So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (72 page)

I push past her into the house. Nan stands in the entry,
wringing a dishtowel in her hands, her expression distressed.

I close the door, shutting Arianne out as I click the lock
into place. “What happened?”

“Tell me that woman is
not
your fiancé. Please.”

“Is
that
what she told you?”

Trudi bounds into the entryway from the living room. “So she
isn’t
your fiancé?”

I rub at the ache forming between my eyebrows. “Fuck no. You
did
meet Lou, right?”

Trudi pinches her bottom lip, tugging it. “Well, you
wouldn’t be the first guy to do that sort of thing.”

“I’m a lot of things, Tru, but not that. Well, not with Lou,
anyway.”

Nan hugs me and walks away, mumbling, “Thank God.”

Tru rocks onto the balls of her feet. “This will be great
for the show’s ratings. Everyone loves drama. I couldn’t write this shit any
better. Ex-girlfriend shows up, faces off with the new girlfriend. It’s going—”

“It’s not going to be
anything
. I’m sending Arianne
packing. I don’t want Lou and her doing anything. Not even meeting.”

Trudi drops her gaze to her blue toenails. “Oh. Well,
see—here’s the thing…”

I clench my jaw, giving myself a moment to settle. I don’t
want to piss Trudi off too much. She could bury me in bad press if I’m not
careful.

“What’s the
thing
, Tru?”

“Well, I’ve already got her paperwork done. She’s agreed to
be on the show. And Barry loves the idea.”

“Fuck Barry. I don’t give a flying cow’s ass how many
producers love it. They can all kiss my dick. This isn’t happening, Tru. It’s a
bad idea. And it could really screw up my shit.”

I answer my phone as I stroll through the Quarter on my way
to meet Buck and his crew.

“Fontaine!”

“Stephens. How’s it hanging?”

“It don’t hang. I have to throw it over my shoulder or it’d
drag in the dirt.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s not what Murphy told me.”

“Murphy? Fuck Murphy. Oh, wait. I did. But, hey, I called
because Russell and I are heading your way.”

“I’ll text you the address. I think the GPS will find it.”

“Sounds good.”

“You
do
know I’m not fucking you, Stephens. Right?”

“Aw man. You’d ruin a guy’s leave like that?”

“Sure as shit.” I can’t help but grin as I hang up.

Those guys give me a load of crap, but they’d have my back
no matter what.

* * *

I hate the French Quarter.

No. Not the French Quarter, I hate being here with Buck, his
merry band of Hollywood fruitcakes, and his ex-girlfriend. Mostly it’s the ex.

I tried to leave when I showed up an hour ago to find little
Miss Blonde Scrawny-Ass staring at Buck like he’s the last cock on the planet.
But, of course, I’m not quite finished paying for Aunt Delores’s house repairs
and Buck knows it. So, cue the money.

I hate fucking money.

I’ve never wanted a lot of money, never desired things I
can’t afford. I was fine plugging along on my own. And if it weren’t for
everything Aunt Delores has done, I’d tell Buck exactly where he could shove
his fist full of cash—right up his famous posterior, or up Arianne’s teeny
backside. Yeah, that’s what he should do. Looks to me like she’d like some
money up her asshole—she’d probably like money any which way she can get it.

But Aunt Delores fed me when Mom wouldn’t buy groceries for
weeks on end. She helped me with homework. She convinced me that I could make
it in this world and be better than the not-so-white trash the world told me I
was. Later, she paid for doctor appointments I couldn’t afford and helped me
fill out applications and forms.

I owe her. So, if I have to walk through the streets of New Orleans
with Buck and his nasal-voiced ex, I’ll do it. And if I have to do it without
putting my combat boot ankle deep in her stuck-up ass, I’ll do that too.

I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.

As we sit at a small table outside of a café, Buck has hold
of my hand, his fingers entwined with mine. He keeps turning to look at me when
Arianne talks to him. He’s barely acknowledged her. This should make me feel
better. But the more she talks, the worse it is.

