Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Perfect Alli: July 11, 2013

Alli: July 11, 2013


I have five weeks left before school starts. I hate how fast time seems to move in adulthood. A week ago I was at the lake with Thor and now I don’t even know where we stand. After I told him that I didn’t want to come over after work, he got pretty quiet. I probably shouldn’t have said, “If we’re still together, then” when he mentioned meeting his parents at Thanksgiving. I just didn’t want to talk about meeting parents or future plans. He was stepping all over my strategies to concentrate on school. Who does he think he is messing with my head? I know I should have told him that I wasn’t interested in a relationship past summer. It just never felt like the right time.

Once, I went out with a guy who told me on our first date that he didn’t have time for a relationship. He was probably just being honest, but it came off condescending as if he thought he was better than me somehow. I didn’t even want to go on that date in the first place, but he had asked me out four times. I went out with him out of pity and then he turned it around to make me feel unworthy.

Even though I am not always the best at being empathetic (at least that’s what my friends say), I didn’t want to make Thor feel the way that douche made me feel. I like Thor. And he’d been through so much already. I thought if I waited, it wouldn’t sound so harsh. Now I’m just frustrated. He doesn’t know that short-term has been my plan all along. He sent me a text Saturday morning to tell me he was going back up to the Austins' cabin. I sent back “K.” Everyone knows the universal text meaning OK really means I’m pissed. I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t know if he got mad that I was pissed or if he was mad that I didn’t spend the night.

Everything is so unresolved. Maybe I should concentrate on work and lining up references for my med school applications like my mother keeps nagging me to do. It’s the easiest way to end it—no one is to blame, we just drift apart. We’ll see each other again at some point, unless I stop being friends with Sarah and Jessica or Thor and Jeff have a falling out. It’s a big incestuous circle of friends dating friends’ friends or friends’ brothers. What a mess. Note to self: In the future, only date strangers.


I could call him and invite him to go club hopping with us for Sarah’s twenty-first birthday. It would break the ice between us and Jeff is going to be there so if he’s still mad at me Thor can talk to him. But if I do that and then break up with him, how is that going to be better for him or me? I’m pretty sure my friends will be more forgiving of me if I tell them that he stopped texting me. I don’t really want to lose him yet, but it would be a lot easier just to let him slip away. Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler      

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Jessica's Way: July 6, 2013

Jessica:  July 6, 2013


We were all up at Jeff’s family’s lake home for the fourth of July weekend—Sarah, Megan, Trent (Megan’s guy of the moment), Jeff and I. Alli had to work on the weekend at the hospital, so she and Thor left by noon on Friday. I was surprised when Thor came back up to the lake this morning though. I thought he and Alli were going to have a quiet weekend together. That’s what he had told Jeff when he left. I guess he changed his mind.

I didn’t realize that Thor and Alli had a fight until he corners me on the end of the dock.

“She hasn’t even told her parents about me,” he says, sitting down next to me on the bench. “I’m a decent looking guy. I’m going to grad school. Am I that much of a loser that her parents wouldn’t approve?”

I can’t help but laugh. He is indecently fine looking sitting next to me without his shirt. I know that he’s Jeff’s best friend, but still. That isn’t why I am laughing though. He obviously has no clue what Alli’s parents were like or he would never want to meet them. “Trust me, you don’t want them to know you exist.”

“What does that mean?”

I’m not sure if I should go into detail, but I think he deserves to know what he is in for if he wants a relationship with Alli. “Her parents are a bit overbearing. It is not worth meeting them if this is just going to be a summer thing.”

His brow furrows and his eyes squint as he glares at me. What did I say?

“Suppose they found out about me, what would happen?”

“They would very politely invite you out for dinner at the club, where they would interrogate you endlessly about your career plans and religious beliefs. And when you didn’t measure up, they would condemn you. Not because you’re a bad person, but because no one, not even themselves, can meet their standards. Then they would pinpoint your flaws and make sure that Alli was aware of each and every one of them, tenfold.” I pause hoping that helps clarify it for him. His scowl tells me I need to add more. “When I first met her mom, she tried to convince Alli that I wasn’t good friend material because my parents were going through a divorce and I was going to suck Alli dry with my emotional neediness. That was her conclusion though she had talked to me for no more than ten minutes. With guys, it’s worse. If you think Alli’s type-A personality is high strung now just wait and see what she’s like when her parents get all riled up.”

He looks out over the water following a speedboat with his eyes as it loops around the edge of the lake. “We’ve never even talked about religious differences.”

“I’m not trying to turn you off from Alli. She’s not like her folks. She views the world around her without blinders and can see outside the box. It’s just best to not stir the pot with her parents.”

“I thought she was Catholic. She went to a Catholic high school.”

“Her Nana is Catholic. But her parents joined a non-denominational church when Alli was in her teens. It’s a little extreme. I think it turned Alli off to all organized religions. You should probably talk to her about it. But I know for me with my mom’s crazy family, no one ever listens to anyone else with an open mind, so I’ve learned not to discuss religion or politics if I can help it. It just leaves me frustrated when I do. Alli probably feels the same way with her parents. It’s easier to let them assume she agrees with them. If she doesn’t make waves then she can live her life in peace.”

I could see the cogs of Thor’s brain turning in his expression. I hope I didn’t say anything wrong. I just wanted to help. He seemed so dejected, and he doesn’t deserve the psychological torture that Alli’s parents inflict. Sometimes Alli doesn’t realize that her parents don’t just affect her. They affect everyone she touches.

I hear the clomping of flip-flops against the wooden slats of the dock and I look back to see Jeff and the rest of the gang coming toward us in their swimsuits. I don’t know what else to say to Thor. I rise as Jeff spins the oversized wheel of the boatlift, clinking with each turn, to lower the boat. We’re going skiing and I still need to get my suit on before the boat leaves without me. I touch Thor’s shoulder and ask, “Are you OK?”

He nods and I know that is all I will get now that everyone else is on the dock. I squeeze past the group and hustle inside to get changed. Thor has to figure the rest out on his own. Alli is right to keep him away from her parents. I hope he understands.

Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler 

Friday, November 7, 2014

Perfect Alli: July 5, 2013

Alli: July 5, 2013


I’m riding back to the Cities with Thor from Sarah’s family’s cabin in northern Minnesota. I wanted to stay until the weekend like the rest of the group, but I have to work this afternoon and if I miss work my mother will never let it go. Thor wanted to ride together and since he doesn’t have to work, he may head back to the cabin after he drops me off. It’s not that far that I feel too much guilt about the drive. My guilt stems from what Thor said last night.

“We should get our own place on this lake someday.”

Whoa. It stopped me in my tracks. I’m not sure if he was just blabbering because we had been drinking and were in a boat in the middle of the lake watching fireworks or if he was making plans for the future. Who knows where I will be a year from now if I don’t get into the U’s medical school, let alone five years from now. Normally I would have blown off a comment like that, but after Thor’s brother told me last week that I need to end the relationship before Thor gets hurt, I’m a bit more sensitive about him making future plans. I don’t want to hurt him.

When I first met him, he seemed so confident and smooth that I was surprised he was even interested in me. Usually, hot guys don’t even give me a second look once I open my mouth. It’s not that I’m not decent looking. I can hold my own mostly and I have lady-parts. I’m just focused and I think they see me as too much work. That’s why I usually go for geeks. They seem more willing to see past my career fixation. Maybe it’s because they have their own goals or maybe it's because they’re not used to women talking to them.

The smile on my face provokes Thor to ask, “Who are you texting?”

“No one. I’m on Tumblr, just blogging. It helps me think.”

“Think? About last night?” He winks at me and his face lights with amusement.

“You are so full of yourself.”

“I have a right to be, don’t I?” He returns his eyes to the road as if his question is rhetorical.

“I suppose you do,” I admit even though I didn’t need to answer. I can feel the blush on my cheeks burn down my neck, thinking about what happened after the fireworks ended and I’m glad he is no longer looking at me.

“Do you want to come over after you get off work?”

“I thought that you were going back up to the lake.”

He grunts skeptically. “There’s nothing there for me if you’re not there. Besides I’d be the only one without a date.”

“Sarah doesn’t have a date.” I blurt out, not wanting him to hook up with Sarah, but to prove a point that he wouldn’t be the only single.

“She is cute. But I think Jeff’s sister is a little too obsessed with the Internet guy to even notice I’m there. I’d be stuck talking to myself.”

He was right. Now that Sarah and Will were actually talking on the phone, she was even more distracted than usual. She seemed dazed last night—which is not her. She kept checking her phone and complaining about the terrible cell service on the lake. Then after the fireworks, she drove into town to make a call. We all knew who she was calling.

“Do you want to come over or not?”

“Sure, but I can’t stay. My parents know the girls are all up at the lake and that means I don’t have an excuse for staying out all night.”

“You are an adult. Just tell them you’re staying at my apartment.” He says it as if nothing could be simpler. He looks over at me and he knows right away. I tried to look away but he caught my expression. “You haven’t told them about me, have you?”

I let out a deep breath and stumble over my words. “I…you…It wouldn’t make it easier to for me to stay over. They’re not going to approve of you.”

“So I’m not good enough for your parents? What, I need a Harvard degree or just need a Ph.D. behind my name?”

Damn. That’s not what I meant. “No, they’re not going to approve of any guy I’m with until I'm in my final year of residency.”

“Well, you’re going to have to introduce me at some point. I can wait until the end of summer when you’re back at school and no longer under their roof, but I am going to meet them.”

There it was—more future plans. Do I plant the seed about the breakup or do I ignore his comment? I wait a beat too long to respond and he adds, “You don’t want them to meet me ever, do you?”

