TOXIC HOLLYWOOD
JASON
The next day, it was business as usual. Up at four in the morning, grueling workout at the gym until eleven--but the plus side was, he had the rest of the day off. He had nowhere to be. Today, Jason would come home, take a nap, have that beer he wasn't supposed to have, and lounge outside on the deck. Maybe Mel would join him. No, not maybe. That was a must. He felt like he'd barely seen her since she'd moved in. Maybe the more time he spent with her, the less likely she would be to get bored and spring more surprises on him.
Walking in the house in his jeans and t-shirt, he headed straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He opened it and walked through the living room when he stopped short at what caught his eye outside on the deck. "Holy shit," he muttered under his breath.
Making his way to the window, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Mel stood on the deck, her back turned to him, her long, thick, dark layers forming a perfect V down her back. He remembered when her hair used to be so curly and now it fell in loose, careless glory. Her ass looked spectacular in the red bikini she wore that was reminiscent of the one she wore in Cabo. It wasn't the same one, but it was similar. It was funny how you saw a person every single day of your life but didn't take the time to really study them. He hadn't noticed until now that apparently she'd been spending a lot of time outside these past few days, given the new, lightly sun-kissed hue of her skin. As promised, she wore a pair of nude stilettos on her feet as she stood with her legs slightly open, spreading tanning lotion on her arms.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorway by the back door and turned up his beer. He was happy just to stand there and watch her. Right at this moment, he knew absolutely no shame. She bent over to lotion her legs and he nearly came in his jeans right there. "Jesus Christ," he whispered to himself. "God bless that concrete walkway." He turned up his beer again as he watched her flip her hair over to her other shoulder so she could apply lotion under her straps. "Come on, baby," he quietly pleaded. "There's nobody out there right now. Take it off."
Sadly, that didn't happen as he watched her put the lotion bottle down and tie her hair up on top of her head. Watching her walk across the deck and retrieve her towel, watching her stance and the curvatures of her body as she adjusted it onto the deck chair, though, didn't keep his dick from hardening in his pants. "Goddamn, that's a woman right there," he muttered as he turned up his beer one more time.
He had almost let his hand drift to his crotch when he heard a voice behind him. "Mr. Jason?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around to find Martina standing across the room. "Jesus Christ, Martina, you cared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?"
Martina was a slightly heavy-set Hispanic lady in her very early forties. She wore her dark hair down most days, pinned back from her face. She stood before him in light blue capri pants and a white, pastel-striped button down shirt. "I'm sorry I scared you, Mr. Jason. I had an appointment with Miss Melody today and I came early because I have another appointment after this one. Is she, um, is she available to meet now?"
He glanced out the window and then back at Martina. Raising an eyebrow, he muttered, "She was about to be indisposed, but I suppose that can wait."
Martina smiled knowingly, the blood rising to her cheeks. "Mr. Jason, don't be so fresh today."
Jason chuckled at her. He loved getting a rise out of Martina. She seemed so innocent, despite being a mother of three and it amused him when he could catch her off guard.
Curious as he was, he merely said to her, "Yeah, I can get her for you."
Disappointed that he had to approach Mel for business other than what he wanted for himself, he walked up on her as her eyes were closed and her face directed at the sun. "Today's your lucky day, gorgeous."
Her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand. "What? How long have you been home?"
He smirked at her. "Long enough."
Mel grinned. "So why is it my lucky day? Am I about to GET lucky, by chance?"
"You were."
She frowned. "That doesn't sound very lucky."
"You're lucky I'm not the one interrupting your tan."
"Huh?"
"But Martina is."
She jumped up and glanced back at the house. "Martina's here? Already?"
"Yeah. I can't help but wonder, though. WHY is she here?"
She looked up at him, her hand still shielding her eyes. "That's my business."
He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight on his heels. "Excuse me?"
"It's my business." She stood and snatched up her towel, wrapping it around her. At that, she slipped on her heels and darted swiftly into the house.
He couldn't resist following her inside and as they stepped in, Martina turned on the instant apologies. "Miss Melody, I am so sorry for imposing, I didn't mean to--"
"No, no, it's okay. It's okay," Mel said in a rushed tone. "Let me just throw something on real quick, okay?"
As Mel raced back into the bedroom, Jason looked curiously at Martina. Martina simply shrugged her shoulders.
Seconds later, Mel rushed back out in a short, loose beach cover-up and into the kitchen where she prepared two glasses of iced tea and ushered Martina outside onto the deck. Not wanting to eavesdrop, but curiosity getting the better of him, he sat on the sofa and watched the two women sit in feverish conversation. He wished he could read their faces, and their lips, but it was no use.
Their little meeting didn't last near as long as he thought it would and they walked in, Martina making her way to the front door, saying her goodbyes to Jason. Following her to the door, he caught Martina and said to her quietly, "Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt, it's nothing personal. She's not like your typical, superficial Hollywood housewives, I promise. She's actually very sweet and generous and--"
Martina patted his arm and grinned at him, seemingly in a rush to leave. "I know. It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Um, okay..." Jason responded as she rushed out the door.
In long strides, Jason made his way back into the living room and stood there with his hands on his hips, prepared to confront Mel. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "In a couple minutes, I'm about to tear your clothes off and fuck the hell out of you just because of the scene I walked in on when I got home. That's inevitable. That's--it's gonna happen. Okay? But right this second, I have to know what in the HELL just happened here. It's growing increasingly difficult to keep up with you, I just want you to know that."
Mel shrugged at him simply as she cleaned the used glasses and put them away. "I hired Martina back. And gave her a pay raise."
"You hired Martina back. And gave her a--how much is that gonna cost me?"
"It isn't," she said, matter-of-factly. "It's coming out of my pocket. She's on my payroll now."
"Your--your payroll. You have a payroll?"
"I do now."
"Mel. You can't aff--I mean--"
"I'm a smart woman," she said. "Not to toot my own horn or anything. You might be the one with the actual earned income, but I made some really smart investments the moment I inherited my money. My net worth has almost doubled over the past few years. Not quite doubled. But almost."
"And if they ever go bad?"
"I didn't invest ALL my money, I'm not a moron. Don't worry. I'm actually not even in debt. Well, no real debt anyway. I don't even own anything anymore. Except that car out there. I'm property free. Wow, that's kinda weird now that I say it out loud."
Jason swallowed as he studied her face. "You said you didn't find Martina necessary."
"I don't. Well, I didn't. Until I remembered that I can't cook. Look, Jason, I tossed and turned all night over what happened yesterday. I jumped the gun and I'm sorry. Being your housekeeper is what's paying that woman's bills, I don't want to leave people jobless. That's horrible. And she did nothing wrong. So I rehired her for her cooking skills. She's gonna teach me to cook and I'm gonna pay her for it. No biggie. She was thrilled when she left here, everything's okay."
Jason let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair as he took in everything that just happened. He looked at her again and shook his head. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"This. Everything. I don't know."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "What? Take responsibility for my own actions? It's not difficult."
"Maybe? You come in, you turn my world upside down--and then make it all okay. I don't--I don't get it, you're amazing."
"I'm not gonna do anything that's going to hurt you. Not intentionally. So I make some spur of the moment decisions. So what? Sometimes my spur of the moment decisions are the best ones. That's why people want me to plan their parties. Because I think on my feet."
"And you're totally not tooting your own horn."
"Well, I have to take credit for SOME things. Sometimes, I'm a regular fucking badass. I'm not ashamed to admit it."
Jason smiled as he made his way toward her. "Only sometimes?"
"I can't be TOTALLY conceited."
"In this house, you can be as conceited as you damn well please."
"Take off your shirt," she commanded.
"That's not what I said was going to happen--"
"I don't care."
She walked toward him and backed him into the kitchen until he fell into one of the chairs that sat at the breakfast nook right around the corner from the door that led to the deck. Slipping her cover-up over her head, she let it fall to the floor and stared into his eyes as she pulled the strings on both sides of her bikini bottoms. Jason was so damn turned on right now, he nearly forgot his own name.
