Conflict of Interest （n.） – Scarlett
CONFLICT OF INTEREST (N.):
A SITUATION IN WHICH A PERSON HAS A DUTY TO MORE THAN ONE PERSON OR ORGANIZATION, BUT CANNOT DO JUSTICE TO THE ACTUAL OR POTENTIALLY ADVERSE INTERESTS OF BOTH PARTIES.
SCARLETT
The lights in the Hudson Performing Arts Theater are alight in a hazy blue that makes the stage look like it’s floating amidst the clouds.
Set up for an upcoming production of Catch Me If You Can, there’s a white prop plane “flying” at its center—marred with the words “DO NOT MOVE UNTIL SHOWTIME.”
Since they only hired me to do the painting of its wings and nothing else, I refuse to feel guilty for trespassing here after hours.
“Anytime now, Scarlett…” Jeneva snaps her fingers from the front row. “The judges aren’t going to give you this much grace on starting the audition, and you know it.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I clear my throat and take my position at center stage, right in front of the prop plane. “I’m ready now.”
“Goddamnit, Hannah. Why don’t you love me anymore?” She feeds me the male character’s lines. “Can’t you see how good we are together?”
“It’s you who doesn’t love me, Timothy,” I say. “And I…”
I suck in a breath as a wave of paralysis washes over me, rendering me useless.
Suddenly, my father is sitting in the front row, glaring at me and telling me that “things like this” are a waste of my time. My older brothers are behind him—shaking their heads in shame—while my mother looks embarrassed about my existence.
In the back row, Jameson is staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable.
My heart suddenly aches at the thought of him, at the idea that I can’t reach him anymore, that I’ve officially lost him in my life.
Then again, he made it perfectly clear that he no longer wanted to be in it, and as much as it hurt—I’ve started making moves to accept it.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I say to Jeneva, snapping out of the trance. “I think I need to focus on getting a stagehand job to stay afloat.”
“What?” She stands up. “Are you out of your mind?”
“It’s just going to be another bombed audition for me, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know that.” She steps onto the stage with me. “And neither do you.”
“When’s the last time I had a good one, Jeneva?” I shrug. “It’s not like I’ll be allowed to continue acting for much longer anyway, so…”
“So, you just give up? Just like that?”
“It’s not quitting. It’s changing course before I crash.”
“Look.” She places her hands on my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass, but you’re the best actress I’ve ever met. And believe it or not, most people in this program feel the same way.”
“Is that why they laugh whenever I fuck up?”
“Those laughs are them being relieved that they actually stand a chance, Scarlett…” She sighs. “You’re just going through a mental block.”
“It’s been going on for months.”
“Well, that tracks with all the stress you’ve been under, right?”
I nod, remembering that I’ve only told her half of the truth about my life as well.
“I’m sure that guy who came out of your room the other night has something to do with it, too?”
“What?” I blush. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“He was hot as fuck.” She smiles. “When are you going to introduce me to him?”
“Never.” A pang hits my chest. “It didn’t work out.”
“He cheated that soon?”
“He was a virginity thief who dumped me right after.”
Her smile fades. “Then you owe it to yourself to get over this hump…Plus we’ve already committed to breaking into this place all weekend, so—we need to make the most of it.”
That’s true…
“Let’s take a break and come back tomorrow at midnight?”
I don’t answer.
“Scarlett…Midnight tomorrow?”
“Okay, fine.” I shrug. “I’ll be here.”
“Can I trust you to work on your lines at least five times before I leave for work, or do I need to sit back down and watch?”
“You can trust me.” I hold out my hand. “I promise.”
She grabs it and pulls me in for a hug.
“You’re going to nail this one,” she whispers. “I have a good feeling about it.”
She finally lets me go, and I watch her pack up her backpack and slip through the side exit.
Sighing, I take my place at center stage and breathe in deeply before trying again.
“It’s you who doesn’t love me, Timothy,” I say. “And I’m tired of pretending like things will ever be good between us, like I’ll ever be happy.”
But you’ve never mentioned anything about being unhappy before…
“You never asked.” I say. “You were always too fucking busy to notice.”
So, this is MY fault?
“No.” I glare at the invisible man. “Honestly, this is my fault—”
“That’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Jameson’s voice comes from behind, catching me completely off guard and making me spin around.
What the… I can’t get a word to fall from my lips.
Despite his usual well-pressed black suit, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I resist the urge to step closer and ask why.
“What the hell are you doing here, Jameson?” I finally manage.
“To say thank you for sending me your necklace back.”
“A text message would’ve been more sufficient.” I step back. “But you’re welcome.”
“I also wanted to let you know that you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re a shining beacon of truth?”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything more than what I’ve told you,” he says. “In your case, though…If you told me the sun was yellow, I’d have to step outside and double-check.”
“Thank you for the additional insults.” I hate that tingles are running up and down my spine at the sight of him. “I’m busy rehearsing, so you can go back to working with your guilty ass clients.”
“Clients like your father?”
Silence.
“Tell me something, Scarlett,” he says, stepping close enough to touch me. “Answer it truthfully—for once—and I’ll leave you alone for good.”
“Fine.”
“So…” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips, looking deep into my eyes. “Given everything that’s happened, were you just using me to fuck the daddy issues out of you?”
WHAT? “I don’t have daddy issues.”
“Maybe not anymore.” His voice is terse. “Or, should I have fucked you a few more times for any lingering ones?”
I lift my hand and slap him across the face.
His eyes flash with fury and he steps back, but he doesn’t move to retaliate.
“I still want an answer for my question,” he says. “Are they out of you? Should I send you a bill for my services?”
“Get out before I call—”
“The police?” He arches a brow. “Are you planning to snitch on yourself for trespassing?”
Knowing he was right, I cross my arms and try my best to ignore the tears pricking my eyes.
“Leave, Jameson,” I say. “You’ve made your point, and…”
“And what?”
“I hate you.” I refuse to let him see me cry. “I fucking hate you, and I regret having sex with you.”
“Those feelings are mutual.” He looks me up and down. “I should’ve never let you back into my car that night.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”
“We are.”
“Then leave.”
“I will,” he says, stepping closer. “Right away.”
“The door is behind you.”
“I know that.”
“Obviously not since you’re not moving that way,” I say. “Do you need directions?”
“You’re the last person who should ever ask that.” He presses his forehead against mine.
“Get out, Jameson.” I demand. “I don’t want to spend another second around someone I hate.”
“You’re not going to.” He presses his lips against mine, and I suck in a breath as he kisses me long and hard.
I try to resist, to push him the hell away, but my body begs me to give in.
He gently pushes me backward until my back hits the side of the plane, and I shut my eyes as he deepens our kiss.
“No, I don’t think so.” He bites down on my bottom lip. “Look into my eyes while I fuck all this hate out of you.”
Defiant, I keep them closed, and he bites down harder on my mouth until I obey his demand.
I can feel his cock hardening through his pants, and I rub my hands against it.
He pulls a condom from his pocket and sets it on the wing. Then he pulls his cock out from his briefs, daring me to look away from him and down at what’s waiting for me.
“Spit on my dick.” His gaze is heated, impossible for me to ignore.
I bend down and spit on it, but then I take him deep into my throat without permission.
He grabs a fistful of my hair as I twirl my tongue around his tip, as I take a mouthful of what I’ve missed.
“Fuck…” He groans and gently pushes my head away. “Push up that goddamn dress.”
I do as I’m told, folding the fabric up to my stomach.
Rolling the condom on, he lifts up my left leg and slides into me all at once, filling me with bliss.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he glares at me with every stroke.
“Fuck you,” I breathe. “Fuck. You.”
“You don’t mean that.” He squeezes my ass with his other hand, punishing me with an even harder rhythm. “Say you don’t fucking mean that.”
“Yes…”
“Yes?” He smirks, pushing me further to the edge.
This level of pleasure is still too new and unfamiliar, and I can’t hold on long at all.
I dig my nails into his skin, trying to outlast him, but my pussy waves the white flag before my mind does.
“Oh God, Jameson…” I fall back against the plane, but he holds me taut, preventing me from falling.
He stares into my eyes as he thrusts into me again and again, until he suddenly stiffens and groans my name.
I’m not sure how long we stand there together, but the next thing I feel is him slowly pulling out of me.
He adjusts his pants and takes my birthday necklace from his pocket.
“Don’t take this off again.” He clasps it around my neck. “I gave it to you for a reason.”
“And I have it back for a reason…”
His lips curve into a small smile but he doesn’t let it stay.
“I need some time to think about this,” he says, smoothing my dress. “Do you understand that?”
“Not really…”
“What part are you having trouble with?”
“My father shouldn’t be a factor between us.”
“If you’d told me about him earlier, he wouldn’t be.” He pauses. “That doesn’t erase the other issues and other things in my life right now, though.”
“So, this is about timing?”
“Yes.” He brushes stray hairs away from my forehead. “If I’d met you months later, under different circumstances, things might be different.”
“How much time do you need?” I ask. “Or is this indefinite?”
“I’m not sure,” he admits. “A while, though.”
“Days? Weeks?”
“A while, Scarlett…”
“Can you stay the night with me then?”
“In your dorm room?”
“Unless you want to take me back to your place…”
He serves me a blank stare.
“My room works,” I say. “But I have costumes on my desk so, you won’t be able to sit in the chair. Oh, and—”
He presses his finger against my lips before I can finish.
“We can go to my place,” he says. “But I have court in the morning, and I’ll be dropping you off back on campus an hour after sunrise.”
“Okay.”
“Okay…” He grabs my hand and leads me out of the theater.