This time I’m quick to respond. “It’s for your own protection. Really it won’t be pretty.” Then I laugh to make light of my words.

“Well you’re coming to my parents for Thanksgiving weekend, so you better think up a good lie to tell your parents by then.” His words have a bitter undertone and the determined look on his face tells me that he’s going to find a way to meet my parents. He’ll make it look like an accident—probably stop over unexpectedly and say that he thought that they wouldn’t be home. Then he gets what he wants and I can’t get mad.

“If we’re still together then,” I say and I don’t know if I'm planting the seed or if I'm just conveying how serious I am about me not wanting him to meet them. The rest of the ride is pretty silent. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I’m too afraid to ask. Maybe I’ll go home after work and give us both a night to process the conversation.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler  

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Paris in LA: June 27, 2013

Paris Borel:  June 27, 2013

Jonathan Williams called yesterday. I couldn’t believe my good luck. My husband had been such a dick lately that I needed the escape. I never expected his call and Jonathan’s sexy voice hit me like the air in hot yoga—so steamy I could barely think. I hadn’t posted any substantial articles about him in weeks on my website. The last insignificant one was a result of the selfie that Mia Thompson had put up and he deserved that article. If he’s going to let her tweet about their early morning excursions then who am I to keep it away from my readers. I knew he couldn’t be calling about that tiny blip. Since the selfie, I’ve only posted the usual daily sightings of him around town—the fan pics, not the paparazzi. Though I’m sure my readers would devour paparazzi pictures, it would break the unspoken agreement that I have with Jonathan. I don’t think he would be so forthcoming with his private life if I entangled myself with the vultures. It’s more personal when I post fan pics anyway and I so want to be personal with him.

Jonathan was clearly interested in my life—another surprise. He knew about Gerard’s problems with the coach’s daughter. He even knew about Gerard’s shoulder injury. Though it was in the press, it pleased me that he’d been keeping track of me so closely.

When he told me that he and Mia Thompson weren’t getting back together, I offered myself to him on a platter for his enjoyment. I guess I should have been more subtle with him, more seductive. Being direct didn’t work.

He’s a bit more complicated than most men. In my experience with the male species, what you see is what you get. Jonathan has been through more than any twenty-three year old should have to endure and most of the time I have no idea what motivates him. But the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I can spot his vulnerabilities. He’s got this tender side that calls to me. So while most of the press has been ruthless to him over the last few years, I have cultivated a personal relationship with him and I can tell he sees me as different. Jonathan and I have an undeniable connection.

He wanted the email address for some girl that was a regular poster on my website. At first, I was skeptical about providing him links to the competition. But when he mentioned that he thought she was his brother’s ex, I couldn’t say no. If it was the ex-girlfriend I thought it was, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway. Besides I couldn’t deny him anything. All he would have to do is say my name with those gorgeous lips and I’d cave.

Gerard says I need professional help. He thinks that my infatuation with Jonathan is unhealthy. And maybe it is, but he doesn’t realize that it plays into my plan. Payback’s a bitch, right? My husband should never have cheated on me. He doesn’t know what lengths I’m willing to go for revenge.

Jonathan’s call definitely doused gasoline on the already lit fuse that I hadn’t told Gerard about. I was ready for my oblivious husband to know what he had started. I revealed my affair with his teammate, Caleb Gossling, and I thought he would at least smash his hand through the wall or break the corner off the granite breakfast bar. But he just grinned at me and before taking a bite of his sandwich, casually announced, “I guess we’re even.” Then he spun around on his bar stool and flicked on ESPN.

We were far from even, but I was so caught off guard by his lack of emotion that I was speechless. Me speechless? I could tell he was waiting for me to become irrational, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He had his own game going on. I just smiled and leaned over the counter, purring in his ear. “Next time it will be with someone that means something to me.”

He knew who I meant.

“A tit for a tat, Gerry.” His lip curled a little at my words as he rotated back to meet my eyes. He hated it when I called him Gerry.

He stared at me, while I wondered how long my threat would keep him in line. The fury in his eyes penetrated me, sending a shiver down my spine. He’d never gotten violent at home. I knew so many hockey wives that dealt with violence off the rink. They accepted it as part of the package with the high adrenaline lifestyle. The money and recognition brought privilege—the abuse just became part of the payment—sanctioned by the wife’s lack of power. The minute a woman stopped seeing herself as equal, the relationship became askew and she was no longer more than an accessory—something to be worn and thrown away.

And maybe Gerard’s and my relationship was off kilter a bit too. I knew the coach’s daughter wasn’t his first. But hell if I was going to stand for his cheating any longer. With Jonathan’s call, I knew I had options.

I stared right back at him. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. When his hand jetted out and grasped my shoulder hard, his fingers digging into my skin, I cringed at the impending blow. But instead, he pulled me in for the most tender kiss I’ve ever had and as I lay on my stomach stretched across the breakfast bar, I melted into his arms, imagining he was my fascination.

“No more, baby,” he whispered, though I knew he was lying. At least, for now, he would be faithful and that was better than a fist to the side of the head. I’d made it clear that I wouldn’t let him get away with the cheating. He knew the price. But I knew that I wouldn’t have to wait forever to quench my obsession with Jonathan, guilt-free.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 26, 2013

Alli: June 26, 2013

Thor had packed a picnic for dinner and we eat it on the beach—Thai chicken salad, with broccoli and red peppers. He says he made it, but I suspect that his brother who’s a chef made it. It tastes great. He pulls out wine and we drink it out of plastic cups as we try to hide the fact that we are drinking on a public beach.

After eating we stroll around Lake Calhoun. He keeps playfully bumping into me as we walk. When we stop to view the Minneapolis skyline—the lowering sun painting the mirrored buildings orange and red—he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. His breath in my ear matches mine as if we were singing a round of silent melody. As my lungs fill, his empty. Then mine empty and his fill.

We stand in silence as bikers and joggers buzz by. His words, usually so free-flowing, seem noticeably absent. I wonder what he’s thinking. Did he take his ex-fiancĂ© here on a similar date? Is he thinking of her? Or is he thinking of last week when we went to the same coffee shop to watch a different band? I’m not sure, but he seems a bit distant. I pull him back onto the path and say, “Come on. We’re going to miss the band.” The sun won’t set until almost 9:30, but we still have to make it halfway around the lake to the coffee shop in uptown before all the tables are taken. Last week it was so packed that we had to sit around the corner from the main room and we couldn’t even see the band. “We’re not going to get a table,” I say, just to get him back on task. He smiles and follows me.

By the time we get to the coffee shop, there are people lined up against the back wall and I can’t see any open tables, not even around the corner where we sat last time. Thor pushes our way through the standing room only crowd like he owns the place and I’m thinking that he’s crazy for even trying until I see his brother. Grayson is sitting next to some girl that I know I’ve never seen before, and we slide into the booth across from them.

“Hey, Red,” says Grayson with Thor’s smile.

I didn’t notice it before but they have the same smile. I’m not really fond of the name Red, but I’ve heard it so many times that I ignore it. I return the smile and he introduces his blonde beauty of the moment. Camryn or Kya, I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter because I’ll never see her again. I wonder whether or not Thor will become more like his brother and have a different girl on his arm every week after we break up. On looks alone, he could pull it off, but I don’t think his heart would be in it. He’s not that shallow.

Thor sits for the obligatory introductions and then excuses himself to stand in line for our coffees. I know we will break up. After my meeting with Dr. Albright last week, I know I won’t have time for anything but school once it starts. Part of me is sad about that, but my rational side knows there is no other way. I refuse to be one of those girls who gets sidetracked by a man. I’m going to be a doctor, damn it. And no gorgeous smiling hard body is going to distract me from my career.

“How was the honeymoon?” Grayson asks glancing at me and then to the girl hanging on his every word. She giggles and I’m not sure if it is because she knows the story about me going on Thor’s honeymoon with him after he broke it off with his cheating fiancĂ© or if it’s because Grayson is paying attention to her.

I don’t think his question is the most appropriate thing to say, but I answer anyway. “Satisfying.” I surprise both of us with my answer. Grayson’s eyebrows jolt up in astonishment. I am trying to knock him down to a manageable ego. It doesn’t work, though. It just spurs him on.

“It’s good to know my brother is capable of keeping up the family’s reputation,” says Grayson, his expression indicates he’s patting himself on the back for his cleverness. “I wasn’t sure you would stick around after the free vacation, but here you are.”

Irritated by his declaration I say, “I guess it must be your brother’s skills.” I scowl at him, trying to show him how inappropriate the conversation is.

He stares at me for several seconds as if he’s trying to figure me out and then adds, “Don’t hurt him. Break it off now, if you’re not going to stay with him. He doesn’t need his heart shredded again. He gets attached, obsessed almost. I can see it starting with you. If you’re not in it for the long hall, don’t string him along.”

My face must show him all he needs to know because he says, “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Break it off.”

I look over at Thor as he nears the barista’s counter. His eyes meet mine and that devilish smile spreads across his face. Was he getting too attached to me? We had only been together a few weeks. I like being with him. I really like him. He’s a better distraction than I could have ever hoped for, but he is supposed to just be a summer fling—someone to make the time pass until school starts again, nothing more. I meant to tell him on the flight home that I wouldn’t be able to see him after school starts. It isn’t that I’m avoiding the subject. It’s just never the right time.

I look back over to Grayson. I hate it when people tell me what to do. I get enough of that from my parents. “Why would I do that? I like Thor. I’m sure he only sees me as a rebound anyway, someone to help get him over his cheating fiancĂ©.”

Cora, or whatever her name is, has her phone out and is texting now. I guess she’s tired of being left out of the conversation. Grayson pulls his arm from behind her and leans over the table, talking directly at me in a hushed tone. “You better not hurt him.”