She was completely nude from the waist down and he bit his lip at the sight. Reaching up to touch her legs, she gently slapped his hands away. "No, no," she said. "No touching."
He looked up at her in shock. "What?"
She grinned seductively. "Exactly what I said. No touching."
"Shit," he muttered.
Swinging her leg over him to straddle him as if his lap were a motorcycle, his heart pounded in his chest. She stood over him and kissed his neck and let her tongue trace the shape of his ear as her hands unfastened his pants. He was rock hard when she released him and she smiled, moaning in pleasure as she touched him. Looking down between them, he watched as her hand, with her perfectly manicured nails, wrapped around his dick and gently began to stroke him. He knew he was white-knuckling the wooden rungs of the chair behind him at this point and he didn't care. He was probably on the verge of snapping the tiny wooden rods in half, fighting hard to grant her erotic request of keeping his hands off of her.
A moan escaped from his throat as she finally lowered herself on him and he closed his eyes when he felt himself inside her, warm, tight, and wet. From there, she had him. Her hand gripped the chair behind his head as she grinded her hips into him, her other hand forming nail marks into his chest. She could keep digging, he didn't care. If she drew blood, that was okay, too. Nothing was going to distract him from the way she rode his dick right now, nothing in the goddamn free world.
Unable to help himself, his hands came around and slid up her legs. "No," she commanded to him, almost reminding him of a dominatrix. "I said no touching. Do not touch me."
He moaned as his head fell back and he obeyed once again. How had he allowed this to happen? How had he allowed her to turn the tables and make him her bitch like this? If it didn't feel so damn good, he would have asserted his dominance before things even got started. But who the hell was he kidding? She ran this relationship and he knew it.
Letting go of the chair, continuing to grind him at whatever speed she felt necessary, whenever she decided to change it up, she reached behind her and pulled the string on her bikini top, and pulling the rest of it over her head. He licked his lips at the sight of her, knowing that the only thing she wore now were the stilettos that remained on her feet.
When she took her own breasts in her hands, he was done. He needed to touch her. Now. He had to have her. He couldn't sit there and look at her and not even taste her, it was inhumane. He was breaking the rules and he didn't care. He was in this, too, and goddammit, he made the rules now.
Quicker than she could object, he grabbed her by the waist and shifted his body, pulling himself out of her. Picking her up, he shoved her aggressively into the wall and growled from his throat as his mouth covered her neck, his hand tightly wrapping her leg around his body. "I didn't give you permission to do this," she whispered, her nails digging into his back.
He fought to push his jeans down from around his waist and kicked them out of the way once he was finally able to step out of them. "You think I need your permission?" He whispered in her ear aggressively as he entered her again.
"I think you should respect my wishes."
"Trust me, baby, this IS respecting your wishes. Don't you dare think for a minute that you don't want me the way I want you, twenty-four fucking seven. Now shut up and let me fuck you. All I wanna hear now is how much you love it."
"Mmm," she moaned in his ear. "I get a monologue, too?"
"Shut up."
Fuck this, he couldn't see her this way. He just wanted to see her. He wanted to watch himself fuck her. He loved her, but goddammit, right now all he wanted was raunchy, filthy sex and he knew she'd be game. Hell, she was already playing it anyway. He'd make love to her another night.
Taking her from the wall, he turned and kicked the chair he'd been sitting in out of his way and laid her across the small breakfast table, her hair splaying out across the table above her head. He watched her hands grip the edges on either side of her and she arched her back as he thrust into her again. With his left hand, he lifted her leg and spread it wider and looked down, watching himself as he slid in and out of her. Looking up at her face, he caught her with her head up, watching the same scene he was. That dirty girl. She couldn't fool him, not for a second.
Jason determined that she was going to be the death of him. He knew it the second he laid eyes on her and he was surprised he wasn't already dead yet with everything he'd been through with her. Now that she was in his life, twenty-four seven, she was certain to be the death of him. Between the nature of his job and the apparent nature of his home life, he gathered she would either give him a heart attack or paralyze him. Because he couldn't stay away. He couldn't not fuck her like this right after a grueling six hour workout. He couldn't give his body sufficient enough time to cool down and recover. He was addicted to her, with no plans to detox himself anytime soon. With that and the way she tried his sanity--she'd drive him to the nuthouse for sure and he would gladly go voluntarily if this was the path it took to get there.
---------------
A couple of weeks had passed and Mel had been getting out of the house more and more. What intrigued Jason more than anything at the moment, was that she'd decided to take up kickboxing again. It never once crossed his mind that maybe they could work out together someday and the idea turned him on. He knew she worked out a little here and there, but he never thought she might be able to hang with him. But now he didn't know. He figured one of these days he'd try her out and see what she was all about.
But not today. Today was a rare day off and he was spending it on his ass, in front of the TV, waiting for the fight to come on. He'd been looking forward to this night for ages now and there wasn't a single goddamn thing gonna ruin it for him.
He heard her heels before he saw her pass through the room and Jason nearly fell off the sofa at the sight of her. "Whoa--holy shit. Where are you going, dressed like that?"
Mel looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, her long layers sweeping across her back. "I told you already. Drinks with the girls from kickboxing."
He was silent for a moment as he took her in. She always looked amazing and he figured he should have been used to it after all these years, but his heart still managed to stop every time she walked out of the bedroom. She wore a very short and very tight, black mini dress that complimented the shape of her ass almost too perfectly. Her strappy stilettos with the pointy tips made her legs look as if they went for miles, despite her short stature. She sleeves were fitted nearly to her elbows with cutouts in the shoulders. Her neckline scooped just enough where the material hung comfortably from her chest, careful not to reveal any cleavage. Around her waist was an over-sized black belt. Her newly-tanned skin set off the entire look. Nobody in a million years would ever guess she was in her thirties. She looked hotter than any of the nineteen and twenty-year-olds who now littered Sunset Strip in their barely-there clothes. Those toddlers had nothing on Jason's woman.
However, more pressing matters were at hand. Like how she looked the way she looked and she wasn't going out with him. "Dressed like that?" He verified.
Mel nodded. "Yes. Dressed like this." Then her eyes widened. "What? Is it too much? Should I change?"
He shook his head. "Uh, no, I just--you sure you wanna make it a girls' night tonight?"
She grinned at him, knowingly. "Jason. Seriously. What am I gonna do, sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you sit there and watch the fight? No."
"Well not dressed like that, you won't."
Mel laughed. "Oh, I see how it is. Walk around in a tiny dress MIGHT make you turn away from the TV for maybe five seconds. But if I'm my same old plain, ratty self sitting there, you can't be bothered. I see how this is working."
Shifting from his seat, he stretched himself out on his stomach and rested his arms across the arm of the sofa. "Come on, baby, you're killing me," he pouted.
"Don't give me that face," she scolded. "I haven't had a night out in--well, really, since I moved here."
"I take you out," he objected.
She scowled at him. "You know what I mean."
He rolled over on his back and sighed in mock exasperation. "Fine," he relented.
Her heels clicked over the tile and she suddenly leaned over his face, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're acting like such a teenage boy," she teased.
"I feel like one when you dress like that."
"Well maybe I'll let you cop a feel when I get home."
"Second base? Sweet!"
Mel laughed. "Shut up and kiss me. Sarah texted me, she just pulled up."
As she leaned down to kiss him, he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, her giggle ringing in his ear. "Jason, stop, let me up, I gotta go!"
He let her go and she stood up, smoothing out her dress. "Fine. Go. Leave me alone here by myself. Lonely. Desolate. In the dark."
As she walked toward the door, she smiled at him one last time. "Yeah, yeah, I love you, I hope your guy kicks ass."
"Yeah, me, too," he said as he sat up. "Love you, gorgeous. Be careful. Call me if you need me."
