When I Was Yours
Page 30
When Max’s truck is out of sight, I slam the front door shut.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself to deal with Ava. Then, I walk back into the living room.
I find her perched on the arm of the chair, sitting like she’s about to take a scene.
That’s Ava. Everything’s a movie to her. Life is fucking a movie.
“There’s no alcohol here,” she complains. “I want a martini.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not old enough to buy alcohol. I’m only nineteen, remember?” I dig at her forgetting my birthday.
She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t give me that shit, Adam. You’ve been buying liquor since you were sixteen.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Okay, let’s cut the bullshit. What are you doing here?”
“Visiting my son.” She folds her arms, mirroring me. “Your little girlfriend seems…nice.” She screws her face up on the word nice.
“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just fucking her.”
“Well, I think it’s sweet that you’ve found yourself a little piece of trailer trash to play with while you’re here.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap on reflex.
Ava smiles a winning smile, and I know I’ve screwed up.
“Awfully touchy about some girl you’re just fucking.”
“I’m not doing this with you. Just tell me what you want, and then you can get the fuck out.”
“Honestly, the way you talk to me.” She laughs easily, shaking her head, like I’ve just told some joke. Then, she unfolds her arms and places her hands flat on her thighs. “So, I need a teeny, tiny favor.”
I snort.
The last teeny, tiny favor I did for her involved me flying to Vegas to get Eric. My father had spent the weekend with some male hooker in the apartment he owned there, fucking him and getting high on coke. Then, the hooker waited until Eric had passed out from the drugs before handcuffing him to the bed and robbing him of everything he had. The hooker did leave the phone on the bed so that Eric could call for help and the keys to the handcuffs on the bedside table so that I could unlock him.
How kind of him.
Ava wanted to keep the incident out of the press, so I was sent to go help him.
Walking in and seeing my father handcuffed to the bed, butt naked, with used needles on the bedside table and a dirty condom still on his cock was not a scene any kid should have to deal with or see. And it’s one I’ve sadly never quite been able to scrub from my mind.
“Is Eric in trouble again?”
“Not exactly. I mean, he’s always in trouble. But this isn’t trouble as much as this is business. A favor will help him and ultimately you, as the studio will be yours one day. It’s a mutually beneficial kind of favor.”
I fold my arms and lean back against the wall, readying myself for the bullshit.
“Do you remember Mandi Becker?”
I cringe when I hear the name. Mandi was a few years younger than me. Total psycho. She had this massive crush on me. Used to follow me around like an annoying puppy dog. Tried to get it on with me a few times, but of course, I always blew her off.
One time, a few years ago, I’d passed out at a party, and I woke to find her straddling me, undoing my jeans, attempting to get my cock out. I went absolutely mental on her. I was sixteen. She was thirteen at the time. Why the hell she was at the party in the first place, I’ll never know.
The girl is a nutjob—a nutjob who is now famous. She won a talent show on TV and became this big star.
“I remember. She’s a singer now, right? Won that show.”
“That’s her. Well, your father is doing a film about a poor girl, trailer-trash sort, who wins a talent contest and becomes a singing sensation overnight—worldwide fame, that kind of thing. Sort of like what happened with Mandi.”
“Except Mandi was hardly trailer trash. She grew up in Beverly Hills.”
“Semantics. And you know how people love a good rags-to-riches story. Anyway, it’s not a biographical film. But Mandi would be perfect for the part with her being a talent-show winner. She has a huge following here and internationally. She can actually sing, so we wouldn’t need a voice-over. She’ll be perfect for the part.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, the studio’s been struggling these last few years. We haven’t had a box office hit in a long time. A lot have been straight-to-DVD movies. You would know all of this if you paid attention to the business that will one day be yours instead of wasting your time out here, on the beach, playing with your little surfboard.”
“Were you in any of the films?” I ask her.
“A few. Why?”
“That’s why they flopped. You’re getting old, Ava. People don’t want to see you on-screen anymore.”
