Blonde Chicks Preferred: July 19

Liam Nordstrom:  July 19

Nak and I met Jake Gorboni before heading over to Club Priela, on our second attempt to flush Leslie from Nak’s system. To say last week was unsuccessful would be an understatement, but this week Nak was ready. We got seated in the VIP area, not the best table, but decent for not letting the club know that we were coming. Girls surrounded us in a greater than usual effort to get our attention and I wasn’t sure if it was Jake’s company or my newly established notoriety that drew them in.

It’d been months since I was out at this club. My girlfriend wasn’t thrilled about me going out with the guys a second weekend in a row, but she accepted it for Nak’s sake. It was to her benefit to stop his moping around the house. She had to live with him too, after all.

I propped my casted leg on a chair, using my injury to pull more fish into our net. No one asked what happened to my leg. My motorcycle accident was common knowledge now. My crash and the false accusations of the underage girl had done wonders for my Internet presence and every female seemed to be in tune with my life’s story.

It was weird, being out at a club. I’d been removed from the scene too long. Since Kelsey moved in, I hadn’t been driven to go out shopping and that’s what a club is for a man, a giant chick mall. I’m not sure if I’d call what Kelsey and I have love, but it is the closest that I’ve ever been to that state. She’s the only person that I have ever dated that has made me stop to think before acting and that’s new for me.

I tried to direct the beauties toward Nak, even though the first sentence out of every girl’s mouth seemed to be, “So you’re single again?” They assumed that since Kelsey wasn’t there, we’d split. And though it helped bring them to the table, I wanted it clear that I wasn’t shopping.

“Nope, but my roommate Nak is newly available.” My comment met pouty lips and a few longing touches trying to prove that my words meant nothing, but I behaved. I’m not the immoral bastard I play on television and messing up what Kelsey and I have didn’t appeal to me.

A couple of hours in, Nak had his arms around two girls—one a dead ringer for Leslie and the other I was pretty sure I had hooked up with last year—I wasn’t going to bring up either detail though. At least he looked pseudo happy.

I never realized how boring clubs are when you’re not shopping or able to move around. I sat stuck at the table because of my leg, limited to the people that found me. When the brunette crossed my vision, I just assumed she’d come for Gorboni or Nak, but no such luck. When she said my name, I realized who it was and couldn't suppress the groan that slipped from my lips.

“What’s up, Mia?”

She waited for everyone at the table to give her their full attention. Even though they wouldn’t be able to hear her above the techno music, she obviously wanted all eyes on her. “Why can’t you get Jonathan to come out with you? I thought you were buds. He needs to get out more.”

I gawked at her in disbelief. He’d never come to this club and she knew it.

“I think he’s too preoccupied with that girl he’s seeing.” He wasn’t technically seeing her yet, but he was planning to meet her in less than a week and it brought me great satisfaction to watch the smugness on Mia’s face crumble into concern.

“What girl?” She straightened her posture and brushed her dark hair behind her shoulder, trying not to look bothered by my reveal.

“Some girl. He’s known her for months. Hasn’t he told you about her?”

She glared at me while the microprocessors in her head fired, trying to make sense of my words. “Not the non-Hollywood chick?”

“Yep. That’s her.” She was definitely not Hollywood.

“She’s never going to last,” she spat. And though it may have been true, I didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Mia’s mouth.

“What’s it matter to you anyway? I thought you were hot and heavy with Fallston. Are you done with him already?” Her lips curled into a sneer and she glared at me for a moment readying to tear my head off. I didn’t have the patience for her. Just as she opened her mouth, Tom Fallston’s arms wrapped around her behind her and he balanced his head on her shoulder.

“Hey, guys. Good music tonight, huh?” Fallston bellowed over the noise. They were still hot and heavy as far as he was concerned, I could tell. Mia, on the other hand, she’d drop him in a second if Jonathan Williams wanted her back.
Copyright 2015 Susan Schussler 

Blonde Chicks Preferred: July 12, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  July 12, 2013

Will finally took the red pill and called the Internet girl. He was hilarious when he stopped by this afternoon, in the best mood. He kept cracking jokes and nothing I said seemed to bring him down. He’s completely whipped. He didn’t come clean with her about his fame, but at least he is talking to her. She sounds like a super sweet girl—nothing like Mia Thompson. Will deserves a break. Hope she doesn’t turn into a psycho bitch. He wants to meet her, so he and I were brainstorming on how he should spring his true identity on her.