And with that, she was gone.
He couldn't resist following her to the door to watch her walk across the courtyard. As he watched her, he thought for a moment. He knew they were still in the obligatory "honeymoon" phase. Constant sex, constant stars in their eyes, never wanting to be apart, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears--but why did it have to stop? Did people just get used to each other? Was it natural? Because he couldn't imagine there ever being a moment where his heart didn't flutter or his palms didn't get sweaty every time she walked by. And he never wanted that feeling to end for as long as he lived.
-------------
Several hours later, Jason was surprised at himself when he found himself standing in Gerard Cline's house in the Hollywood Hills, talking to him and a couple other mutual friends at a party. Gerard had invited Jason to this party weeks ago, but he'd honestly forgotten about it until Gerard texted him one last invite a couple of hours after Mel had left. The fight had gotten boring anyway, and his guy was losing, and he knew that if he'd asked Mel to go with him she wouldn't have gone within a hundred feet of that house. So he decided to take the opportunity to make an appearance. Gerard's wife had said some heinous things against both Jason and Mel in the past, but Gerard had always remained a friend, seemingly choosing to distance himself from his wife's growing public reputation.
Jason was honestly having a nice time as he drank and talked with his friends. They were a motley little crew and Jason always had to smile about it on the rare occasion the four of them found themselves together. There was himself, the towering Hawaiian actor, Gerard, the British director, the Canadian comedian, and the black producer. Lost in conversation as the comedian checked out the women and the other guys ragged him for it, an unexpected visitor showed up in their group. A former cast member from one of Jason's movies, a girl who had played a bit part. He remembered her all too well. She seemed nice enough but she was clingy as hell and she had it bad for Jason and made very little attempt to hide it. He made the mistake of being nice to her once and he was never able to be rid of her for the rest of the filming. His heart sank when she made her presence known at this party.
"Oh, wow, Jason, it's been so long!" Grinning, the tall blonde wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug that was so clearly uninvited.
He widened his eyes at the guys over her shoulder and they snickered. Some friends they were.
Listlessly, he hugged her back with one arm, trying not to touch her so much. If you gave this girl an inch, she would take an entire goddamn freeway. "Uh, yeah, good to see you," he hesitated.
She pulled away and smiled. "You're a hard man to track down, you know that? Imagine my surprise when I saw you from across the room!"
Not wasting any time shoving his free hand in his pocket, he chugged his beer and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, track down?"
"You know. Just to check and see what you're up to and stuff."
"Um, you could pretty much pull up every website or leaf through every tabloid there is. Privacy is pretty hard to come by these days."
She playfully hit his arm and then wrapped both her hands around his bicep. "No, silly, I mean the real stuff. How's life?"
Jason glared at the guys as they laughed, the girl completely oblivious to everything. "Good," he answered through is teeth, eying his supposed friends. "Really good."
As she chattered on, Jason not hearing a word she was saying, he entered the obligatory one-line answers here and there to appease her because as much as she annoyed him, he didn't have the heart to be rude. She had finally released his arm, but it didn't stop her from practically standing right on top of him and having to touch him every single time a sentence came out of her mouth. Trying desperately to continue his conversation with his friends, the attempt proved futile due to the white elephant in the group.
She was unrelenting and showed no sign of disappearing anytime soon. Jason wished HE could disappear.
Suddenly, Gerard's facial expression changed and he straightened up his stature. "Darling, why don't you let up on the poor guy a little," he said to the girl. "He's not a single man, you know."
As Jason finally felt a small draft of air between the two of them, he was grateful for Gerard but completely confused by the sudden change in attitude. That was, until he spoke again. "Jason. I do believe you have company." And then he nodded behind him.
Jason was puzzled. "What? Company?"
And he turned around and there she was. Across the room. Her eyes on his, her hand on the necklace he gave her that she wore every day without fail, a complete portrait of devastation and betrayal. She glanced at the girl and then back at Jason and he knew in that instant that she automatically assumed the very thing he had tried not to make it look like.
"What the hell is she doing here?" He asked under his breath. "Uh, excuse me, guys, I think it's time for me to call it a night."
He left the group without even saying his goodbyes and headed straight for Mel and she made a break for it. He could hear her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she stormed through the house. He followed her through the foyer, across the grand mansion porch, down the stairs, and onto the pavement, stopping impatiently without a next plan of action.
When he caught up to her, he reached for her hand and she jerked it away, backing away from him. "Don't you touch me. Don't you ever touch me."
"Mel--"
"What are you even doing here? I thought you were at home?"
"What are YOU doing here? Since when are you in the mood to pay Gerard a visit?"
Her eyes widened and she glanced at the mansion behind Jason. "This is Gerard's house?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
Her eyes hardened again. "Sarah knows somebody who's here so she wanted to stop by. I didn't know it was Gerard and Drew's house. And I TOLD you I was going. I texted AND called you and you never responded. Now I understand WHY."
As he pulled his phone out of his pocket and cursed himself for the messages that were, in fact, there, she turned on her heel and began to storm away. "Mel--what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm going home." Then she stopped short. "Is that--is that my Viper sitting there?" She turned around and looked at him. "You drove my car here?"
He looked at her without response. This was just adding insult to injury and he knew it.
Walking briskly up to him, she held out her hand. "Give me my keys."
"Not when you're acting like that, I'm not."
"Give. Me. My. Keys."
Sighing, he fished them out of his pocket and dropped them into her hand. "I'm driving," she said. "I don't want you to drive my car." Then she stormed away, muttering, "I can't believe you, being so fucking shallow and superficial, fucking Hollywood assholes..."
And that was before she stumbled mid-stride and nearly twisted her ankle over her shoe.
Trotting over and helping her up, he smelled the alcohol on her breath. "Melody, come here," he said, pulling her closer.
She braced her hands against his chest in an attempt to pull away. "Don't call me that. You only call me Melody when you're mad and you don't have the right to be mad right now. *I* do."
"Are you drunk?"
"I went out drinking, didn't I?"
"You're fucking drunk," he observed. "Unbelievable. Give me your keys."
"Fuck you."
"NOW."
Sighing, she shoved them in his hand and he opened the passenger door for her. "Get in the damn car."
Reluctantly, she let him help her in the car and within minutes they were leaving Drew's and Gerard's neighborhood. The car was silent at first before Mel quietly spoke up, "How could you do that to me?"
Jason sighed, exasperated. "I didn't do anything."
"Really? You're gonna deny it? After I saw her all over you with my own two eyes?"
"That. Exactly that. She was all over me. Not the other way around."
"Well it wasn't like you were fighting her off or anything. Tall, blonde, beautiful. Why wouldn't you, right?"
"Jesus Christ, Mel, come on..."
"Come on what? You gotta see it from my point of view. I walk into a party, spot you there, which I had NO IDEA you were even planning on leaving the house tonight, only to find a woman hanging all over you. That's it. That's just it. I leave the house long enough for you to slip off to a party with another woman. You lied to me, Jason."
"Are you fucking serious? Don't you ever say that stupid shit again. I didn't lie to you. The party was a spur of the moment decision--"
"But you couldn't text me and tell me? I texted and called you."
"I'm sorry, it slipped my mind--"
"Oh, really? So I slipped your mind, then. This party and that girl were more important than me--"
Finally, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, "GODDAMMIT, MELODY, JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" His voice roared all over the small interior. The car was silent until he spoke again. "I do not want you to utter another word to me--not ONE--until you can have a reasonable, civil conversation with me without jumping to conclusions. Don't even speak to me until you are ready to listen to me. You may have been able to pull this shit in the past, but it doesn't work on me. I don't play this bullshit. Either you sober up and you grow up right now or don't you dare utter another word for the rest of the night."
