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Willa
“DID YOUR IDEA WORK? Are you getting your job back?” Emmie asked before she wrapped her pale pink lips over the straw of her iced mocha.
“It’s sweater-weather and you’re drinking cold coffee?” I said in refusal to answer her question.
It had been a day since I went over to Hunter’s place to explain my idea. I was hoping to interview him and then go to my boss with it. I was sure a famous, currently reclusive, rock star interview would sell a lot of papers. That idea had to get my job back. But his dick got in the way.
It’s not my fault. His cock had to be the gold standard of the male anatomy. There was probably a statue of it in his hometown. Most likely erected—see what I did there—by his first girlfriend. She was probably some high school cheerleader or track star who was lucky enough to lose their V-card to the perfect cock.
“Don’t change the subject. It’s only the first of October. I don’t start drinking the warm drinks until the absolute earliest, December. Niki knows.” She pointed to her.
Niki nodded. Her usual serious expression was bright with her red lips turned up into a freakishly large grin.
“Are you enjoying Emmie drink her coffee?” I stared at Niki as did Emmie.
“Coffee? No. But I wanted to tell you all something . . . Remember that the movie I did a while ago? You know, that indie film called Playing With My Heart.” We nodded as Niki took a breath. “It’s being released!”
“Oh my God! I’m so happy for you,” Emmie said as she stood from the table and went over and hugged Niki.
I got up and we surrounded her with affection.
“That’s wonderful, Niki. I know you were disappointed when you thought your first starring role would never see the light of day. But why now?”
We got back into our seats as Niki filled us in. The thing that struck me about her good news, even with the smile on her face, was that it felt forced . . . like she was faking her happiness. She’d been wanting to be an actress since I’d known her. Actually, ever since she was little, her mom wanted her to perform.
Maybe it’s because her mother wasn’t here to enjoy the good news. Niki’s been a little lost since her mom passed last year.
“You know the guy who played my brother in the film, Jackson George?”
I shook my head because I rarely watched movies or shows. While most people enjoyed binging on Netflix, I liked heading into the city to listen to local music in dive bars.
There were a few places that had an open mic night for new bands and singers, and sometimes I’d get up and sing with their house band as backup. The audience who listened to me had no idea who I was and that helped me get over my stage fright. If Emmie or Niki or my mom found out and showed up, I would never even make it to the stage.
That’s what I plan on doing tomorrow night. There’s a big open mic night happening at Ophelia’s Book Bar in the city. It’s bigger than I normally do, but I’d been there once before and things didn’t go horribly—I only threw up once.
Since it’s on a Saturday night, that means drunk twenty-somethings will be there. By the next day, no one will remember who I was or what I looked like or how I sounded.
Perfect for indulging in my dream and then fading into obscurity by the next day, whether I embarrass myself or not on the stage.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of him. He’s on the hit series, Fighting Ugly, about that group of boxers and their ties to the mafia. I love that show,” Emmie said practically drooling onto her cup.
Niki pointed to Emmie. “That’s why it’s being released. He’s big now, so anything he’s been a part of in the last five years will make the rounds—our little indie film included.”
I reach out my fist and she fist bumps me with a stiff smile.
“That’s great. I hope it helps with your career.”
Maybe if people watched the movie with Jackson in it, they’d be struck by Niki’s talent and she’d end up being the star.
“But what about you, Willa? Any luck on your idea?” Emmie turned her gaze to me. “What? You thought you could change the subject and I’d forget?”
I shrugged. “I hoped.”
It was time I explained the truth to them.
“First, I wanted to thank Niki for getting Hunter’s address. I was able to meet with him.” I reached over to rub her arm.
“Anything for my friend. Hey, you blackmailed that director for me so I could get the audition to Guys and Dolls at the community college when we were seventeen. I owed you one.”
I chuckled at the memory. “I swear, I had no idea he was cheating on his wife. I just mentioned that I had evidence of his meeting, and I air-quoted meeting. Said I knew the person and figured he’d kick me out of the theater. When he went wide-eyed and asked what I wanted for the information . . . well, I was just as surprised as you.”
