Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (81 page)

There was an obvious shift once the car moved from thee city center to my neighborhood. Each house we passed was grander than the last, owned by a equally famous celebrities who I didn't give a shit about. I tried to tell Savannah, thinking it might interest her, but her expression was blank and she barely reacted. She didn't even make fun of me for name dropping. It was like aliens had invaded her body and ripped away her personality.

“Are you worried about work?” I asked. It had been a long time since being fired meant anything to me, but I hadn't totally forgotten the stress of being poor. I'd held down multiple fast food jobs back in the day, all while going to auditions and living paycheck to paycheck. It had been intense and I wouldn't go back to the life for anything, but I survived. A girl like Savannah who was ten times as talented as I was would be fine, even if she couldn't see that now.

“I'm worried about everything,” she said quietly, looking me directly in the eyes. Fuck, I hated when she did that. It made me feel like she expected me to come up with a solution to her problem. The only solutions that I could think of weren't exactly to Savannah's liking.

I leaned in to kiss her but she pushed me away.

“Jesus Christ Dane, what are you doing?” she snapped. I sat back in my seat, not used to being rejected like that. Even Savannah, with all of her talk, hadn't been very good at rebuffing my advances up to this point. She was being serious now.

“I was trying to kiss you to shut you up and make you feel better,” I said lightly enough, but she frowned all the same. There was no predicting this girl's sense of humor. Every other thing I said got me in trouble. Yet, I still wanted to talk to her. It was funny like that.

“Oh wow, thank you for blessing me with sexual attention but that's actually not what I'm worried about at the moment. I can get laid anytime I want. I just have to go out wearing a short cocktail dress or call one of the guys that I friend zoned in college. Weirdly enough, real people who aren't movie stars have real, actually problems outside their sex life. It's funny, isn't it?” she said. Wow, the claws were out. I had momentarily forgotten how viscous she could be. At the same time, I liked angry Savannah. Anger usually lead to good sex -unlike love, which lead to boring sense. There was a reason why I didn't allow myself to experience the latter.

“Problems such as?” I teased and Savannah scoffed at me. It was funny how easily she categorized me as the stupid out of touch movie star whose only problems involved who he was fucking. I wasn't as brain dead as she might have thought.

“You really have a privileged life, don't you? Problems like money, Dane. In the real world people don't have the money for limos and mansions and hot tubs. Fuck, I barely had the money to pay my electricity bill before I got fired. I don't know how that's going to work now,” she paused thoughtfully for a moment, “And creative fulfillment. That's a problem too.”

“Creative fulfillment?” I responded. Savannah nodded.

“Feeling like you're actually using your talents to your full ability and making the world better. I know I'm talented and that I could make great things, but no one wants to see them. People don't want haute couture anymore. They want their wedding dresses altered and their kids' pants to be lengthened when they get a growth spurt,” she said, “Look, I don't expect you to understand what it's like to feel that way. It's nice of you to listen to me but you'll never get it. You have to live it to
understand it.”

“You know I'm an actor, right?” I said bemusedly. It was like she had completely discounted the fact that I also worked in a creative field. As if I didn't feel like that from time to time.

“Yeah. A highly successful one. If you don't mind I'll skip your sorry story. Making a few million dollars a film doesn't make me want to sympathize with you,” she said. There was no point in arguing with her. She was as stubborn as a mule and there was no way that her opinion could be changed. It wasn't like it mattered.

She would be out of my life soon enough.

The largest mansion at the very end of the street belonged to me. I saw Savannah's eyes become transfixed by it the moment it appeared on the horizon. I couldn't blame her, it really was a beautiful house. As soon as I'd seen it I knew it would be mine. It was kind of similar to the night I first saw Savannah that way.

It had a white marble exterior with an enclosed front lawn decorated with original art pieces that I didn't fucking understand but that looked nice. There was even a maze. There was no rhyme or reason to why there was a maze, I just wanted one so it was there. Having money was great like that.

