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

Perfect Alli: June 4, 2013

Alli: June 4, 2013

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” I questioned.

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

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

“Does he know that?” asked Jessica.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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  

Perfect Alli: June 1, 2013

Alli:  June 1, 2013

I drove to Thor’s apartment last night. He had offered to pick me up at my parent’s, but there was no way I wanted them to know where I was going. I couldn’t believe it when my GPS took me right past the house that the girls and I rent during the school year. He lives only eight blocks from it. I parked on the street in front of the brick building. I wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening. He never really said what our plans were, just to come over around 6:30.

Thor met me near the entrance. His eyes perused my form and he smiled, saying, “You look great.” His hand found the small of my back and as we walked up the stairs he began warning me about his obnoxious brother Grayson whom I would be meeting as soon as we reached the apartment. “Ignore everything he says. Actually, you should just ignore him completely. Pretend he’s not there.” His voice rang with a nervous nerdiness that did not match his confident looks, and I wondered which personality was real, the nerd or the flirt.

When we entered the apartment I could feel ten pairs of eyes scan my body, assessing me and I worried that my blouse and maxi-skirt were too see-through. Thor led me around the room, introducing me to the guests and I immediately forgot their names. As we approached the last cluster of guests, three guys and one woman, I could tell right away that the guys were his brothers. They all had the same dark hair and dark eyes but varied in their other features.

Grayson, not the tallest, but easily the best looking of all the men in the room stepped forward and said, “Welcome to our apartment, Allison. Did my little brother offer you a drink yet?” He turned. Behind him a decorative ice tub bathed bottles of beer and wine, while others sat opened on the counter. We’ve got Chardonnay, Merlot, Malbec or Moscato for wine and for beer we have Summit Pale Ale, Fat Tire or Leinenkugel’s. It’s just the regular Leinie’s, not the Summer Shandy or Honey Weiss.” His dark brown eyes eagerly awaited my answer, as if I had a clue what he had just said.

I wasn’t used to grown-up parties. My parents don’t drink, so I haven’t had a lot of experience choosing wine or beer and I've only been twenty-one since February. I turned to Thor for some help. “A white wine?” I said, but it came out as a question. I had never tasted a good red and I wasn’t sure which one was white.

“The Chardonnay,” Thor said, saving me. We chatted with his brothers for several minutes until the brother who was literally a chef and was making dinner shooed us out of the kitchen.

The apartment had real furniture, not the disposable kind found in student housing and I liked the contemporary style of it. Thor and I settled on the couch, with our drinks, and his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I would have felt very comfortable there, very sophisticated, if it hadn’t been for the nasty sideways glances I was getting from the female party guests. The women at the party seemed annoyed by my presence and I started to get the feeling that they were all friends with Thor’s ex.

“Allison, Ted says you’re planning on going to medical school. Where do you want to go?” asked Paul, the brother who was doing his residency in Boston.

“I’ve looked at John Hopkins, Ann Arbor, and Seattle, but I would really like to just stay here at the U of M.” We talked about medical school for a good twenty minutes until a loud crash and cursing bellowed from the kitchen and Paul excused himself to help the chef.

Thor leaned in and whispered, “They are very impressed with you. I’m glad I didn’t have to face them alone tonight. Thanks for coming.” His hot breath in my ear sent a shiver down my spine and I turned with a smile. “We can skip out after dinner. They’ll be here for hours and won’t even notice we’re missing,” his eyes dark and playful. I nodded.

As the evening progressed, the group emptied all the wine and I finished one of the best meals that I had ever eaten. Unfortunately, there was a lot that I didn’t’ know about Thor’s breakup and I was the only one out of the loop. My embarrassment started when I remembered that Thor had four brothers and only three were present. Of course, I asked, “Where’s your other brother? There’s five of you, right?”

“Oh my God. You didn’t tell her. Maybe you should tell Alli why our dear brother Harry isn’t here,” stated Grayson.

Thor shot him a death glare. “Just…don’t.” Several curses followed and he added, “The effer died. Let’s leave it at that.” Only he didn’t say effer.

“Tell us how you really feel, Ted,” blared one of my haters in a shrill voice.

“Ted, you should bring your new girlfriend on that little vacation you have coming up. Wouldn’t that be perfect?” said Paul.

“Alli and I are leaving now. Hope you all rot in hell. Come on.” Thor motioned toward the door.

“Don’t go. We’re just joking around,” pleaded Grayson.

We left and Thor apologized for his family. We walked six blocks, without much conversation, to an ice cream shop. I figured Thor needed to recover from his family’s reaction to my question. I was sure his brother hadn’t really died but was dead to Thor. I didn’t have to fret long about it, because after he bought me an ice cream cone, he explained it all to me.

He had stopped by Nora’s apartment unexpectedly one morning and found his brother’s car in the lot. He knew right away something was going on between them, but he had to see it for himself. Now he wished he had just walked away. The visual of his fiancée and brother going at it in the shower made him want to gouge his eyes out. She had admitted to cheating with Harry off and on for six months. She said it didn’t mean anything, that she still wanted to get married, that she would never see Harry again. Even as she pleaded with him, he knew it was something he couldn’t get past. “It would be like having sex with my brother,” he said. He canceled the wedding that morning, but the honeymoon was nonrefundable.
 
“You should come with me. I’ve already paid for the trip. Otherwise I’ll just be sitting at home. I’m not going by myself.”

I stared at my dripping ice cream. I was really too full to eat it. I couldn’t take a trip with him. I didn’t even know him. “Um.” I rose off the bench, where we were sitting, and threw my cone in the trash. When I returned to the bench, his hand covered mine.

“You are the only person, I’ve told, who doesn’t look at me like I’m a dying puppy. Everyone acts as if I’m one step from suicide. But I’m not. I’m just mad as hell. What if I hadn’t found out? What if we’d gotten married? I’m much better off this way. I can move on.” He squeezed my hand. “Next week is going to suck whether I’m here or on a beach in Mexico. I’d love you to come. Just think about it. Maybe your friends can cover for you with your parents. They wouldn’t even have to know.”

I met his eyes, unsure what to say. I’m not the kind of girl who runs off with a stranger to a foreign country. I already told him that my job didn’t start for two weeks, so I couldn’t use it as an excuse. I didn’t need an excuse, though. I could have just said no. I felt the word forming on my tongue. But when he smoothed my hand against his hard abdomen and a cocky smile spread across his face, I knew I could come up with a lie to tell my parents. I’d gotten good at misleading them over the years. The truth was, I wanted to go. I liked Thor. And I needed some life experience before medical school consumed me. I pressed my lips together still debating, then took a deep breath and asked, “When do we leave?”
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler