Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) (7 page)

NAOMI

Friday, April 23rd

Natalia just waltzes around my loft now as if she’s my roommate; she plops down on my best chair, slouching her cranberry juice all over the white cushion, and smirks.  “I saw Bradley today.”

“What?”

“In Central Park, didn’t you know?  Surely Bradley could get word out to you somehow.  I bet the crew would carry his messages, if he was interested.”

I’m really starting to hate this bitch sister of Viktor’s, but she did have a point.

“Go ahead.  I can see you’re enjoying this, what happened?”

She takes her time, lights up a cigarette and slowly draws the smoke deep into her black lungs.  Natalia licks her red lips as if savoring a fine wine instead of a dried leaf, then she gives a riveting account of shirtless hot men playing ball, pouring water over their bare chests, all before an adoring mob of fans.

“Bradley, he was eating it up, like you Americans say.  Playing the big ham.  He was waving, smiling.  Dobrov, he loves the attention.”

After learning about the possibility of Bradley becoming the next Bachelor, this news hits me hard.  I refuse to let this little Russian she-cat see my despair.  I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a Black Russian.  I take my time now, practice breathing normally as if my heart isn’t breaking.  Bradley’s so close and yet so far away.  It’s a sweet torture, like watching him through a one-way mirror.  I silently count to twenty, then reenter the living room and slide onto the sofa.

Natalia looks puzzled.

“You don’t care?”

“Oh, Bradley told me there would be outings,” I lie, checking out my nails.

She bites her lip and sits up straighter.

“Did he tell you that after their games, they could mix with all the fans, sign autographs, and pose for many pictures with all the women there?  Too bad you didn’t go.  You could have taken a picture of him surrounded by all those panting ladies.”

Okay.  Now it is getting hard to act as if I don’t care.  She’s watching me like a hawk studies her next meal, waiting for the vulnerability to show.  Natalia spits out tobacco stuck on her lip-sticked lips and prepares for another assault.

“He did handstands.”

I glance her way and see she’s not lying.  Natalia isn’t a very good liar and I’ve caught her in several fibs, but this isn’t one of them.

“Handstands?”

“I told you, Dobrov, the showoff.  The girls cheered like at a football game, some called out ‘Bradley’ as if they knew him.”  She reaches over, grasps her white iPhone skims the screen, and hands it to me.  “See, videos all over the internet.”

My heart races.  I stare at the screen.  Bradley, out in the New York City sunshine, shirtless and beautiful, smiling bigger than I ever remember him smiling before, the term showing off is an understatement.  He’s glowing.  Bradley is happy.  He doesn’t need me; he’s a top model, now a TV star.  All my old insecurities come back, they overtake me like a ten-foot wave, and I feel myself going under as the last grains of sand suck out from under my feet.

“Don’t look so sad.  Viktor still would marry you, I think, unless he’s found someone else too.”

Natalia delivers another stab to my chest before mashing out her half-smoked black cigarette and standing.

“I go now, got a date.  Enjoy your quiet evening Naomi.  Viktor and the bros are going barhopping tonight.  Luba’s going with them so don’t expect Viktor back tonight.”

What’s she trying now?  Just tossing out random jabs, hoping something, anything will stick.  It’s working, it all sticks like hot tar. 

Natalia cackles, actually cackles like the witch in Oz.  Her earlier sweetness is gone now, either living with that real witch Luba, or seeing me win Bradley over her, has changed Natalia into a vindictive Russian like her father.  No one in that family likes to be crossed, or to lose something they want.

My temper ignites as I see the green glow of envy in her blue eyes.  Her unexpected visit is just a mission to spread her gossip.  Natalia came here intending to hurt me.

“So, go.  I never invited you to just drop over whenever you want.  And next time, call.  Viktor’s my roomie, not you.”

Natalia huffs, starts to speak, but then just shrugs her boney shoulders and grins.  Shit.  Now she knows she got to me and I see her ego expanding like a cape in the wind.  She leaves her mess of cigarette ash and drinks on my glass table and hisses, “You are a stupid fool KuKu.”

Natalia struts out the door as if the Milan runway starts in my hallway.

It covers me then, this gloom of despair, this black well of emptiness, and I sob into my hands.  A year ago I was so afraid I’d lose Bradley that I lived in constant fear that he’d leave me for another woman.  I tiptoed through our relationship, afraid to offend, cautious never to complain when he went out clubbing with Manny.  But now Bradley’s a known face, a popular TV star, a man who women will line up in the hot sun to watch.  The television channel is probably being mobbed with thousands of applications for the Bachelor show, all vying to try and meet Bradley.

I can’t compete.

I stand up on shaky legs and walk into my lonely bedroom.  I look at my face in the mirror.  Average.  I’m average.  It’s silly really, me imagining I could hold his attention for long.