The driver pulled up to the front of the house and let us out after I handed him a hefty tip. He deserved it for listening to us argue for so long. He drove away and suddenly we were alone. Savannah looked around, once again attempting to hide how impressed she was but failing miserably. You couldn't be a normal human being and not be impressed by my house. It still impressed me and I'd been living there for years now.

“Nice place,” she said casually, “A little bit over the top, but it's nice.”

“Thanks Savannah. Now, let's go inside.”

The interior was just as impressive as the exterior. The main entrance was like the foyer of a five star hotel. It had a lush red carpet, winding stairs and a high ceiling painted with an original mural by some famous artist. I hadn't requested crystal chandeliers but they'd put them in anyway. Ladies
always liked them so I didn't complain. “Nice, isn't it?” I said. Savannah shrugged. “Looks like a fancy brothel.”

“Great, thanks. I was going for that. So, do you want a house tour?” I asked and she shook her head immediately. I wasn't used to that. House tours were my thing. Usually by the time I showed the girl the bedroom we'd already fucked in the kitchen and the living room. Sometimes the bathroom too.

“I'd like to just go to bed,” she said.

“Well, my room's at the top of the stairs...” with her current mood I knew that I was pushing my luck but I couldn't help it. The sex was so fucking mind blowing with this girl that if there was even the slightest chance that I would get it again, I had to try. She wrinkled her little nose at me.

“No, I want to go to bed alone.”

“Right, sure. I'll show you the guest room,” I said. There was still a chance. Just because she didn't want to sleep in the same bed as me didn't mean that she didn't want to fuck me. Although sleeping together had been nice...nicer than I'd expected, it wasn't my thing. Maybe we were on the same page. That sure wasn't a bad thing.

The guest bedroom was bigger than Savannah's apartment in its entirety. It had a king sized bed with the finest Egyptian cotton sheets and soft, memory foam pillows that adjusted to how you slept. There was a bookshelf in the corner where I kept some of my favorites (as well as a few of my unauthorized biographies which I found to be hilarious). For fun I'd also provided a mini fridge filled with snacks (minus the hefty bill) for my guests and even a retro arcade machine that I'd bought with my first big check. Most of my guests appreciated the little touches but Savannah didn't even comment.

“Thanks Dane. I'm fine from here,” she said, looking at me expectantly. It took a moment for me to realize what she was saying. She wanted me to leave her alone.

“OK. Do you want dinner?”

“No. I'm fine.”

“Right, OK. Sure,” I said, “See you in the morning.”

As soon as I stepped out into the hall the door closed in my face. Wow. Not what I was used to. Maybe I'd bitten off more than I could chew by inviting her to stay with me like this. Then again, she hadn't asked to be hounded by paparazzi. It was my responsibility to keep her safe until they had lost interest. Then I would kick her to the curb. That was exactly what I would do.

I had always enjoyed having such a huge space to myself, but for the first time it started feeling too big. It made me feel empty and alone and I desperately wanted someone to talk to.

I attempted to lure Savannah downstairs by cooking one of my most fragrant savory dishes, chicken satay. I hoped that the smell would waft upstairs and tempt her to come down and eat with me, but no luck. I ate the satay in front of my flat screen TV, alone.

It was a welcome relief when my cell phone rang, even when Craig's name appeared on the caller ID. He wasn't supposed to contact me after six, but he rarely followed that rule. I pressed the answer button just to see what he had to say.

“Dane buddy, great to hear from you!” he said. Jesus Christ, I was starting to miss the silence now. His voice always cut through me. It was so overly pleasant, which always meant that he wanted something from me.

“What do you want? Make it fucking quick,” I snapped. Craig interpreted this as 'please ask me a number of stupid questions before you get to the actual point'.

“Why, are you with a lady friend?” I asked teasingly. Oh god, the worst thing ever was when he tried to buddy up with me about shit like this. I'd already told him a million times that I wouldn't be setting him up with any models.

“No,” I said firmly.