Why do people keep saying that? He’s not some fragile child. He’s the one who asked me on the trip. He was in control the whole time. “I don’t have a red room of pain,” I say and the girl next to him giggles, catching the Fifty Shades reference. “Your brother is stronger than you think. Why do you think I’m going to hurt him?”

“He is obviously more into you than you are to him.”

I shake my head. Grayson doesn’t know what he is talking about. Thor isn’t needy or clingy. It’s not like we even talk or text every day. We’re just taking it one day at a time. Aren’t we?

Thor slides into his seat next to me and rests his arm on the back of the booth behind me. “What did I miss?” he asks, pushing my iced latte toward me.

I shrug not sure what to say. Then the girl next to Grayson says, “Your honeymoon.” She doesn’t even look up from her phone. Her fingers are moving, quickly typing out a text.

In a fatherly tone, Grayson says, “Cara.” Her name must be Cara. I’m surprised he remembered it.

“What? She said that he satisfied her.” She looks up and meets Grayson’s glare. “It wasn’t anything bad.”

“Bro, did you really ask Allison if I…” The words catch in Thor’s throat. He gapes at his brother in disbelief.

Grayson laughs and answers, “She offered it freely. It’s good to know you can play ball with the rest of us. She also told us that she didn’t have a red room of pain, but I suspect that’s a lie. It’s always the quiet ones who go over the edge.”

Oh my god. I am completely mortified. Grayson definitely won this match. Thor looks over at me for confirmation and I’m sure that my skin matches my hair—bright red. Just then the band starts to introduce themselves. Thor’s expressions says he wants to hear more about our conversation. I don’t think he really wants to know the rest of our discussion. Grayson is crazy. Thor is cautious. He’s not going into this blindfolded. On our trip, he told me that he would probably never marry. What does that say to a girl? Besides, it’s not even the Fourth of July yet. I have two months before summer’s end. The band starts up before anyone says anymore and it is so loud in the small space that we can no longer talk. Thor’s fingers find my bare shoulder and I know that I’ve made the right choice to wait. I didn’t even know him a month ago—who knows what will happen by the end of summer. Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 22, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  June 22, 2013


“You look like hell,” were the exact words that Will said as he walked into the room and saw me lying in the rented hospital bed. I didn’t doubt that I actually looked like hell, but there was no way I wanted to hear it. I had been in this bed since Friday when they released me from the hospital and I felt like hell.

“Thanks.” I pulled myself up with one hand using the triangle bar hanging over the bed as I pushed the button to bring up the bed behind my back. I wasn’t in as much pain as I had been at the hospital and I was much more comfortable in the privacy of my own home. “It’s about time you blessed me with your godliness.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He had already explained his issues about visiting me at the hospital on the phone. I got it. I couldn’t hold it against him.

“Is Kelsey taking good care of you? I mean, other than helping you with your hair and all.”

“Shut up.” I ran my fingers through my longer than usual hair. “Kelsey’s been great.” I looked around to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. “There’s a nurse who comes in every day to help me with some of the personal stuff. She said my hair looked fine.”

“She’s either really old or really hot.” He laughed as he took a seat in the chair next to me.

“Old,” I admitted. “Kelsey demanded it and I’m glad she did. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“I bet it is.” He laughed again and I wondered if he really understood the crap that I was going through. “Speaking of age, whatever happened with that underage girl? Haven’t heard anything about it in a while.”

“Nothing. They’re not pressing charges at this time, but they are leaving it open, hoping that they’ll get more evidence. My dad says we could sue them but it would cost us more than we could get. Besides, I think the publicity helped my career.”

“No doubt on that one.” Will leaned back and rested his feet on the edge of my bed.

“So what’s going on with you and Mia?” I turned it back on him. “I saw the selfie of you and her having early morning coffee. You said you weren’t back with her. Just getting some exercise?”

“It was just coffee. She’s trying to look unavailable for some other guy. I was helping her out, nothing more.”

I knew how easy it was to get back with exes in Hollywood. At least you know what you’re getting into with an ex. I watched him closely for a few seconds to see if he was lying, but everything he said seemed legit. “Jonathan Williams, you’re still obsessed with that Internet chick, aren’t you?” I used his real name because it always throws him off when I do.

“Is it that obvious?” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Even Mia could tell and she doesn’t usually notice anything not Mia.”

“It’s that obvious.” I nodded. It felt good talking about someone else’s problems.

“I know I’ve got to do something about it. Even my dad could see it. I just don’t want to change what Sarah and I have. Right now, I can tell her anything.”

“Except who you really are,” I interjected.

“I think she knows the real me better than anyone. When I tell her who I am it’s going to screw us up.”

“It could make it better. I say dive in head first. I mean, when was the last time you hooked up with anyone?”

“Don’t go there. I’m trying to have a deep conversation here.” He smiled and added, “Let’s just say things haven’t changed since the last time we talked about this.”

“Too bad. But only you can ‘be the change you want to see in the world,’” I quoted Gandhi in a mocking voice.

“I’m working on it.” He shook his head and added, “It’ll happen soon.”

I knew that much. He would make it happen. The rest depended on the chick.

“I’m going to talk to the website manager and get Sarah’s email. That way I don’t have to worry about her getting hacked by some cyber stalker. Did you see that Ashley Tyler got hacked last week? Nude pics out of her private account.”

“Damn. I missed those? Are they still up?”

“Don’t encourage the hackers, Nordstrom. What are you thinking?” Will looked at me with his most serious expression, then added, “They’re fake, by the way.”

“Damn,” I said again. I knew he wasn’t talking about the pictures, but two particularly famous parts of the singer’s body. “You sure?”

He looked at me cocking his head with one eyebrow raised. I knew I shouldn’t have even questioned him. But I was still going to look online for myself after he left.

We talked some more about the hacking and how best to protect ourselves. Then I told him how the studio had to rewrite the script for the midseason finale because there was no way I could do what they had planned. They were going to write my accident into the plot and possibly shoot a scene here at the house with me in the bed like this. They’d bring in some green screens and dub it all in. “They promised not to kill me off. I guess that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t even realize what’s happening with your career right now, do you? There’s no way they’re going to kill you off. They’re probably scrambling to see how they can tighten up your contract so you won’t move onto something bigger and better.”

I looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I’m serious. Your accident made the front page of all the rags. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“I need a better agent,” I admitted. I hadn’t seen anything. Maybe I’d just been so out of it that no one wanted to tell me or maybe they had told me. I’d been avoiding googling myself because I was afraid of seeing pictures of the accident. It’s not like I needed to be reminded how badly I’d been hurt. Just then my leg started throbbing, probably because I was thinking about it, and I knew it would end Will’s visit. As soon as I took the pain pill, I would be out. So I explained it to Will and he said he would stop back tomorrow.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Mia's Fabulous World: June 20, 2013

Mia Thompson: June 20, 2013


I ran into Tom Fallston at Misk last night. It wasn’t an accident. I knew he would be there. I figured we needed to get better acquainted before filming started. We have decent chemistry and we’re doing some love scenes together in Illicit. Production starts in a few weeks and what better way to rehearse for the scenes than to actually do the scenes for real. Private rehearsals always make filming go smoother.

I’d read in the tabloids that last week Tom broke up with model turned actress, Felisha Elson, and I asked him about it. He said he had been thinking about me when he broke it off. I laughed. That was such a line, but it was creative. Two points for Tom.

I questioned how he dated her for so long—six months. She’s completely brainless and everyone knows it. He smiled as his eyes perused my body.

“I thought you and Jonathan were back together.”

As much as I wanted that to be true, it wasn’t and it was time to stop lamenting it. Jonathan and I are meant to be together and it will happen soon enough, but that doesn’t mean I should stop living my life. If I don’t stay relevant then my career will disintegrate. Tom Fallston was just what I needed to stay relevant in the press. With his fame and good looks, we’d be a power couple. For however short-lived, it would still be tabloid cover material. Besides movies always sell better when the leads are romantically involved and I had backdoor rights to this film. I would do all I could to make it profitable.
 
 I shook my head to answer his question and his reaction seemed mixed.

“Too bad. I like to have to work for it,” he said, looking past me into the club as if searching for someone more challenging. I knew he was playing me, his body language invited me home for the night.

I was up for the game. I focused my gaze on a particularly gorgeous Adonis a few yards away, making eye contact with the guy and purring, “We’re not back together, but that doesn’t mean he’s not on retainer.” This seemed to do the trick and Tom stepped closer blocking my view of the other guy. A bit desperate I thought, but he got my full attention. His fingers pushed into my hair from the back of my neck and he tilted my head up like he was moving in for a kiss, but then just stared into my eyes. His were light brown and nothing like Jonathan’s eyes. Still, I fought hard not to lean into his hand. It had been a long time since I was with a man and my body craved the attention. I played the distant bitch, though, and made him think he had to work to catch my interest. I knew right then that I couldn’t go home with him that night—not challenging enough. If I was going to make this movie chemistry the best it could be I would need to string him along for a while and make him beg before giving in.

We talked intimately close for a while, my hand on his abdomen and his in my hair, and I could tell those around us noticed. It wouldn’t go unmentioned in the press. When I said my goodbye to meet up with Kiera and the others, he almost groaned as he said, “We should get together to go over a few scenes, before filming starts.”

“If you need extra rehearsal, I guess we could.” I threw a glance over my shoulder as I walked away and he followed me with his eyes pinned until I sank into the shadows of the club.

On the drive back to Kiera’s I sent a text to Jonathan, optimistically hoping he was still up and may be willing to slip back into our old routine.

Me:  You home?
Jon:  Yep. In bed. 
Me:  Want me to join you?