She turns to the cameraman, looking straight into the lens.
“You know, Buck’s house is just beautiful. It’s set away from the city, but
just enough to not be too far of a drive to go shopping. Right, Buck?”

His grip tightens on my hand. “Yeah.”

“When he and I get married—”

He glares at the camera. “We
aren’t
getting married.
I never proposed to her. Don’t intend to.”

Her glossy, red lips turn up in a smile as she lays her hand
on his bicep. “Oh,
you
. I know you want to surprise me, you devil. But
don’t worry. I’ll be surprised no matter when or how you do it. It’s going to
be marvelous, I just know it.”

He grumbles under his breath. “Fucking delusional.”

* * *

How did this happen? I’m minding my own business, heading to
my car, and Arianne follows me, as though she thinks I’m giving her a ride back
from The Quarter.

Fuck that shit.

I get in, purposely failing to unlock the passenger door.
Maybe she’ll get a clue. Of course she doesn’t. She comes around to my side,
knocking on the window. I roll the glass down.

Her blue eyes harden and she may as well be spitting venom
when she says, “Now, look here, you tramp. I found those papers at Buck’s
place. You had your chance, it’s my turn. You should slink off back under the
rock you crawled out from under before you come out of this looking even worse
than the trashy whore you are.”

How much jail time would an assault conviction cost me?

Nah, she’s not worth it. “Whatever. It doesn’t seem like
Buck’s too keen on picking up where you two left off.”

She tosses her hair behind her and props her hands on her
skinny hips. “He will once he hears my news. He’s going to drop you in the dirt
where you belong, and we’ll ride off into the Caribbean sunset together.”

My teeth grind as anger threatens to boil over. If I don’t
get away from this bitch, I’m gonna have to hurt her. I slam my foot onto the
accelerator. Tires squeal as I swerve to miss a car coming out of my blind
spot.

I wish I could’ve seen Buck coming and swerved to miss
him
.
A blind spot is all I’ve got when it comes to Buck. I knew letting him close
was going to torch my peace of mind all over again.

Hot tears sting my eyes.

I blink away the moisture as a weird kind of déjà vu comes
over me. But I know exactly why this is so familiar. It’s like when I was in
high school.

I hated fucking high school.

Buck was just about the only kid in school that didn’t call
me
trash
at least once.

Even the other poor kids looked down on me.

To them, my momma was trash and I’ll always be just as
trashy.

SEVENTEEN

I mash the power button on the remote. “I’ll be back later.”

“Son, don’t go off and do something you’ll regret.” Pops
calls after me.

I just about take the screen door off the hinges as I head
out front.

“I regret ever signing up for this fucking show.”

Trudi stands behind the open door of the RV, looking around
it as though it’s a shield. “Now, Buck, calm down.”

I grab the handle and yank it open. “Calm down? Did you
watch that fucking show
you
produced?”

She backs up the two steps into the interior of the bus.
“You have to understand, I’m not the director. He’s the one who decides how the
film we take is edited.”

“Bullshit. You had to know what you were doing.” My hands
fist, and anger courses through me. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was creative license.” Trudi backs further into the RV
as I climb in with her.

Landry steps in front of her. “Buck, back off.”

I glare at each of the cameramen in turn. “You. And you. And
YOU.”

Rick crosses his arms. “Seriously, man, stand down.”

All three men block my path to Trudi, as if I’d actually
hurt her. Would I? Fuck no, even if I’d like to wring someone’s neck for
fucking my shit up with Lou. Because that’s exactly what this is going to do.

I hold my fists up, take a deep breath, exhaling slowly,
shaking my fingers loose. “Okay. I’m okay. I’m—I don’t understand what I just
saw. Why the fuck would a show, one I agreed to do in order to
help
my
public image, make me look like an ass who can’t decide between two women?”

Trudi peeks around the group of men guarding her. “Oh, it
wasn’t
that
bad.”

“Sure as fuck looked like it to me. That footage was
finessed and massaged, and I was sound bited to fucking death, to the point
that the world now thinks I’m engaged to fucking Arianne and screwing around on
the side with Lou.”

