Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ana : I know you’re en route to Albuquerque, but good news… French Vogue has decided you need a cover. Brielle Lambert’s agent told me that Brielle pushed for you. As you know, she has insane pull in the fashion world … Send
Rakell : OMG!! I’m so excited! Jake and I will be in Paris three days before the shoot. He insisted on a Valentine’s Day getaway, knowing I had to be in France anyway … Send
Ana : Are you in New Mexico now? ... Send
Rakell : Yes, just landed. Heading to the hotel to meet up with the Skyler clan … Send
Ana : Brielle will be at your photo shoot. Are you okay with that? I’m not sure you have a choice … Send
Rakell : Yes, yes…I love her …delete
Rakell : Yes, she’s an icon. I can’t wait to meet her … Send
Ana : I hear that she’s even more exquisite in person … Send
Rakell : She is!!!! ...delete
Rakell : I’m sure … Send
Ana : I am emailing you the list of TV station interview requests. There’s high interest in you and Jake. The world loved the Thanksgiving pictures he posted. Oh, and all the footage of you on the field with his sister after the Condors won Christmas Day has gone viral. Jake picking you up and swinging you around. To die for!! More of that today. The world needs more … Send
Rakell : I think the world may get sick of us. Jake loves posting … Send
Ana : Send me some pictures today. I’ll get my assistant on your account so we can keep the energy high. She’ll leave some sweet captions about how he’s the love of your life…blah, blah … Send
Rakell : Not too sweet or people will figure out it’s not me ?? … Send
Ana : Have fun. Take lots of pix…we need an epic kiss on the field if they win. Honestly, I have to sift through the fashion folks who want you, and this Skyler romance is raising your profile … Send
Rakell : Sure, I knew that when I fell for him. (eye rolling emoji)… Send
Ana : ?? … Send
Rakell sat back in the Uber that was driving her to the hotel where everyone was staying for the weekend. Her mind drifted back to the last time she’d seen Brielle. Their final night as lovers when they’d said goodbye for what they both thought would be a lifetime. Brielle was Rakell’s final assignment as an escort, but a longing settled into her chest anytime she saw Brielle on TV or a magazine cover or whenever she read a story about her and her husband.
“Rakell,” Brielle had whispered, her expression intent. Rakell sensed Brielle’s next words would stay with her long after their final time together. “There’s a Japanese word that encompasses two seemingly opposite emotions, but it is a match to how I believe I will feel when I think back on my time with you.”
“Oh, I am so happy that I got to know you,” Rakell had replied, hating that it had sounded like a rote platitude because she couldn’t access the words to communicate how special this woman had made her feel.
“Natsukashii,” Brielle had said, lifting her cup of herbal tea to her lips and sipping before repeating the word. “Natsukashii…”
Rakell had been captivated by Brielle’s lips, which produced the gorgeous word more like musical notes dancing from her mouth than as a word.
Their gazes stilled on each other as Brielle described how that simple word meant so much. “A nostalgic longing for the past, with happiness for the fond memory, yet sadness that it is no longer."
Visions of her dad, her mom, the ranch, and a life lost had made her turn from Brielle’s gaze. “Yes, I understand that meaning,” Rakell murmured faintly.
A soft smile crept to her mouth. The same satiated upturn of her lips emanated from her face every time Brielle sashayed into her psyche. In ten days, she’d wrap up filming and head to Paris for a Valentine's celebration with Jake, then meet with the Vogue team, including Brielle, to do the cover shoot. She’d continued to watch Brielle’s career, which was perpetually skyrocketing.
