Mr. 365 (29 page)

“Stupid?” I say calmly. “You just called my comment stupid, which in my mind is equivalent to calling me stupid. So, on that happy note, I’m going to say good night. I get enough abuse from my job to have to get it from you. When you are ready to apologize for the insults, give me a call.”

I shut off my phone and toss it on the armchair before falling back onto my hotel bed in frustration.

What was that?
I flip through the television channels trying to stay distracted. We’ve never had this type of stupid argument before.

About an hour later my phone rings, and I feel a wave of relief.

“Hello?” I answer, sounding very timid.

“I’m sorry, Sophia,” he says before taking a big breath. “I’m sorry I was a bad boyfriend and said that your work is garbage. I didn’t mean it. I think I was just mad you weren’t coming home, so I took it out on the easiest target.”

I sigh. “Oh, Will. I think that’s why I got so snippy. I’m sorry too. I know you don’t mess with a man’s football. I’m just missing you so much.”

“You are?” he asks.

“Desperately. I can’t stop thinking about you, night and day. It’s making me crazy,” I say, sounding breathy.

“Me too. I’m off my game at work and the house has never felt emptier.”

Listening to his voice makes me feel desperate for him. I stretch out on my bed and run my hand through my hair. “I love you so much. I’m just aching for you.”

Something in my words and desperate tone must spark something in him because his voice changes from sad to a tone of sexy intrigue. “It sounds like you need me. Like you wish I was there.”

“God, do I. You have no idea.” I squeeze my thighs together, getting excited about where this call might go.

“What would you do with me if I were there?”

I imagine him leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out in front of him. I pause and then sigh.

“Well, I’d give you a kiss you’d never forget. Then I’d slowly take your clothes off.” I picture my hands on him and it makes my skin feel hot.

“All of my clothes?” he says, sounding eager.

“I’d do it slowly, kissing and touching you everywhere, until you were completely naked.” I remember the time I was on my knees, pleasuring him.

“I’d like that,” he says with a moan.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your body? You have such an incredibly hot body.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says with his sexy voice. “Just hearing you say that turns me on, baby. You have such a hot body too. My jeans are getting tight just picturing you on my bed.”

“You’re turning me on too… so much.” I slide my fingers between my legs.

“So after I’m naked, what would you do then? I’m unzipping my fly, baby, so keep talking.”

I lean back, feeling his fire burn over me. “I’d put you on my bed, and do everything you desire.”

“Would you straddle me, Sophia? I want to watch you make love to me.” He sounds so turned on, worked up in the best way.

“You sexy man. I like it when you watch me. I can almost feel your strong hands on my hips pulling me down over you.” I say, my breath speeding up.

“Do you know what you do to me? I’m stroking myself, love, picturing your beautiful body as you move over me and it’s making me crazy.” His voice is heavy with want.

“Are you
really
hard?” I ask with a groan.

“So hard for you. I wish you could see how hard. I wish you could wrap your hand around me and feel for yourself.”

“Oh God,” I gasp.

“Touch yourself.”

“I already am.”

He gasps, sending an excited thrill straight to my core.

“I’m picturing you spread out on my bed. Are you wet for me?”

“Do men like football?” I tease in my sexiest voice.

“I like you much more than football.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me, handsome.” I’m baffled why it turns me on even more. My fingers move faster as my legs fall farther apart. I swear I can hear him stroking himself between his ragged breaths.

“Sophia,” he says with desperate edge to his voice. “The instant replay, I’m on top of you, inside of you so deep, kissing your breasts… you feel so damn good…” He groans.

“Harder, Will,” I beg.

“As hard as you want, baby,” he says forcefully.

My gasping breath picks up until I’m panting.

“Come on, love,” he whispers, letting out a long groan as he lets go. I remember how he looks with his eyes shut tight, the most raw pleasure coursing through him.

I can almost feel him inside me when I cry out then moan with my release.

“Did you?” he asks with a hopeful voice.

I fight to catch my breath, barely able to hold onto the phone. “Touchdown,” I say with a satisfied sigh.

T
he next week passes agonizingly slowly, and I keep hoping some kind of miracle happens and I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. I tell Will that I’m tempted to get on a plane just to see him, even if just for one night, but with my shooting schedule, it’s impossible.

Every night when we talk, I realize I’m sounding more and more forlorn. The work’s really getting to me. I’m trying to put on a brave face, but I’m very unhappy with these segments. They’re becoming more and more cartoonish. Part of me wishes I’d stayed with the cooking shows.

That afternoon we break early on the leprechaun shoot and I head back to my hotel to regroup and check my messages. I’m alarmed when I notice that Will has called my phone repeatedly.
Naturally
he would need to speak to me on a day I’m shooting in the boonies where there’s no signal.

I access my voice-mail messages and listen to Will’s voice. He sounds angry.
What’s happened?
I take a deep breath and listen.

Reindeer antlers? Mr. Christmas T-shirt?
What the hell?
I break into a cold sweat and grip my phone while my mind races.
Who I should call first?
I look at my phone again and see a long list of calls from Will. Do I dare to listen? I look back at his first call. It was made over two hours ago. My stomach sinks. If he was this mad two hours ago, what’s he like now?