We all broke out into laughter and when it subsided, I knew it was time for the truth.
“I slept with Hunter.”
Their heads tilted in opposite directions and for a minute I wondered if dog ghosts had possessed their bodies.
“Do you mean you fell asleep at his house?” Niki asked.
My friends weren’t idiots. They knew what “slept with” meant. They reacted this way because they knew me.
I had a bad experience five years ago when a guy dumped me. Called me a freak and then left. We had only dated a few months, but I began to open up to him sexually by explaining what I liked in bed, and he got weirded out.
I asked if he would consider butt play and, maybe one day, working up to fucking me up the ass. That discussion did not end well, and I had decided I didn’t require a man to fulfill my sexual needs. That turned into my not-so-current situation—I never dated or had sex.
That didn’t mean I never had orgasms. I ended up investing a lot of money into toys. The great things about sex toys are that they only gave pleasure and never shamed you.
When Hunter didn’t hesitate and knew exactly what I meant when I told him to fill me, that blew my mind. If anything, just the thought that he wanted to do that to me caused me to orgasm.
“No, I have definitely not fallen asleep at his house.”
How could I? The man did not get tired. He gave me what I wished for—to walk with a limp leaving that house.
“Wait. Are you saying you had sex with him?” Niki asked as she leaned forward nearly knocking down her large cup of black coffee.
Images of Hunter doing almost every filthy thing I’d ever imagined in his mansion flashed in my head. I knew my cheeks were red, but I didn’t care. That man knew how to give a good dicking.
I nodded and bit my lip. “Oh yeah. And then some.”
“Holy shit! You finally got some. I am so happy for you,” Emmie said and they both got up and came over to me for hugs.
“You all act like I’m the one starring in a movie,” I said with a snort after they sat back down.
“You are the star . . . of his dick!” Niki said as she wiggled her eyebrows.
“Did he say yes to the interview?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.” I brought my coffee to my lips, which was the opposite of Niki’s. My cup was intensely sugared and filled with so much cream a cow might have birthed it.
“When did you see him?”
“I saw him yesterday, but I got distracted . . .”
By his big cock.
“I’m just having a hard time bringing it up. It’s going to be weird now that I slept with him to ask him for an interview. I mean, he’s going to think I’m using him. Which in a way I am because I’m using him for lots of orgasms but he knows that part.”
“Do you like him? Like you want to date him and write hearts over the I in his last name?” Niki snorted again. That’s her laugh. No chuckles, just snorts.
I shook my head but kept my eyes on my drink. “I’m not sixteen.”
Despite the sex, we hadn’t talked that much. Of course, we discussed music, and he knew I fantasized about being a singer, but I made it sound like it was some silly teenage fantasy.
He fulfilled me sexually and never judged me. I wasn’t about to lose that by telling him I wanted to interview him or that I still dreamed of being a singer.
Either way, he’d believe I was using him.
“Yes, but you do have a heart. And rock stars need love, too,” Emmie said.
“Do they, though?” I said with a laugh—again trying my best to stop this conversation.
“Just ask him. The worst he can say is no to the interview. And, I’m pretty sure he won’t think you’re having sex with him for an interview. Like you said in my office last week, you wouldn’t whore yourself out to a rock star.”
“Who’s being whored out to a rock star?” A shiver-inducing male voice came from behind me.
Niki looked up from her drink. Both Emmie and I turned our heads to find Hunter standing there with Tucker next to him.
It seemed stupid but for a moment, my breath caught as his sky-blue eyes sparkled at me. A day of sex with the most awesome cock ever created and I sounded like a love-sick woman on a soap opera.
“Oh, just some articles that Willa wrote. Did you know she’s a journalist?” Emmie patted my arm as I glared at her, willing her to stop talking.
“A journalist,” Hunter said slowly, and I watched with regret as the sparkles faded and he took a step back.
Fuck. I hated that I was a sparkle killer.
