tour guide signaled for us to look in various directions throughout the ride, to see the incredible wildlife the island had to offer. We saw wild turkeys and pigs, two bald eagles, and even buffalo.

“I love this place,” Max said.

I was holding on to his arm as we sat in the jeep. I held on tighter when I saw the almost boyish way he marveled at the outdoors.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Makes you not want to go back to the city, doesn’t it?”

I looked up at his face and saw that he was deadly serious. The truth was, I didn’t care where we were. I just wanted to be with him. Needed to be with him.

Later in the afternoon, we took our shoes off and sat on a little beach area. Off in the distance, sea lions occupied the rock jetties. We were told they could be aggressive, and to keep an eye on them. They were far enough away not to pose a threat, and we didn’t have any food with us anyway.

I was starting to feel guilty about keeping the Kevin story from Max. He deserved to know. He was going to find out one way or another. The idea of keeping it from him so it wouldn’t ruin or weekend hadn’t been a good idea at all. While it spared him from thinking about it, delaying did nothing for me. Despite all the enjoyment of the afternoon, thoughts of telling Max what happened lingered close by, threatening to spoil the day.

So it was on that peaceful little spot of land that I said, “I have something to tell you….”

I told him everything, ending with an apology for not telling him sooner.

“I don’t care about that,” he said, holding me tight. “What a fuckwit.”

“A what?”

Max gave a little chuckle. “Fuckwit. Like an idiot, but much worse. One of my favorite words.”

“I’ve never heard you use it.”

“I save it for special occasions, and this is definitely one of them. The deal with Jacqueline Mathers is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to him. I guess he didn’t think about that.”

“Are you going to drop her?”

Max shook his head. “No, she’s good. Perfect for the role. I’m not going to start from scratch just because Kevin makes stupid decisions about who to try to fuck.”

This was going easier than I thought. I had actually expected him to be angry—maybe somewhat at me for not telling him, and certainly at Kevin for doing what he did. “You don’t sound mad at him.”

“I’m not,” he said, without hesitating. “He’s pathetic. And I don’t think for a minute you would give in to him.”

Now that we’d settled that part of it, I felt free to express how worried I was for myself. “I hate that he did it, mostly because I have to start over now, you know?”

We had shifted so that Max was sitting behind me, and held my back close to his chest. He kissed me on the top of my head, and kept his lips there as we sat in silence for a moment. Finally, he broke it.

“Work with me.”

I had been relaxing so much that my eyes were almost closed. They flew open when I heard  his words.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, but…” My voice trailed off. I was stunned by his suggestion.

He kissed me on my head again and said, “I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do when I stop producing. You know I just want to write. That’s what I’m going to do. But I’ll need an assistant, someone who will read all my stuff and not bullshit me with empty praise. Just like you did the other day. You were brilliant, Olivia. Your ideas made the story so much better.”

I moved so I could face him. “You’re serious.”

He nodded and reached up to touch my cheek. “Don’t worry about anything. And I know you by now—you’re thinking I’m doing this just to help you out. I’m not. You impressed me from that first meeting. I’d hire you even if you weren’t sleeping with me.”

My smile must have stretched across my entire face, and Max returned one just as big, then said, “Of course, we’ll have to be careful how we proceed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll pay you as an independent contractor, not as a direct employee.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because then you can’t turn around and sue me for sexually harassing you on the job every day.”

I laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “Every day? You promise?”

“Try to stop me.”

On the boat ride home, I told him my parents would be coming for a visit. “And I’m worried.”

“About what?”

Max was driving the boat and I was sitting on his lap. I put on one of his baseball caps and put my hair through the hole in the back, a makeshift ponytail to keep it from whipping him in the face.

“My living situation, for one thing,” I said. “They’re going to wonder about Krystal. Remember, she was my sister’s friend growing up?”

“Right. Well, maybe she won’t be around if she takes us up on the offer to help and checks into rehab. Then you can just say she’s out of town or something.”

“True.” He had a point. It was a justifiable lie. I’d be protecting Krystal’s confidentiality. My stomach churned with nervousness as I considered how to tell him I wasn’t sure about having him meet my parents.

We hadn’t been together very long, but several times during our time together, it seemed as though Max knew exactly what I was thinking. I knew he wasn’t literally reading my mind, but it was still odd at times.

Just as it was when, without me having said one word about it, Max said, “You’re worried about telling them about me.” He said it flatly, as though he didn’t like the idea at all.

“My family can be complicated. It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. Just not right now.”

Max slowed the boat down as we approached Marina Del Rey. “It’s up to you. I’ll just miss you while they’re here.”

SEVEN

Krystal was vegging out in front of the TV when I got home Sunday afternoon. She looked like she’d gotten some sleep, and actually smiled when I walked in the door.

She muted the TV. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah, pretty great. How about you?”

“Oh, so good,” she said, letting out a huge sigh. “I slept most of yesterday. Turned my phone off and turned the world off. It was heaven. Actually, it’s still off.” Her previously happy expression turned to frowning worry. “I keep dreading turning it on and seeing the missed calls and texts.”

I guessed that now was as good a time as ever to tell her what Max had offered, so I did, with no beating around the bush. I just said, “Max wants to pay the twenty grand and get you out of trouble.”

She stared at me. “You told him?”

I nodded, then shifted uncomfortably in the chair, waiting for her to recoil as Max predicted she would do at first.

And she did.

Krystal threw her head back on the pillow. “I can’t do that. I’ll never be able to pay him back.”

“You don’t have to. He said—”

She sat to an upright position. “The hell I don’t. I’m not a charity case.”

I slowly shook my head. “You’re right, you’re not. But think about this. It’s an easy way out.”

“And then what? I’ll be right back in it up to my fucking eyes before I know it.”

This is the part that would be the hardest, I thought. Offering that kind of money to someone was a potential blow to their pride, but the rehab part of the deal could be a lot worse.

I moved next to her on the couch and put my arm around her. “No, you won’t. Hear me out, okay?”

I explained it to her, and she took it surprisingly well. By the time we were done, she had promised me that she’d think about it.

“One thing, though,” I said. “Let me know soon, okay? And in the meantime…”

“I know, stay away from that crowd.”

Jesus. I felt like her mother, but I knew it was the right thing to do. She needed help and Max’s offer was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get her life back on track. She’d take the deal. I just had to give her a little time.

“Oh, hey,” she said as I was getting up from the couch. “What did Max say about the Kevin thing and you leaving your job?”

I didn’t want to tell her that Max had offered me a job as his assistant. It might have only made her feel worse about what lay ahead for her. While she was facing rehab and getting her entire life back on track, my problem had seemed to work itself out in a matter of days.

So I just said, “He called Kevin a ‘fuckwit’.”

“A what?”

“That’s what I said.”

We enjoyed a good laugh over the word and it saved me from having to tell her the rest of the story.

Later that evening, I talked to my parents and found out they’d be arriving that Friday. Grace was coming, along with her kids, but my brother-in-law was staying home.