He’s texted me too so I read that next. There’s an image of the printout of the ad. It’s hard to read with all the wrinkles in the paper, but I can make out enough of it, and I’m horrified. He’s attached an ominous message—
Explain this.

I curl over as if I’ve been punched. Something about seeing the picture makes it even more agonizing than hearing about it.

What’s going on? Is there any way to fix it?

“P
aul, you’ve got to take this call,” the receptionist says.

“Why? Who is it?” he asks warily.

“That Christmas guy you guys shot a while back. He’s pissed off and demanding to talk to you.”

“Why me? I don’t want to talk to him.”

“He wanted management but Rachel isn’t around. He’s pretty worked up and keeps calling. Can you please, please just talk to him?”

“Oh, hell… All right, put him through.”

Paul lets the phone ring five times before he picks it up. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Paul. It’s Will.”

There’s a long silent pause.

“…from the Christmas special shoot.”

“Yeah, sure.” Paul rolls his eyes. “What can I do for you, Will? You know Sophia’s on location. I can get you her number.”

“Oh, I have her number, but unfortunately, I haven’t been able to reach her today.”

“Well, you know how crazy shoots can get, I’m sure she’ll call you back later.”

“Right, right. So I saw an interesting ad this morning, Paul.”

There’s a shorter pause.

Paul clears his throat. “Oh really. What was it?”

“It was me, dressed up like a Christmas clown.”

“Really? Imagine that.” Paul smiles wryly.

“So enough with playing nice, Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Not much to say, Will. You know how those advertising people get. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

“Right, public humiliation has always been high on my list of what I hoped to achieve in my life.” Will’s words are thick with sarcasm.

“I see you’ve lost your sense of humor. Oh, wait a minute… I don’t remember you ever having one.”

There’s another long pause filled with tension.

“I certainly don’t have a sense of humor right now. I want to see the tape for the show,” Will says in a low voice.

“Of the show? Sorry buddy, that’s not going to happen.” Paul shakes his head at the audacity of Will’s demand.

Will decides to up the ante to try to scare Paul into submission. “Paul, did you hear about what I did to that guy that set my yard on fire and hurt my dog?”

Paul coughs but doesn’t respond.

“I have a temper, Paul, and I’m really, really unhappy right now. If I were you, I’d show me the tape.”

“Are you threatening me? That’s not a good idea. Do you really want to spend the holidays in prison? I’m sure they would put you with a very friendly cellmate who would appreciate your good looks.”

“Show me the fucking tape,” he says with a tight voice.

“There’s this thing. It’s called an agreement, which is essentially a contract, that you signed authorizing us to pretty much do whatever we fucking want with you and your footage,” Paul says calmly with just enough sarcasm to boil Will’s blood.

“So as you can see, big boy, it’s not my problem if you didn’t read the contract. It won’t do you any good to beat the crap out of me.”

“But it would make me feel better,” Will says with a sneer.

“And I may even enjoy it, but that’s a whole other story.”

“So you don’t know where Sophia is and why she’s not answering her phone?” Will asks, fed up with Paul’s games.

“Wasn’t she doing that leprechaun today? Well, not
doing
him, but you know what I mean. Yeah, why don’t you harass her instead of me? She actually likes you and might be more fun to threaten.”

“I’d never threaten a woman.”

“Well then why are you threatening me? I’m gay so that’s considered bad form as well in most civilized circles.”

“Who said I was civilized?”

“Touché! Well, this has been grand… a lot of fun, Will, but I have work to do. Why don’t you lighten up and embrace the experience. Any publicity is better than no publicity, and surely you don’t do your house up with all the crap unless you really crave the attention deep down.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Paul.”

“Good, and let’s keep it that way.”

I
look down at my phone again and know that even though I don’t have answers, I can’t keep Will waiting another minute, wondering why I haven’t responded. I’m wound tight like a coil about to spring; every part of my body tenses as I call him.

“Damn it, Sophia!” Will yells as soon as he picks up. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to call me back.”

“I’m sorry! This crazy-ass leprechaun lives in a dead zone. I had no cell reception or Internet all day. I just got your messages.”

“
Really,
how fucking convenient,” he says, his tone dripping with angry sarcasm.

“What are you talking about? I’m stunned, I feel sick, and I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you better think of something. This shit’s going to ruin me.”

“I swear, I didn’t know anything about it.” My response only pisses him off further.

“Aren’t you the goddamned producer? What’s wrong with you? You should know all about it!”

“Please don’t yell at me. I feel bad enough. When they booked me for these other shoots, I talked to everyone in postproduction and told them what I expected. I have no idea what happened,” I say.

“What you
expected? What you expected?”
he yells.

“I confirmed several times during the shoot that this was going to be an upbeat and positive portrayal. Please, let me make some calls and find out what happened. Maybe it’s just the ad that’s misleading.”

“I highly doubt that. You make your calls and demand that they fix it.”

“Okay, I’ll do it now. Are you going to be available when I call back?”

“What do you think? I can barely function I’m so pissed off. I’ve been watching the phone all day, and I’ll continue glaring at it after we hang up.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say with a sad sigh.

There’s a long angry silence. “You promised me.”

“Will…,” I say softly.

“You promised.”

Fueled by Will’s rage, I pace the floor of my hotel room until my defeat turns to fury. I beat the hell out of the pillow on my bed and sit down to refocus on making calls.