I thought I would put it out there just in case he was in as much need as me, but part of me knew he wouldn’t accept my offer.

Jon:  Tired. How about coffee at Joe’s 9:30?

It was better than complete rejection.

Me:  A bit early, but OK.
Jon:  See you then.

I was right. 9:30 was way too early to meet him. I made it there though. I knew he would be seated in the back corner away from the windows and restrooms. It’s like he hides from his fans. I don’t understand his need for privacy. My choice would have been where people could find me. With my hair pulled back, my puffy sleep-deprived eyes met his perfectly groomed face and I slid into the booth next to him. A half smile greeted me and he passed me the skinny mocha latte that he’d ordered for me. He had even added the sugar. I love that he still remembers after all this time.

“Liam is in the hospital,” he said without looking up from his coffee.

“STD finally get him?” I asked and a small chuckle broke from his lips.

“Motorcycle accident. I was supposed to visit him, but I couldn’t stomach going into the hospital. Kelsey said he was so doped up on pain meds that he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t there.”

I didn’t know who Kelsey was, but she was connected to Nordstrom, not Jonathan and that’s all I cared about. “If they bother to dope him up, then he’ll survive.” I meant it in a comforting way, but being raised by my mother, I never really learned that womanly trait.

“I guess,” Jon said, before taking a sip of his coffee. “At least it wasn’t the paparazzi that caused the accident.”

“Yeah.” We sat in silence for a long minute. I didn’t want to talk about Nordstrom, but I didn’t want to come off as an insensitive bitch. I knew Jon was dealing with his ghosts and I didn’t know what to say. “He’s all right, though?”

“He’s supposed to get out of the hospital by the weekend. I’ll go visit him then.”

“So what else have you been up to?” I asked.

That damn panty dropping dimple crept onto his face and he shrugged. “Not much. You?”

“Who is she, Jon?” I asked.

“I didn’t say I was seeing someone.” He took a slow draw on his coffee and looked over at me, the dimple still on his cheek. He was definitely seeing someone. Denial was the first sign.

“You didn’t have to. I could tell by the look on your face. Who is she?”

“No one you’d know. She’s not Hollywood.” No worries then. She would never last. “How about you?” he added.

“I ran into Tom Fallston at Misk last night. I was thinking about making our film romance more real.”

His eyebrows curved up questioningly and he clamped his mouth shut as if he was forcing words to stay inside.

“Just tell me.”

“He asked me about you, like he wanted to know if the rumors about us getting back together were true.”

Tom wasn’t lying when he said he’d been thinking about me. “What did you say?”

“Something vague, you know me. He likes a challenge and you are definitely a challenge.”

“I am not that high maintenance. You always say that, but it’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, Mia.” He laughed and I knew I had brightened his mood.

We joked about some of the asinine things I’ve asked him to do over the years. Then he agreed to let me take a selfie of us having coffee together. It was totally out of character for him, but it was part of my plan to make me look like more of a challenge to Tom. I wondered what kind of non-Hollywood girl would be OK with her guy having early morning coffee with his ex. The implications were huge and the press would be spreading them like wildfire. Maybe he hadn’t thought that part through, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Jonathan and I were good together. It just wasn’t our time. It would be someday, though.
 Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 19, 2013

Alli:  June 19, 2013


I’m sitting in the parlor of our old Victorian house as Mom rants about the new computer software in her office not interfacing with her tablet. She’s telling me all the different actions she’s taken to alleviate the problem and all I can think about is my week with Thor. I can still feel his touch, his hard muscles pressed perfectly to my curves, his fingers tangled in my hair. The week in Mexico was flawless.

He just sent me a text. Missed your warmth in my bed last night. His words cause all kinds of emotions to bubble through my body. It’s hard to keep the smile off my face. I don’t know how I’m going to spend the rest of the summer denying his existence to my parents, but I know that it is the easiest way to deal with them.

Me:  Want to do something tonight? I need to get out of here.
Thor:  Sure. There’s a band, I like, playing near Lake Calhoun. 
Me:  I’ll be over @6.
Thor:  Sleepover? 

I should talk to my friends to get an alibi before I answer. I look up and nod to keep my mom pacified. If she paid an ounce of attention to me she would see how last week changed me. She would know that I didn’t go grad-school shopping with Megan and that I left every bit of the old me at home to become someone new. I’m not sure I can be the person she thinks I am, anymore.

“We’re having brunch with Nana at the club on Sunday. She’s bringing one of the professors and his wife, and she wants you to make a good impression. He’s on the admissions committee for the medical school.” Her words penetrate the fog in my head.

“What?” I didn’t mean for my voice to sound so disrespectful, but I honestly wasn’t sure I heard her correctly.

“Frank Albright. Your grandmother has arranged for us to have brunch with him and his wife at the country club. If you impress him, which I am sure you will, he will recommend you for acceptance next fall. Even though applications aren’t in, they are already discussing candidates for next year’s admissions and Nana wants to make sure you are on the committee’s radar.”

Her confidence in my ability to impress feels like a lie. I’ve always been a disappointment to my parents and Nana. I’ve seen it so many times on their faces. Like when I missed “amphoteric” in the last round of the fourth-grade spelling bee and when I got a 32 on my ACTs. How many times did I watch my parents cringe when one of their friends or a relative asked my college entrance exam score? Finally, they insisted I take it again even though I didn't need a higher score to get into the U. Right now, part of me wants to run away and hide at Thor’s apartment to avoid all my responsibilities. Not once last week did I feel like a failure. Thor never made me feel inadequate, not even when I had the panic attack. Still, there’s another part of me that wants to pour all my energy into impressing Dr. Albright. I’m torn.

I type out a text to Thor without responding to my mother’s comment.
Me:  Maybe. I’ll bring my toothbrush just in case.

As a man, I’m sure he thinks that’s a “yes” and it is, but even if there is a little doubt it will keep me in control. I feel them without even looking up—my mother’s blue eyes analyzing me.

“Allison, tell Megan that you’ll talk to her later. We need to strategize for Sunday’s brunch.”

Her assumption is all telling. I want to shout that I’m not texting Megan. I want to blurt out that I’m talking to the guy who I spent a week in Mexico with, the guy whose apartment I’m probably going to be sleeping at tonight, but I won’t. It would put my mom in the hospital if I did. I pull together a smile and meet her eyes. “Is he the one that suggested that I tag along on that mission trip with Doctors without Borders last summer?”

“He is. Let’s just be thankful you got it over with last summer. Having an experience like that on your resume will help you stand out. And remember what a great experience that was.”

“Yes, it was.” The trip would have been a great experience if I had been able to stay in a hotel and not a hut, and if the bugs hadn’t been as big as birds. I’ll be the first to admit that I am not a camper and I live for hot showers (which were few and far between on that trip).

“Let’s face it, Allison, your life here is pretty uneventful,” she adds.

Uneventful? I want to roll my eyes. My mind goes immediately to Thor…Oh, by the way, Mom, I spent last week in a foreign country with a gorgeous man you’ve never met. We went parasailing, snorkeling and nightclubbing. We hiked a sacred Mayan city and saw dolphins, sting rays and a guy getting pickpocketed. Absolutely boring.

“I know. My life is so lame. I really need to get out more,” I tell her, but I can’t keep the corner of my lips from turning up. “I’m sleeping at Megan’s house tonight, if that’s OK. We’re going to catch some band she follows.” I’m not really asking, but it’s easier if she thinks I am.

I type out another text to Thor, Got 2 go. CU L8R.

Then I turn my attention back to my mother. “It was so wonderful of Nana to set up brunch with Dr. Albright. I can’t wait to meet him.” My words are pretty much the opposite of my real feelings, but this is my life. I never realized how messed up it was until Thor pointed it out on our trip.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler 

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 18, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  June 18, 2013


The pain in my thigh pulses up my leg and collects in my pelvis, concentrating, before penetrating my spine all the way to the base of my skull. I’ve waited ten minutes since I pushed the little blue button and I have five more minutes before I can push it again. Five minutes shouldn’t be as long as it is, but it’s endless. All I can think about is the pain and how it spreads to every cell of my body. My mind bounces, unable to concentrate. I know that once I push the button, an unquenchable itch will spread across my skin and I will likely vomit again. It doesn't matter though, as long as the pain is doused to a more manageable level.

Kelsey brought my tablet to the hospital this morning, hoping electronics would distract me from the agony. It hasn’t. I glance at the clock. Three minutes. This button system is supposed to help wean me off the medicine. It’s not working. I was more comfortable yesterday before they gave me control of the dosage. I don’t have control. What a joke. The doctors want me to stretch out my dose time to thirty minutes by the end of the day. That’s not going to happen.

One minute. I watch each second tic—every muscle in my body tense. I was told I need to relax. It will help with the pain, the nurse said. I can’t. Ten seconds. My thumb hovers over the button like I’m in a game show waiting for the question to be read. Would it hurt less if they just amputated my leg? Two. One. I push it. No whirring sound? I push it again. Silence. Is my button broken? My heart is beating out of my chest. I’m going to kill that nurse if she changed my time already. Nurses act so sweet, but they’re really SADISTIC. My thumb frantically pounds for relief as I search the bedrails for the call button. Then I hear it—the beautiful mechanical release. Three, two, one. The warmth spreads up my arm and then down my leg. I exhale knowing that I will have a few minutes before the pain owns me again.

I wonder if the guy that hit me has ever felt this much pain. I’d like to introduce him to it. How could he not see me? My motorcycle is red—the most visible color on the road. He batted me like a flipper in an old pinball game. An eighty mile an hour flipper. I landed two lanes over, pinned under my bike. I guess I’m lucky. Lucky I wear a helmet (not really luck, just brains, and the law). My luck was that the woman in the lane where I landed was paying attention and her brakes worked. Otherwise, her tires would have crushed my spine.

