(For His Pleasure 14) With His Belief (4 page)

Her stomach pitched and rolled.

Meanwhile Bryson and Eliza were talking, then laughing, their hands moving, her hands practically touching his knee.

If she touches him I’ll scream, Scarlett thought.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take seeing Bryson shamelessly flirt with this beautiful movie actress right in front of her face.

“I’m going to grab a smoke if it’s okay,” Scarlett mumbled, standing up awkwardly.

The two of them looked at her.

Bryson nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you out there?”

“Yeah.” Scarlett started for the door.

“Nice chatting with you,” Eliza called out.

And then Scarlett was out in the fresh air, and she was running behind the trailer and getting sick.

Her stomach lurched and she threw up. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, so there wasn’t much that came up. She wiped her chin and took a few deep, ragged breaths.

Next thing she knew, she was crying silently, shaking.

It wasn’t about Bryson and Eliza.

The whole thing had been triggered by them ignoring her, yes, but she knew her violent reaction was mostly about her past.

Images of her family sitting around the dinner table, talking, laughing, all the while ignoring her—those old films ran through her head on a loop. All the pain came back, and she remembered those same feelings of isolation.

It’s okay,
she told herself.
It’s okay. You’re an adult. It’s not like that anymore.

But it had felt like that. The sense of turning invisible, of disappearing—it made her want to turn and run. Maybe Seth would still take her back if she went and begged him for her waitressing job.

It’s just a moment. You’ve had moments like this before and you’ve gotten over
them.

Still, she was shaky and anxious. She took out her pack of cigarettes and, with trembling fingers, removed one, putting it between her lips. By the time she’d lit it and drawn the first plume of smoke into her lungs, she was already calming down.

Cigarettes were so bad, so horrible, and yet they did serve to calm her nerves.

That’s why she still wasn’t able to quit, despite knowing that if she didn’t stop, they’d eventually kill her.

She smoked one and then started the next, when she heard the door to the trailer opening again. Bryson’s voice was clear and loud from around the corner. “We’ll start shooting in five, then?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be out in two seconds,” Eliza called.

“I’ll walk you over,” Bryson replied.

“How chivalrous.” There was a giggle, and then the door slammed shut.

Scarlett wanted to go and talk to him, see him, be reassured that he still cared.

She wanted to see his eyes and know that he could still look at her the way he had just yesterday. But something stopped her just then.

What stopped her, she realized, was that she wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he’d done what she thought he might do—which is to barely even give her a second glance. She thought her heart might just shatter if he did that.

And so she stayed behind the trailer, feeling very much like a coward, as a moment later she heard Eliza come out and the two of them presumably walked back to the set together.

Scarlett followed them over to the merry-go-round, where the first scene of the day was taking place. She stayed far enough behind them, that it wasn’t likely either would notice her.

When they arrived at the set-up, it was a true madhouse. People were running left and right, shouting orders, scurrying about like nothing she’d ever seen before. She stayed out of everyone’s way and just watched.

Bryson was conferring with a few different people and then it seemed they were getting ready to start shooting.

Eliza took her place in front of the camera. Lights were shining on her from three directions. Someone held a large microphone (apparently they called it a boom mike) just over her head and out of the camera’s frame.

Eliza did enjoy the pressure and the attention, as it turned out. She hadn’t been lying when she’d stood in the trailer and bragged about it to Scarlett. She seemed to grow taller and glow under the lights and the gazes of everyone watching her.

“Quiet on the set!” Someone yelled.

Now, after all the noise that had ratcheted up to a near frenzy, there was total and utter silence.

“Bridge and Tunnel, scene one, take one!” someone else shouted.

There was a clapping noise. “Action,” Bryson called out, and then Eliza started talking. She was alone in this scene. Scarlett remembered it well from the script. Films, it turned out, were shot very much out of sequence. This was from later in the movie, when the two main characters had already gotten together, broken up and then gotten back together once more.

Eliza spoke a few lines, got on the merry-go-round and looked wistfully at the camera. The whole thing took all of about one minute from start to finish.

“Cut!” Bryson yelled.

Eliza got off the merry-go-round and was immediately being attended to by her makeup person and stylist. As the stylist talked and worked, Scarlett wondered if he was saying something about Cher or Jane Fonda. Eliza seemed happy enough with him now, so whatever he was saying to her must be just fine.

Probably because Bryson had made her feel listened to and appreciated, Scarlett thought. Scarlett knew how Bryson could suddenly turn his attention on you and just make you feel like the most special person in the world.

And then, when he withdrew that attention, it was like going from a warm summer’s day to freezing in an arctic night.

That’s how Scarlett felt for the rest of the day, actually. She felt frozen out of everything, discarded, afraid to even go to Bryson and ask him if he needed help with anything.

He was so busy all of the time, surrounded by people asking him questions, talking to Dale Nolan or Eliza Johnston—Scarlett just stayed out of the way. She’d become invisible again.

In a way, it was all too familiar and easy to fall back into this trap. She wandered around the amusement park like a ghost. During lunch, she sat away from everyone, nibbling on a soggy tuna sandwich and watching as Bryson sat at the “cool kids” table with Dale and Eliza and their inner circle of friends.

They were all laughing and talking like they were sitting on the quad together—

all the most popular jocks with their cheerleader girlfriends. Which, Scarlett supposed, would make Bryson the popular jock and Eliza his cheerleader girlfriend.

Scarlett could see, even from a distance, the way Eliza was constantly looking at Bryson, talking to him, like all she cared about was him. And Bryson was holding court -

- he was the one that everyone wanted to be around and be with.

And that, she supposed, made her the strange outcast who yearned for the attention of the popular boy but never quite got it.

She hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time. Since adulthood, men had given her plenty of attention, even if much of it had been unwanted, inappropriate or unhealthy.

Still, it was attention and it wasn’t often that she felt undeserving or unable to get a man to look twice at her.

This was a whole new game, though. People like Eliza Johnston were beautiful and magnetic and powerful—Eliza had qualities that made Scarlett feel like she was a teenager again, like she was nothing and nobody.

It hurt. It hurt more than she expected.

***

She fell asleep almost immediately after getting home that evening, exhaustion overcoming her after she’d taken her shower and gotten into panties and a t-shirt.

Scarlett hadn’t even had time to eat a light dinner or watch some TV. She’d been meaning to watch one of those light-hearted Kate Hudson romances that made her feel like the world was a friendlier place than the one she currently inhabited.

Instead, she fell asleep on the couch and then woke up to the sound of her buzzer buzzing incessantly.

She sat up, catching her breath. In her dreams, the buzzer had taken the form of an angry beehive that she’d disturbed, sending a swarm of nasty bees out to get her.

“What the hell,” Scarlett gasped, trying to steady her nerves.

The buzzer shrilly buzzed yet again. She got up and walked to the intercom.

What if it was Trevor, coming to get revenge?

But Scarlett knew that if Trevor was coming to get her, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to just buzz her apartment.

“Hello?” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

“It’s Bryson.”

She backed away from the intercom as if stung. What was he doing here at this time of night?

“You woke me up,” she said.

“Let me in.”

She hesitated. It was so late. Whatever he was here for, she didn’t think it could be anything good for either of them. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.

“Just give me five minutes. Scarlet, please.”

She took a deep breath. “Fine, Bryson. But only five minutes. I’m serious.”

She buzzed him in, going quickly to her room and pulling on a pair of jeans before he knocked at the door.

When she answered the door to her apartment, Bryson was standing there in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He looked like he’d been running or something.

“What’s going on?” she said, letting him in.

He walked by her into the apartment.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls,” he said, looking around. “Nice place, by the way.”

“Thanks. Hunter’s paying my rent here,” she said.

He turned to face her, his eyes flashing in the dim light of the apartment. “Hunter pays your rent?”

She liked seeing him jealous, finally. “Yeah, he does.” She met his gaze without flinching.

“That’s a little strange.”

She shrugged. “Not to me, it isn’t. And honestly, I don’t really care if you think it’s strange.”

“Whatever.” He shook his head as if trying to forget what she’d just told him.

“The point is that I needed to talk to you. Why did you ignore my calls?”

“Because I fell asleep early. I was tired.”

“Oh.” He sighed. He looked troubled. “You seem angry with me.”

“I really have nothing to say to you unless it’s work-related.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Bryson. You’re just perfect. You’re so amazing. What do you want me to say?”

He stepped toward her. “Say what you feel, Scarlett.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t feel anything.”

He sighed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, believe it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re violating our agreement. We said this would be professional. I think you should go now, before you make it even worse.”

He was staring intently at her, trying to read her emotions from her face, but she was sure to give nothing away.

“Fine, I’ll go. If that’s what you really want.”

She didn’t respond.

He stepped closer still. The heat from his body seemed to envelop her, and his blue eyes were taking her in, paralyzing her in some way. “Is this really what you want?”

he said, moving even closer.

She wanted him.

She wanted him so badly, and it hurt. It was sweet relief that he’d come for her, that she knew he hadn’t truly forgotten her despite the way he’d acted on set. But she didn’t think she could just give in like this after how he’d treated her.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

She felt liquid and soft, as his hands reached out and grabbed her arms firmly.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” he whispered back, and then his mouth was on hers again.

She’d forgotten how badly she wanted him, how badly she needed him, until this very moment. It was as if she’d been walking in the desert all day, and suddenly the heavens opened up and the rains were pouring down. She was covered in water, covered completely by his love, by his touch and his taste. She was lost in it, lost in everything Bryson did to her.

His hands were so firm and strong, holding her against the wall as his mouth tasted hers, his tongue touched hers, his lips pressing, greedily. Wanting more.

She wanted more too.

She closed her eyes, moaning, and then opened them to find him looking at her.

When their eyes locked, it was as if he was speaking to her directly, his thoughts and wants and needs and fears laid out as plain as if he’d said them aloud.

His eyes told her that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, that he missed her touch as much as she missed his.

For whatever reason, he hadn’t shown it during the shoot that day.

But here he was, his body hungering for hers.

“Scarlett,” he breathed, pausing, looking down at her. Then his lips were hot against her neck, kissing down further to her collarbone. His hands pressed her arms against the wall.

Soon, he’d begun kissing the top of her breasts, and then his hands were pulling her shirt down. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were stiff with urgent need.

He was sucking on them now, his mouth hot and wet, moving with rhythmic persistence.

“Fuck,” she swore, unable to control the violent tremor that ran through her entire body as his lips pressed once more against her hardened nipple.

He paused for a moment, teasing her, then dove back to her breasts, sucking them and ripping her t-shirt down so that her torso was almost completely exposed.

She ran her hands through his hair, gasping and writhing as his teeth nipped at her breasts. She was wet between her legs now, practically soaking through her jeans.

“We have to stop,” she said. She pulled away from him, fixing her shirt. The collar was stretched out so much that it was almost impossible to cover her breasts, but she did her best.

“Why?” he asked, eyeing her like a hunter eyes its prey.

She walked past him, trying to pull her thoughts together. “Because I work for you. And because I don’t like being treated like some kind of sex toy.”

“Sex toy?”

She steadied her breathing. “Do you know what I did all day today?” she asked him.

He sighed and folded his arms. “No. I kind of had my hands full today in case you didn’t notice, Scarlett.”