I felt a mixture of happiness and dread about the whole thing. Maybe it would go well. Or maybe it would just go fast. After all, they’d only be here for a couple of days.

I had to warn Krystal about it. She had known my family for years and I didn’t want them to see her in the state she was currently in. Part of that was for her own good—she’d be totally uncomfortable, especially around Grace. Part of it was for mine—if my parents found out I lived with someone who was into cocaine and did porn, I’d never be able to deal with their fury.

“They’re not going to stay here, are they?” she asked.

“No. God, no. They’ll stay at a hotel. But I know they’ll want to see where I live.”

“Okay, well, I can hide in my bedroom or something. Keep the door closed. You can tell them I’m working or something. They won’t want to see my room.”

Maybe she’d forgotten how nosey my parents were. “We’ll work it out.” I started to head back to my room. “Oh, and one other thing. I’m not telling them about Max. And they don’t know about me quitting the agency. So, if for some reason you do end up seeing them….you know, just go along with whatever I say.”

She laughed. “Damn, girl. You’re having to hide everything.”

“Story of my life.”

EIGHT

Max called me first thing Monday morning and told me he’d talked to the editor of the tabloid.

The editor had already heard from Liza Carrow, and said they were going to run a story clearing up their previous one.

“That sounds easy enough,” I said, “but didn’t you want to give him a bunch of shit for what they did?”

“I wanted to. Definitely. But it’s better this way. If I had come across like an ass to the guy, he might never take my calls again in the future when their next bullshit story runs. Which I don’t think it will, but you never know.”

I was silent for a moment.

“Of course,” he said, “next time I’d probably go over there and bust the place up with a baseball bat.”

“Then you’d end up on the front page.”

“Excellent point, once again,” he said. “What would I do without you?”

Late that afternoon, I got a call from Kevin. Of course I let it go to voicemail. When my phone chirped, I checked the message. I hated hearing his voice, but I listened anyway. Big mistake. I should have deleted it without giving it a single second’s worth of my attention.

“Olivia, I won’t bother you anymore after this. But let’s please discuss what happened. I’m really sorry. I need you. I mean, I need you here. Working.” Pause. “Think about it. Please?”

Pathetic. He was begging, and there was only one reason: he was afraid he would lose out on the Jacqueline Mathers deal.

I was feeling particularly spiteful that day, so I decided I would let myself feel no guilt for letting him wonder and worry.

On Thursday night, I told Max that Krystal said she wanted to take him up on the offer. We were at his house, spending time together before my parents would arrive the next day.

I was brushing my teeth in the master bath when Max put his arms around me from behind. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only a few days,” I said, with my mouth full of toothpaste. Real sexy.

“So you’re not going to miss me?”

I rinsed out my mouth, and when I bent over Max lifted my shirt. I was wearing one of his t-shirts, and nothing else, ready for bed. He cupped my ass and gave it a squeeze.

With my mouth now free of toothpaste, I wiped my face with a towel. “Of course I’ll miss you.”

“A few days of not being inside you is going to kill me.”

I stood straight up, still facing the mirror, and saw that familiar intensity on Max’s face. He reached around to my front and took my breasts in his hands and caressed them beneath the t-shirt. My nipples puckered at his touch, and I pushed back to feel his erection. He was wearing only boxers and so far, they were still holding his cock back, although I thought I could feel the head as Max pressed against me.

He separated my legs and told me to stand on my tip-toes.

“I want to see your face in the mirror when I go inside you.”

We watched each other’s reactions as his cock pushed into me. Max kissed my neck as we kept our eyes trained on each other. We stood like that for a minute or so, just feeling each other—him feeling my tight warmth, me feeling his rigid length and thickness.

He turned me around and lifted me off the floor, kissing me, devouring my mouth. He carried me out of the bathroom and over to his bed, laying me down on my back. I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him to push inside me.

I needed him. Needed him to make love to me….

I reached down between us and gripped the firm length of his cock. Smoothing my hands over the shaft, and then back up to the tip, I felt a droplet of liquid there. He was ready to go.

Max suddenly stood, pulling me to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, he removed his boxers, guided his cock toward my mouth, and I opened for him.

I tasted his precome as my mouth covered the plump crown.

“Damn, Olivia. You’re amazing.”

His words encouraged me. I looked up at him and met his gaze. Wow, that stare. That animalistic stare, laced with intense need. A look that I never, ever wanted to get used to. And to think I brought this out in him.

My mouth was filled with his thickness. My hand held him at the base as I took as much as I could of him between my lips, across my tongue. My other hand reached for his balls. I cupped them, this time more firmly than I had in the past, just as I’d seen him to do himself when he masturbated for me on the plane.

“God, Olivia, I love that….”

I kept my eyes trained up, watching the facial expressions created by what I was doing to him. I smiled around his cock.

“Take it deep,” he said, with a soft edge of command in his tone.

I worked my lips down the shaft as far as it would go and felt the head at the back of my throat. I couldn’t keep it there for very long, so I slid my mouth up the length. He was wet, so wet, ready to come….

He felt like he was getting bigger with each throb, and I thought he was about to flood my mouth. If he had, it would have been fine with me. But Max didn’t want to, just yet.

He pulled back and his cock left my mouth with a little wet pop and smack sound.

“Not yet, Liv.”

Liv. No one had ever called me that before. The sound of that word—the nickname Max had just created for me—sent a tingle through my nerves. He’d given me a name. One that he and he alone had used or would ever use.

Hearing “Liv” made me think of “love” and “live.” Thoughts of how I knew I loved him and was living for him flooded my mind and my heart, but I managed to keep from blurting it out.

I just wanted him inside me. Badly.

“I don’t want to come yet,” he said. “I want this to last, we’re going to come together.”

Max gently moved me back on the bed and pulled the t-shirt over my head. Then he dropped to his knees on the floor. His mouth dove for my pussy and his tongue was vigorously fluttering my folds. Then I felt his mouth seal around my clit as he sucked the tight little bud between his lips.

“Tell me what you want, Liv.”

God, there it was again. That name.

“I want to come with you deep inside me.” I managed to get the words out through my uneven breaths.

He kept his mouth where it was. Teasing. Torturing. And I knew he wanted me to beg.

“Do it, Max. I need you in me.”

He moved swiftly on top of me, and was effortlessly inside me in the flash of a second. His rigid length stroked along my slick flesh. He pushed deeper and I arched my back in response.

“Yes!” The word just flew out of me.

“Fuck, Liv, you’re so perfect. So tight. So warm. I want to be here forever.”

“M-me…too….don’t stop…ever….”

Max got into a long, even, hard rhythm, moving in and out of me—almost all the way to the tip of his cock, then back in to the hilt.

“Are you mine?” he breathed into my ear.

“Yours. Yes, I’m yours.”

Max sat up between my legs. He remained inside me as he grabbed the t-shirt that was lying next to my head. Many times before, while we had sex, he would hold my arms above my head with just one of his large hands wrapped around my wrists. This time he was going to do it differently.

“Do you trust me, Olivia?”

A spark of adrenaline flashed in my chest and I started moving my hips in little gyrating motions, massaging his cock with my pussy.

“Yes.”

Max wrapped the t-shirt around my wrists, then tied the ends through the iron posts of the headboard. I was restrained now, and he was totally free.

He reached for one of the extra pillows and held it as he turned me over onto my stomach. The t-shirt tightened as I rolled and it twisted a little, but there was no pain from it.

Max lifted my hips with his hand and slid the pillow beneath me. It raised my ass up, giving him better access to me. He spread my legs, making me even more open and vulnerable. All his….

I felt his hot breath on my neck as he lowered again, his arms on either side of me holding him up, his cock rubbing against my ass.

Oh, God…was this it? My first anal? I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I’d never wanted it before, but now, with Max, I wanted everything.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to do that.”

Jesus, what was it with him always practically reading my mind? Or was I just that easy to read?

“It’s okay,” I said.

“No, we’ll have to work up to it. And I can’t wait right now.”

The head of his cock pushed between my wet folds again, and Max was sliding into me in one long stroke.

“I want you, Liv. And I’m going to have all of you, every way, eventually.”

“Yes, yes…”

I thought he would just do it. I was in position, and while I probably really wasn’t ready physically, my mind was already in a place that would give up anything for Max. Anything to please him, to fulfill all of his needs as he did mine.

I felt his thumb press against me and then ever so slowly he worked it into my ass.

My head dropped and my face was buried in the pillow. Like he’d done other times we were having sex, Max pulled the pillow away and said, “I want to hear you.”

I was breathing heavily and he was causing little whimpers to escape from my mouth, as he worked his thumb in farther.

The pressure was intense, a great feeling of being filled. His cock stroked along my inner walls and having his thumb there maximized the sensation.

I was hopeless to hold off. I just couldn’t stop myself. I felt the spasms in my abdomen. They came quickly and fiercely, and so did I.

And I felt the warm slickness of Max’s semen pumping into me.

“God, Liv…you drive me crazy in every way…"

NINE

My parents arrived the next afternoon with Grace and the baby, my newest niece. The older one stayed at home with my brother-in-law because she had come down with a cold at the last minute. Grace almost didn’t come because of that, but felt okay about it when her mother-in-law came to stay at their house for a few days.

They drove from Ohio so they were all tired by the time they got to their hotel. It was only ten minutes from my apartment and I headed over there when Grace called to say Dad was getting them checked into the rooms.

We sat around for a while and the focus was mostly on the baby, of course. I couldn’t believe how different she looked after having not seen her for just a few months.

Dad was sitting in a chair and nodding off, but snapped awake when the subject of food came up.

We decided to keep it simple and cheap, and just went to a chain restaurant.

“People drive like crazy around here,” Dad said.

Mom agreed and said it was probably the drugs.

“They have drugs in Ohio, you know,” I said.

Dad shot me a look like I was still a kid and should be quiet instead of pointing out a simple fact that didn’t fall in line with my parents’ predetermined opinion.

“We’re only here for a few days,” Grace said. “Can we not argue?” Ever the diplomat, but I knew she agreed with them. She’d followed their path in life and thought like they did, but we still had that sisterly bond that no one could break and if she had any plans to give me grief about leaving Ohio, she’d wait until we were alone.

After dinner we drove around LA for a little while. Grace wanted to see more of the city, and I think my mom did as well, though she reluctantly took Grace’s side when my dad said it was dark and we wouldn’t be able to see anything.

“Dad, this whole city is lights,” Grace said.

Dad came up with another reason not to ride around. “Well, it’s getting kind of late.”

“It’s 7:40,” Mom said. “With the time difference, it’s not even five o’clock to us.”

Dad sighed. “All right, but we’re keeping the windows up and the doors locked.”

Grace and I looked at each other in the backseat and rolled our eyes.

Later, back at the hotel, we were all in my parents’ room. Grace and the baby were staying in an adjacent room, and the two were linked by a door.

This is when Dad started his pitch in earnest, telling me I should really think about coming home, there was plenty to do there in the way of work, that’s where my friends were, etc. And, just for added guilt, he said, “What would you do if something happened to one of us?”

“What do you mean?”

Dad shrugged. “An accident. One of us gets sick. Anything. You’re so far away.”

“It doesn’t take long by plane,” I said.

“That’s not cheap.”

He was right, of course. It wasn’t cheap to get a ticket for a flight from LA to Ohio on short notice. What he didn’t know, and what I couldn’t tell them, was that I wouldn’t have to buy a ticket. Max would fly me home in a heartbeat.

He dropped the issue, probably just thinking of his next line of attack. Mom had stayed silent while Dad and I discussed the distance issue, but when she picked up when he stopped.

“You haven’t been back to Las Vegas, I hope?”

“I go there every weekend.”

Mom looked at me in shock. Dad cut his eyes at me.

“I’m kidding,” I said.

Grace handed me the baby, who looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, thinking how nice it was to have at least one relative who wasn’t judging me.

“They’re just worried about you,” Grace said a little later.

“I know, but it gets old.”

“I’m worried about you, too, you know. Especially after that whole thing with Chris.”

“He’s gone,” I said. “And I doubt he’ll be back.”

We were in the adjacent hotel room. Mom and Dad had gone to bed, the baby was asleep, and it was getting close to 11:00.

“I know you are, but seriously, Grace, wouldn’t you rather be here? I mean, you saw the city. There’s never a boring minute here.”

“Maybe I like boring.”

That couldn’t be more true. And it couldn’t have made me more sad for her. Yes, I was being judgmental, but I’d been on the receiving end of judgment myself for too long.

Grace said, “So, what’s up with Krystal?”

Jesus. What a topic. One that I didn’t want to talk about. One that would only confirm that she and my parents were right about this probably being a bad scene for me. One that would give them the wrong impression about how wonderful things were really going when you considered everything with Max.

I said, “I hardly ever see her. She’s always working at that restaurant or going to casting calls.” There. I lied. But I had to. And it worked. She moved on to something else.

“What do you do when you’re not working?” she asked.

I could have answered truthfully with the one-liner that popped into my head: When I’m not working, I do Max. But that was a little joke I had to keep to myself.

I gave her a generic response—hanging out with friends, still trying to see all of the city and the surrounds, going to the gym….

“Have you met any boys yet?”

Boys.

I must have hesitated just slightly too long because I clearly gave away the answer.

We were lying on the bed. I was on my back, she was on her stomach, and when she sensed I had something juicy to tell, she flipped over on her side to face me.

“Ohhh, you have. Do tell.”

So I told. Even about the trip to Napa. But not about New York.

“And…remember when I told you that someone saved me from Chris that night at my apartment door?”

“Yeah. A neighbor, but…it was this guy?”

I nodded.

“Wow.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I lied to you about him.”

“Don’t worry about it. So, what movies has he done?”

I told her, and she recognized a couple of them. She liked one of them so much, she had a DVD of it at home.

She was silent for a moment. Then another, “Wow,” but this time softer, like she was trying to imagine what it would be like to live her younger sister’s life. “You look happy, but…you kind of also don’t.”

Shit. She could read me well.

“It’s just that I’m pretty sure he’s serious about me, but I’m afraid that I feel more than he does. You know?”

“Have you brought it up with him?”

“Oh, God no.”

“Why not?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When I thought about this, my chest got tight and my stomach churned.

“I don’t want to push things too fast,” I said.

She nodded. “So, have you slept with him?”

“Yes.” I closed my eyes.

“Then it’s serious.”

Sometimes Grace could be really rational and insightful. Sometimes she could be really naïve. And sometimes she could be both of those things at almost the same time.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What does he look like?”

I got my phone out of my bag to do a Google Image search. I’d had it on mute all night, and when I swiped the screen I saw that I had missed a text from Max.

It read: I’m coming to get you.

“Hang on,” I said to Olivia. “Have to text somebody back.”

“Him?”

“Yeah.”

I texted: What!?

Max: That was a joke and it was two hours ago.

Me: You couldn’t find me anyway.

Max: You underestimate me.

Me: I know. It’s a bad habit.

Max: Please keep doing it. Makes it easier to impress you.

Me: So you weren’t really coming to get me?

Max: No. My dreams will have to suffice tonight.

Me: Awwww.

Max: Did you just see a puppy?

Me: What?

Max: ‘Awwww’? People say that when they see a puppy or a baby. I was hoping you would say ‘I’ll make it up to you’.

Me: I’ll make it up to you.

Max: Awwww.

Me: Haha! I have to get back to talking to my sister. By the smile on my face she might assume the worst.

Max: She’d be smart to. Talk to you tomorrow. Miss you.

Me: Me too.

I closed the texts and pulled up the browser, went to Google Images and found a picture of Max.

“Here. This is him.”

I handed her my phone.

She looked at the picture, then looked at me, then back at the picture. “Get out of here. You’re seeing this hottie?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” She burst out laughing. “That came out wrong. It’s just…wow, he’s gorgeous.”

“And nice, and funny, and kind-hearted, generous, interesting, exciting, creative—”

She interrupted: “Honest?”

“Yeah. Well, except for this one thing.” I told her about Liza Carrow.

“I see why he didn’t tell you right away, though.”

“I know. I wasn’t fair to him when it happened. But we’re past that.”

She handed the phone back to me. “Hate to say this, but I’m jealous.”

“Oh, stop.”

“He’s no Brian. Speaking of which, I need to call and see how things are going there.”

While she made her call, I looked at Max’s picture, then at the texts we’d just exchanged. Damnit, I had fallen hard for him, and I was so in love there was no turning back.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth while she finished up her call. I was starting to get tired and couldn’t wait to get to sleep. With all the talk of Max, though, combined with a little talk of Chris, and the random way my fears reared their ugly head, I hoped I wouldn’t have one of those nightmares again while I slept in the same room with my sister.

TEN

The next morning, we all ate at a nice restaurant that served a great breakfast. My dad said it was too expensive a place to eat, and when I said I was buying, we spent the next ten minutes with him and my mom arguing that I “can’t” and then “shouldn’t have to” pay for all of us to eat when we could grab something quick at a fast-food place.

I won the debate, mostly because I just started walking into the place and Grace followed.

After breakfast my parents wanted to see where I worked. Gulp. I hadn’t even thought about that. Later the night before, after Grace got off the phone with her husband, I told her the rest of what was going on with me: quitting the job, but soon working with Max. She promised not to say anything to my parents. Luckily, it was a Saturday, so all we had to do was drive by the building and I pointed while saying, “That’s it. Just a regular building.”

Whew.

We spent the better part of the afternoon taking a tour of Universal Studios. It was something I hadn’t done yet since coming to LA, so I didn’t mind doing something so “touristy.”

I got to push the stroller around for a while and at one point when my parents and Grace went to use the restrooms, I sat on a bench in the shade, alone with my baby niece. People—mostly women and girls—stopped by and cooed at her, telling me how beautiful she was. I just thanked them, not telling them she wasn’t mine.

I’d never even thought about being a mother before. Certainly not like my own mother had, and not even like Grace had. But that was the first time I’d experienced anything resembling the desire to have a child. Definitely a strange feeling for me.

I got a text from Max: Let me treat your family to dinner.

Me: Well, hello to you to.

Max: Hey there, dream girl.

I smiled at that, but it didn’t last long. He wanted to take my family out for dinner?

Me: We talked about this. Not ready.

Max: I don’t have to be there. Let me make reservations at a nice place. You take them.

Me: Where is this coming from?

Max: I just want to do something nice for you. And for them.

I sighed and thought about what I’d write back. It was a very generous offer, and I wasn’t surprised by it, considering that’s just how Max was. But I really did think he was trying to angle his way into meeting them.

Me: Why do you want to meet them so bad?

Max: Because they’re your family. But I don’t have to. Just let me set this up.

Me: Are you sure?

Max: Yes, but you have to promise me one thing.

Me: Oh God. Does it involve handcuffs?

Max: I hadn’t thought of that, but we can try.

Me: Ha! Seriously. What is it?

Max: You’ll come with me to meet my mom.

Shit. He was really pushing this. How often does a guy insist on meeting your family and you meeting his? He was clearly serious about us. It showed in his actions, but for some reason, not his words. Several times I had to hold myself back from blurting out the fact that I was in love with him but had thankfully spared myself the potential embarrassment and, worse, abandonment. I was sure it would be too much for him, too soon.

But all this family meeting stuff… Maybe I just needed to let him go at his own pace. He had walls. High walls. Maybe even higher than mine. But those walls were coming down, and for the first time in a while I was giving him a peek over my barrier. He was letting me over his, too. Maybe I’d let him take the lead on the timing of all this.

I texted: We’ll talk about it, but yes I’ll meet her.

Max: Let me work on dinner and I’ll get back to you.

Me: OK. Thank you. That’s so nice.

Max got us a reservation at Spago in Beverly Hills, a restaurant owned by the famed chef Wolfgang Puck.

Carrying out Max’s offer to treat us to dinner was like something out of an espionage movie.

We texted back and forth about how to handle the bill. If the waiter said everything was taken care of, that would raise a major investigation by my parents. So Max had arranged for the manager to inform the waiter to take my card as if I were paying, but they would just put it on Max’s running tab.

“We still haven’t seen your apartment,” Mom said at one point.

I had a mouthful of our appetizer and stopped chewing, but quickly brought my napkin up to my mouth and held up one finger. I knew they’d want to see it—why wouldn’t they—but somehow had fooled myself into thinking they wouldn’t remember. Right. Like parents wouldn’t want to see where you’re living. Especially mine. As I finished swallowing, I actually found myself surprised that it had taken them this long to begin with.

“Maybe when we leave here,” I said. “I need to get home anyway. I don’t have another day’s worth of clothes and I might as well just stay there tonight.”

I looked at Grace, who had an expression on her face like she knew something. Maybe she suspected I had a date with Max or something. If so, she was wrong.

“The prices here are outrageous,” Dad said, a little too loud.

“Dad, don’t worry about it. I told you, I’ve got this.”

He shook his head, and looked down at the menu again. Thank God he didn’t restart the debate we’d had in the car earlier. My parents insisted that they pay for dinner, and I said it was my treat, and it was on from there. I finally got the upper hand by explaining to them that I was on my own now, with my own money, and I was an adult who could afford to treat her family to dinner.

Okay, so the truth was that I was on my own now, and I was an adult with a hot, rich boyfriend who offered to let her look like she was doing well enough to treat her family to a nice dinner at a Beverly Hills hot-spot.

That’s exactly what Max had done, and why he’d done it.

My dad didn’t look happy for the entire meal. In fact, he didn’t say much at all.

Mom, though, seemed to have developed a knack for surreptitiously glancing around the room looking for famous people. I’d heard that Spago was a good place for celebrity spotting, but it looked like we picked the wrong night.

That is, until a large entourage entered the place and people starting looking to see who it was. Turns out it was Linda Evans, an actress who starred on one of my mom’s favorite prime-time soaps, Dynasty. I’d never seen it. It was before my time. But mom was happy to tell us all about it, and we let her go on and on because she looked so star-struck and elated. Dad told us it had ruined many a baseball game for him—my mom would insist that they switch the channel for that hour, and they only had the one TV.

“Do you think we’ll see Krystal?” Grace asked.

“Doubt it. But let me see.”

I got my phone out and texted her to warn her that we’d be stopping by the apartment. She texted back and said she was going to the movies with a friend. I briefly worried about whether that was true—she’d been doing well all week, getting ready for the big change—but I had my own things to handle at the moment.

“Krystal’s at work again. She works so much,” I said, taking a big bite of my entrée.

I couldn’t wait to get home and go to sleep. All the deceit was wearing me out.

ELEVEN

I was nervous leading the way up to my apartment. The way things were with Krystal, there was no telling what we might walk in to. She could be sitting there perfectly normal, having found a bit of courage to see Grace and my parents. Or she could be on the den floor, having a threesome or a full-fledged orgy for that matter.

But it appeared she wasn’t there. The apartment was dark, except for the lights over the island in the kitchen, shedding enough illumination for me as I turned on the lamps in the den.

“Well, this is it.” I shrugged. “Not very big, I know, but by LA standards this is huge.”

My dad frowned. Mom immediately asked why we didn’t have curtains on the windows and I pictured a day when I’d get a UPS package with some of her homemade curtains that were suitable only for people over sixty. Grace said she liked the place.

It was then that I noticed a flower arrangement on the coffee table. I picked it up, looked at the card, and saw that it just had a hand-drawn heart on it. Maybe someone had given them to Krystal. Or maybe it was from Max and Krystal had put them there so I wouldn’t miss them. I couldn’t tell, either way, without there being any handwriting.

We weren’t there even five minutes before there was a knock at the door. It was two people, a guy and a girl, who said they were Krystal’s friends—I’d never met them before—and they said she didn’t show up for dinner and the movie was starting soon, and did I know where she was?

“No. She told me she was going out. Did you call or text her?”

The guy nodded.

The girl said, “She’s not answering.”

They had a look of concern on their faces that I knew was probably matched by mine.

“Everything okay?” Mom called out from the den.

“Yeah, just a sec.”

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.

“You guys know she’s in kind of a bad place, right?”

“Yeah. She told us everything,” the girl said. “We’re not part of that same crowd.”

“Okay, good. But I bet that’s who she’s with.”

“We’ll go looking around at the usual spots,” the guy said.

The girl told me her name was Molly; the guy was Kevin. I hated even hearing that name now.

I said, “I’d go with you but my family is here visiting. If you find her, let me know.”

We exchanged numbers, and they went on their way.

My parents and Grace stayed about an hour or so. Most of the time was spent focused on the baby, which was great in so many ways, not the least of which was that it closed off a lot of opportunities for my parents to resume their campaign to bring me home with them.

Although, Mom tried in her own not-so-subtle way. She brought up things that she thought would make me homesick. Each time, Dad would say something like, “But you’d know that if were you were still home.”

I was getting frustrated with this. So much so that I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“This is my home. You’re looking at it.”

They looked surprised.

“Olivia…” Grace said in a pleading tone, her voice trailing off.

“What, Grace?” I snapped, then looked back at my parents. “I’m living here now. I’ve started my life. I’m happy, okay? Really happy. And you should be happy for me.”

“You’re right,” my mom said with a look on her face that told me she was simply trying to put an end to this little spat.

Dad, for once, didn’t say anything.

The baby started to cry. Grace gathered her up and checked her diaper.

Mom said, “Does she need to be changed?”

“No,” Grace said. “I think she needs a nap. Can we get going?”

The tension was heavy. I hated it. Hated every second of it. What had started out as a relatively nice weekend was turning out exactly as I had feared. The bickering, passive-aggressiveness, control—all of it, everything I had left behind in Ohio—was now in my den in my new home.

I just wanted them to leave.

And as they did, we made half-hearted plans to have breakfast before they hit the road the next morning.

I tried calling Krystal when they were gone. No answer. I left a voicemail, then texted her. I was becoming increasingly convinced that she was off with the “friends” who had the cocaine.

I called Max.

“Hello, dream girl,” he answered.

“Can you come over?”

“What’s wrong? Where’s the family?”

I felt the sting in back of my throat that I get just before I cry. But I fought it back. “My family’s gone back to their hotel, and they’re what’s wrong.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“Can you just please come over here? I need you.”

“Give me thirty minutes.”

My phone served as a good time-killer while I waited for Max. I checked Twitter to see what was up with the people I was following, and the trending topics. Nothing much interested me. So I opened the browser and went to People magazine, where they had photos from the red carpet at the Emmys.

I thought about that night Max took me to the movie premier in New York City. My first red carpet event. Maybe my last, too. But I didn’t care. Seeing how extraordinarily glamorous the women looked made me feel like a poser by comparison. I had no business even thinking I could pull that off.

I snapped out of my downward spiral thinking when I heard a key in the door. It was either Krystal, or it could be Max, who had a key, but it was a little too early for that. He’d said to give him thirty minutes.

I stayed on the couch but looked at the door as the knob turned slowly. Krystal sneaking in, I thought.

Then I froze. My mouth went dry. My eyes widened and stayed there.

Holy fuck. Chris….

TWELVE

I sat in shock on the couch as he crossed the threshold of my apartment.

He held up one hand. “It’s okay,” he said in a calm voice.

I shot up to my feet. “Get the fuck out!”

He closed the door and locked it without turning around. He faced me the whole time. His expression was serious, intense, crazy….

Luckily I had my phone in my hand. I raised it to dial 911.