Oh crap. The termites are back—inside my cast, on my bare back, on the soles of my feet. I try to convince myself that scratching doesn’t help. I can’t reach where it itches anyway. I scratch my chest and arms instead—with no relief.

I think someone from the studio stopped by yesterday. I don’t remember who or what was said. Kelsey said someone posted a security guard outside my door. It had to be the studio. I guess I must still have a job. Maybe they’ll write the accident into the script. I doubt it though, with only one week before mid-season break.

My parents were here this morning and the guard asked them for their IDs. I should take them off the visitor’s list. My mom acted like the accident was my fault because I was riding a bike. She’s always hated my motorcycle. I don’t really want to see anyone. I look and feel like crap. I’m lying on my back with a damn weight tethered to my bones with a screw that jabs right through my flesh. The bruises that cover my body look like they’re starting to fade just a little—the edges around the purple turning green. Will is supposed to stop by this afternoon. At least I know he won't post pictures. Maybe he can distract me from the pain.

Oh hell! There it is again. The ache transforms into stabbing daggers. According to my phone, I’ve lasted thirty seconds longer than the last time. I clinch the blue button with my thumb suspended above it and wait.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Perfect All: June 12, 2013

Alli: June 12, 2013


The text that Jessica sent me this morning seemed too much of a coincidence to not be a fishing exposition. Good night? She asked with all kinds of hidden connotations. OK. So I knew Thor told Jeff about last night and Jeff must have told Jessica. I wasn’t used to my friends having full access to my private life. It’s not that I keep much from them, but it’s different if I’m in control of the spin. I don’t like feeling that I’ve lost my filter. I didn't know what to text back, especially if there was a chance Thor could see it.

He was so sweet last night—his lips soft and gentle. I’ve never had a guy treat me like he worshiped me before. It was as if all he wanted was to know every part of me. He asked me several times what I liked, but not having much experience I really didn’t know how to answer. “You have to tell me. I’ve only been with one other girl,” he said. I didn’t have the ability to process his words. All I knew was he seemed to know without my answer and I didn’t want that to change. He was perfect.

Later when my brain was working again I wondered out loud how he made it through high school with his v-card. I knew that he met Nora in college. “I mean, you’re so hot.” My fingers skimmed his hard abdomen. “How come girls weren’t jumping you in the hallway at school?” We were lying on the bed, my head tucked in the crook of his very masculine arm.

He laughed and without hesitation admitted, “I was a geek in high school, not to the Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory extreme, but still not the guy most girls would consider jumping in the hallway.”

“I’ve always had a thing for geeks. I bet I would have dated you.”

“Trust me you wouldn’t have.”

“I bet if you had just asked, girls would have gone out with you.”

“Zero confidence—that was me. I never asked a girl out until you. A late bloomer I guess.” We lay in silence for a few seconds until he added, “The summer before college I grew five inches and it gave me the boost to reinvent myself. My brothers were always willing to give me advice about women and I started listening to them. I got a decent haircut and began lifting weights. Nora asked me out the first week of freshman year.” I ran my fingers through his flawless hair unable to imagine it styled any differently, wishing Nora wasn’t in bed with us.

“My roommate, Megan, calls me a geek all the time, because all I ever do is study, work and try to please my parents.”

“From what you told me, I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t please them.”

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip and a shutter pulsed through my body. I smiled. The thought of my parents finding out seemed funny to me. Even though, in reality, it would be horrific.

“I wonder what they would do if they saw me right now.”

“Should we call them?” he asked, teasing. “We could FaceTime. You should probably comb your hair first, though.” He laughed as he pretended to reach for my cell on the nightstand.

I tackled his arm before he could reach it and he pulled me on top of him. That was enough to distract us from talking for a while.

When we finally emerged from our room it was almost noon. We were walking down to the beach and he surprised me by asking, “Why don’t you change your major to fashion? I mean look at you. Your necklace coordinates with your sandals and the ties on your cover-up. How many pre-med students have that kind of fashion sense?”

“Are you sure you’re not gay?” I knew he wasn’t, but how many guys would notice those details.

The hand that was curled around my waist slid to my behind. “Yeah. I’m sure.” A brilliant smile spread across his face and I wondered what part of last night or this morning was eliciting his expression. He shook his head as if he was clearing it, before asking, “Give me one good reason you couldn’t be a fashion designer?”

“I like to eat. And I have no desire to be the manager of the junior’s department at Macy’s. Besides, my parents would disown me.” The truth was I had thought about a career in fashion when I was younger, but as I grew up I realized that it wasn’t a viable option.

“It’s just a thought. It wouldn’t have to be fashion. You’re an adult. You don’t have to do what your parents tell you. I don’t think your heart is in medicine.”

I rolled my eyes. I only have one year left on my undergrad degree. I would have to be crazy to change my major now. “It would be easier just to finish med school. You don’t know my parents.”

I told him what my mom’s reaction would be—how she would insist that I was having an anxiety episode. She would hook me up with some Ativan to calm me down and we’d talk for hours and hours until she convinced me that I was letting my fear of failure cloud my thinking. Her fears always seemed to transfer to me.

“Classic transference—my mother would call it if she could see herself objectively,” I said. How many times had my mother and I talked about “my” fear of failure.

Thor and I discussed the worst parts of our families the rest of the afternoon until Jessica sent me a second text. I’m waiting. I hadn’t answered her first one. It was a bit weird knowing that anything that I told her could get back to Thor.

I showed Thor my phone and he cringed with a guilty expression. He probably didn’t realize how quickly it would get back to me. I typed my reply and then showed him again before pushing send. So good that I’m still trying to catch my breath.

He leaned in and kissed the pulse point on my shoulder with a growl reverberating in his throat. “Let’s head back to the room.”

Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler 

Friday, June 13, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 11, 2013

Alli:  June 11, 2013


The ride out to the reef didn’t bother me at all, but within a few minutes of leaving shore, the woman next to me turned the most interesting shade of green. When she started puking over the side and her new husband wouldn’t even hold her hair back, Thor and I started placing bets on how long the couple’s marriage would last. Thor thought they could last a year, but I was convinced they wouldn’t make it to the end of the week. The guy tried to placate her for a while until his wife demanded that the boat turn around and return her to shore. It didn’t seem to matter to her that there were four other couples who had paid for two hours of swimming with sea turtles and tropical fish. Maybe the boat was too small to be taken out in the large waves, but no one else was getting sick and we weren’t going to be punished because she forgot to take her Dramamine. When the boat anchored and the woman’s husband was the first one in the water, I admitted to Thor that I didn’t think I would ever get married. He smiled and said, “Yeah. Me neither.”
  
For some reason, his words relaxed me. After his comment, I knew that he would be all right with my decision to end whatever this was by the end of the summer. I needed to tell him though. I had promised Jessica I would. Snorkeling wasn’t really the time to tell him about my plans to concentrate on school and only school. And who knew if we would even make it until the end of summer. I decided to see how the week ended.
   
The giant flippers flapped comically as we tromped across the boat to the swim ramp, but once in the water, the flippers felt magical. They propelled us twenty feet without any effort. It was the first time that I had worn them and I didn’t realize how effective they were. We were as far from the boat as we were allowed before Thor wrapped his arms across my belly from behind and started kissing my neck. I guess he was done waiting for me. We treaded water effortlessly with our flippers and the mandatory life jackets we were both wearing.

“Tonight?” he whispered in my ear, his words full of hope and fear of rejection.
I shook my head and his grasp on me loosened slightly. I could feel his disappointment. As he began to pull away, I turned in his arms and clarified. “When we get back to the room. Why wait?” To hell with it, I thought. I was here. He was here. I wasn’t going to get this opportunity again. LIVE, I told myself.

A groan sounded from deep in his throat right before his lips crushed mine with an intensity that I had never felt before. He pulled my legs up around him and his fingers feathered lightly under the edges of my suit. Several minutes passed with us immersed in only each other and when we finally broke apart, my breathing was so erratic that I had to pause before engaging my snorkel. I could tell that Thor was feeling it too. Let me just say, he filled out his new swim trunks spectacularly. My head was still spinning when I affixed my goggles and blew the water out of my tube.

The fish were beautiful and graceful, but not as colorful as Nemo and that was disappointing. For the first hour, I was completely comfortable sharing the water with the not-colorful-enough fish, but then I spotted the ray fluttering across the sand below me. It had probably been there the whole time. That didn’t matter, though. I remembered hearing about the crocodile guy being killed by one and I started to freak out. Kicking to irrationally drive it away, sand clouded the water. I hadn’t had a full blown panic attack since high school, but I knew that I was in the middle of one. I couldn’t see the ray anymore. I couldn’t see anything with my flippers stirring up the ocean’s bottom. No one could.

Then out of nowhere, Thor pulled me in, pinning my arms down tight against my body like my mother used to do to stop an attack when I was little.

“It’s just another fish,” he whispered in my ear.

With his arms wrapped around me, rational thought trickled back into my head and the panic about the ray trying to kill me transformed into mortifying embarrassment. My heart pounded in my chest. I knew Thor could feel it.

“Just breathe,” he said.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on filling my lungs. How did he know what to do, when I had forgotten? Several minutes later, as my mind came back to reality and my body started functioning again, I relaxed against Thor and said, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he answered and then pressed his lips gently to mine. The kiss was tender and sweet, and just what I needed to occupy the space in my head. He didn’t ask me about my panic attack when we swam back to the boat. He acted like nothing had happened and I was grateful.