For the next forty-five minutes, they rode in silence. Jason didn't even turn up any music. This gave him time to think. He thought back on what she said, put himself in her shoes. He had to admit, she had a point. From her point of view, it looked pretty incriminating. Then he realized, she probably felt like her trust had been violated now. Fucking great. Given her romantic history, trust didn't come easily for her. When your husband fakes his death and when your fiancée decides he doesn't want to marry you anymore, trust isn't something you're all too friendly with.
But he wasn't them. She knew this. She was safe with him. Secure. But how in the hell did he make her believe it? She did believe it, didn't she? He glanced over at her and back at the road. Shit. She was more fragile than he thought she was. But it still didn't change the fact that the truth was, he had done absolutely nothing wrong tonight. Nothing. Small hurdles, though. One jump at a time.
Once in the house, Mel didn't head straight for the bedroom like he expected her to. She didn't even take off her shoes. Instead, she yanked the throw blanket and pillow off of the couch and headed for the back door. "Where are you going?" Jason asked.
"I just want to be by myself right now," she said. And then he walked to the glass and watched her cross the walkway and onto the deck, settling herself into a deck chair and bundling herself up.
He sighed and rested his forehead against the glass, staring at the floor below his feet. What the hell was going on here? She was drunk. She was hurt. She thought she saw something that really wasn't there. How do you fix this?
After a few minutes, he walked out onto the deck. Standing in front of the railing and staring out into the dark ocean, he said to her, "You did come into this with the intention of forever, right?" After a moment he glanced at her and she nodded silently. "So did I," he continued.
"I'm possessive," she finally spoke up quietly. "I'm possessive and I'm jealous and I'm territorial. And I know you said you don't like when I'm that way, but--that's just who I am. It just is. I'm sorry. And if you can't accept me for who I am, then..." Her voice trailed off.
He turned around and leaned against the deck, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Then what?"
"Jason, I don't think I'm cut out for Hollywood. Or LA or--"
"Except we're in Malibu. And I said you never had to go into LA if you didn't want to."
"Don't be so literal. I just--I don't think I'm a west coast girl."
Jason swallowed, slightly hurt by her comment, reminding himself that she was under the influence of alcohol. "But you're MY girl. And I'm on the west coast."
Mel sighed and turned her head away from him.
Walking over, he took a seat on the edge of the deck chair next to her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he laced his fingers together. "Look, that girl was nobody. She had a bit part in a movie I did last year. I can't stand her, she grates on my nerves. I didn't know she was going to be there and I couldn't get her off of me and you know I'm not a rude person. I was kinda trapped. I promise you, I barely even spoke to her. What you saw there--that was a completely one-sided thing. I swear to you."
"Okay," she said quietly.
He wasn't convinced that she was convinced. But he'd had enough for one night. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm exhausted. I'm gonna head to bed, I have an early day tomorrow. You, uh, you coming?"
"In a few minutes."
"Mel, I love you."
"I love you, too," she responded quietly.
Hesitantly, Jason made his way into the house and went to bed. Alone.
Exhausted as he was, he couldn't go to sleep. He lay wide awake on his side, staring out the window at the black, crashing waves. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not a single thing. His conscience was clear on that. But he still felt like the bad guy. He still felt like the asshole. He felt like he was still, even now, cleaning up the mess that Taylor Hanson had made. He could kill the bastard.
It wasn't long before Mel came to bed. Sliding in behind him, Jason was surprised when she settled herself against his back and wrapped a slender arm around his chest, letting her fingers lightly stroke his chest hair. He covered her hand with his and closed his eyes. Even knowing she might have the slightest doubt about being where she was, she still managed to make everything feel okay again.
-----------
Jason opened his eyes as the morning sun flowed through the windows. Rolling over, he observed Mel on her back, staring at the ceiling. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he scooted close to her and rested his chin on his hand as he propped himself up. "Hey. You okay, gorgeous?"
She glanced up at him and smirked. "Trust me, I'm not feeling very gorgeous this morning."
He licked his thumb and wiped the excess mascara from below her eye. "You've never been more gorgeous than you are right now."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "About last night. For everything."
He studied her eyes for a moment, recounting something she'd said that he'd hoped to blame on the alcohol, but he couldn't get it out of his head. "You, uh, you said something last night. About being here. In California. Mel, I need to know if you're not happy. You don't have to keep things bottled up from me."
She looked up at him in silence for a moment. "I've never known happiness the way I feel it with you. You set me free. You keep me safe. I never have to worry about anything. I've always felt that with you."
"You're happy with me," he clarified.
"I don't know any other feeling."
"So what was last night about?"
Mel sighed. "I just--I've lived my life waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've come to expect it. I've accepted it because--well, the other shoe always drops. I've been so happy since I moved here with you that I thought last night was it. I thought last night was the catch, you know? And so--I jump to conclusions as a defense mechanism. Like, if I determine the situation on my own or something, then I don't have to--" She paused for a moment. "I don't enjoy being this way, but I am and it's just who I am. I'm sorry."
"It's not who you are."
She narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Well, you're the expert, I guess."
"Do you know what it feels like to want to hate someone so much, even though you know you can't?"
Mel cocked her head to the side on her pillow. "Well this is random."
"No. I mean, I hate Taylor with every fiber of my being--"
"Jason--"
"Because of the way he made you feel. You're insecure, you're gun shy, you're scared--because he did that to you. And John, too. I will hate every person who ever has and ever will hurt you. And that's rough on me sometimes. I spent several years watching you play two different roles. Seeing the fear in your eyes as you waited for the proverbial shoe to drop--feeling the tension--when you were with him. And with me--you don't hesitate. You smile. You jump off cliffs. You make crazy decisions like buying fancy sports cars and firing housekeepers. You're a free spirit. You're fearless. You're unpredictable. And I'm addicted to the way you constantly thrill me. Right here, right now, in this bed, in my arms, on this beach in Malibu--this is who you are. I know you. I know your soul. I know I can't just--change the way you feel with a few words, but I hope that over time that you--you have nothing to worry about with me, I hope you know that."
"I know."
"I know you think you don't belong here. But don't let something like geography take you away from me."
"I belong wherever you are. And I was drunk last night. And I had a moment of weakness."
"If it helps at all, I think you're adjusting to the west coast exceptionally well."
Mel grinned. "You think so?"
He furrowed his brow and smiled. "Oh yeah."
"I have a nasty hangover." She smiled, reaching up and pulling him close to her.
As she kissed him, he smiled. "You really want to get into this if you feel like that?"
"So bad."
He reached down and bent her knee along his body, running his hand up her leg. "Baby, I gotta go. I have an appointment this morning."
"No," she pouted.
"I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life in bed with you. But I gotta work. And you gotta nurse yourself back into the human population today."
Mel giggled and Jason smiled before his expression grew serious again. "So are we okay?"
"We've never not been okay," she responded. She paused for a second and then she smiled. "You know what? I like when you call me Melody."
He laughed. "Do what?"
"I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth."
"You're robbing me of all my ammo, woman."
"Have you ever said 'Kamealoha' after saying 'Melody?' It just rolls right off your tongue. It's a pleasant sound."
Suddenly, Jason's heart pounded. He swallowed hard. "Um--I had no idea that was, uh, ever on your mind..."
"Yeah," she said, oblivious to the sudden rise in tension. "Sarah brought it up last night. She's right. I love the way it sounds. It's so fun to say. Don't you think?"
He was silent as he stared into her eyes. 'Don't I think? Only every damn day since the day I met you,' he wanted to say. It's what he should have said. Instead he said, "You, uh, you like the way that sounds?"
Mel frowned. "Well--yeah." Then her eyes widened in realization. "Oh god! That's not what I--I mean, that would be crazy, right? This soon? I'm not trying to pressure you. Please don't think that. Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm hung over, I'm naked, you're gorgeous--I'm delirious. Please. Just don't listen to me."
Except that it was too late. Melody Kamealoha. She wanted to marry him. He didn't know why this surprised him. Maybe because it had never come up before. He was ecstatic. Elated. On cloud nine.