Chris rushed me. I didn’t have time to evade his quick movement. His arms wrapped around me, bear-hugging me from the side, almost crushing me. With one hand, he tried to pry the phone away from me, but I clutched it like my life depended on it because it probably did.

He was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, and I felt his saliva spraying against my cheek when he exhaled.

“Help! Get the fuck away from me! Help!”

“Give it up.”

“Let me go! Help me!”

He squeezed me tighter, almost so I couldn’t breathe, and said, “Did you like my flowers, sweetheart?”

Holy fuck fuck fuck!

He’d been in my house. How? Where did he get a key?

I needed to breathe. My face was getting tingly and I could hear my heart racing in my ears. He was still gripping me from the side, so as best I could I gathered all the strength in my body and forced my leg up and to the side, slamming into him—right into his balls.

He made a sound like “Ooomph” and released me. He staggered back a couple of steps, bent over, his hand between his legs.

I’d never taken a self-defense class before, and I’d never even thought about what I might do in situations like this. So maybe what I did next just came naturally. Or maybe from the movies.

I kicked him in the face. The bottom part of my shoe connected with his forehead and the short but thick heel caught his chin. I heard his jaw snap shut with a sickening and loud sound.

He tried to say something, but couldn’t. Blood rushed from his mouth in a torrent. He opened his mouth as I stood over him, again trying to say something. His gaping maw was a deep, dark red, but I could tell his two front teeth were gone.

Adrenaline was flowing intensely through me. I could have killed him. Easily.

I moved closer to him, and he made one more attempt to fight, grabbing my ankle.

I raised my other leg and brought down my foot. A hard, crushing stomp on his crotch.

Chris turned on his side, curling up in the fetal position. Blood gushed from his mouth and it started forming a pool on the carpet.

I miraculously still had the phone in my hand. I swiped the lock screen, touched the dialer, and then the Emergency icon at the top.

Chris wasn’t going anywhere.

The 911 operator answered and I spluttered out a nearly incomprehensible string of words.

“Ma’am, slow down. Please calm down. Do you need police?”

“Yesyesyesyes….”

The police arrived quickly. It must have only been four or five minutes. I had opened the door in the meantime, and I had also moved one of the chairs closer to Chris, where I stood on it, trapping his legs underneath.

When I saw the first officer come through the door, I jumped off the chair and collapsed on the couch. The adrenaline rush was subsiding and I just felt like I wanted to sleep. Forever.

I called Max. “Where are you?”

“About five minutes away. Why? What’s wrong?”

I was crying again.

“Olivia,” he said, flatly. “What is it?”

“J-j-just get here.”

It didn’t take him five minutes. Probably closer to three. I was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I saw him pull up. They were checking me out because my left side hurt like hell.

They were loading Chris on to another ambulance.

“Max!” I called out, which only made me hurt more.

He turned, saw me, and rushed over through the flashing blue, white and red lights.

“Please stand back, sir,” one of the paramedics said.

“That’s my girlfriend. What happened Olivia?”

The paramedic who was checking me out broke in. “We’re going to take you to the hospital. Your ribs need to be x-rayed.”

“Jesus, Olivia. Will someone tell me what happened?”

Across the parking lot, we heard some shouting and lots of movement followed. I looked and saw that they’d found Chris’s car.

The only words I heard were “keys” and “crowbar.”

Then more commotion.

Max and I watched in horror as the cops popped open the trunk of Chris’s car and pulled Krystal out of it.

She had duct tape wrapped around her head, covering her mouth, but not her nose. Her hair was a wreck and when the white light shone on her, I could see a welt on the side of her face.

I wanted to pass out. Maybe die right there.

“Let’s go,” the paramedic said, and Max jumped in the back of the ambulance.

“I’m riding with her.”

“Wait. I want to see Krystal.”

The paramedic closed the back doors of the ambulance. “We’ll find out how she’s doing, ma’am.”

“Olivia,” Max said sternly, “what the fuck is happening?”

I told him on the way to the hospital.

THIRTEEN

I was in an ER examination room, waiting for them to take a look at my x-rays. The doctor was pretty sure I had broken at least one rib, but wanted to take a look and see how bad the damage was.

Max went to get an update on Krystal and came back about fifteen minutes later with the news that other than the contusion on her cheek, she was going to be fine. At least as far as injuries went. She would be released that night, and Max had promised the doctor she was going straight to a rehab center in Beverly Hills. He said the doctor knew right away that she had a problem. She’d been exhibiting early symptoms of withdrawal.

The next thing to worry about: my parents. Call them right away? Wait until morning?

Max said to wait until the morning. “They’ll be leaving tomorrow. Let them sleep.”

“They’ll be pissed.”

“Do you think they’ll want to stay longer now?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want them to have to do that. Oh, God. We had a fight last night.” I told him all about it.

When I was finished filling him in he said, “Call them.”

He was right. It was the right thing to do.

He handed me my phone and I called Grace.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, when I told her where I was and why.

“Grace. Calm down. I’m going to be fine. I just need you to go wake Mom and Dad. You guys can come down here.”

“Okay. Okay.” She was almost breathless.

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to be fine. Make sure you tell them that.”

Sometimes I had to be the more controlled, mature one between us.

While we waited for them to arrive, I gave a statement to the police. I was nervous at first, but the pain killers were really starting to kick in. Plus, the officer who interviewed me looked really sympathetic to what had happened to me.

“Was there any sexual contact with the assailant?” the officer asked.

Max looked at me and lowered his head, looking at the floor. He hadn’t asked me that, and I guess he was feeling some guilt over it. I reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“No.”

Max let out a heavy sigh and squeezed my hand back.

“I think we have all we need for now,” the cop said. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Max blurted: “Where is he?”

“Being fixed up as best they can here. Then he’s off to jail. There’ll be an arraignment Monday morning, most likely.”

I said, “Do I have to be there?”

“No, ma’am.”

I thought for a moment. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Well,” the officer said, putting his pen back in his shirt pocket, “the assault on you will carry a good bit of time. But the major thing is the kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Yes, ma’am. When he took your roommate—what’s her name… Ms. Sherman?”

I nodded.

“That was kidnapping,” the officer said. “And that carries hefty time. It’ll be years before he sees the outside of a prison again.”

“Good,” Max said.

And then an awkward moment happened. The cop recognized Max and gushed over his movies. Max was gracious about it, and the cop didn’t go on too long, or ask for an autograph or anything else. He just shook Max’s hand and said, “If there’s anything you or your girlfriend need, give me a call.” He gave Max his card, Max thanked him, and the cop was gone.

It was a disaster when my parents got there. In their minds, their worst nightmare had come true and their suspicions and fears about LA were confirmed.

My mom ran over to try to hug me, but I had to fend her off because it would have hurt. Dad kissed my forehead. Grace cried and hugged my legs.

“Tell me what happened,” Dad said.

I recounted the whole story for them, and they stood there in shock. Chris? The guy they thought would be and should be my future husband did this?

Why, yes. Yes, he did.

“It’s my fault,” Grace kept saying.

The whole sordid story came out. And I told my parents everything.