On the ride back to shore, a full-blown name-calling argument played out between the puking woman and her husband and as she admitted that she should never have married him, she tried to gain support from the rest of us trapped on the boat for the show. No one offered any input. I liked her better when she was vomiting. That’s when Thor leaned in and admitted that I would win the bet.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 11, 2013

Liam Nordstrom: June 11, 2013


Kelsey and I ate brunch with Jim, her father, and he hated me like I knew he would. I can usually win over mothers, but I never bond with a girl’s dad, especially if he’s seen my show. I tried to connect. I did. I guess I just don’t have anything in common with a man who’s worked on oil rigs all his life. He told me point blank that acting wasn’t a real job and that the only talent an actor had was lying. Then he proceeded to talk about my character as if Ashton Post and I were one in the same. I must be a hell of a poser.

When I picked up the check, Jim admitted that I was a step up from Kelsey’s ex. I knew what he was talking about. Kelsey had told me about the loser. But she still fidgeted nervously as her father explained that her ex couldn’t hold a job and Kelsey paid all the bills. If she had duct tape she would have silenced him quicker, but the pungent glare she gave him finally took effect and Kelsey decided brunch was over. I wasn’t going to argue. Kelsey dropped me at Will’s before heading to the airport to get rid of her dad. I think she agreed that I was right about fathers not liking me and she shouldn’t push it.

Will and I messed around on his metallic green Fender for a while. The same one we used to beat on as teenagers. He had just gotten it back from the shop, completely restrung. The guitar sounded better than I remembered. It sounded better when Will played it anyway, me not so much. I knew something was bothering him. He always turned to music when he needed to work through a problem.

“Girl trouble?” I asked.

He nodded and started strumming a melody I didn’t recognize. When he stumbled on a few notes and then reconfigured the song in a different key, I realized he was composing—not something he did often. I knew some chick must have really bent him over.

“Does she have your balls in a vice? It can’t be any worse than the teenage brunette trying to destroy me.”

“What’s going on with that?” he asked.

I shrugged because nothing had changed. “The studio has their publicist dealing with it. They want me to keep my mouth shut. The paparazzi are waning a little, but still a pain in the ass. There weren’t any at the house this morning, so that’s an improvement.”

“Are the police still stopping by?”

“Not since last week. My lawyer says that they don’t have a case unless Kelsey changes her story. Which won’t happen because it’s the truth.”

He chuckled and I knew it was because I called my dad my lawyer. “How was brunch?”

“Her dad seemed to soften to me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Kelsey didn’t seem to like it.”

“So you two are pretty serious?”

“About as serious as I’ve ever been.” His blue eyes widened. I knew what he was thinking and I wasn’t there yet. “Not that serious,” I added. “Who’s got you all strung up? It’s not still the Internet girl, is it?”

“Yep.”

“You got a picture? I’ve got to see this chick.”

“No. I don’t even know her last name.”

“Shit. You’re pathetic.” I laughed. “What makes you think she’s different from all the rest?”

“I don’t know. She just is.”

“And you’re sure she’s not some three hundred pound guy named Bubba? You’ve seen MTV’s Catfish show, right? That shit happens more than you think. It could be nasty if you and Bubba’s relationship hit the tabloids. Do you know anything about her? We could cyber stalk her.” I pulled out my phone.

“I can’t find her without her last name. I thought about just setting up a meeting, but I’m not really sure I’m ready for that. I want to talk to her first. If I’m going to wreck her life, I want to make sure it’s worth it.”

“Mighty considerate of you, bro. Are you and Bubba having cyber-sex?”

“Best ever. It’s as if he can read my mind, knows exactly where to put his hands.” Will laughed and shook his head. “No. We’re not in that place, yet.”

“His loss. You probably just need to get laid. Call someone. You can’t think clearly when you’re all pent up like that.” He laughed again, but I was serious. “What about Rachel Marrero? I bet she’d drop everything to come service you. Give me your phone. I’ll call her.” I held out my hand, but he just scowled at me. His expression said drop it, which convinced me even more that Rachel could solve his problems. He doesn’t do casual hookups, but he and Rachael were doing a movie together in the fall—hooking up was implied. Besides the abstinence deal clearly was not working for him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said with amusement in his voice. “Jake’s coming over in an hour to spot my bench pressing. I’ll add an extra twenty pounds to work off all my pent up energy.”

“I’ll stay and lift with you, if I can borrow some shorts.”

“Yeah, no problem. Is Kelsey picking you up? Otherwise you're grabbing dinner with us before I hall you back to Malibu.”

“She was going to retrieve a few things from her apartment and then stop back. I probably won’t have time to eat.”

We talked a bit more about the Internet girl and then when Jake showed up we headed to the weight room. The room had changed slightly over the years—upgraded equipment, new paint, a better sound system, but it was pretty much the same as when we were teens. I never fully understood why Will had moved back in with his parents until this crap with the paparazzi started. I get it now. Somehow home would always feel safer.

Jake help me correct the form on my reverse curls and it burned like hell. I guess I had never done them right. We'd finished our workouts by the time Kelsey showed up. Will buzzed her in and she met us in the courtyard. I knew right away that something was wrong. The black smudges around her eyes blared that she’d been crying. She melted into my arms as if collapsing after a month of battling zombies. I looked into her red rimmed eyes and asked, "You OK?”

She nodded and squeezed her arms tighter around my neck, resting her head on my chest. I looked up to check the bros' reactions, only to find Jake’s gaze devouring Kelsey’s ass as if it was the last morsel of food left on the planet. Jake’s a decent guy, but I was still going to kick his ass if he didn’t stop ogling my girlfriend. I’d get some good jabs in before he killed me anyway. My death glare sent Will into hysterical laughter, which he tried to curb into a cough.

Once he composed himself, Will asked Kelsey if she and I wanted to grab dinner with him and Jake. I expected her to say no. Everything about her said she just wanted to go home. But she turned and announced, “Yes, I’m starved. My roommate’s an asshole by the way.”
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Friday, May 30, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 10, 2013

Alli: June 10, 2013


A cockroach. Yesterday, I saw my very first cockroach. I didn’t even know what it was. It scampered across the adobe wall of the cafĂ© where we were eating lunch, like it owned the place, while I screamed as if a shark had clamped onto my leg. The restaurant looked clean when we wandered off the beach in search of food, but after Thor identified the giant bug I completely lost my appetite. It didn’t seem to bother him though. He scarfed down his sandwich and then tried to convince me that cockroaches were a part of life down here and it didn’t mean the eatery was unsanitary. “Have you seen them before?” I questioned him. He said that in college he worked in a big electronics store and when people brought in their DVD players and TVs because they had suddenly stopped working, half the time he would crack them open to find the insides caked with cockroach carcasses.

“Apparently they like eating electronics.”

I didn’t even know they existed in the Midwest. As I pictured what he described my stomach started to heave. I swallowed trying to imagine a distraction—shopping at the Mall of America, the beach’s white sand under my feet. It helped settle my stomach a little, but cockroaches kept crawling into the scenes I visualized and I saw myself stomping on them in my designer sandals. I realized at that moment that I wouldn’t be ingesting much on this trip.

The rest of the day breezed by. Thor and I bummed around the beach and slept most of the day. I should say he slept most of the day. Fictional cockroaches kept me from closing my eyes. We waded in the gorgeous blue water and he tried to coax me deeper. I wouldn’t go. I was already in up to my thighs. I’m sure he envisioned nothing more than a Twilight-esk make-out session, but I got spooked. I don’t know what was wrong with me. Being from the land of ten thousand lakes, I know how to swim. I started swim lessons at the age of two. I’ve been swimming in the ocean before, but I still couldn’t let myself go. I’m not sure if it was the threat of aquatic wildlife, the surf’s undertow or just the desire in Thor’s eyes that hindered me. It’s not like he was going to take me right there in the water in front of everyone. For being so smart, I’m really stupid sometimes. He backed off a bit after that and I regretted denying him.
 
As the nightlife set in, we headed to a bar not far from the hotel. Neither of us was in the mood for the big clubs that were advertised EVERYWHERE. I was exhausted, not having any good sleep since Friday night, but Thor seemed energized. The bar had a DJ, with a small lit dance floor, and we started with an Adele song—my hands around his neck, and his grasping my hips. His dancing wasn’t great but decent enough to keep me in his firm hold. His touch felt so good and we continued to slow dance even after the beat picked up on the next song. After what seemed like an hour on our feet, we retreated to a table, where we shared a bottle of chardonnay. We talked and laughed and laughed some more. I really liked his sense of humor—intelligent and not crude. We stayed out late and by the time we made it back to the hotel, I was practically asleep. Thor helped me out of my dress and I crumpled onto the bed, without even brushing my teeth. I was out before he returned.

It’s morning now, and the room darkening shades are the only barrier keeping that fact from glaring in our faces. I’ve showered and brushed my teeth (finally). Thor is still sleeping. I know I should wake him to get us back on the same schedule, but he looks so peaceful. He tries putting up a front to tell the world that Nora didn’t hurt him. I can see it though when he reaches for me and then catches himself as if he forgot I wasn’t her. It doesn’t bother me that he forgets. He was with her a long time and habits are hard to break. I knew what this was when I agreed to come on the trip, but still part of me wants him fully aware of me. I want to be the one he reaches, for not her.  
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 9, 2013

Alli: June 9, 2013


When Sarah dropped me at Thor’s apartment yesterday, I had already passed all the tests with my parents. They wanted an agenda for the trip with hotels and flights, but that was easy enough to fake and they seemed satisfied with what I had worked up. I told them that Megan was taking care of all the costs and I was just going as a favor to her. By the time I was done, they were completely convinced that Megan and I were flying into Los Angeles and renting a car so we could visit graduate schools. They even gave me spending money—$300 and I had my credit card (which they pay) just in case. I wondered if they would notice when the charges came from Mexico instead of California.