“That's not like you,” he said, before adding, “But if the rumors are true you haven't been yourself lately.”

Shit, that was the other annoying thing about Craig. He read tabloids as if they were the gospel and
often badgered me to do exclusives with them. Well, fuck that. I wasn't going to give those vultures anything.

“Jesus Craig, what have you read now? Am I gay or do I have a secret family again? Or is it the one about me secretly being an alien reptile,” I said, referring to just a handful of the rumors these shitty magazines had discussed in the past.

“Haha, very funny. No, none of those. It's about that Savannah Finn woman,” he said and I went completely silent. It felt strange hearing Craig say her name. I didn't like how it sounded in his California accent, “I take it you know who I'm talking about?”

“I know Savannah, yeah.”

“Good, that's a start. But how well do you know her, Dane?” he asked. “I just know her.”

“OK, you're going to have to be more specific here. I'm your manager and I need you to be honest with me,” he said, “Are you dating this woman?”

“Craig, you know I don't date,” I said. I hadn't been on a date in the whole time he'd represented me. He should have known better by now, but clearly not. It wasn't like he was the smartest guy in the world.

“Right, I'm glad you remember that. Need I remind you that you're Dane Reynolds? The master of the wham bam, thank you ma'am? The man who can't be tamed but god damn it, do women want to try?” he said. OK, this was just getting strange now. Nothing he was saying was false but I didn't like how he worded it.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, that's your image, your brand. Women go to see your movies because you're the bad boy who makes their panties wet. Men go to see your movies because they want to be you. If you settle down with some small town girl, that's all gone,” he said, “Do you know how hard it is to keep a sexy image as a family man? I've lost some great clients to Suburbia, Dane and I don't want you to be one of them.”

He was speaking absolute gibberish. I had no idea what he was implying.

“Craig, what the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. Craig sighed deeply on the other end of the phone.

“I'm talking about Savannah Finn, your fiancee according to the LA Breeze magazine,” he said. The word fiancee cut into me like a knife. I'd never wanted to hear it, especially in reference to anything to do with me. I wasn't the guy with the fiancee. I wasn't even the guy with the girlfriend. I didn't even have time to commit to a regular fuck buddy. I was the guy who fucked the pretty girls and then left them pining after me. That was it.

“That's complete garbage,” I said, “We're not engaged. We're not even dating. I just fucked her a few times.”

Craig sighed again. “A few times?”

“I know it's not like me, but it just worked out that way. Good pussy is good pussy,” I said, though I lowered my voice in case Savannah heard me. I didn't need her to hear herself referred to like that. She wouldn't take kindly to it, that was for sure.

“Oh, I'm not arguing with that buddy. I get what I can. If you wanna fuck around with this girl then that's up to you, but she can't be seen wearing an engagement ring,” he said.

“That's not a problem.”

As if I would buy her an engagement ring.

“It is, actually,” said Craig, “She was photographed wearing a ring on her left ring finger. An antique emerald, people are saying. Good choice, by the way. Emerald rings have already become more popular for engagements since that picture was published.”

“Craig, I didn't buy her a ring,” I said, though I wondered if I didn't who did. Did Savannah have some secret fiance that I didn't know about? I shouldn't have cared, but I did.

“Well, whatever. Just tell her not to wear it,” he said. That would be a fun conversation.

“I will. Is that all you wanted to bug me about?” I asked, but unfortunately Craig wasn't finished
with me. He changed the subject to one of the latest movies that I'd filmed, 'The Lady in the red dress'. Yeah I know. It was as awful as it sounded, a melodramatic piece of shit about some woman's self destructive path in life. I played her lover, who fucked her a lot and let her die in his arms at the end of the film. It was garbage, artsy crap but they paid a lot and I didn't have to travel for it so I had accepted it. Well, it turned out that after editing the film had come up to short, so they needed to film a few more scenes with me. Somehow, this was all part of my contract. God damn it, it would be the last time that I ever did an indie film. This kind of shit always happened.