And oh God it hurt that he didn’t try to let me know he’d only be a few blocks away from me today.  I didn’t believe for one minute that he even thought about me being so close, or thought of me at all.

Bradley’s been gone for almost two months.  He’s more of a dream than a real fiancé.  Who am I kidding?  Did I really believe he’s going to come back and marry
me
, after all of this popularity?

Never.

I close my eyes and imagine him after Model House ends, he’ll probably call and say, “Listen Naomi, I don’t think we’re going to work out.  Sorry baby, just one of those things.”

The backhanded brushoff.  Once, I was earning top dollar and owned this prestigious loft while he was a struggling actor.  Now he’s the star, and I’m unemployed, a nobody.

He would be kind.  Abrupt but kind.  He wouldn’t even come back for his clothes this time.  Bradley would be a wealthy man just selling calendars of his bare ass if he wanted.  He’d be offered deals, more binding contracts, and he’d accept them all and drift off like a freed eagle into the clouds.

I take off all my clothes and study my body.  It’s nice.  Lots of women have ‘nice’ and what was I anyway?  A business major without a job, no new prospects, tolerated by my aunt only because my name was scribbled in my father’s will.  Would she bother talking to me otherwise?  My parents died over two years ago and she never tried.  That was telling.

I step into my shower.  The water’s scalding.  I don’t care.  I close my eyes and let the steam cover my face to unite with my tears.  Finally I turn off the spray, step out, and open my jewelry case drawer.  I pull off Bradley Dobrov’s engagement ring and place it inside.

“I knew it was too good to be true.”

I look back at my reflection.  My dyed black hair hanging soaked and limp around my shoulders. 

“What now Naomi Swanson?  What the hell do you do now?”

BRADLEY

Friday, April 23rd

My plan worked.  We are all outside, the porn is burning, and Presley is safe for now.  Tim Smith and Jenn Ergenmeyer surround me; pull me into a nearby alleyway. 

“Listen you little shit,” Tim Smith says, uncharacteristically beading sweat on his upper lip.  “What are you?  Some kind of hero?  You had one thing, ONE THING to do.  Why do you care so much about Presley?”

“Yeah, you’ve known him for like five minutes,” Jenn Ergenmeyer chimes in.

“You don’t have to be best friends with someone to know what’s decent and what’s not.”  I shake loose of Tim Smith’s weak grip.  He digs into his skinny, distressed Levi’s and pulls out a pack of Marlboro Lights.  Jenn Ergenmeyer rolls her eyes.

“I thought you quit.”

He lights one and blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth, like that’s going to keep it out of the atmosphere.  I pull one out myself.  When in Rome.

“Haven’t either of you ever seen “Thank You For Smoking?” 

“Yeah,” Tim Smith says, taking another drag, “great flick.”

“Right?”  I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Beelzebub.

“Anyway,” I say, “it looks like this is all over, so, I’ll just be heading out.  You can send my check.”

“CHECK?  Are you kidding?  We’ll be sending you to jail for arson.”

“Yeah?  You can’t prove anything.”

“Um,
video surveillance
?”  Jenn Ergenmeyer taunts.

“I slipped.  Knocked all that stuff over while I was sneaking a smoke in the bathroom.  Must have dropped a spark when I stubbed it out on the side of the tub.”  I jut my chin up, all defiance.

“You haven’t even thought of the others, have you?”  Tim Smith waves a hand in the direction of the gaggle of perfect men wandering around on the sidewalk outside the building.

That was true.  I assumed they were as miserable as I was but it was possible they weren’t.  I thought of Joeson, the happy couple, getting paid to be on TV together in a luxury townhouse in the greatest city in the world.  I think Joel said he was from Indiana and Mason from somewhere in south Jersey. 

“I was thinking of Presley, his wife, his four and a half kids, their friends and families.  The other models will be fine if this thing ends.  Presley’s whole life will be ruined if you go through with your noxious plan.”

The two wolves exchange looks.  Without a word, they walk away, leaving me in the alley alone.  I’m not sure where to go or what to do, so I head west.  I’m not sure what’s happening with Model House or Jenn Ergenmeyer and Tim Smith, but I am sure of where I’m sleeping tonight.  I’ve got no phone, because they weren’t allowed, so I guess it’s going to be a surprise. 

Naomi, I’m coming home.

NAOMI

Saturday, April 25th

It’s late, someone’s at the door.  Did Viktor forget his key?  Damn, I just dozed off.  Now I’m fully awake and all my heartbreak rushes back and crushes me.  I hear someone walking on the hardwood flooring and I slide out of bed.  It better not be that skank Natalia and her date using my loft as some hookup dive.  I’ve had my fill of her.

The living room is slightly lit by the moonlight streaming in through the corner window.  I blink; then jump.  I see a man’s tall silhouette.  I’m only wearing a thin lace nightie and I hope it’s not one of the other Slotzky boys.