Sarah’s pep talk, in the car, helped me get centered. She reminded me that I was in charge and that I should always stay in my comfort zone.

“Thor is a guy and will push for what he can get, but that doesn’t mean anything. Just have fun,” she said.

I laughed because since Sarah’s breakup with her high school boyfriend she rarely dated. And for Sarah, love was required to give into the male determination. Maybe that’s why Internet dating worked for her—no pressure. I’m not Sarah though. Love just complicates life. Not that I would know. I’ve never been in love—never taken the time to see if it was even possible. I don’t think my parents love each other. At least not in the passionate way depicted in the movies. They tolerate one another and coexist in a symbiotic lifestyle that benefits them both. They’ve spent twenty-one years molding me into their likeness. Am I destined to settle for comfortable?

Once, when I was in high school, I walked in on Sarah’s parents making out in their kitchen—David’s hand on his wife’s ass, pulling her up into the kiss. Lust burned in their eyes even after I disturbed them. I was sixteen. I didn’t know passion existed inside a marriage. I stared wide-eyed at them as they laughed off my interruption. I’d never seen it at home. My parents’ idea of affection was a peck on the cheek or coming home at the end of a long workday and sharing a meal.

I think about Thor, and wonder if he and his ex had been together for so long that their hunger dissolved into coexistence? Unlike my parents Thor seems very passionate and why else would Nora cheat? From the little I’ve seen of him I can’t imagine a need to stray, but then again, I’ve never met his brother Harry. He must be amazing.

Thor didn’t talk much on the flight. We mostly slept. If I ever get married (which I doubt I will), I will not be spending my wedding night on an airplane. The idea is completely asinine. Exhausted from planning and executing the “most important day of your life,” you get on a plane—where you breathe air that has already been through three other people’s lungs—and then you spend a week in a foreign country popping vitamin C tabs trying to boost your immune system enough so that your exhausted body doesn’t cecum to whatever disease you were exposed to on your flight. Luckily Thor and I didn’t have the stress of a wedding. I did bring my vitamin C, though.

We’re lying on the beach right now, after getting into the hotel a couple of hours ago. Thor is sleeping on a lounge chair next to me, which allows me to examine his body more carefully. It really is quite beautiful. He definitely lifts weights…and does crunches, possibly in preparation for his honeymoon, but maybe more long term. He’s started a beard this week, but it’s perfectly groomed, like his hair. His hair. How does it stay flawlessly in place even while he sleeps? It makes me want to run my fingers through it just to mess it up. He would be the perfect picture of a man if not for his swim trunks. Big red hibiscus flowers on a turquoise background—yuck. The length alone dates his shorts, but the pattern is at least three seasons past its prime. I will have to find him something more current. Fashion is the one thing I can fix.

The sun threatens to sneak under the giant umbrella shading the two of us. Even though I have slathered on the sunscreen, I know I can’t sit here much longer without altering the shadow-maker. OK. I got up and fixed it. Thor didn’t even move. We should have another hour before I have to readjust. The view from our cover is unbelievable—white sand, crystal clear water and blue sky for as far as I can see. I forgot how loud the ocean is. The noise from the constant battering of the waves is like Melatonin on my brain, pushing me to sleep. I’m too anxious to give in though—worried about the sleeping arrangements or more accurately, the non-sleeping arrangements for the evening. I figure it will go one of two ways. Either Thor will be thinking about her and be too depressed to try anything with me or he’ll want to completely wrap his mind (or whatever) around me to forget her. I hate not knowing what to expect. I guess I’ll just have to plan for both. I’m in charge, right?
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Friday, May 9, 2014

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 5, 2013

Liam Nordstrom: June 5, 2013


When would the nightmare end? The press was relentless the last five days, following me everywhere I went and I was tempted to just sleep on a couch at the studio so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them. If it weren’t for Kelsey I would have done it. She and her roommate had a falling out and she needed a place to crash until they worked out their problems. Nak left for Toronto on Sunday and sending Kelsey back to the house alone to deal with the vultures would be kind of douchey.

The ordeal with the underage girl hadn’t been all bad, though. I was definitely getting my brand out there. Six different publicists had contacted me, over the last couple days, asking if I needed representation. I never really needed one before now. It’s not like I made millions of dollars or anything, and sharing what I did make wasn’t a priority for me. But I could see where it would be helpful to have someone to deal with the media.

Today, I met with the producers of my show for lunch. They said that Monday’s ratings were the highest ever, and they attributed it to all the publicity that I’d been getting. They told me to play it up as long as I could. The script was being reworked so that my character would get more screen time. They were patting me on the back and they didn’t seem to care if I was guilty or not as long as jail time didn’t conflict with filming. I guess it was all about the ratings.

Kelsey, on the other hand, questioned me about the candid shot of the girl in front of my motorcycle. She saw it the night I was grilled by the police. She thought it was odd that I had never met the girl and yet there she was next to my bike. I didn’t know how to explain it, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

“Anyone could have followed me somewhere and snapped a picture while I was in a restaurant or a store,” I said. “She’s a stalker.” I pushed Kelsey back on the bed and crawled up her until I was straddling her hips. “And really who wouldn’t want this?” I said unbuttoning my shirt and shrugging it off. But when I bent down to kiss her, her hand shot up, pushing against my chest. “What?” I asked.

“Your cockiness is exactly why everyone believes what that girl said about you.”

“Flaunt what ya got, I always say.” I leaned down again, but her hand stopped me a second time. “What?” Why did she want to talk? I wasn’t really in the mood to talk.

“My roommate told my dad that I was seeing you and he called me today. He thinks you’re a punk.”

“He doesn’t even know me.” I started unbuttoning her shirt. All I could think about was what her bright green bra was covering.

“My point exactly. I told him we’d have brunch with him on Sunday.”

I groaned and rolled onto the bed next to her. Way to ruin the mood. I wasn’t ready to meet her father. I barely accepted the fact that I couldn’t date other women and now I was meeting her family? “I told Will that I would meet him on Sunday. He’s going to help me strategize against the press.” I knew she could hear the lie in my voice.

“Call him. I’m sure he will understand. Daddy’s only going to be in town for the day.” Her voice made a sexy southern twang when she said “daddy” and I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. I loved accents. It didn’t matter what they were. I once dated a girl who didn’t speak a hint of English, just because of how my name rolled off her tongue.

“You’ll go, right?” she asked.

“No.” I shook my head to emphasize my point.

She started buttoning her shirt. “It’s important to me, Liam.”

“Why would you want him to meet me? He’s not going to like me.” I propped my head up with my elbow against the bed and met her blue eyes. “I’m screwing his daughter. He’s going to hate me.”

“You won’t be screwing his daughter if you don’t go.”

“And women claim that they don’t use sex as a weapon.”

“I just want to show Daddy that you’re not like your character Ashton Post.” There was that twang again.

“So he’s a fan?”

“I wouldn’t call him a fan, but he does watch the show.”

“OK, who do you want me to be? The detached jerk, the doting boyfriend or the intellectual jock? Just pick one. I am an actor.”

“Just be Liam.” She touched my face and dragged her thumb across my lower lip. “I’m sure he would like you best. I do.”

It was easier to be a character than to be me, especially for “daddy.” I stared into her eyes for a full minute until the doorbell rang. I groaned again, realizing what I wanted wasn’t going to happen, and left the bedroom to answer the door. Still shirtless, I peeked out the side window to verify it wasn’t paparazzi and saw the two detectives from the other night on my doorstep. I instinctively looked around the room to make sure there wasn’t anything illegal sitting out in the open. Not that I had illicit drugs or firearms laying around, it was more of a reaction, like automatically braking when I spotted the CHP, just in case I was speeding. Convinced I was safe, I opened the door.

“Mr. Nordstrom, may we come in. We have additional questions from the other night,” the male detective stated. I remembered his name was Rodrigues.

I stepped aside and they filed in. As I led them to the living room the female detective said, “You have a nice place here. Do you rent or own?”

I was sure she already knew the answer. Why people played these games was beyond me. “A friend of mine owns it,” I said and they sat down on the leather sofa. “I’m pretty sure I can’t talk to you without my lawyer present.”

Rodrigues raised an eyebrow at my comment but didn’t respond until Kelsey settled by my side on the oversized chair. “We’re not here to talk to you. We’re here to talk to Mrs. Adams,” he stated.

I took out my phone and called my father. Of course, it went to voicemail, so I sent him a text instead. Being the lawyer he was, he avoided texting if possible. Texts could be subpoenaed so he frowned on them, but it was an emergency.

“It’s Ms. Adams,” said Kelsey.

“Oh, my mistake,” stated the officer. “We were just wondering, Ms. Adams, if you could identify Mr. Nordstrom’s motorcycle in this photo.” He held out a photo printed on plain white paper—the same as the one on the Internet.

“I can’t say whether it is his or not. Lots of bikes look alike.”

“Well, is that his license?” asked the female.

“I don’t know. Don’t you have the ability to look that up?” questioned Kelsey. The plate was pretty clear in the picture. I’m sure the girl made sure the angle was just right. And the detectives knew it was my bike. They saw it on the driveway and could have verified it there. They just wanted Kelsey to see the pic and have doubts so they could get her to change her story.

“The plate is mine and you know it. You walked right by it on your way in. That doesn’t mean I know the girl. I think we’re done here,” I said.

The detectives both rose and Rodrigues handed Kelsey his card, saying, “If you can think of anything else that you remember about that night give us a call, Ms. Adams.