My jaw ticks. I wait. They all look at each other. The
longer they avoid eye contact, the more it drives through me that they all knew
exactly how this was going to go down. Still, no one looks at me until I slam
my fist through the cabinet door over the sink.

They all back up, crowding against the divider between the
living area and the bedroom behind them.

My knuckles throb. “Well? Anyone want to explain this shit
to me?”

Trudi pushes her way to the front, holding her hands out as
though she’s trying to calm a rabid dog. “Buck, it’s all marketing. Besides,
your contract allows the show to edit as it sees fit. This is the angle the
director wants to play. It’s out of my hands.”

* * *

I pace the length of my room as I dial my manager.

“Buck! I was just going to call you. How’s it going down
there in the other LA?”

“It’s going to shit, man. Did you see the show?”

He coughs. “Sure. Sure. I saw it. It was good.”

“Good? Have you lost your god damned mind?” My voice echoes
off the walls.

“No, it’s good. Don’t worry.”

I rub the deepening crease between my eyebrows. “Exactly
what is
good
about it?”

“Well, I just got a call from Razor Wire Productions today.
Seems they want to give you the lead role. This is it, man—the big time.”

Thoughts scatter across my brain like a box of ten penny
nails dropped on the shop floor, each with its sharp end pinging into me before
it lands and rolls across the landscape of my predicament. Lead role.
McDowell—Arianne’s father, Norman McDowell. The show and the implications of
the way it was presented.

Fuck. Now I’m truly screwed.

“I don’t want Arianne. I never wanted Arianne for more than
a fuck or two.
She
latched onto me.”

Bob’s sigh comes through the line loud and clear, every bit
of his frustration with me evident with that one breath. “Look, Buck. It’s
simple. Play along until the contracts for the film are signed, okay? Let
things ride the way they are. They’re making Lou look like the interloper.”

“Exactly, but that’s not what she is. She’s important, Bob.”

“Okay, so explain it to her. She’ll understand. She’ll want
your career to do well, right?”

Fuck if I know.

I pat Tuffy on his silky head. “Shush. I’ll be back later,
Buddy.”

I let myself out the backdoor, into the dark. At the edge of
Delores’s lawn, I text Lou.

-Knock. Knock. I’ll be at the kitchen door in 60 seconds
or less.-

I creep up the rear stairs. Lou stands, arms crossed, foot
tapping, just outside the glass door leading into the kitchen.

“Why aren’t you entertaining your
fiancé
?”

I run my hands through my hair. “Aw, Lou. Don’t be like
that. You know she isn’t my
anything
. I broke it off with her weeks
before I even came home. That woman’s just a mental patient waiting to
happen—one breakdown away from being picked up by the men in little white jackets.”

“Crazy, is she?”

“She’s something. But she’s
not
my girlfriend, much
less my fiancé.”

“You sure about that? Because it seems like that show of
yours is trying to make this whole thing look like something else.”

Through clenched teeth, I say, “Fuck what the show’s doing.
Trust me on this. She’s nothing to me—less than nothing. They’re just vying for
ratings, and the way my contract is written, there’s squat that I can do about
it.”

Her sigh seems to echo through the trees. “So you weren’t
staring longingly at Arianne while you held my hand under the table?”

“Fuck no. Lou, when I’m with you, I’m
with you
.
You’re all I can see.” Everything about this grates me the wrong way. “Did it
seem like I missed her to you?”

She looks to the deck and runs her bare toes along the edge
of the board at her feet. “I guess not.”

“Okay, then. Don’t watch the show. They’re gonna make this
look a whole shitload different than it actually is. It’s going to make me out
to be a fucking prick, I just know it. I’m not watching it anymore either.”

Her head pops up. “Liar. You will too.”

Damn. “Yeah, I guess I will. But you know what I mean. I
have to have this for my career. There’s a major role riding on it, and
Arianne’s right in the middle, unfortunately. Her dad’s the producer; he could
squash this deal if he decides to.”

“Wait. Hold up. You fucked this woman to get a part?”