Her lips press together. So, tightly I’m surprised they haven’t turned blue.
Wow. What she needs from me, she must really need because she didn’t bite.
“The studio needs a big hit, and this film will be it. Your father had a meeting with Mandi and her people the other day, and she’s close to signing on for the film. But she has a condition…”
“Which is?”
“You.”
“Me?” I laugh. “What does she want me for?”
“Well, you know how she’s always had a thing for you...” She lifts a brow.
“You can’t be serious.” I push off the wall. “She wants me? For what?”
“To date, I’m guessing.”
“Why? I’m sure she’s not struggling for dates nowadays.”
Ava shrugs. “I have no clue. But she is fixated on having you. You always have been a beautiful boy, Adam. Maybe it’s that. But whatever it is, this girl wants you.”
“Oh my God.” I drag my hands over her face. “You seriously want to pimp me out to this nutjob singer, so she’ll do a movie for Eric.”
“I wouldn’t call it pimping out.”
“No?” I throw her a look. “What would you call it?”
“Oh, stop whining, Adam. Do you know how many boys your age would kill to be in your position? All I’m asking you to do is fuck a hot famous singer and keep her happy so that she’ll make the movie. Then, once she’s contractually bound to the movie, you can dump her ass and come back here to your little trailer-trash girlfriend. I don’t see the problem in that.”
“The fact that you don’t see a problem is the problem in itself. You do know that Mandi is sixteen, right? You’re basically asking me to fuck a minor—you know, commit a felony, statutory rape.” I give a humorless laugh. I should be surprised, but I’m not.
“So, don’t fuck her. Just keep her happy until she signs the contract.”
I stare at her for a long moment, wondering how this woman is actually my mother, how I grew inside her for nine months, and how I somehow managed to come out normal—well, as normal as I can be after growing up with this fucking monster.
“Are you seriously asking me to do this?”
She gives me a look, telling me that she is.
“You’re insane. I’m not doing it, Ava. No fucking way.” I turn from her, walking toward the kitchen.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself to deal with Ava. Then, I walk back into the living room.
I find her perched on the arm of the chair, sitting like she’s about to take a scene.
That’s Ava. Everything’s a movie to her. Life is fucking a movie.
“There’s no alcohol here,” she complains. “I want a martini.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not old enough to buy alcohol. I’m only nineteen, remember?” I dig at her forgetting my birthday.
She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t give me that shit, Adam. You’ve been buying liquor since you were sixteen.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Okay, let’s cut the bullshit. What are you doing here?”
“Visiting my son.” She folds her arms, mirroring me. “Your little girlfriend seems…nice.” She screws her face up on the word nice.
“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just fucking her.”
“Well, I think it’s sweet that you’ve found yourself a little piece of trailer trash to play with while you’re here.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap on reflex.
Ava smiles a winning smile, and I know I’ve screwed up.
“Awfully touchy about some girl you’re just fucking.”
“I’m not doing this with you. Just tell me what you want, and then you can get the fuck out.”
“Honestly, the way you talk to me.” She laughs easily, shaking her head, like I’ve just told some joke. Then, she unfolds her arms and places her hands flat on her thighs. “So, I need a teeny, tiny favor.”
I snort.
The last teeny, tiny favor I did for her involved me flying to Vegas to get Eric. My father had spent the weekend with some male hooker in the apartment he owned there, fucking him and getting high on coke. Then, the hooker waited until Eric had passed out from the drugs before handcuffing him to the bed and robbing him of everything he had. The hooker did leave the phone on the bed so that Eric could call for help and the keys to the handcuffs on the bedside table so that I could unlock him.
How kind of him.
Ava wanted to keep the incident out of the press, so I was sent to go help him.
Walking in and seeing my father handcuffed to the bed, butt naked, with used needles on the bedside table and a dirty condom still on his cock was not a scene any kid should have to deal with or see. And it’s one I’ve sadly never quite been able to scrub from my mind.
“Is Eric in trouble again?”
“Not exactly. I mean, he’s always in trouble. But this isn’t trouble as much as this is business. A favor will help him and ultimately you, as the studio will be yours one day. It’s a mutually beneficial kind of favor.”
I fold my arms and lean back against the wall, readying myself for the bullshit.
“Do you remember Mandi Becker?”
I cringe when I hear the name. Mandi was a few years younger than me. Total psycho. She had this massive crush on me. Used to follow me around like an annoying puppy dog. Tried to get it on with me a few times, but of course, I always blew her off.
One time, a few years ago, I’d passed out at a party, and I woke to find her straddling me, undoing my jeans, attempting to get my cock out. I went absolutely mental on her. I was sixteen. She was thirteen at the time. Why the hell she was at the party in the first place, I’ll never know.
The girl is a nutjob—a nutjob who is now famous. She won a talent show on TV and became this big star.
“I remember. She’s a singer now, right? Won that show.”
“That’s her. Well, your father is doing a film about a poor girl, trailer-trash sort, who wins a talent contest and becomes a singing sensation overnight—worldwide fame, that kind of thing. Sort of like what happened with Mandi.”
“Except Mandi was hardly trailer trash. She grew up in Beverly Hills.”
“Semantics. And you know how people love a good rags-to-riches story. Anyway, it’s not a biographical film. But Mandi would be perfect for the part with her being a talent-show winner. She has a huge following here and internationally. She can actually sing, so we wouldn’t need a voice-over. She’ll be perfect for the part.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, the studio’s been struggling these last few years. We haven’t had a box office hit in a long time. A lot have been straight-to-DVD movies. You would know all of this if you paid attention to the business that will one day be yours instead of wasting your time out here, on the beach, playing with your little surfboard.”
“Were you in any of the films?” I ask her.
“A few. Why?”
“That’s why they flopped. You’re getting old, Ava. People don’t want to see you on-screen anymore.”
Her lips press together. So, tightly I’m surprised they haven’t turned blue.
Wow. What she needs from me, she must really need because she didn’t bite.
“The studio needs a big hit, and this film will be it. Your father had a meeting with Mandi and her people the other day, and she’s close to signing on for the film. But she has a condition…”
“Which is?”
“You.”
“Me?” I laugh. “What does she want me for?”
“Well, you know how she’s always had a thing for you...” She lifts a brow.
“You can’t be serious.” I push off the wall. “She wants me? For what?”
“To date, I’m guessing.”
“Why? I’m sure she’s not struggling for dates nowadays.”
Ava shrugs. “I have no clue. But she is fixated on having you. You always have been a beautiful boy, Adam. Maybe it’s that. But whatever it is, this girl wants you.”
“Oh my God.” I drag my hands over her face. “You seriously want to pimp me out to this nutjob singer, so she’ll do a movie for Eric.”
“I wouldn’t call it pimping out.”
“No?” I throw her a look. “What would you call it?”
“Oh, stop whining, Adam. Do you know how many boys your age would kill to be in your position? All I’m asking you to do is fuck a hot famous singer and keep her happy so that she’ll make the movie. Then, once she’s contractually bound to the movie, you can dump her ass and come back here to your little trailer-trash girlfriend. I don’t see the problem in that.”
“The fact that you don’t see a problem is the problem in itself. You do know that Mandi is sixteen, right? You’re basically asking me to fuck a minor—you know, commit a felony, statutory rape.” I give a humorless laugh. I should be surprised, but I’m not.
“So, don’t fuck her. Just keep her happy until she signs the contract.”
I stare at her for a long moment, wondering how this woman is actually my mother, how I grew inside her for nine months, and how I somehow managed to come out normal—well, as normal as I can be after growing up with this fucking monster.
“Are you seriously asking me to do this?”
She gives me a look, telling me that she is.
“You’re insane. I’m not doing it, Ava. No fucking way.” I turn from her, walking toward the kitchen.