“Who’s there?”

Suddenly strong arms wrap around me, spin me around, and hot lips descend onto mine.  I struggle, damn drunken Viktor.

“Stop it Viktor, leave me alone.”

I reach up and pull his hair hard.

“Ouch!  Baby, it’s me.”

“Bradley?”

He licks my lips, runs his nose into my hair and I can almost feel him grinning.  “God, I missed you so much Naomi.”

“It’s really you?  How…?”

His lips cut me off and he lifts me, practically running towards the bedroom, and all thoughts of his television career, his stripper, and his indifference to me fade to shadow.  He’s here now.  He wants me.  It’s enough.

Bradley tosses me on the bed.  When I start to ask him more questions he places him finger on my lips and whispers, “Later baby, I have to have you now.”

He runs his hand up my leg and mutters, “You wearing that red see-through thing?”

“Yes,” I giggle as he starts licking my stomach.

He groans and pushes the fabric higher until it bunches around my waist.  Bradley is all tongue and fingertips.  I lean back and relax, letting him be my lover, no matter what tomorrow brings, right now he’s here, and he’s mine.  I run my hands through his thick hair and squeal as his mouth descends on me. 

Bradley’s still fully clothed.  I feel jeans and a knit shirt.  He sits up, pulling the shirt over his head and I follow his example, discarding my red lace.  We’re breathing fast now, both of us excited, ready. 

“Take off your pants, slick. I want to touch you too.”

I’ve never seen him undress faster and I giggle as he stumbles, pulling his foot from the jean leg.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I smirk.

“God, it’s so damn good to just hear your voice Naomi.”

He lays down and pulls me into his embrace.  He runs his hands over my breasts and kisses my neck and chest in equal measure.

“I adore you Naomi Swanson.  I love you baby.”

My eyes fill with tears and I realize I’ve misjudged Bradley once again.  I’m a brat.  An untrusting fiancée and a weak fraud.  He will always love me.  We will be married.  I can trust him.  I believe in him.

“I love you too honey.”

“Naomi, what’s wrong?”

“I gave up tonight, I’m sorry.”

He lifts his head, tries to see into my soul in the dark.

“What’s that mean?”

“The show, the stripper, the talk about you being the next man on the Bachelor, I was so hurt Bradley, so afraid.”

“Yeah, that damn show’s run by sadists.  I can imagine they pulled off some cruel editing.  Nothing happened with that stripper.  I got away from her.  Did you see me kiss her, touch her?”

I move my legs against his and sigh.  “No, they just hinted at it, showed you smiling after leading questions.”

“I’ll tell you all about it later baby.  They wanted me to plant porn on the family guy Presley, anything for ratings.”

Bradley goes back to kissing my shoulder, my neck, and heading south when I stop him with a strong tug on his hair.

“You didn’t sign another contract did you?”

“Are you kidding, hell no, what for?”

“It’s all over the internet and social media that you’ll be the next Bachelor…that show, you know where the male star proposes to one of the women at the end.”

I hear the fear in my voice and he hears it too.  Bradley scoots over and turns on the bedside lamp.  When he sees my red, puffy eyes, he cusses like a sailor on drunken shore leave and pounds his fist into the headboard.

“What?  You didn’t agree, did you?”

“Naomi, I’m engaged to you!  How could I go on that show?”

He reaches down and takes my left hand in his.

“Where’s your ring?”

“I just took it off a few hours ago, really Bradley.  I was fine, I even blew the stripper thing off, and the rumors about the next show, I was dealing, but then Natalia said she saw you at the park with crowds of women, she showed me video…I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

He growls like a dog ready for a fight and I slide up the pillows.

“I’m sorry I doubted you again.”

“I’m not mad at you baby.  I’m so sorry they threw this head-trip on you.  But someday you’re going to have to trust me Naomi, if this is going to work.  Believe me when I say I’ll never let you down.  I promise you, we have a future together.  You have to believe in us.”

The sexy mood is ruined and I desperately want it back.

“Make love to me Bradley Dobrov.  All night.  Please.”

He looks over at me, traces his finger over my swollen eyes, and sighs.  Bradley runs his hand over his face and I can see he’s exhausted, frustrated.  I have to make this right.  Bradley has to know I believe in him fully.  I gently push him down, roll over on top of him, and lick him the way he licked me earlier.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.  I want you to feel my happiness that you came home.”

He lets up on his pouting and I see his slow grin.

“I’m starting to feel it.”

“How about here, you like my tongue here?”

“Yeah, oh God right there is nice.”

I raise up so he has a good shot at my compressed breasts, I flip my hair to the side and watch the journey his eyes travel and I smile.  Those beautiful blue eyes are glazed now, his lids heavy with desire.  That’s the way I always want him to look when he glances at me.

“No more talking, slick.  You’re here, you’re back, that’s all I want.”

“Me too baby, me too.”