Chapter Twenty - Blaire
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blaire
The first thing I do is text Briggs and Colt. I give them clear instructions that if Patricia rings the doorbell, to not tell her I’m staying there, and as a bonus to say they haven’t seen me in years.
I can’t believe she came all the way here. She managed to put two and two together and figure out where I am. I’m actually surprised it took her this long. She’s been calling me about five times a day every single day, so I certainly knew she didn’t just decide to give up and let me have some time.
But what I can’t understand is how she figured out to go to Rile Ranch? She must have asked around town. The people here used to protect me. I guess they no longer like me enough to do that. Or maybe they only ever did it for my Gram and it was never for me after all. Either way, I can’t have her dragging me back to Los Angeles with threats. My time here isn’t meant to end right now.
The second thing I do is unbuckle my seatbelt and climb my upper body into the backseat to see what Reese has that I can put on to disguise myself. My hips wedge in between our car seats as I dig through the ridiculous things he seems to need to keep in his car. I toss a whole tent to the side and a beach towel.
“What in the hell are you doing?” He asks.
“Looking for something to disguise myself,” I shout back.
“Well, your plan is backfiring because your ass is perched up here for everyone to see and I’m pretty sure most of America could point out that ass in a lineup.”
“Could you just be helpful for once in your life?” I shoot back at him.
A beat of silence follows.
“There should be a fishing hat and a hoodie inside the waterproof bag,” he finally says.
I spot the rubber bag he’s talking about and unclip it. Bingo.
I pull myself back into the seat and put my hair up into a high bun. I pull the canvas bucket hat on so that no hair is peaking out before putting on the hoodie and lifting the hood over my head. The last touch is my sunglasses. I look in the mirror and decide that it’s good enough.
“Now you going to tell me who we’re running away from?” Reese asks as we drive through town. I sink low in my seat.
“My agent,” I say simply, not feeling in the mood to have a heart to heart with the very same person I was about to bolt away from the second I got a chance.
“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me,” he says as he puts his car in park. “And I’ve brought you to just the place you’ve asked for.”
I glance up, surprised he could find any place with privacy in this town. We’re in a strip mall parking lot on the outskirts of town. I recognize the small cluster of buildings from driving past them, but I’ve never had any reason to come here. The buildings look like they were built in the 70s and then forgotten about .
“Where exactly?” I ask skeptically.
He nods his head to the shop at the end of the row of shops in front of us. The window is covered with a thick red curtain and hung in the middle is an old-school pink neon sign that says XXX and has an outline of a pin-up girl on her back with one heeled foot kicked out above her.
“Okay, sure Reese.” I cross my arms. “Where are we really going?”
“I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” He jumps out of the car and walks over to my side. He opens my door and spreads his arm out in welcome. I hesitate and look around. Another car starts to pull in and I swear under my breath, hurrying out of the car.
“Great, just what I need,” I mutter to Reese. “An article about me going to some kind of sex shop with a tall, unidentified man.”
“Chuck has the utmost discretion, otherwise he wouldn’t stay in business,” Reese says with a big grin. Well, I’m glad he’s having such a lovely afternoon while I panic.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re on a first-name basis with the owner of this store.”
“Winters can be long here,” Reese shrugs and I wonder what exactly that even means.
I stand behind Reese as we enter what seems to be a vintage porn shop. I say vintage because I’m pretty sure anywhere you get porn that’s not the internet is vintage at this point. But beyond DVDs, the place carries VHS tapes and actual film reels in varying sizes. If I wasn’t trying to stay undercover, then I would have so many questions for the old man behind the counter who I can safely assume is Chuck, as there isn’t anyone else in the place. It reminds me of a director’s house I went to once who was a collector of old original films and had them proudly displayed for guests to see in his personal movie theatre. Except here, the names on the films aren’t quite as recognizable.
After a few minutes of browsing, Reese pulls out a 16mm film reel and places it on the table in front of Chuck. I watch this all happening from a corner, and luckily, Chuck seems completely unfazed by my sketchy behavior.
“Alright, Chuck. If you can load this one up, then we’ll take a private viewing for two, please.” Reese says as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
“You got it, kid.” Chuck moves slowly as he takes Reese’s credit card. I would offer to pay, but I am definitely not trying to add this to my paper trail. Not to mention, I have no idea what I would be paying for.
Reese nods for me to follow him towards a hallway that I assumed wasn’t for customers. I walk behind him and don’t even bother asking what we’re about to do.
He opens a door painted black and we enter a tiny theatre. And I really mean tiny. There is a row of four theatre chairs and a screen as big as the very average sized wall. Mounted behind the row of chairs is a projector.
“How much semen is on these chairs?” I mutter under my breath to Reese.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” Reese says and has the audacity to wink as he does.
I wait patiently for Chuck to enter behind us and set up the reel in the projector. As soon as he leaves, I whip off the sweatshirt that I’ve been boiling under so I can finally cool down in my hiking tank top. I create a barrier between me and the seat with Reese’s sweatshirt.
“If you don’t want to watch people fucking, then I won’t press play. We can just sit here and ignore each other for an hour.” Reese says as he paces around the projector. “But there’s a reason I chose the video I did.”
I don’t want to be intrigued. I really don’t. We’re in a porn theatre. How deep could it really be ?
But of course, I’m curious, damn it.
Reese, who is still in his hiking shirt and shorts and looks like he should be put on the cover of a hiking goods catalog for his good looks and healthy physique. Yet instead, he’s cooped up in the middle of the day in a strip mall, offering to show me some porn. That he claims has a meaning behind it. How did we get here again?
Right, Patricia. Who would have a small heart attack if she knew I was here right now. And that makes me immediately want to embrace the experience.
“Alright, Reese. Show me your porn.” I say.
“It’s not my porn , Hollywood. It’s my point . I’m making a point here.” He says as he moves a lever on the projector and the film starts rolling.
“Oh, I get the point, Reese. You get lonely in the winter and you jack off in a very niche way that I thought went away when this thing called the internet was invented.”
“To be clear, I’ve never jacked off here. I’m a curious person and couldn’t not know what kind of business was here,” he settles down next to me. “But my point is very simple. You’re wrong about something very important.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” I ask as light jazz music comes out of the speakers and a woman in a pair of heels sits at the edge of a bed covered in hot pink satin sheets.
“Yeah, you did fuck things up between me and my brothers for a moment. But we got over it when we realized there’s another solution.” He says as he looks straight ahead at the film.
“And what would that solution be?” I ask, trying to tamp down the thrum of excitement in my voice.
“Well, we were going to propose it when you came back to Solace Springs. But then you never came back.” Reese says, still not meeting my eye contact.
“No, I didn’t.” I say without the slightest intention of elaborating.
“Then you’ll have to watch and figure it out for yourself.”
I scoff and cross my arms as I sit back in my seat, shifting my focus to the screen. What in the hell is he getting at?
A man wearing only small black shorts and his thick 70s mustache steps into the room and starts to kiss the bleach-blonde star who is still sitting nude on the bed. It hits me that we’re actually about to watch a porn together. I open my mouth to make a joke about there being easier ways to ask if he should grow a mustache until another figure enters the picture. And then one more.
I gasp.
Three men and one woman.