“Ricki baby.” She says in that voice knowing well what she wants and damn certain I’m not going to give it to her. I ain’t got it in in over three weeks but she can literally go fuck herself. I try to feign sleep as she blows into my ear, the smell of celebration still fresh on her lips.
“Baybee…”
Fuck this. It’s like being in bed with my auntie – task, reward, task, reward. At least with my aunt even if I was bad she’d still give me some candy but with Cass it’s always on her terms. It starts with little empty pecks on my back before she suddenly slides her hand into my pants and begins to slowly caress and fondle as I laugh to myself – good luck with that one sweetheart!
By the time I wake up Cassidy’s already vacated the bedroom (thank god for small mercies) while I stare self-loathingly at my will power bundled up in a ball at the end of my bed. Not only does she instigate it but I’m the one left doing all the heavy work while she just lies there with a smug look slapped across her face – like she’s the one doing me a favor. I could barely look at her as she spurred me on mistaking hatred for passion and love with apathy. At this rate sex with Cass is nothing more than a menial task like washing the dishes. Last night all that kept running through my mind was Larry the cable guy’s catchphrase of “git ‘er done” as I plowed and fumbled with a sense of sterile detachment and infinite emptiness. My reward? A heated discussion about where I see my career going because now that she’s such an epic star I can’t be riding her coattails. Get a job, huh? Why didn’t I think of that? She countered by telling me I was too negative and that I needed to sort out my aura and that she has a friend with some crystals who could help. That and I drink too much milk.
Downstairs Cassidy’s whole face is gushing with radiance (no doubt powered by her own sense of self-worth) chatting to Jorge, her stupid smile engulfing the room. Jorge’s interest levels in the conversation visibly peak as soon as he sees me approach the fridge. I grab a gallon of milk to the dismay of Cass and down glass after glass until my stomach cramps, and I retreat to the sitting room where I find Leanne studiously scribbling away on a pad.
“What you doing there Lee?” I say and instantly her cheeks begin to bloom.
“Just trying to get some stuff down for my new album,” She says self consciously covering the pad before adding, “what has you up so early?”
It’s only then that I check my watch and realize it’s 10.18. Shit, could this day get any worse?
“Thought I better get on to my agent first thing and start kicking some ass.” I say taking a seat beside Leanne.
“So you finally landed one? Wow that’s great.”
I decide not to correct her as I’m still only being drip fed jobs from one of the MTV producers. A fresh batch of cramps begin to attack causing me to momentarily double up.
“Are you okay?”
“Me?” I say through sharp intakes of breath, “I’m fine. Just a delayed burn from my workout this morning-no pain no gain.”
“You want me to get you a water or anything?” She says genuinely concerned and I’m overly grateful, to the point of moved and figure it must be the early start.
“So howz the writing going?”
“Okay I guess.”
So what kind of things do you write about?”
“Everything really – love, partying with my friends, home life…”
I lie and say, “I’ve heard great things about Nebraska,” adding, “isn’t that where Elvis died on the crapper?” to curry favor.
“I’m from LA.” She says obviously confusing my question.
“No I meant before you moved out here.”
“I’ve lived here my entire life.” She says smiling, “Tori just got her facts wrong.”
The fact it was Mike who told me seems irrelevant and we continue to chat. The conversation flows so well that I begin to wonder was chatting to women always this easy? Every conversation I have with Cass is punctuated with heavy sarcasm, contempt, tears and point scoring. Maybe it’s a country thing? You’d never catch Johnny Cash’s old lady cussin’ him out for drinking milk. Shit he’d probably knock her out with a whiskey bottle for talking back. Looking at Leanne I wonder what life would be like living on a ranch in El Paso. Her in the kitchen cooking me dinner while I sip some beers out on the front porch staring out into the sunset. I wouldn’t even need to style my hair as it’d be under a hat all day, or require to shave as that’s not what “real men” do. Studying Leanne properly for the first time reveals new depth – blue eyes you could drown in, an adorable crooked smile filled with charm, and the subtle hint of a fine pair of tits hiding in the heavy lining of her oversized sweatshirt. Sure she might not be Cassidy hot but then either is Cassidy when you subtract all the makeup and her meticulous daily sculpting rituals. Leanne also has the look of what I like to call a bedroom serial killer – quiet on the outside, but a freak behind closed doors.
Just as I’m beginning to feel a mutual connection Cassidy walks in and lingers around the conversation like a bad smell, causing Leanne to retreat into her shell. I try my best to regain the ebb and natural flow but with Cass in the corner perfecting the art of looking pissy the whole room feels strained. Picking up on the vibe too Leanne quickly makes her excuses while my cramps return in force.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cass sneers from her corner.
“Cramps.” I say doubled up.
“Serves you right for drinking all that milk.”

Previous Chapter.

From the beginning.

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