She remembered the first time she’d met Brielle’s husband in person. He emphasized the importance of Rakell adhering to the NDA agreements and that he would not hesitate to take action if any of them were violated, his voice thick and low with the promise of vengeance. Then he cleared his throat and said, “You are the perfect gift for my wife on her fortieth, and I can’t wait for you two to meet.” He went on to explain that Brielle was anxious about turning forty, being in an industry that pushed women aside as they aged, then added that he knew she would continue to be successful because of her chameleon-like nature, which would be an asset for her in the acting and modeling world at any age. He’d also told Rakell, “I suppose I believe she will be more sought after with age, not less.” Rakell remembered how that had made her beam internally, how she’d hoped to meet someday someone who would view her that way.
Melissa : Are you here? Jenae and I are in the hotel lobby bar. Mom and Dad are resting. I’m kid-free tonight, so sleep can wait until I return to Austin … Send
Rakell : In the Uber. Almost there. This is a cool city!... Send
Melissa : Come meet us after you check in … Send
Rakell : Will do. Can’t wait to see you both … Send
Jake : Sweets, are you here? I'm still at the stadium with the team, but I'm heading over later for family hugs … Send
Rakell : On my way. Will meet Jenae and Melissa in the hotel bar. Matt and Jonathon are flying in later. We’ll all be cheering for you on the field. (a picture of her wearing her lucky white jacket)… Send
Jake : I need a snack! My girl, in nothing but that jacket. See you soon … Send
She scrunched up her nose, reading his message. My girl …that phrase had wormed its way into his vernacular when he referred to her. She began thinking about that night, the incident in the restaurant bathroom when she’d known he had read the script.
Christmas had been a blur. She’d flown up to Sacramento to see him, and his family was there. He had to play the next day, so they didn’t really spend any time together. The following weekend, the Condors won the Saturday playoff game, and the team wanted to celebrate. Still, he’d insisted on taking her to a private restaurant in a vineyard on the outskirts of Sacramento. She’d pushed, knowing his teammates were out partying and expected him, but he insisted. He’d texted her before she flew in to let her know his plans and specifically asked her to wear the short cream-colored sweater dress with the cream suede boots he’d given her at Christmas.
When they climbed into his Rivian, he was practically thrumming with energy.
“You did it,” she’d said, kissing his cheek. “You guys are going to the Super Bowl again.”
He’d nodded as if she said the weather was nice today, his eyes visually manhandling every part of her flesh. He grinned, his gaze roving over her body, stopping on the hem of the cream sweater-skirt resting mid-thigh. The heat emanating from him made her instinctively part her legs. “Fucking hot,” he grunted out.
“I like it,” she’d said.
“It’s perfect for…” she heard him suck in the next part of the line.
“For?”
“Dinner” had jumped out of this mouth.
Jake typed a number into the monitor before the large wrought iron gate entrance. It opened and they drove through. The sun had already set, but the moon highlighted the rows upon rows of the vineyards as they drove along a twisty path. Before they pulled up to a Victorian home, two men dressed in black greeted Jake. One took his keys, while the other gestured toward the door and said, “Please follow me, Mr. Skyler. We have been anticipating your arrival.” Opening the doors as they moved through the restaurant entrance, “I will take you directly to your room, sir,” the man said.
“Room?” she whispered, raising her eyebrows as she glanced sideways at him. He encapsulated her fingers with his own, squeezing, his face distracted.
The laugh brewing in her chest had popped out as a whispery giggle. She watched his lips twitch and wondered if he wanted to say something or was trying to control an internal conversation.
“What?” he asked, his features growing stern, his grasp on her hand firming as they’d followed the ma?tre d’ down a long hallway. Passing door after door, she thought she’d counted eight of them.
“What? is exactly the question I wanted to ask you,” she’d quipped back, wiggling her hand within his vise grip. “Jake, I’m not a football.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He’d grimaced, slightly relaxing the tension in his clenched fingers, his eyes brimming with anticipation. The realization that he had something planned shifted her lightheartedness to consternation. He just won another playoff game and they were going to the Super Bowl. Why the hell was he acting so odd, almost cagey? It was like he was flitting between thoughts. Finally, they walked through another door at the end of the hallway.