“I say you just show up at her door. It’s not like she’s going to turn you away.”

“She might. She’s not impressed by fame. I think she’d see it as a detriment, not an asset. She’s not like the rest of the mindless drones. That’s why I like her.” He smiled and I could tell that he was thinking about something she said. “It’s got to be something big, something she can’t refuse.”

“If you had a premiere coming up, you could invite her to that.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. And I have to meet her before filming starts in September. It’s got to be larger-than-life, where she can’t just shut me down.”

“Talk to Nick,” I suggested. Our buddy Nick Reyes lives over the top every day and in a weird man-whore way knows women pretty damn well.

“Can do.” He cocked his head in agreement and we moved on to talking about his assistant Leslie and my housemate’s break up.

“Is it another guy?” I asked. “Because I think that Nak is in shock. He can’t figure out what happened.”

“I don’t think that she is seeing anyone else. Leslie said that they just agreed that it wasn’t working. She made it sound as if they were both too busy to keep it going.”

“If you gave the chick some time off, maybe she could have a decent relationship and Nak wouldn’t be moping around like a puppy with his head stuck in one of those clear plastic cones.”

“This is not my fault.”

Nak walked into the kitchen in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a three-day-old beard. “I’m pretty sure it is your fault, Jonathan Williams.” He sat down at the breakfast bar and spun around to face us.

“I am not getting involved in Leslie’s personal life. You are not worth me losing the only person that can keep me organized. Sorry, man.”

Nak slumped against the counter. “If she had just given me some warning. That would have been…I mean…what the hell? She shows up in Vancouver for my wrap party and granted the film didn’t have much of a budget so it wasn’t much of a party, but I was coming home. And she starts up with this it isn’t working BS. And we never see each other? We were flying out together. I just don’t understand.”

“It’s not another guy if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s probably just trying to work out her fall schedule. You know how anal she is. We’re going to be gone almost three months. Leslie likes to have everything methodically in order. I, on the other hand, say, seize the day.” Will chuckled and I knew he was talking about finally meeting the Internet girl.

“So you think I should call her or not?” Nak asked.

“Do what you have to do. Life’s too short. I’ve got to go,” Will added as he stood up and headed for the door.

“Can you talk to Leslie?”

Will turned and asked, “What do you want me to say.” He stared at him earnestly.   

“Tell her we’re going out clubbing tonight,” I hollered. There was no way in hell that I was going to let Nak beg. “This is LA. There’s plenty of chicks wanting some Nak. Her loss.” I lifted my chin to stress my point. He doesn’t need her. “Are you coming with us or not,” I ask Will.

He smiled. “Can’t. I’ve got to figure out my own problems.” As he headed for the door he added, “Gorboni said he was looking for something to do. Give him a call.”

“Good luck with the Internet girl,” I yelled before the door closed.

Kelsey was visiting her family so it was the perfect night to go clubbing and I could always find some more people to join us. I’d call Gorboni for sure. I hadn’t been out clubbing since before the accident. My plastic leg boot and pain would assure that dancing was out, but the sympathy card the cast brought would reel in the chicks—all in the name of helping Nak. The sacrifices I make.

“You better shave. I can’t take you anywhere looking like that,” I said, slapping my roomie on the back as I hobbled over to the counter to grab my phone and figure out our plans for the evening. Copyright 2015 Susan Schussler  

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

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

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

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

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  

Blonde Chicks Preferred: May 30, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  May 30, 2013

What the hell? I was leaving the studio with Kelsey when two police detectives stopped me. They introduced themselves and showed me their credentials. They could have been actors for all I knew. My first thought was that the guys went all out with these costumes. The badges looked pretty legitimate. The crew and actors played practical jokes on each other all the time and this was probably just payback for last week’s prank.

“Could you come down to the station with us? We have some questions about Lane Pierce.”

“Who?” I asked. I had no idea who this person was, but I was willing to play along.

Kelsey squeezed past me, intentionally flipping her strawberry blonde ponytail in my face as she maneuvered by. She even smelled like strawberries and I was hungry. “I’ll meet you back at the house,” she said with a smirk and I knew the look came from the key burning a hole in her pocket. I had given it to her just that morning. She and I were getting more serious and it was a huge step for me to give her a key to the house. It implied exclusivity and complete access to me. Up until now, I had never taken that step with anyone.

The female detective’s sneer wiped the smile from my face. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” I asked. The unisex name didn’t even indicate if it was a man or a woman. Maybe this wasn’t a joke.

“We would like you to come down to the station so we can discuss this in private,” stated the male detective.

“Do I need my lawyer?”

“There are no charges it this time. We just have some questions for you,” he added.

I’d done enough television drama to know that was code for you better get your lawyer’s ass on the phone. I followed them out to their car conscious of every word that came out of my mouth.

“We’ll drop you back at your vehicle when we’re done, Mr. Nordstrom,” said the female detective as we settled in the nondescript car. I set my motorcycle helmet on the chair next to me and buckled the seatbelt.

From the backseat, I called my father and explained the situation the best I could for him. I had no idea why I was being questioned, but I knew enough to cooperate and to use my lawyer father when I needed him.

By the time my father showed up and the questioning started, I was sure that I was going to prison. I still had no idea what I had done but the police detectives mannerisms indicated they were convinced of my guilt. Besides, I had a lawyer—I must have done whatever I’m being questioned about. They almost had me persuaded until they showed me a picture of the girl, I had supposedly forced myself on. “You’ve got to be joking,” I said. “She looks like she’s thirteen and she’s not even blonde.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Nordstrom, we’re not joking. She is sixteen and a minor. That makes it rape whether it was consensual or not.”

“I need some time to confer with my client,” said my father.

“I’ve never seen that girl in my life,” I practically shouted. Though I play a character that would have no qualms forcing himself on a girl, in fact, my TV persona did just that last season, I am not that kind of guy and I have no interest in underage girls. My father looked at me questioningly as I shook my head in disgust. “This is such BS!”

“If charges are being filed against my client, you better have evidence to support such accusations or we’re leaving,” my father stated. “When did the alleged act take place? What makes you think this girl isn’t just making up the whole story?”

“We are just gathering information at this point. The assault took place on May 21st between 11:30 and 3am the following day. We need to know your client’s whereabouts. We would also like your client to submit to DNA testing. If you need a few minutes to consult with him, you may have it at this time,” stated the male detective and then he and the other detective rose, leaving the room.

“Did you sleep with this girl?” asked my lawyer in his calm voice he reserved for his real clients.

“No, Dad, I’ve never met her.” Even my own father had doubts.

“Maybe I should just do the DNA test. It would clear everything up.”

“They are implying that they have DNA evidence, but that might not be the case at all. It may just be a tactic to get you to confess. Giving in to the test will be the last resort. There are too many variables and you don’t want your DNA on file if we can help it. Where were you that night?”

I knew that I hadn’t slept with the brunette, but I wasn’t sure I could prove it. I felt a bead of sweat slide down the center of my back as I checked my phone’s calendar. The date was a week and a half ago. I thumbed through my schedule and when I got to the right page relief flooded my body. I definitely had that night covered. “On the 21st, Kelsey and I grabbed take out and hit the sheets by nine. I had a 4:00 call the next morning. We rode to the studio together. We were together the whole night.”

“Will this Kelsey collaborate your alibi?”

“She’s my girlfriend and it’s true. Why wouldn’t she?” It was weird to admit she was my girlfriend, but I guess that’s what she is. “I don’t understand how this sixteen year old can make false allegations and have the police take her seriously.”

“People can say anything they want about a public figure. Being famous actually makes it harder for you to file defamation charges against her. Judges usually assume the worst of public figures or want to make an example of them. And the police have to take the accusations seriously or they can be accused of giving preferential treatment. The girl just wants attention, her fifteen seconds of fame.”

“So I just have to accept this crap? It doesn’t seem fair.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder and, with a chuckle, said, “Life’s not fair, Son. Next time we’ll handle it differently with the police.”

“Next time?”

“You have a target on your back. The character you play is a pretty messed up guy and people want to believe you’re him. It will happen again. It just means you’re good enough to make your character believable. Congratulations, you’ve made it in Hollywood." He smiled and patted my shoulder. "The story will be out in the press for a couple of days, the girl will get her name in the news and then it will disappear. By the time the truth comes out the public will have moved on and no one will care that you didn’t do it. You’ve made it, Liam. Lies and innuendo fuel the business.”