I also told them about Max, who had offered to leave the room for a little while so I could see my family without having to explain who he was right away. He said he’d be down in the hospital cafeteria and for me to text him when I wanted him to come back.

“Olivia,” Mom said, “why haven’t you been truthful with us?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know why. Ninety percent of our conversations are about how I’ve made the wrong decision. About my major in college, about moving to LA, everything.”

She started to say something.

I stopped her. “Let me finish. Please. For once. Look, I understand why you guys doubt what I’m doing. I get it. You care about me. But it’s too much. Way too much. And all this time you’ve been worried about something happening to me out here, the only time it did was when someone from back home came all the way out here, like a crazy person, to hurt me.”

I looked at them and let that sink in.

Mercifully, the doctor came into the room at that point.

“Well, I see we have the whole family here.” He said it almost cheerily, which I kind of liked. There’s nothing worse than a doctor with a grim bedside manner.

The doctor introduced himself to my parents and then asked me if I wanted to go over the x-rays alone.

“We’re her parents,” my father said.

“Yes, but she’s an adult. I can’t discuss her medical issues around anyone else without her permission.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I really just wanted to get it over with and get out of there.

The doctor confirmed that I had one broken rib.

“Nothing much to do for it. Just rest and some pain medication.”

Everyone looked relieved.

The doctor continued: “Do you live with your parents?”

“No.”

“Alone?”

“No. Well, I have a roommate, but—”

“I gotcha,” the doctor said. “Sorry, I forgot for a minute. It’s been a little crazy here tonight. It might be a good idea if you stayed with your parents.” He looked at them. “Just to make sure she’s okay for the next couple of days. Nothing major.”

“We don’t live here,” Dad said. I noticed his voice was softer. He sounded almost as if he had become resigned to the idea that I was on my own.

“And we’re supposed to leave to go home today,” Mom said.

Grace was holding the baby, who was sleeping, and whispered, “Maybe we should stay.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I know what I can do.”

FOURTEEN

Max walked into the hospital room a few minutes after I texted him.

He was a gentleman, referring to my parents as Mrs. Rowland and Mr. Rowland, and telling Grace it was a pleasure to meet her. He stuck is finger out like he was going to poke my baby niece but instead she grabbed on to it.

I think after telling my parents about Max they had the idea that when he got to the room, he’d walk in with an entourage and paparazzi snapping pictures. I’m pretty sure they were expecting him to walk in and be flashy, arrogant, aloof, and all the other clichés people associate with Hollywood.

But Max, as always, couldn’t have been more down to earth, and I think that threw them for a loop.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have gotten there sooner after Olivia called,” he said to my family.

Before anyone else could respond I said, “You’re not Batman, you know.”

He flashed me his smile.

My parents laughed for the first time in…well, as long as I could remember.

He was only there a few minutes before my dad said, “Mind if we talk out in the hall?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Not at all.”

As the two left the room, I thought: Oh, no. My dad’s going to chase him off. Probably try to talk Max into taking their side in the debate over whether I should go back home to Ohio.

But Max wouldn’t do that, I knew. Still, it was probably going to be uncomfortable for him, and I hated that thought.

Grace said, “Wow. Just…wow.”

My mother looked at her. “What’s wow?”

Grace’s mouth fell open. “Uh, hello, Mother? Did you not see how hot Olivia’s boyfriend is?”

For the first time in my life, I saw a look on my mother’s face that she probably wished she would never let her daughters see. It was just the slightest raising of the eyebrows, and the corner of her mouth turned up a little.

“Looks aren’t as important as what’s on the inside,” Mom said. She looked at me.

Grace looked at me, waiting for me to defend Max, probably expecting me to rattle off a list of all of his good qualities.

But I didn’t. I just said, “I love him. I do. I really do.”

I started to tear up. My mom came to the bedside and put her hand on mine and just smiled.

My parents met with the doctor again and he reassured them that my injury was minor, and that I’d be fine.

While they were talking with the doctor in the hall, Grace said she was going to change the baby’s diaper somewhere. Max and I had a few moments alone.

“What did you and my dad talk about?”

He was rubbing my forearm. “Mostly football. He wanted to know who I had in the Super Bowl.”

“Shut up.”

Max smiled. “No. Really, it was a good talk. He told me he wasn’t happy with you being here, but he knew you were going to do what you wanted.”

“I wish he’d admit that to my face.”

“Yeah,” Max said, “well, take what you can get. He asked me where I was from, things like that. I think he liked the fact that I’m a Midwesterner.”

I rolled my eyes. “He can be kind of territorial like that.”

“Did you tell them about leaving the agency?”

I shook my head.

“Didn’t think so,” he said. “Because your dad looked kind of surprised when I told him you were going to be my assistant and editor.”

My eyebrows shot up my head. “Editor?”

“Well, yeah. First reader, gatekeeper. Honest with me when I write something shitty.”

I just smiled. This was going to be so good.

“He also asked what my intentions were with you.”

I laughed and covered my mouth.

“Not like that,” he said. “But don’t you think for a second that it ever leaves my mind.”

“Even when I’m looking like this? Like shit?”

He shook his head. “You’re always gorgeous.”

“So do I get to go home with you?”

“That’s another thing he wanted to know. If I’d look after you. I told him yes, and not just until you’re healed.”

My emotions were over the top. There was no controlling them. I needed to tell him how I felt. I needed to see the look on his face when I told him. And I needed to do it before he went through with the promises he’d made to my father.

“I love you.”

Those three words. Three powerful words. The three words I needed to say to him. But they hadn’t come out of my mouth. They came out of his. Suddenly. Without warning. Right at the time I was going to say that to him. Once again, it was like he could read my mind.

“Come closer and kiss me,” I said.

Max leaned over and placed his lips gently on mine.

Through our kiss I said a somewhat muffled, “I love you. I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now.”

We heard the door handle click and Max pulled away.

FIFTEEN

Two weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, I woke from a nap to the sound of my phone ringing. It was my parents checking in. They had called every day for the last two weeks.

Conversations with my parents had changed for the better. No arguing. No bickering. No hassling me over my life choices. They even talked to Max a couple of times. Short conversations, and from what I could hear on his end, they were mostly trying to get him to confirm the progress I was making health-wise.

I wasn’t one-hundred percent healed, but I was feeling much better. The pain-killers played a big part in that, too.

When I talked to Grace, she asked about Krystal.

“She’s been in rehab for two weeks. I haven’t gone to visit her and she’s not allowed to have her own phone, but she called a couple of days ago and sounded really good.”

“I heard her parents are there.”

“Yeah, she said that. They were trying to get her transferred but she’s not covered by insurance, so she’s staying here.”

Grade said, “Max paid for it all?”

“Yeah.”

“You better not let him get away.”

Max had laid down with me, but he was no longer in the bed. I thought maybe he’d gone for a run.

I made my way from his bedroom—our bedroom, now that I was living with him permanently—down the stairs and into the large, open den. The view outside was gorgeous. A bright, clear day in Los Angeles. A rare event, to say the least.