As they entered, she’d arched back, halting mid-step. A table near a fireplace stood in the middle of a dark-walled room, the only source of light besides the fireplace two candle sconces. It was as if they’d stepped back in time. Jake smiled back at her, tugging her hand, escorting her to the table. He pulled out a navy leather wingback chair, motioning for her to sit, scooted the chair back toward the table, then sat across from her. The ma?tre d’ walked to the cabinet and lit the candle on the table before setting two large golden-looking goblets in front of each of them. He then told Jake he would be retrieving the wine Jake had requested, then pointed to a door, stating that was the bathroom—a private bathroom for them.
“Jake this is…amazing.”
“It’s a pretty unique spot. I’ve been wanting to bring you here, and I took the chance that we would be celebrating with wine tonight and…”
“And you should be partying with your team. They probably don’t like it that…”
“I’m grabbing every second alone with you that I can. I mean Christmas was a blur…my family, Dwayne…and Jaxton. I get that Jaxton didn’t have anywhere to go, but that was painful. He said maybe three words and only when you asked him direct questions about books…”
“He’s read so many books, books most people haven’t read.”
“It’s impressive, but,” Jake had huffed, “you’d think some of that would transfer to conversation. If you read a lot that should mean you have an extensive vocabulary.”
Rakell snickered. “Not necessarily, and just because a person talks a lot doesn’t mean they necessarily have something worth hearing,” she’d stated, picking up the goblet.
His eyebrows shot up. “I hope that wasn’t intended for me, Sweets.”
“Not at all!” she’d replied, smirking. Since their time on the boat in Tahoe, something about Jaxton had been weighing on her. Then, even though Dwayne insisted he join at Christmas dinner, he only stayed to eat. He wiggled in his chair like the cushion was actively pinching him. Rakell kept thinking he was about to crawl out of his own skin. His eyes darted from side to side as if sharing a meal with people was torturous for him. After dinner, he shook Jake’s hand and thanked him “for opening your home to me.” His eyes were downcast, and the stiff way he delivered that line made Rakell think it had been rehearsed countless times. “I just think he has a lot going on in his head, and it stays locked in there.”
Jake had smiled at her. “Are you analyzing him?”
She’d laughed. “I get the irony in that. I still need to work on sharing my thoughts,” she whispered.
“I like your non-verbal communication style,” he’d said as the waiter set down a dozen Miyagi oysters, explaining that they were from off the coast of Washington. He directed his next words to Jake, explaining how they had cultivated the menu Jake chose and even prepared a low-sugar dessert. He said how honored they were that Jake would bring his girlfriend to their restaurant, then poured more wine and said he would give them ample time to enjoy the oysters.
“Well, Mr. Skyler, what are your intentions with these oysters?” Rakell had taunted, using the tiny spoon to scoop pepper-relish onto the oyster, then fixed her stare on Jake. He watched intently as she slurped the briny, small, fleshy oval into her mouth, swallowing ever so slightly as it slid down her throat. “Mmm…the initial hit is always sort of a shock to me,” she said, feeling her spine stiffen as the coolness manifested in her esophagus.
He’d nodded, tipping a shell to his lips before swallowing. “I’m guessing you like shock, darlin’, the acid of the relish hitting your tongue, working to keep your throat relaxed as it oozes its way down. You know it’s coming yet you can’t completely prepare for it. I think you live for that.”
“Mr. Skyler, are we still talking about seafood?” she’d cooed, opening her mouth widely to invite another piece of salty slime into the gulf of her throat.
His eyes had lowered to her lips as he sucked his own into his mouth. “Goddamn, do that one more time…”
“Is that a dare?” She’d fixed her eyes on his as she picked up the silvery shell with her fingers, dousing it in the sauce, then methodically bringing it to her lips, mindful of the contrast of her pink lips to the gray shell as if a camera was up close and she was shooting a lipstick commercial. Every minuscule motion she made with her mouth and tongue would be caught on screen. She ignored the waiter pouring Chablis into their wine glasses. As the waiter stepped away, she tipped back the shell, letting the oysters shock her anew. She took in the sound of Jake’s sharp intake of breath, his chair scraping against the wooden floor, and the shuffling footsteps of the waiter quickly retreating.
Jake had commanded, “Give us some time.” Then the door to the private dining space closed with a thud as Jake’s hand extended toward her. “Get up.”
Once Jake heard the door slam shut, he didn’t wait for her to respond, one hand pulling the chair back as the other tugged her upright. “Jake?” She gulped, finding her footing.
“Hush, bad girl,” he’d sneered. He jerked them toward the bathroom door, pulling her in and locking it. He spun her so she was facing an ornate oval mirror hovering on the wall above a small square black marble vanity. “Put your hands here,” he directed, grabbing her wrists and placing her fingers on either side of the copper sink. “Flat, flatten them on the counter…now!” he growled. “Now.” Letting go of her wrists, his fingers crawled up the back of her sweater dress. “You listened…” he said, stroking her bare ass as the cashmere gathered around her waist. “Good girl,” he praised mockingly. She responded by sticking out her tongue. He raked a fistful of her hair into his long fingers, tugging, and said, “I take that back—bad girl,” watching her in the mirror as he unzipped his pants and pushed them down along with his briefs.
“Jake,” she’d managed to squeeze out between jagged breaths just as he was nudging the small of her back forward.
“You like the shock of it?” he’d groaned in her ear as he pushed into her from behind, his hard cock easing into her wet slit. Using her hair as a lever, he gently yanked her head back as his cock nestled into her pussy, his other hand reaching around to the shoulder of the dress, edging it off so he could see the tops of her breasts. “Tell me, my bad girl, tell me you’re all mine,” he urged into her ear.
“Yes.” Her eyes grew wide as she’d caught his trance-like stare in the mirror. “I’m yours,” she said, seemingly to his line, “no one else's.” Her eyes flicked to his in the reflection questioningly, “Did you…did you read the script?”
He had rocked his pelvis forcefully against her ass. “Yes, this scene lives rent-free in my head, so say it again, tell me you’re mine.”
“You shouldn’t have…”
“Just say it!” he’d groaned, his hand finding her hard nub between her legs. “Whatever happens on set doesn’t fucking matter because I know, I know who you belong to.” His cock maintained its perpetual thrust as he pinched her clit.
Then she’d let out a sharp squeal, her body caught up in the friction he was creating between his cock slamming into her pussy and his fingers working feverishly on her clit. For a second, her mind rewound to when he must have read the script. He must have known the content for weeks and had sat on it. He hadn’t said a word and now here they were acting out one of the more lascivious scenes in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. What the hell shot through her head, yet damn if everything about him possessing her like this wasn’t making her cunt leak all over his cock as she started to shutter.
He'd yanked out of her, just as she knew he would. She’d lived with the script for the past few months—it was now part of her DNA. Then he twirled her around, her body still shaking, lifting one of her legs from below her knee, pushing her against the edge of the marble, maneuvering back into her, his other hands stabilizing her hips as he worked himself into a sputtering orgasm, his rippling body caving before he pushed off from the counter. “Don’t move,” he said, kneeling before her.
Was he really going to do the next part of the scene? “Jake,” she’d questioned, feeling his fingers press on her inner thighs. He was! Shit, he is! she thought, hearing the slurping sound he was making between her legs, licking both of their juices.
Then he stood, boring his eyes into hers, and she could tell that he was mustering everything he had not to smile. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. Jesus, he’s serious sputtered in her brain, but she complied and opened her mouth wide, daring him. His lips brushed across her bottom lip, before his tongue started to lick it. “Just kiss me.”
“You can’t do it?” she’d snarked, teasing.