It sucked donkey balls! But my dad was right. I should wear it as a badge of honor. I’m important enough to lie about. Free advertising for my brand, it doesn’t matter that it’s negative.

After sharing my alibi with the detectives and Kelsey collaborating it over the phone to them, my dad and I left the station. He dropped me at my bike, and I headed back to Malibu naively thinking the nightmare was over.

Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Blonde Chicks Preferred: May 27, 2013

Liam Nordstrom: May 27, 2013

Met Will last night for a burger and drinks at Mickey’s. It’s dark in there and the hostess, Teiki sat us in the back, like always. Will said he and Rachel Marrero spent all Saturday doing stills and an interview for some Australian magazine. It's a promo for their upcoming film and the article, most likely, wouldn’t be out until the end of summer.

“Is she as tight as everyone imagines,” I asked and he smiled. He had to have hooked up with her.

“Wouldn’t know. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Why not? I would have. Is she with someone?” I looked up from my plate and met his eyes. “Honestly that shouldn’t matter. You’re doing a film together. There’s latitude when you’re starring in a film together. Isn’t that in your contract?”

Will laughed. “She’s not seeing anyone. She told me. And she would have gone back to my place if I had asked, but I didn’t.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He stared at the wall behind me with a distant look on his face. “I don’t know.” He took a bite of his burger shaking his head.

“Whatever it is, get over it. Get on it and get in it,” I said and he raised an eyebrow to me. “What’s stopping you? Is it Mia?” God don't let it be Mia.

 He swallowed what he was chewing and then took a swig of beer before answering. “The Internet girl.”

“Seriously? Have you told her who you are?”

“No,” he said before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Because you know that it will just fuck everything up and she’ll turn into some psycho superfan?”

“That's not it. She’s got this perfect little life and I don’t want to drown her in my cracked fishbowl.”

“How do you know she hasn't figured out who you are?”

“I can tell. We connect on a higher level."

I rolled my eyes. "You haven’t even talked to her on the phone. You don’t know her at all.” I wasn’t trying to piss him off. I just wanted to pull him back into reality. What did he want? Most actors would cut off their left nut for his life. I'm not saying that his life isn't fucked sometimes because of his fame, but it's a tradeoff. You can't have it both ways. He shut up about the girl after that and changed the subject to my "revolving door" of a love life.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Blonde Chicks Preferred: May 9, 2013

Liam Nordstom: May 9, 2013 

I hung out at Will’s most of the day yesterday. We killed a few thousand zombies as we hashed over the trip to Austin that we took a few weeks back. Our buddy Chris’s band was playing at what we thought was going to be a club but was really a sixth street bar about the size of my bedroom closet.

In such close quarters, our usual hats and sunglasses disguise proved worthless. Most of the patrons left us alone, though—only a few girls approached. But the music blared too loud to talk and they eventually gave up. Someone must have sent out a tweet, ratting out our whereabouts, because, before we knew it, the tiny bar was packed beyond the fire marshal’s limit and they had to stop alcohol sales until it cleared out. We sat at a table with a music promoter that was scoping out Chris’ band and he gave us passes to another concert for the next night.

When Chris finished playing, we snuck out the back, which was our only escape. The crowd outside the front door was a hundred people thick, and we never would have made it back to the hotel exiting that way. The concert the next night was a bigger venue and easier to blend in. Overall, the trip was laid back and after the first night, we didn't have too much trouble moving around Austin. We visited a guitar store and couple vintage shops, and everyone we met was pretty decent.

Will and I hit Leo’s for dinner after our zombie killing spree and he mentioned that Mia had stopped by the day before. He didn't say much else about her, though. I did get him to fess up about the girl that’s captured his attention. He said she’s a college student who he met online. She doesn't know who he really is and I think that works in her favor.

He was pretty guarded about her, though and he seemed taken in a way I'd never seen before. Will and I have dated more than our share of girls and we know what’s out there. Maybe this will work for him for a while. I’m sure it will change after he reveals himself. The sweetest girls turn into raging lunatics the second they realize you’re a celebrity. I don't have to remind Will that. He knows better than I do, and there is no point in crushing his happiness. Time and the media will take care of that.

Blonde Chicks Perferred: May 2, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  May 2, 2013

Mia Thompson, what a trip. On our way down to the beach on Sunday I asked Will the same question that I had posed to her at the club. “Are you two getting back together?” His response didn't surprise me.