Max was sitting in a large leather chair with his feet up on an ottoman. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, and a blue editing pen in the other. His laptop was on the coffee table. I stood there at the foot of the stairs for a few minutes, watching the man I love engrossed in the work he loved so much.

He did a double-take when he noticed me standing there.

“How long have you been there?” he said.

“Just a couple of minutes.”

“Well, come here.”

I walked over to him. He put the script aside and held out his arms, lowering me onto his lap.

Both of us were still in our nap-wear. He wore just a pair of cotton workout shorts. I had on a t-shirt and panties.

Max kissed my check. “How are you feeling?”

“You mean since the last time you asked me two hours ago?”

He kissed my neck, and I felt him getting hard beneath my thigh. Max had been strict about my recovery, not letting me do anything strenuous, which included sex. So we’d been on a two-week run of celibacy. It kind of amazed me that we pulled it off.

“In fact,” I continued as he kept nuzzling my neck, “you’ve asked me every couple of hours for two weeks.”

“I’m just playing doctor.”

I moaned. “Now, that sounds like fun.” And then something occurred to me. “Are you asking purely for medical reasons, or are you just waiting for me to say I’m feeling well enough for you to make love to me?”

“Am I that transparent?”

I laughed.

He said, “Both, actually. You got me.”

I turned my head to face him, and pressed my lips to his. We had kissed during the two weeks, but this was different. Deeper. Passionate. Wanting. Needing.

“Switch places with me,” he said.

He remembered I had said that, for whatever reason, I felt better and more comfortable when I was sitting up.

He lifted me gently and stood, then placed me back down on the chair. He tugged on my panties, and I wiggled as best I could to help him get them down my legs.

“I’ve missed this, Liv,” he said, lowering his head between my legs and licking me. I was already wet from sitting on his lap and feeling his erection growing under me.

I looked down and watched him caressing my cleft with his tongue. “I’ve missed it, too.”

Max wasn’t in the mood to put this off any longer. He brought his head up, and stayed kneeling on the floor. I was sitting on the edge of the chair—we were lined up perfectly for what both of us had been longing for.

Max pulled down the front of his shorts, exposing his beautiful cock. I reached down, needing to touch him. He was fully hard, and warm, and I could almost swear I felt his pulse in the veins of his length.

He pushed forward a little, and I guided him to me.

“I’ll go slow,” he said.

“Do whatever you want.”

“Maybe later, when you’re really ready. But I admire your enthusiasm.”

“Max?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“Stop talking.”

He pushed the head of his cock into me. But only that far. He moved his hips back and forth, sliding into me a little more each time. Shallow, slow thrusts.

What had been two weeks felt more like two years without him inside me.

I put my hand on his chest. He had a hand on each of my hips.

Max leaned forward and our lips met. My tongue darted into his mouth, and he sucked on it, the way that turned me on so much. Then I took his tongue between my lips, turning my head from side to side as my mouth slid back and forth on his tongue as if I were giving him a blowjob.

Our eyes were open the whole time. Locked in a deep stare. It didn’t even seem like we were blinking.

When I freed his tongue, he said, “I almost forgot how tight you are.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Much too long.”

Max looked down and my gaze followed his. Together we watched him disappear inside me. He was deep now, almost too deep—but only because it made my breath hitch and little stabs of dull pain shot through my healing bones.

I winced.

Max stopped. “You okay?”

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Max pushed in again—not deep strokes, and not as fast as he’d started doing it just before the pain…slow, even thrusts.

“I’m gonna come,” he said.

“Do it.”

“Come with me, Liv.”

I started to climax, feeling the surge building quickly. It had been so long. Too long for Max, too. I felt the hot, thick spurts flooding me, and it made his slow thrusts even slicker.

He held my hips tight. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his shoulder, biting him gently as I came with him.

EPILOGUE

It’s been two years since that happened.

I ended up not having to testify in Chris’s trial. He took a plea bargain and got a nineteen year sentence. I’d always liked his parents and they’d always liked me, but there was still something strange about receiving a letter from them, apologizing for their son’s actions. They didn’t have my address, but they’d given it to Grace and she’d sent it to me.

The last I heard, Kevin’s agency died a slow death. After shooting Max’s last movie, Jacqueline Mathers moved to another agency. Word got out that Kevin got drunk one night and tried to pressure her into sex, so he was pretty much finished. I have no idea what he’s doing now.

Krystal completed her rehab and is now living back in our hometown in Ohio. Grace recently told me that Krystal is pregnant and there’s a hastily planned wedding in the works. I’m sure we’ll go, and I’m fairly sure I’ll be in her wedding. After all, she was in mine just over a year ago.

I’m not sure when Max and I will have another child, but we’ve talked about it. Having a one-year-old is enough work for one person, let alone two people who work from home all the time.

After his last movie, Max stopped producing and directing. He’s now writing full-time, and I’ve never seen him happier. We go to his mother’s house once a month for Sunday dinner. She does it just like back home—there’s nothing like a traditional meal cooked by mom—and she can’t get enough of her little grandson.

Max has sold two scripts and is working on a new one now. I haven’t told him yet, but I don’t like it as much as the last two. But I’ll tell him. I’m brutally honest with him, and he always accepts my suggestions.

I love reading his work. The characters and stories that come out of his mind always amaze me.

I often think how all of this started one day when I was a sophomore in college and decided I wanted to work in Hollywood in some capacity.

That girl—the young me—made a fateful decision back then, bucking her parents’ objections, and going against all their advice for years to come. I couldn’t have imagined in a thousand years that it would work out this way.

I also think a lot about what Max said after I read that script he left me when he made an effort to open up to me after the tabloid scandal. I remember his words verbatim:

“I’ve never believed in fate,” he said. “But honestly, when I was writing that—specifically her character—it was different from all the other things I’d ever written before. Or since, actually. I’ve always had to work on characters for a long time, getting them right, changing things about them. But she was different. She just…came to me…out of nowhere, already perfect. Just like you.”

His words back then made my heart melt. I knew he meant them.

But in the time since, we’ve both learned that neither of us is perfect. What we are, though, is perfect for each other.

One day recently I asked him if he still doesn’t believe in fate.

“I don’t know anymore. But I do think almost anything’s possible. Things are just waiting out there and if you have a moment of courage, you put your fear aside and go for it.”

That’s exactly what we’ve been doing all this time.

I had come halfway across the country to find the love of my life, and I didn’t even know I was doing it. It wasn’t an easy path, but then nothing worth having is easy. I’d have gone through even more difficult and dangerous things to find Max, and I know he would have done the same for me.

“Things are better when they’re not scripted, anyway,” he said. “Fate would mean it’s scripted.”

“Strange thing for a writer to say.”

He pondered that for a moment. “Yeah, but that’s fiction.” He paused. “This is real.”

And so it is.

~~~

In October 2012, this three-part series will be available in one paperback volume

~~~

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COMING SOON

A collection of three stand-alone erotic romance novellas

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