Just then, he’d grabbed the back of her neck, spitting their mixed rapture into her mouth. She gasped, swallowing at the shock. “Oh, my God, Jake.”
Then he’d pressed his lips to hers. “Don’t dare me, ever.”
“That’s not the line,” she’d hushed.
Tapping his forehead to hers, as if he remembered the next line in the script, he had asked, “What does that taste like?”
“Forever, sugar, that tastes like forever,” she’d sung in her falsetto Georgia accent.
“Forever and ever?”
She’d batted her eyes and replied, “‘Til death, ‘til death,” laying her syrupy voice to his lips.
Laughing, he’d said, “Nice touch.” He halted, cut off by the rustling in the dining room. “You clean up. I’ll…”
“Go,” she had said, nodding, then twisted around to turn on the faucet. It struck her that out of all the scenes, he hung on to the one where the guy demands that she state she’s his for life. Possession, ownership…was that something unique to the way men viewed the women in their lives? And why had his low, rumbling voice begging her to say she was his ‘forever’ made her twitch, the neurons crackling below her skin? What the hell?
When she got back to the table, Jake had grinned like a Cheshire cat, standing, pulling her seat out. “That was even fucking hotter than the scene I read.” He bent as she sat, kissed her forehead, and said, “Thank you. Just knowing that we— well, you—said those words to me before I have to see it in the premiere, that you better invite me to….” He chuckled, scooted to the other side of the table, and sat. “It’s carrot soup, and the cream is cashew, so no dairy. Even though…” He swallowed, the lecture burgeoning, registering the protest on her lips.
She knew he wanted to expound on how unhealthy the model eating mindset was, but he stopped. He’d said it before and hinted at it when he thought she wouldn’t protest. “Jake Skyler, I decide what I do and don’t eat, and I recall consuming some protein just recently,” she sassed, winking at him.
“Fair enough. I love that scene. It’s forever etched in here,” he’d said, pointing to his temple as he brought a large spoon filled with bright orange soup to his mouth.
“Did you read the lines right after she agreed to forever and ever?”
“Nah, I’d read enough by the time I got to that,” he’d replied, smoothly slurping the liquid into his mouth.
“The next part was my favorite,” she’d toyed, robotically rotating the silver spoon in the small bowl. The good and bad thing about ridiculously high-end restaurants is that the portion size is so small that it leaves you aching for In-N-Out when you finish your multi-course dinner.
He’d bent his chin, his mouth opening for another bite. “And that is?”
Picking up the serrated steak knife next to her plate, Rakell’s eyes had drifted over his shoulder. She was trying not to look at his animated expression so she could deliver the next line deadpan. “Right after she promised forever, ‘til death, she plunged the restaurant steak knife into his back and twisted. His body slumped to the floor as she walked casually to the table and told the waiter her date would be returning momentarily from the restroom to take care of the bill. She told the waiter she’d need to leave a bit early.” Rakell batted her eyes as Jake spit soup from his mouth, grabbing a napkin and wiping his chin.
“Holy shit. I guess forever didn’t last that long.”
She’d put her finger to her lips. “Shhh, we don’t want any spoilers getting out there.” She smiled. “Don’t read my scripts again unless you truly want to act them out,” she goaded, raising her brows.
“ I still love the line where you say you're mine forever and ever,” he’d snickered, holding his wine glass up to toast her.
She’d clinked her glass to his and replied, “Ahh, but my prince, you can’t pick and choose lines from the story.” She winked as they both laughed.
As her Uber was pulling up to the hotel entrance, she saw Dwayne bound out of a large black SUV, followed by Jake and a couple of other guys, one of whom she recognized as the team kicker, Chad Buttcap. Rakell suddenly recalled something his wife had said, “Once Chad and I started seeing each other exclusively, I refocused my goals and dreams. I wanted to be there for him, you know, be a family.” She remembered another one of the player’s wives piping in, “I wanted to keep modeling, but it was just too hard with his busy schedule. I can’t imagine missing a game.” Rakell had shrunk back from that conversation at the time because these women had made up their minds, and there was nothing she could add without participating in one of those endless, inane ideas that the woman is destined to embrace the secondary role in life, especially if they are linked to a professional athlete. I am going to pursue my dreams. I made up my mind long ago that I wasn’t taking a backseat to anyone for any reason .
She smiled as she remembered the day she’d been caught on the Jumbotron cheering for Jake while in the owner’s box for the opposing team. The memory of that day, watching Jake get the winning touchdown and then being shuttled out of the stadium among flashing cameras, would remain indelibly imprinted in her brain. Inadvertently, she’d signaled to Jake Skyler that he ruled her mind, and now here they were, a couple, both living their dreams, stepping on each other’s feet from time to time, but still dancing. Incrementally, she had adjusted to social media scrutiny and the request for interviews, which usually focused on who she was to Jake Skyler. Only in the last month had the media seemed to highlight her as an up-and-coming actress. They were both committed to controlling the information that could be leaked about their relationship, but it was becoming harder as their profiles grew— hers a smoldering flame, his a blaze, which fit their personas. She gravitated toward quiet, more one-on-one personal conversations at parties or even his family gatherings. Jake's demeanor reminded her of a flamenco dancer, his fiery presence swirling in circles throughout his audience, consuming the space.
The door flew open, his hungry grin partnering with his blue eyes that simmered like the base of a flame. His mussed black hair flopped in looping curls over his forehead as he extended his hand to her, jerking her up and into his chest, his hands tracing the outline of her body as people milled around them. His lips pressed to her cheek, uttering, “My everything girl wearing my lucky jacket, dressed in our colors. It’s only been a week, but it feels like a fucking lifetime.”
“Tomorrow is your day. Everyone is here to see you. Matt said he and Jonathon were flying in later. I love how close they are with Jenae and Winnie now…I guess they were friends at Rice, and now it’s the four of them everywhere.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, tilting his head back. “Maybe Matt can convince them to move back to Texas.”
Rakell shook her head. “Things would need to change for that to happen.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “But right now, all I care about is you being here.”
“And winning…”
“Well, that would be a cherry on top, but I’m also looking forward to being done and spending more time with this sweetness.” He buried his mouth in her hair, close to her ear. “I want my full-time job to be getting you naked. Maybe reenacting another scene? Makes it a little easier to swallow someone else on the big screen if I know…”
Rakell’s mouth gaped as she noticed the staring onlookers. These folks recognized them, and their presence sparked hushed conversations and pointing from the crowd of people entering the hotel. “Shhh,” she scolded.
Jake returned her admonishment with a scowl, an inch from her nose, her eyes crossing while looking at him. “ You’re mine , and I don’t give a shit who knows that,” he growled, then swiveled his head toward the onlookers. “This girl right here, Rakell McCarthy, is mine!” he drawled out loudly and triumphantly. She half expected him to crane his neck back and howl at the moon, which was a shadow hanging above the mountains in the muted light of the sky.
“Jake!” she uttered between clenched teeth, feeling the rubbernecking of passersby as they slowed, forming a crowd.
Then his mouth covered hers, kissing her deeply. She could hear the buzz of whispers intertwining with giggles. Still, she arched into him, letting this moment be theirs, not worrying about the pictures being snapped, the video that would go viral, and all the comments that would populate social media as they poured into each other. She slid her lips from the suction of his mouth, pursing them before smiling. “You’re going to win another Super Bowl, Jake Pretty Boy Skyler,” she hushed so the phones encircling them couldn’t pick up on her voice.
“With my girl by my side, I can do anything,” he boasted loudly, blowing past her whispered voice. Too brash again , she thought. She knew that line, spoken with an exuberant amount of bravado, would be analyzed and scrutinized by the media until every sound bite equaled some profound meaning.