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

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

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 

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

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 

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

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

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 café 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

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

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