“How long have you and I been friends?”

I laughed and hefted my board and paddle into my shoulder as I followed him down the steps onto the sand. He seemed eager to hit the water and in a better mood than I’d seen him in a long time.

“So you’re not? Thank God.” I could feel the relief wash over my face. Mia has always rubbed me the wrong way and not many chicks do. I cheered when Will finally broke it off with her. At the time, he made it sound like the break up was mutual, but I could tell he was the one pushing for it.

“Remi talked me into the press with Mia. The fans eat it up when we’re seen together. It’s just for show to negate the bad press after that photo shoot,” he added.

“I didn't think you cared what the rags said about you. You shouldn't hook up with Mia because of bad press—just tell your publicist no. It’s not worth your soul.”

“You should talk.” He chuckled. “Have you seen your soul lately? I’m not hooking up with Mia. There is someone else I’m interested in, though.” He grinned with an innocence that I hadn't seen since high school.

I asked him if it was Rachel Marrero, the fresh new girl that every man in Hollywood wants to tap, and who just happens to be his love interest in his next film. Lucky him. Rumors of the two hooking up started circling the second they were cast together. He denied it was her, though. Then he refused to tell me anything about the girl who had clearly affected his disposition, except that he was going to take it slow with her. I hope she’s good to him. If anyone deserves a break, it’s Will.

Mia's Fabulous World: April 30, 2013

Mia Thompson: April 30, 2013

I've been thinking about this friends-with-benefits thing with Jonathan and the more I envision it, the more I want it. Badly. I just need to figure out how to convince him, which shouldn't be too difficult, right? He is a man and I am me.

I ran into Liam Nordstrom and Jake Gorboni at Club Priela on Saturday. It always throws me off when Jonathan’s friends call him “Will.” With a last name of Williams, it shouldn't surprise me that they call him that, but when Liam asked me if Will and I were getting back together, it took me a second to figure out who he was talking about. After it clicked in my mind, I asked, “What have you heard?” I was hoping Jonathan had said something to him.

“Just what the tabloids are saying,” he answered.

“You’ll have to ask him. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know,” I said. “I don’t gossip, even about myself.” Which was a total lie. I’d be nowhere if I didn't self-promote.

“My guess is no, or you wouldn't be out clubbing tonight.”

He was right. I should have skipped the club—one more obstacle with the press. Match point. “Why do you ask, if you know all the answers?”

“I’m just looking out for Will. I would hate to see you hook-up with some guy at the club if he thinks you’re getting back together,” Liam said, like a true golden boy in wolves' clothes.

“Is that a proposition? Do you want to take me home tonight, Nordstrom?” I ran my polished nails up his cheek and through his hair, as I spoke. “I thought you preferred blondes.” I knew it wasn't a proposition, but I enjoyed toying with him. Men are so easy to torment. I wouldn't have gone home with him, anyway, and Liam knew it. Sure, he has his own following with his cable show, but it wouldn't do me any favors to be seen with him. Besides such an act would ruin my chances of getting back with Jonathan.

He stepped back, obviously affected by my touch. “I’m going paddle boarding with Will tomorrow. I’ll let him know you’re asking about him."

“Don’t bother. I’ll call him. So you’re still out in Malibu?” I changed the subject to prevent my intentions from spilling too soon.

I hung with Nordstrom and Gorboni a few more minutes, making small talk until Kiera returned from dancing with the piece of meat that she had selected from the nobody section. She doesn't seem to care about a man’s status in Hollywood. If he has a six-pack, a hot ass, and can hold a decent conversation, she’ll invite him in. It doesn't even matter if he has money. Of course, she’s always had plenty of her own, or I should say her parents’ money. She’s never had to fight to get ahead like I have. Sure, I have plenty of money, now, but being a self-made actress, I know what it’s like to struggle and I’m not about to lose all I've worked for over some hot bodied no-name. I don’t have her luxury. I have to care about who I’m seen with or the press will crucify me.

Her slum boy left the VIP area shortly after they returned from the dance floor. So the rest of the night, Kiera and I danced with Chet Blake, and a couple other trust-fund guys—no one famous, though.

I was tempted to show up at Nordstrom’s the next day and join Jonathan on his paddleboard, but I didn't. I know how to play him and he needs space. If I try too hard, it will only make him skittish.