I step back. “No. Of course not! We met on location and got
together a couple of times. But she didn’t want to let go, and now I’m up for
this part—just waiting on the contracts to come through—it just happens to be
with the production company her dad runs. Bad luck on my part.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Okay. I get
it.”

I take her elbows in hand, bending at the knees to look her
in the eye. “You do? Really?”

She drops her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yes, I get
it. It’s a career move.”

The grimy fist that’s had hold of my heart since I saw that
stupid episode of Celebrity Homecoming finally lets loose. “Exactly!”

“Look, it’s almost three in the morning. Is there anything
else you want, Buck?”

“I keep telling you, and the answer’s always going to be the
same: I just want
you
, Lou.”

Her face is shadowed, but her eye roll is almost audible.

“I don’t get you, Buck. You and I both know you just want to
get laid.” She ushers me inside. “Can’t you just say that?
I want a piece of
ass, Lou. That’s all. Just a piece of ass.
”

I push her against the counter, running my tongue along her
bottom lip. “Fuck you taste good—for such a mouthy bitch.”

“You’re funny,” she says with a completely straight face—though
with no animosity.

“See? One of the many reasons I love you, Lou: You’re the
only girl I know who I can say that to and doesn’t get her panties in an
uproar.”

The corner of her mouth rises and a spark comes into her
eyes.

“That’s only because I’m not wearing any panties.” She hikes
her leg around my waist, her fingers grazing the erection pushing at the
backside of my fly.

“Fuck. That works too.”

The tip of her tongue traces my mouth as she lowers my
zipper, freeing my dick. She takes my hard-on in hand and tightens her grip as
she drags her fingers to the head. The moonlight barely casts shadows in the
house as she pulls me by the cock toward her room.

I yank her to a stop when we round the corner to the pitch
darkness of the hallway, pressing her back to the wall. My hands work their way
under her night shirt and over her hips. Sure enough, no panties. My cock
flexes in her hold.

I slide my fingers to her pussy; it’s wet and ready. “You
want me, don’t you, Lou?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m just horny all the time.”

“Hell. I can’t wait. Gimme a piece of that ass. Just enough
to tide me over before we make the long trek to your room.”

“Yeah, it’s such an arduously long journey. What if someone
catches us? What if your grandparents show up over here looking for you? What
if your goons bust through the door?”

“Are you going to fuck me, or do you just want to come up
with a ton of excuses and be a total pain in the nads?”

“I’m always going to be a pain in the nads, Buck. But—Aunt
Delores
is
sleeping.”

I grab her ass in both hands, lifting her. She pushes my
jeans down as I slide her onto my cock. The flood of sensation that accompanies
her body closing around mine tightens my dick even more.

Her arms come around my shoulders as I move in her, deeper
and deeper.

She lets out that sexy sound she makes as I pump harder, and
the pictures on the wall keep cadence with my thrusts. Her fingers dig into my
bare back.

I nuzzle Lou’s neck, sucking her soft skin, as her slick
entrance pulses around my erection.

Something cold and hard presses against the base of my
skull.

“Don’t move, dirtbag.”

My ass clenches tight and I stop mid-thrust. “Okay. I’m not
moving. Be calm, Delores.”

The light blinds me. I blink as I back up from Lou enough to
let her legs unwrap from my waist so she can stand on her own.

I raise my hands. “It’s us, Miss Delores. Buck and Lou.”

I turn, shielding Lou’s naked crotch from her Aunt.

Delores squints, but her eyes travel from my face to my
engorged cock.

She lowers her forty-five, a smile spreading over her face.
“Well, I guess that answers
that
question.”

I swallow, tucking my junk into my jeans, trying to do them
up without catching my ball sack in the zipper. “What question, Miss Delores?”

“You
do
have a dick. Lou didn’t seem like she was
real sure about it back when we had the water leak. Guess she had to check that
out for herself.”

Lou’s forehead presses into my spine. “Oh, good Lord, help
me.”

“You two ought to know better than to be sneaking around in
the dark in an old lady’s house. You’re just lucky I didn’t shoot first and ask
questions later.”