And absolutely scared to death.
JASON
The next day, it was business as usual. Up at four in the morning, grueling workout at the gym until eleven--but the plus side was, he had the rest of the day off. He had nowhere to be. Today, Jason would come home, take a nap, have that beer he wasn't supposed to have, and lounge outside on the deck. Maybe Mel would join him. No, not maybe. That was a must. He felt like he'd barely seen her since she'd moved in. Maybe the more time he spent with her, the less likely she would be to get bored and spring more surprises on him.
Walking in the house in his jeans and t-shirt, he headed straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He opened it and walked through the living room when he stopped short at what caught his eye outside on the deck. "Holy shit," he muttered under his breath.
Making his way to the window, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Mel stood on the deck, her back turned to him, her long, thick, dark layers forming a perfect V down her back. He remembered when her hair used to be so curly and now it fell in loose, careless glory. Her ass looked spectacular in the red bikini she wore that was reminiscent of the one she wore in Cabo. It wasn't the same one, but it was similar. It was funny how you saw a person every single day of your life but didn't take the time to really study them. He hadn't noticed until now that apparently she'd been spending a lot of time outside these past few days, given the new, lightly sun-kissed hue of her skin. As promised, she wore a pair of nude stilettos on her feet as she stood with her legs slightly open, spreading tanning lotion on her arms.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorway by the back door and turned up his beer. He was happy just to stand there and watch her. Right at this moment, he knew absolutely no shame. She bent over to lotion her legs and he nearly came in his jeans right there. "Jesus Christ," he whispered to himself. "God bless that concrete walkway." He turned up his beer again as he watched her flip her hair over to her other shoulder so she could apply lotion under her straps. "Come on, baby," he quietly pleaded. "There's nobody out there right now. Take it off."
Sadly, that didn't happen as he watched her put the lotion bottle down and tie her hair up on top of her head. Watching her walk across the deck and retrieve her towel, watching her stance and the curvatures of her body as she adjusted it onto the deck chair, though, didn't keep his dick from hardening in his pants. "Goddamn, that's a woman right there," he muttered as he turned up his beer one more time.
He had almost let his hand drift to his crotch when he heard a voice behind him. "Mr. Jason?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around to find Martina standing across the room. "Jesus Christ, Martina, you cared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?"
Martina was a slightly heavy-set Hispanic lady in her very early forties. She wore her dark hair down most days, pinned back from her face. She stood before him in light blue capri pants and a white, pastel-striped button down shirt. "I'm sorry I scared you, Mr. Jason. I had an appointment with Miss Melody today and I came early because I have another appointment after this one. Is she, um, is she available to meet now?"
He glanced out the window and then back at Martina. Raising an eyebrow, he muttered, "She was about to be indisposed, but I suppose that can wait."
Martina smiled knowingly, the blood rising to her cheeks. "Mr. Jason, don't be so fresh today."
Jason chuckled at her. He loved getting a rise out of Martina. She seemed so innocent, despite being a mother of three and it amused him when he could catch her off guard.
Curious as he was, he merely said to her, "Yeah, I can get her for you."
Disappointed that he had to approach Mel for business other than what he wanted for himself, he walked up on her as her eyes were closed and her face directed at the sun. "Today's your lucky day, gorgeous."
Her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand. "What? How long have you been home?"
He smirked at her. "Long enough."
Mel grinned. "So why is it my lucky day? Am I about to GET lucky, by chance?"
"You were."
She frowned. "That doesn't sound very lucky."
"You're lucky I'm not the one interrupting your tan."
"Huh?"
"But Martina is."
She jumped up and glanced back at the house. "Martina's here? Already?"
"Yeah. I can't help but wonder, though. WHY is she here?"
She looked up at him, her hand still shielding her eyes. "That's my business."
He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight on his heels. "Excuse me?"
"It's my business." She stood and snatched up her towel, wrapping it around her. At that, she slipped on her heels and darted swiftly into the house.
He couldn't resist following her inside and as they stepped in, Martina turned on the instant apologies. "Miss Melody, I am so sorry for imposing, I didn't mean to--"
"No, no, it's okay. It's okay," Mel said in a rushed tone. "Let me just throw something on real quick, okay?"
As Mel raced back into the bedroom, Jason looked curiously at Martina. Martina simply shrugged her shoulders.
Seconds later, Mel rushed back out in a short, loose beach cover-up and into the kitchen where she prepared two glasses of iced tea and ushered Martina outside onto the deck. Not wanting to eavesdrop, but curiosity getting the better of him, he sat on the sofa and watched the two women sit in feverish conversation. He wished he could read their faces, and their lips, but it was no use.
Their little meeting didn't last near as long as he thought it would and they walked in, Martina making her way to the front door, saying her goodbyes to Jason. Following her to the door, he caught Martina and said to her quietly, "Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt, it's nothing personal. She's not like your typical, superficial Hollywood housewives, I promise. She's actually very sweet and generous and--"
Martina patted his arm and grinned at him, seemingly in a rush to leave. "I know. It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Um, okay..." Jason responded as she rushed out the door.
In long strides, Jason made his way back into the living room and stood there with his hands on his hips, prepared to confront Mel. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "In a couple minutes, I'm about to tear your clothes off and fuck the hell out of you just because of the scene I walked in on when I got home. That's inevitable. That's--it's gonna happen. Okay? But right this second, I have to know what in the HELL just happened here. It's growing increasingly difficult to keep up with you, I just want you to know that."
Mel shrugged at him simply as she cleaned the used glasses and put them away. "I hired Martina back. And gave her a pay raise."
"You hired Martina back. And gave her a--how much is that gonna cost me?"
"It isn't," she said, matter-of-factly. "It's coming out of my pocket. She's on my payroll now."
"Your--your payroll. You have a payroll?"
"I do now."
"Mel. You can't aff--I mean--"
"I'm a smart woman," she said. "Not to toot my own horn or anything. You might be the one with the actual earned income, but I made some really smart investments the moment I inherited my money. My net worth has almost doubled over the past few years. Not quite doubled. But almost."
"And if they ever go bad?"
"I didn't invest ALL my money, I'm not a moron. Don't worry. I'm actually not even in debt. Well, no real debt anyway. I don't even own anything anymore. Except that car out there. I'm property free. Wow, that's kinda weird now that I say it out loud."
Jason swallowed as he studied her face. "You said you didn't find Martina necessary."
"I don't. Well, I didn't. Until I remembered that I can't cook. Look, Jason, I tossed and turned all night over what happened yesterday. I jumped the gun and I'm sorry. Being your housekeeper is what's paying that woman's bills, I don't want to leave people jobless. That's horrible. And she did nothing wrong. So I rehired her for her cooking skills. She's gonna teach me to cook and I'm gonna pay her for it. No biggie. She was thrilled when she left here, everything's okay."
Jason let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair as he took in everything that just happened. He looked at her again and shook his head. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"This. Everything. I don't know."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "What? Take responsibility for my own actions? It's not difficult."
"Maybe? You come in, you turn my world upside down--and then make it all okay. I don't--I don't get it, you're amazing."
"I'm not gonna do anything that's going to hurt you. Not intentionally. So I make some spur of the moment decisions. So what? Sometimes my spur of the moment decisions are the best ones. That's why people want me to plan their parties. Because I think on my feet."
"And you're totally not tooting your own horn."
"Well, I have to take credit for SOME things. Sometimes, I'm a regular fucking badass. I'm not ashamed to admit it."
Jason smiled as he made his way toward her. "Only sometimes?"
"I can't be TOTALLY conceited."
"In this house, you can be as conceited as you damn well please."
"Take off your shirt," she commanded.
"That's not what I said was going to happen--"
"I don't care."
She walked toward him and backed him into the kitchen until he fell into one of the chairs that sat at the breakfast nook right around the corner from the door that led to the deck. Slipping her cover-up over her head, she let it fall to the floor and stared into his eyes as she pulled the strings on both sides of her bikini bottoms. Jason was so damn turned on right now, he nearly forgot his own name.