I knew then that this wasn’t over. As the detectives left I started to wonder what connections the sixteen-year-old girl had. She had to be important for the police to pursue the case with my flawless alibi. Was she the police chief’s or a studio head’s daughter, or had I piss someone else off?
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Friday, April 25, 2014

Perfect Alli: June 4, 2013

Alli: June 4, 2013

 

I met the girls in Stillwater for lunch this afternoon. The day was gorgeous. The sun warmed us as we sat at our usual table on the restaurant’s large deck. I hadn’t seen Sarah or Jessica since Memorial weekend and I hadn’t spoken to any of them since I agreed to go to Mexico with Thor. I held my tongue about the trip for a good thirty minutes, while Sarah told us all about her last date with the Internet guy. I didn’t say a word about how it was never going to work. I mean, the guy supposedly lived in Los Angeles, right? How was an online relationship ever going to become more when he wouldn’t even give her his last name? I guess it wasn’t just the trip, I was holding my tongue about.

Jessica and Jeff were back in their blissed state and Megan had met a guy at the gym she was thinking about asking out. Everything seemed back in place. Normal, for my friends. That is until Jessica asked, “Are you really going to Cancun with Thor?” Jeff had told her. Apparently Thor sent Jeff a text about it on Saturday morning.

I smiled, feeling a little ambushed, and tried not to scowl at Jessica. I had planned out exactly how I would work it into conversation and Jessica’s announcement threw me a bit. “I am. Do you have any ideas for what to tell my parents?”

“You can’t be serious. Isn’t that going to be a little weird shacking up with him in the honeymoon suite when he was supposed to be there with his new bride?” Jessica asked.

Yeah. That was going to be weird. “He said we could take it slow and he wasn’t going to pressure me into doing anything if I wasn’t ready. We’re just going to hang out at the beach, go snorkeling and relax. I need a vacation from my parents. It’s not that big of a deal.”

They stared at me as if I had just stripped my clothes off and was dancing on the table. I took a bite of my sandwich to avoid having to talk, trying not to think about what I had gotten myself into.

“Are you dating? Or looking for a relationship with him? How would you define it?” asked Sarah. She said it in a way that made me not want to answer her truthfully.

“Why?” I questioned.

“I’ve known him for a couple of years and he’s always been a really nice guy, but he just broke up with his fiancĂ©. I worry that you and he want different things,” she answered.

“I don’t think that either of us is looking for a lifetime commitment. Once school starts, I won’t have time to date anyone. So at the most it’s probably just a summer fling.” And there it was my invisible bubble of protection. School. It prevented my emotions from getting slaughtered. I didn’t need to worry about getting hurt, because I always had my education to keep me from getting close to anyone.

“Does he know that?” asked Jessica.

“You know me. I’ll tell him.” Most guys loved that I didn’t get attached, but something told me that Thor was different. He wasn’t the typical drunken frat boy, who lived for one night hook ups, or the biology lab partner, who wantonly stared for weeks before asking me out. I figure that if I tell Thor up front at the beginning of our relationship it won’t be a surprise at the end of summer when I have to refocus my attention to school.
  
“So how are you going to get your passport from your mom?” Megan asked.

“I don’t know. Any ideas?” I hadn’t even thought about my passport.

“Well, you can’t say that you’re taking a trip with Sarah or even Jess. Your mom would call their parents to get the details. But you and I could take a trip—who is she going to call, my dad? She’d have to take your word for it. It will have to be somewhere warm because she will see what you pack.”

“My parents will look at my passport when I get back, so we either have to go to Cancun, which I doubt they will let me do, or I’ll have to sneak it from them.”

“You could say that you and Megan were going to California to check out grad schools,” stated Jessica. “Your mom would be all for you helping one of us better ourselves.” Megan was looking at a couple west coast schools and we had talked about taking a trip to get a better feel for them.

“If anyone is going to California, it should be me.” Sarah lip pouted out and I felt bad, realizing just how badly she wanted to meet the Internet guy.

“Checking out schools could work. My mom wouldn’t check it if it was a domestic trip and I could say I needed it because it's a better ID. I wouldn’t even have to sneak it.”

“As long as she doesn’t check it when you get back,” added Jessica.

“No, this could work,” I said. “I’m an adult. What can they do after the fact?” And though I sounded tough, I knew there was plenty my parents could do if they found out. “Those tracking devices they used in Hunger Games are illegal, right?”

“They wouldn’t need that. They would just lock you in your room,” said Megan before taking a sip of her iced tea.

“No I still have to become a doctor. I think they would go with a tracking device—probably put it in while I was sleeping.”

“You’d wake up with a big needle mark on your arm and a lump under your skin. And when you left the house it would glow green,” added Sarah with a chuckle.

“OK. We all know what my parents are capable of, but I think it’s my best bet. At least I will get to go.”

“My sister lost her passport once and had to get a duplicate. You could just tell your parents that you can’t find it. They’ll be angry at you, but probably not as mad as they would be if they found out that you shared a week of unwed pleasure with Thor,” stated Jessica.

I shook my head. I wasn’t even sure I would sleep with him. “I can deal with my parents.” Who was I kidding—my parents scared me to death. “I’m more worried about being alone with Thor. Tell me what I don’t know about him.”

“He told you about what broke up his engagement, right?” asked Sarah.

“Yes, but not until I completely embarrassed myself in front of his brothers.” I shared the story of what had happened on Friday night and how Thor said I was the only one who hadn’t treated him like he was suicidal. I told my friends everything and in the end they understood why I had to go on the trip. Thor may not have been suicidal, but he really needed a friend and I knew I could be that for him.

We used our phones to look up hotels and flights to make our school visitation story realistic just in case my parents wanted details. Sarah said she would drive me to meet Thor on Saturday and Megan promised to avoid Sarah’s and Jessica’s parents for the week. It appeared as if my deception would work. Now all I had to do was tell my parents.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Blonde Chicks Preferred: May 31, 2013

Liam Nordstrom: May 31, 2013


As my bike rounded the last curve before the house, I could see the news vans backed up along the street. White truck after white truck with telescoping dishes, lined the road all the way down, intertwined with the paparazzi vehicles. I had spent enough time with Will to recognize vultures. Blue and red lights sprung from the cop car, bouncing in all directions as the officer tried to manage the traffic on the narrow street. Jared Borne’s girlfriend Penelope in her white BMW convertible stopped in the middle of the road ahead of me and I slowed my bike. As she handed her license to the policeman, she glared at me in her rearview mirror.

I didn’t have time to worry about pissing her off because the crowd recognized me. Even with my dark helmet, they knew. With cameras raised the reporters locked me in their sights and descended upon my bike, like a pack of hyenas. I wasn’t going to wait to be swallowed by them, so I squeezed my motorcycle past Penelope hoping the cop would understand. When I pulled up to the top of the drive bright lights from the news trucks burst on. I kicked down the stand and rocked my ride back securely onto its mount. I hesitated for a moment, knowing I would be bombarded with accusations any second. Unsure if I should head off the speculation or avoid interaction with the trolls, I dismounted my bike and pull my helmet off. I thought leaving the helmet on would be a sign of weakness or guilt and I had neither.

“Liam.”

“Liam, did you know she was underage?” asked a faceless woman, holding a mic out like a torch under my nose. Seriously, did the girl hold a press conference already?

“Did she change her mind? We’ve all been there. Tell us your side,” came a shout from the darkness created by the blinding lights. The crowd revved around me and the noise blended together, leaving no distinguishable allegations.

I pushed my way to the front door just as it opened. My roommate Nak stood inside, his dark hair messed and his shirt askew. He moved just enough for me to get through and once I was in, he slammed the door closed, catching a microphone in the fissure. After three attempts to secure the door, he snap the lock.

“Tough day, eh?” he said. Nak didn’t usually talk like that, but it was a standing joke we had about his Canadian upbringing and he knew it would lighten my mood.

“Yep. So much for a quiet evening at home.” I glanced over to Leslie sprawled on the couch, looking not quite her pulled together self. “Sorry about the feces on the driveway,” I added. They knew what I meant. Nak shrugged. Nothing ever bothered him. That’s why we got along so well. “Have they been out there long?”

“A couple of hours. They’ve been at the door several times, but we ignored them. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “Some teenage girl is accusing me of statutory rape. It wasn’t me. I’d never seen her before in my life and I was with Kelsey that night. Besides the girl’s a brunet,” I said, as if my last sentence completely put to rest any doubt.

I knew Nak and Leslie were planning, a long time coming, quiet evening in and I didn’t want to take any more of their night. “Is Kelsey in there?” I pointed toward my room.

“Yeah. When did you give her the key?” asked Nak, settling next to Leslie and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“This morning,” I admitted with raised eyebrows, anticipating their comments.

“Getting serious,” Leslie announced with a smirk, as if I hadn’t realized what giving her a key meant.

I shrugged and took off down the hall to my room.

Kelsey slept curled in a small ball on my bed, classical music leaking from her headphones. Still wearing her shorts and tank, her face was clear of makeup—natural and beautiful. She probably washed it off minutes after she arrived. For someone whose career involved applying layer upon layer of cosmetics to other’s faces, I always thought it strange that she peeled hers off the first chance she got.

I grabbed a quick shower without waking her and snuck into the kitchen for a sandwich, bringing it back to my room to avoid messing up Nak’s night anymore then I already had. Kelsey was sleeping on her stomach, now, with her knee bent and her butt up in the air. Hmm—love those shorts. The girl could sleep through anything. I doubt she would notice if I removed them.

I slid her iPad out from under her right thigh, where it was trapped, with full intention of turning off her music, when the picture left from her last Internet search popped before my eyes—the now familiar face of the girl who accused me of assault stared back at me as she leaned against my motorcycle. Oh Crap!  
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler