His Dark Secret - Part 1 (Erotic Romance Serial Novel) (3 page)

“Was it really that bad?”

“Well I didn’t fall out at least.
Had tape on my nipples preventing that. Just got over the chafing.”

“TMI!” Jenny laughed, “But at
least it’s got you going to Frost. Pretty ritzy place.”

“So you tell me every five
minutes.”

Jenny was pushing me onto the
sofa, working on my hair now. I felt like I was back on set, though Jenny was a
little less careful with the comb than the makeup artist had been.

“You trying to comb my hair or
scalp me?”

“Quiet you. I want you to look
nice for your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Honey, he asked you to show up as
his guest to a party after barely meeting you. If anything he wants to get to
know you better.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You’d like that right?”

“Of course. He’s kind of strange,
almost frenetic. But he’s very handsome.”

“So you’d like to get to know him
better,” Jenny offered suggestively.

A few more strands were yanked out
of my head as I whipped around.

“Not like that!”

Jenny turned my head forward.
“Keep still. And it sounds exactly like that. He’s handsome. He’s famous. When
you got home today, it was like high school again, how excited you were to be
asked out.”

“I just don’t want to rush into
something.”

“Which is a totally reasonable.
Especially with these Hollywood types, don’t go into it expecting a lot.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s a precedent for, how do I
put this, just kind of tossing girls to the side.”

“What do you mean?”

“These powerful guys, artsy guys,
they run through women like nothing else. Get into bed with any girl who’s
feeling star struck, and then they move on to the next conquest. I don’t want
you to be his flavor of the week.”

“Well I’m not going to let things
get that far. I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything. I just need to have
some fun. A night to myself.”

Jenny stopped combing. “Well you
deserve it, Sammy. Just be careful. I know you’re taking the whole situation
into consideration, I just don’t want you to get hurt”

“Thanks Jenny.”

“Well I’m done back here. How does
it look?”

She handed me a mirror. My hair
was held back, with the bangs on one side curving down. It matched my
understated makeup perfectly.

I smiled at her in the mirror,
“Looks like I’m ready for tonight.”

~~~

Almost the instant I stepped foot
into Frost, I realized how wrong I was. The place was dark paneled, black for
the most part except the soft blue lights that illuminated the bar and dance
floor. I soon found the cast and crew, milling about the bar in a distinct
social hierarchy. The extras and bit players were shoved together at the end of
the bar behind a group of obnoxious socialites whose connection to
Chimera
was a mystery to me. A larger group, gathered around the star Troy, was
laughing in the middle, all sharply dressed and holding the attention of the
staff. A circle of club goers with drawn, desperate faces, hung back at a
distance, trying with varying success to sidle into a conversation. Everyone
was holding expensive looking cocktails, well out of my price range. I watched
as Troy, evidently drunk, reached behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of vodka,
and threw down a stack of bills when one of the bar backs protested.

This was definitely not my world.
I had a sudden urge to become invisible, to melt into the crowd before anyone
recognized me, especially in my low cut, high slit dress. I decided to stand at
the edge of the dance floor, soak up the deep bass of the music. I didn’t know
anyone here, but I was having fun on my own. I began to sway, my pulse in tune
to the beat.

It was in this state, dancing
alone, that Scott found me as he emerged from a dark, curtained off section of
the club. My heart stopped for a second. He looked fine in a dark suit, blue
shirt unbuttoned at the top. A smile cracked his face as he came over.

“Glad you made it. But what are
you doing alone over here?” He was practically shouting over the music.

I glanced back at the rest of the
crew just as Troy poured a copious amount of vodka over his head. I pointed a
thumb back at the celebration saying, “Didn’t seem like my kind of crowd.”

He nodded knowingly, taking me by
the arm.

“Why don’t we head somewhere a
little quieter?”

He ushered me past a thickset
bouncer and through the drapes. The heavy curtains did wonders absorbing the
sound, the music reduced to a dull thrum. Scott led me over to a low set table
where a group of his friends, maybe just associates, were seated.

“Everyone, this is Samantha, a bit
of an unknown talent I discovered on set today. Samantha, you know Gary.” He
motioned to the spectacled man, who looked absolutely ridiculous in a
flamboyant purple suit. “This is his girlfriend Megan, she’s an editor over at
Sharp and Company.” This was directed at a mousy haired girl in a flashy silver
dress with a genuinely happy smile. “Next to her, that’s Desmond Alvarez, the
photographer.” Desmond, in comparison to Megan, didn’t smile, barely possessing
the niceties to nod in my direction. “And last is Cynthia. She does modeling
for a number of our friends.”

The woman dressed in a peacock
patterned silk dress extended a limp hand to me.

“Samantha, good to see you, please
join us,” she said in a magnanimous voice.

She was gorgeous, but there was a
pinch to her face that didn’t sit right with me. The smile on her lips didn’t
reach her eyes, which glistened with a predatory light.

We scooted in next to Gary, who
seemed much more at ease than he had earlier that day. Scott handed me a drink,
and I shook my head.

“I can’t afford this.”

“Don’t worry about it. This whole
thing’s on me as it is, I’d be happy to pay for your drinks.”

“I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“Well then we’ll have to train you
up for the title belt.”

Desmond guffawed at this. Cynthia
twittered out a shrill laugh that grated across my nerves. Scott shook his head
at his own joke.

“Let’s celebrate a bit. You were
key to helping me out with a pacing problem today. I think that’s something to
drink to.”

“Alright, just a bit of one then.”

Scott motioned to a waiter for another
drink. Once furbished, he raised a toast.

“To surprises and being one step
closer to being done with this goddamn film.”

“Hear, hear,” Gary intoned,
downing his drink.

I took a sip of the amber cocktail
in my glass. I couldn’t identify the liquid, but it was good and sweet, almost
tart. A few sips later I was feeling warm. For a while, the group seemed to
forget me, the conversation turning to a recent shoot that Desmond had been
doing in France.

“Good to be doing my own work for
once, not this commercial drivel they have me working in the States.”

Cynthia chimed in at this.

“The beaches are exquisite this
time of year. And so much less prudish than here, if you ask me. I tell you, it
was good to feel the sun on my breasts again.”

I was unable to stop myself from
glancing at the navel cut of her dress, which revealed a distinct lack of a tan
line. Self-conscious, I put a hand to my own low neckline.

“Scottie, when are you going to
join us in Cannes again?”

I was happy to see Scott shudder
at the nickname.

“Cynthia, between this film and my
other projects, I doubt I’m going to have any real down time until winter.
Which is the way I like it.”

Cynthia turned her gaze to me, her
eyes again refusing to smile with the rest of her face.

“And what about you Samantha? Have
you ever been to Cannes?”

I felt my face grow red. “No, I
haven’t?”

“Oh. How about Cancun?”

“Never.”

“Singapore?”

I didn’t like the way she was
driving at me. I felt skewered in her gaze, unable to escape.

“Actually, until a few days ago, I
hadn’t been outside of Iowa.”

At this, a cruel mirth reached her
eyes. She set down her glass, looking sideways in my direction.

“That’s a shame to hear. Anyone
who’s anyone has traveled overseas.”

Dour Desmond guffawed again. Gary
and Megan looked uncomfortable. I was shocked as Scott let out a loud, hearty
laugh.

“You’re so right Cynthia. I wish
more people could be as massively in debt to their wealthy parents as you are.
Then we might have a bit more class in the world.”

Cynthia’s face fell. This got a
hearty laugh from Gary and, I’m ashamed to admit, a small grin from myself.
Cynthia excused herself and Scott ordered round of drinks for us all. He gave
another toast.

“To bad blood.”

After we drained our glasses,
Megan added in a squeaky voice, “And bad bitches.”

We all had a laugh, even Desmond.
Though I was sad to see Cynthia’s return, Desmond, Gary, and even Megan were
all smiles and compliments once again. There was something very high school
drama in the way this group operated; being nice to someone’s face while
sharpening a knife behind their back. Only Scott seemed immune from this trend,
standing out by speaking his mind. While I was thankful that he had stood up
for me, the whole group dynamic had turned once again to far off places and
dealings that didn’t concern me. I sulked next to Scott, sipping my drink while
abstaining from the conversation. Suddenly, Scott sat up.

“It’s been great guys, but fuck
this. I’m out. Enjoy yourselves, keep the party going while I’m away.”

I was surprised that no one was
taken aback by this sudden outburst. I assumed this was a normal goodbye for
Scott. He was looking straight at me.

“Want to tag along for a ride?”

His eyes had been on me all night
and I wanted to see if there was a promise behind them. Jenny’s warning briefly
buzzed in my head but I ignored it. Scott was different. He had stood up for me
in front of that pretentious bitch Cynthia. I had been running for so long,
hiding from my past, hiding from the future, and I was tired of it. I just
wanted to enjoy the here and now for once. And Scott was the promise of the
present.

“Sure,” I got out, and we left the
bar. We were chauffeured across town in his own private car, a sleek white
sedan.

“Sorry about them. Gary can be all
right when he let’s loose, but Megan is utterly spineless. Between you and me I
hope they break up, sooner rather than later. Desmond is a wet blanket.
Talented, but a real bore. And Cynthia can be-“

“A real bitch?” I interjected.

Scott smiled. “Exactly. Especially
when she’s jealous.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Samantha, you outshone her
without even trying. You are gorgeous tonight.”

I felt warm all over. I nuzzled
into his shoulder.

“Thank you Mr. Rushmand.”

“Scott will do just fine.”

“Then thank you, Scott.”

We arrived at his apartment
building, rising tall over downtown L.A., and took a private elevator to
Scott’s top penthouse suite. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, not in
any movie or my wildest imaginations. Everything was sharp and modern, all
silver and wooden browns. There was a bar next to the kitchen, both having a
professional air about them; a projector hung from the ceiling and a screen
stretched across the whole of the opposite wall. But the best part was the
view: floor to ceiling glass windows opened up onto the City of Angels where a
million lights winked at us. Constellations painted across the city.

I had barely kicked off my shoes
when Scott picked me up in a warm embrace, strong and comforting. My body
melted, a tension that had been building up all day released in that instant. I
wove my fingers into the dark waves of his hair, pulling him down to me.