She was completely nude from the waist down and he bit his lip at the sight. Reaching up to touch her legs, she gently slapped his hands away. "No, no," she said. "No touching."
He looked up at her in shock. "What?"
She grinned seductively. "Exactly what I said. No touching."
"Shit," he muttered.
Swinging her leg over him to straddle him as if his lap were a motorcycle, his heart pounded in his chest. She stood over him and kissed his neck and let her tongue trace the shape of his ear as her hands unfastened his pants. He was rock hard when she released him and she smiled, moaning in pleasure as she touched him. Looking down between them, he watched as her hand, with her perfectly manicured nails, wrapped around his dick and gently began to stroke him. He knew he was white-knuckling the wooden rungs of the chair behind him at this point and he didn't care. He was probably on the verge of snapping the tiny wooden rods in half, fighting hard to grant her erotic request of keeping his hands off of her.
A moan escaped from his throat as she finally lowered herself on him and he closed his eyes when he felt himself inside her, warm, tight, and wet. From there, she had him. Her hand gripped the chair behind his head as she grinded her hips into him, her other hand forming nail marks into his chest. She could keep digging, he didn't care. If she drew blood, that was okay, too. Nothing was going to distract him from the way she rode his dick right now, nothing in the goddamn free world.
Unable to help himself, his hands came around and slid up her legs. "No," she commanded to him, almost reminding him of a dominatrix. "I said no touching. Do not touch me."
He moaned as his head fell back and he obeyed once again. How had he allowed this to happen? How had he allowed her to turn the tables and make him her bitch like this? If it didn't feel so damn good, he would have asserted his dominance before things even got started. But who the hell was he kidding? She ran this relationship and he knew it.
Letting go of the chair, continuing to grind him at whatever speed she felt necessary, whenever she decided to change it up, she reached behind her and pulled the string on her bikini top, and pulling the rest of it over her head. He licked his lips at the sight of her, knowing that the only thing she wore now were the stilettos that remained on her feet.
When she took her own breasts in her hands, he was done. He needed to touch her. Now. He had to have her. He couldn't sit there and look at her and not even taste her, it was inhumane. He was breaking the rules and he didn't care. He was in this, too, and goddammit, he made the rules now.
Quicker than she could object, he grabbed her by the waist and shifted his body, pulling himself out of her. Picking her up, he shoved her aggressively into the wall and growled from his throat as his mouth covered her neck, his hand tightly wrapping her leg around his body. "I didn't give you permission to do this," she whispered, her nails digging into his back.
He fought to push his jeans down from around his waist and kicked them out of the way once he was finally able to step out of them. "You think I need your permission?" He whispered in her ear aggressively as he entered her again.
"I think you should respect my wishes."
"Trust me, baby, this IS respecting your wishes. Don't you dare think for a minute that you don't want me the way I want you, twenty-four fucking seven. Now shut up and let me fuck you. All I wanna hear now is how much you love it."
"Mmm," she moaned in his ear. "I get a monologue, too?"
"Shut up."
Fuck this, he couldn't see her this way. He just wanted to see her. He wanted to watch himself fuck her. He loved her, but goddammit, right now all he wanted was raunchy, filthy sex and he knew she'd be game. Hell, she was already playing it anyway. He'd make love to her another night.
Taking her from the wall, he turned and kicked the chair he'd been sitting in out of his way and laid her across the small breakfast table, her hair splaying out across the table above her head. He watched her hands grip the edges on either side of her and she arched her back as he thrust into her again. With his left hand, he lifted her leg and spread it wider and looked down, watching himself as he slid in and out of her. Looking up at her face, he caught her with her head up, watching the same scene he was. That dirty girl. She couldn't fool him, not for a second.
Jason determined that she was going to be the death of him. He knew it the second he laid eyes on her and he was surprised he wasn't already dead yet with everything he'd been through with her. Now that she was in his life, twenty-four seven, she was certain to be the death of him. Between the nature of his job and the apparent nature of his home life, he gathered she would either give him a heart attack or paralyze him. Because he couldn't stay away. He couldn't not fuck her like this right after a grueling six hour workout. He couldn't give his body sufficient enough time to cool down and recover. He was addicted to her, with no plans to detox himself anytime soon. With that and the way she tried his sanity--she'd drive him to the nuthouse for sure and he would gladly go voluntarily if this was the path it took to get there.
---------------
A couple of weeks had passed and Mel had been getting out of the house more and more. What intrigued Jason more than anything at the moment, was that she'd decided to take up kickboxing again. It never once crossed his mind that maybe they could work out together someday and the idea turned him on. He knew she worked out a little here and there, but he never thought she might be able to hang with him. But now he didn't know. He figured one of these days he'd try her out and see what she was all about.
But not today. Today was a rare day off and he was spending it on his ass, in front of the TV, waiting for the fight to come on. He'd been looking forward to this night for ages now and there wasn't a single goddamn thing gonna ruin it for him.
He heard her heels before he saw her pass through the room and Jason nearly fell off the sofa at the sight of her. "Whoa--holy shit. Where are you going, dressed like that?"
Mel looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, her long layers sweeping across her back. "I told you already. Drinks with the girls from kickboxing."
He was silent for a moment as he took her in. She always looked amazing and he figured he should have been used to it after all these years, but his heart still managed to stop every time she walked out of the bedroom. She wore a very short and very tight, black mini dress that complimented the shape of her ass almost too perfectly. Her strappy stilettos with the pointy tips made her legs look as if they went for miles, despite her short stature. She sleeves were fitted nearly to her elbows with cutouts in the shoulders. Her neckline scooped just enough where the material hung comfortably from her chest, careful not to reveal any cleavage. Around her waist was an over-sized black belt. Her newly-tanned skin set off the entire look. Nobody in a million years would ever guess she was in her thirties. She looked hotter than any of the nineteen and twenty-year-olds who now littered Sunset Strip in their barely-there clothes. Those toddlers had nothing on Jason's woman.
However, more pressing matters were at hand. Like how she looked the way she looked and she wasn't going out with him. "Dressed like that?" He verified.
Mel nodded. "Yes. Dressed like this." Then her eyes widened. "What? Is it too much? Should I change?"
He shook his head. "Uh, no, I just--you sure you wanna make it a girls' night tonight?"
She grinned at him, knowingly. "Jason. Seriously. What am I gonna do, sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you sit there and watch the fight? No."
"Well not dressed like that, you won't."
Mel laughed. "Oh, I see how it is. Walk around in a tiny dress MIGHT make you turn away from the TV for maybe five seconds. But if I'm my same old plain, ratty self sitting there, you can't be bothered. I see how this is working."
Shifting from his seat, he stretched himself out on his stomach and rested his arms across the arm of the sofa. "Come on, baby, you're killing me," he pouted.
"Don't give me that face," she scolded. "I haven't had a night out in--well, really, since I moved here."
"I take you out," he objected.
She scowled at him. "You know what I mean."
He rolled over on his back and sighed in mock exasperation. "Fine," he relented.
Her heels clicked over the tile and she suddenly leaned over his face, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're acting like such a teenage boy," she teased.
"I feel like one when you dress like that."
"Well maybe I'll let you cop a feel when I get home."
"Second base? Sweet!"
Mel laughed. "Shut up and kiss me. Sarah texted me, she just pulled up."
As she leaned down to kiss him, he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, her giggle ringing in his ear. "Jason, stop, let me up, I gotta go!"
He let her go and she stood up, smoothing out her dress. "Fine. Go. Leave me alone here by myself. Lonely. Desolate. In the dark."
As she walked toward the door, she smiled at him one last time. "Yeah, yeah, I love you, I hope your guy kicks ass."
"Yeah, me, too," he said as he sat up. "Love you, gorgeous. Be careful. Call me if you need me."
And with that, she was gone.
He couldn't resist following her to the door to watch her walk across the courtyard. As he watched her, he thought for a moment. He knew they were still in the obligatory "honeymoon" phase. Constant sex, constant stars in their eyes, never wanting to be apart, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears--but why did it have to stop? Did people just get used to each other? Was it natural? Because he couldn't imagine there ever being a moment where his heart didn't flutter or his palms didn't get sweaty every time she walked by. And he never wanted that feeling to end for as long as he lived.
-------------
Several hours later, Jason was surprised at himself when he found himself standing in Gerard Cline's house in the Hollywood Hills, talking to him and a couple other mutual friends at a party. Gerard had invited Jason to this party weeks ago, but he'd honestly forgotten about it until Gerard texted him one last invite a couple of hours after Mel had left. The fight had gotten boring anyway, and his guy was losing, and he knew that if he'd asked Mel to go with him she wouldn't have gone within a hundred feet of that house. So he decided to take the opportunity to make an appearance. Gerard's wife had said some heinous things against both Jason and Mel in the past, but Gerard had always remained a friend, seemingly choosing to distance himself from his wife's growing public reputation.
Jason was honestly having a nice time as he drank and talked with his friends. They were a motley little crew and Jason always had to smile about it on the rare occasion the four of them found themselves together. There was himself, the towering Hawaiian actor, Gerard, the British director, the Canadian comedian, and the black producer. Lost in conversation as the comedian checked out the women and the other guys ragged him for it, an unexpected visitor showed up in their group. A former cast member from one of Jason's movies, a girl who had played a bit part. He remembered her all too well. She seemed nice enough but she was clingy as hell and she had it bad for Jason and made very little attempt to hide it. He made the mistake of being nice to her once and he was never able to be rid of her for the rest of the filming. His heart sank when she made her presence known at this party.
"Oh, wow, Jason, it's been so long!" Grinning, the tall blonde wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug that was so clearly uninvited.
He widened his eyes at the guys over her shoulder and they snickered. Some friends they were.
Listlessly, he hugged her back with one arm, trying not to touch her so much. If you gave this girl an inch, she would take an entire goddamn freeway. "Uh, yeah, good to see you," he hesitated.
She pulled away and smiled. "You're a hard man to track down, you know that? Imagine my surprise when I saw you from across the room!"
Not wasting any time shoving his free hand in his pocket, he chugged his beer and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, track down?"
"You know. Just to check and see what you're up to and stuff."
"Um, you could pretty much pull up every website or leaf through every tabloid there is. Privacy is pretty hard to come by these days."
She playfully hit his arm and then wrapped both her hands around his bicep. "No, silly, I mean the real stuff. How's life?"
Jason glared at the guys as they laughed, the girl completely oblivious to everything. "Good," he answered through is teeth, eying his supposed friends. "Really good."
As she chattered on, Jason not hearing a word she was saying, he entered the obligatory one-line answers here and there to appease her because as much as she annoyed him, he didn't have the heart to be rude. She had finally released his arm, but it didn't stop her from practically standing right on top of him and having to touch him every single time a sentence came out of her mouth. Trying desperately to continue his conversation with his friends, the attempt proved futile due to the white elephant in the group.
She was unrelenting and showed no sign of disappearing anytime soon. Jason wished HE could disappear.
Suddenly, Gerard's facial expression changed and he straightened up his stature. "Darling, why don't you let up on the poor guy a little," he said to the girl. "He's not a single man, you know."
As Jason finally felt a small draft of air between the two of them, he was grateful for Gerard but completely confused by the sudden change in attitude. That was, until he spoke again. "Jason. I do believe you have company." And then he nodded behind him.
Jason was puzzled. "What? Company?"
And he turned around and there she was. Across the room. Her eyes on his, her hand on the necklace he gave her that she wore every day without fail, a complete portrait of devastation and betrayal. She glanced at the girl and then back at Jason and he knew in that instant that she automatically assumed the very thing he had tried not to make it look like.
"What the hell is she doing here?" He asked under his breath. "Uh, excuse me, guys, I think it's time for me to call it a night."
He left the group without even saying his goodbyes and headed straight for Mel and she made a break for it. He could hear her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she stormed through the house. He followed her through the foyer, across the grand mansion porch, down the stairs, and onto the pavement, stopping impatiently without a next plan of action.
When he caught up to her, he reached for her hand and she jerked it away, backing away from him. "Don't you touch me. Don't you ever touch me."
"Mel--"
"What are you even doing here? I thought you were at home?"
"What are YOU doing here? Since when are you in the mood to pay Gerard a visit?"
Her eyes widened and she glanced at the mansion behind Jason. "This is Gerard's house?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
Her eyes hardened again. "Sarah knows somebody who's here so she wanted to stop by. I didn't know it was Gerard and Drew's house. And I TOLD you I was going. I texted AND called you and you never responded. Now I understand WHY."
As he pulled his phone out of his pocket and cursed himself for the messages that were, in fact, there, she turned on her heel and began to storm away. "Mel--what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm going home." Then she stopped short. "Is that--is that my Viper sitting there?" She turned around and looked at him. "You drove my car here?"
He looked at her without response. This was just adding insult to injury and he knew it.
Walking briskly up to him, she held out her hand. "Give me my keys."
"Not when you're acting like that, I'm not."
"Give. Me. My. Keys."
Sighing, he fished them out of his pocket and dropped them into her hand. "I'm driving," she said. "I don't want you to drive my car." Then she stormed away, muttering, "I can't believe you, being so fucking shallow and superficial, fucking Hollywood assholes..."
And that was before she stumbled mid-stride and nearly twisted her ankle over her shoe.
Trotting over and helping her up, he smelled the alcohol on her breath. "Melody, come here," he said, pulling her closer.
She braced her hands against his chest in an attempt to pull away. "Don't call me that. You only call me Melody when you're mad and you don't have the right to be mad right now. *I* do."
"Are you drunk?"
"I went out drinking, didn't I?"
"You're fucking drunk," he observed. "Unbelievable. Give me your keys."
"Fuck you."
"NOW."
Sighing, she shoved them in his hand and he opened the passenger door for her. "Get in the damn car."
Reluctantly, she let him help her in the car and within minutes they were leaving Drew's and Gerard's neighborhood. The car was silent at first before Mel quietly spoke up, "How could you do that to me?"
Jason sighed, exasperated. "I didn't do anything."
"Really? You're gonna deny it? After I saw her all over you with my own two eyes?"
"That. Exactly that. She was all over me. Not the other way around."
"Well it wasn't like you were fighting her off or anything. Tall, blonde, beautiful. Why wouldn't you, right?"
"Jesus Christ, Mel, come on..."
"Come on what? You gotta see it from my point of view. I walk into a party, spot you there, which I had NO IDEA you were even planning on leaving the house tonight, only to find a woman hanging all over you. That's it. That's just it. I leave the house long enough for you to slip off to a party with another woman. You lied to me, Jason."
"Are you fucking serious? Don't you ever say that stupid shit again. I didn't lie to you. The party was a spur of the moment decision--"
"But you couldn't text me and tell me? I texted and called you."
"I'm sorry, it slipped my mind--"
"Oh, really? So I slipped your mind, then. This party and that girl were more important than me--"
Finally, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, "GODDAMMIT, MELODY, JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" His voice roared all over the small interior. The car was silent until he spoke again. "I do not want you to utter another word to me--not ONE--until you can have a reasonable, civil conversation with me without jumping to conclusions. Don't even speak to me until you are ready to listen to me. You may have been able to pull this shit in the past, but it doesn't work on me. I don't play this bullshit. Either you sober up and you grow up right now or don't you dare utter another word for the rest of the night."
For the next forty-five minutes, they rode in silence. Jason didn't even turn up any music. This gave him time to think. He thought back on what she said, put himself in her shoes. He had to admit, she had a point. From her point of view, it looked pretty incriminating. Then he realized, she probably felt like her trust had been violated now. Fucking great. Given her romantic history, trust didn't come easily for her. When your husband fakes his death and when your fiancée decides he doesn't want to marry you anymore, trust isn't something you're all too friendly with.
But he wasn't them. She knew this. She was safe with him. Secure. But how in the hell did he make her believe it? She did believe it, didn't she? He glanced over at her and back at the road. Shit. She was more fragile than he thought she was. But it still didn't change the fact that the truth was, he had done absolutely nothing wrong tonight. Nothing. Small hurdles, though. One jump at a time.
Once in the house, Mel didn't head straight for the bedroom like he expected her to. She didn't even take off her shoes. Instead, she yanked the throw blanket and pillow off of the couch and headed for the back door. "Where are you going?" Jason asked.
"I just want to be by myself right now," she said. And then he walked to the glass and watched her cross the walkway and onto the deck, settling herself into a deck chair and bundling herself up.
He sighed and rested his forehead against the glass, staring at the floor below his feet. What the hell was going on here? She was drunk. She was hurt. She thought she saw something that really wasn't there. How do you fix this?
After a few minutes, he walked out onto the deck. Standing in front of the railing and staring out into the dark ocean, he said to her, "You did come into this with the intention of forever, right?" After a moment he glanced at her and she nodded silently. "So did I," he continued.
"I'm possessive," she finally spoke up quietly. "I'm possessive and I'm jealous and I'm territorial. And I know you said you don't like when I'm that way, but--that's just who I am. It just is. I'm sorry. And if you can't accept me for who I am, then..." Her voice trailed off.
He turned around and leaned against the deck, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Then what?"
"Jason, I don't think I'm cut out for Hollywood. Or LA or--"
"Except we're in Malibu. And I said you never had to go into LA if you didn't want to."
"Don't be so literal. I just--I don't think I'm a west coast girl."
Jason swallowed, slightly hurt by her comment, reminding himself that she was under the influence of alcohol. "But you're MY girl. And I'm on the west coast."
Mel sighed and turned her head away from him.
Walking over, he took a seat on the edge of the deck chair next to her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he laced his fingers together. "Look, that girl was nobody. She had a bit part in a movie I did last year. I can't stand her, she grates on my nerves. I didn't know she was going to be there and I couldn't get her off of me and you know I'm not a rude person. I was kinda trapped. I promise you, I barely even spoke to her. What you saw there--that was a completely one-sided thing. I swear to you."
"Okay," she said quietly.
He wasn't convinced that she was convinced. But he'd had enough for one night. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm exhausted. I'm gonna head to bed, I have an early day tomorrow. You, uh, you coming?"
"In a few minutes."
"Mel, I love you."
"I love you, too," she responded quietly.
Hesitantly, Jason made his way into the house and went to bed. Alone.
Exhausted as he was, he couldn't go to sleep. He lay wide awake on his side, staring out the window at the black, crashing waves. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not a single thing. His conscience was clear on that. But he still felt like the bad guy. He still felt like the asshole. He felt like he was still, even now, cleaning up the mess that Taylor Hanson had made. He could kill the bastard.
It wasn't long before Mel came to bed. Sliding in behind him, Jason was surprised when she settled herself against his back and wrapped a slender arm around his chest, letting her fingers lightly stroke his chest hair. He covered her hand with his and closed his eyes. Even knowing she might have the slightest doubt about being where she was, she still managed to make everything feel okay again.
-----------
Jason opened his eyes as the morning sun flowed through the windows. Rolling over, he observed Mel on her back, staring at the ceiling. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he scooted close to her and rested his chin on his hand as he propped himself up. "Hey. You okay, gorgeous?"
She glanced up at him and smirked. "Trust me, I'm not feeling very gorgeous this morning."
He licked his thumb and wiped the excess mascara from below her eye. "You've never been more gorgeous than you are right now."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "About last night. For everything."
He studied her eyes for a moment, recounting something she'd said that he'd hoped to blame on the alcohol, but he couldn't get it out of his head. "You, uh, you said something last night. About being here. In California. Mel, I need to know if you're not happy. You don't have to keep things bottled up from me."
She looked up at him in silence for a moment. "I've never known happiness the way I feel it with you. You set me free. You keep me safe. I never have to worry about anything. I've always felt that with you."
"You're happy with me," he clarified.
"I don't know any other feeling."
"So what was last night about?"
Mel sighed. "I just--I've lived my life waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've come to expect it. I've accepted it because--well, the other shoe always drops. I've been so happy since I moved here with you that I thought last night was it. I thought last night was the catch, you know? And so--I jump to conclusions as a defense mechanism. Like, if I determine the situation on my own or something, then I don't have to--" She paused for a moment. "I don't enjoy being this way, but I am and it's just who I am. I'm sorry."
"It's not who you are."
She narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Well, you're the expert, I guess."
"Do you know what it feels like to want to hate someone so much, even though you know you can't?"
Mel cocked her head to the side on her pillow. "Well this is random."
"No. I mean, I hate Taylor with every fiber of my being--"
"Jason--"
"Because of the way he made you feel. You're insecure, you're gun shy, you're scared--because he did that to you. And John, too. I will hate every person who ever has and ever will hurt you. And that's rough on me sometimes. I spent several years watching you play two different roles. Seeing the fear in your eyes as you waited for the proverbial shoe to drop--feeling the tension--when you were with him. And with me--you don't hesitate. You smile. You jump off cliffs. You make crazy decisions like buying fancy sports cars and firing housekeepers. You're a free spirit. You're fearless. You're unpredictable. And I'm addicted to the way you constantly thrill me. Right here, right now, in this bed, in my arms, on this beach in Malibu--this is who you are. I know you. I know your soul. I know I can't just--change the way you feel with a few words, but I hope that over time that you--you have nothing to worry about with me, I hope you know that."
"I know."
"I know you think you don't belong here. But don't let something like geography take you away from me."
"I belong wherever you are. And I was drunk last night. And I had a moment of weakness."
"If it helps at all, I think you're adjusting to the west coast exceptionally well."
Mel grinned. "You think so?"
He furrowed his brow and smiled. "Oh yeah."
"I have a nasty hangover." She smiled, reaching up and pulling him close to her.
As she kissed him, he smiled. "You really want to get into this if you feel like that?"
"So bad."
He reached down and bent her knee along his body, running his hand up her leg. "Baby, I gotta go. I have an appointment this morning."
"No," she pouted.
"I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life in bed with you. But I gotta work. And you gotta nurse yourself back into the human population today."
Mel giggled and Jason smiled before his expression grew serious again. "So are we okay?"
"We've never not been okay," she responded. She paused for a second and then she smiled. "You know what? I like when you call me Melody."
He laughed. "Do what?"
"I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth."
"You're robbing me of all my ammo, woman."
"Have you ever said 'Kamealoha' after saying 'Melody?' It just rolls right off your tongue. It's a pleasant sound."
Suddenly, Jason's heart pounded. He swallowed hard. "Um--I had no idea that was, uh, ever on your mind..."
"Yeah," she said, oblivious to the sudden rise in tension. "Sarah brought it up last night. She's right. I love the way it sounds. It's so fun to say. Don't you think?"
He was silent as he stared into her eyes. 'Don't I think? Only every damn day since the day I met you,' he wanted to say. It's what he should have said. Instead he said, "You, uh, you like the way that sounds?"
Mel frowned. "Well--yeah." Then her eyes widened in realization. "Oh god! That's not what I--I mean, that would be crazy, right? This soon? I'm not trying to pressure you. Please don't think that. Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm hung over, I'm naked, you're gorgeous--I'm delirious. Please. Just don't listen to me."
Except that it was too late. Melody Kamealoha. She wanted to marry him. He didn't know why this surprised him. Maybe because it had never come up before. He was ecstatic. Elated. On cloud nine.
And absolutely scared to death.