Good job, bitch.
He seemed amused with me, when his critical expression dampened into a slick smile. Something about him felt vicious and unlike anyone I have ever met. Boston’s night life could get sketchy, but this guy made me uneasy, not just creeped out.
Hunter’s face was riddled with silent warnings that I wasn’t heeding. He was calm until it came to me. I was a risk.
“Well, Brittany, estás en tu casa. Why don't you get to know the girls? Hunter and I have business.”
He never introduced himself, and it didn't go unnoticed. He put his hand at Hunter’s back, leading him out of the room, out of eyesight, and I couldn't stop looking in the direction they went, like I would develop x-ray vision. I finally gave up when I heard a door close.
A door closed, but a pretty big fucking window opened me up to so much anxiety.
Maria was a beautiful woman that didn't have a hair out of place, and her tan was exactly what my self-tanner promised. Yet it wasn't even close to her natural bronze that I now envied.
Her voice was like a song, fluid and drawing me in: “Why don't I introduce you to the girls?” I had to remind myself I wasn’t Addi right now. I was playing a part, and my worry for Hunter needed to be pushed down further, otherwise the tears I bit back would be creating streaks in my foundation.
Her hand landed on my forearm, rubbing it gently with the tips of her fingers. “Stop worrying, mija. He's very good at what he does, and Hector only wants to give him more responsibility. This will be good for everyone.”
She sounded as rehearsed as I should have been. She said the words like it was something she said to everyone who wore a panicked look. I didn't believe a word.
Try harder, bitch. I'm a theater major who grew up not believing my own parents loved me.
At least she was dumb enough to name the guy in charge: Hector. It rolled off the tongue with more ease than his personality was to swallow.
The girls lounging around all seemed docile, like they needed to cover up any emotion. One girl looked like she was sampling the products too often. Her legs were limp, and her fingers curled lazily around the champagne flute as her head was sinking down. My eyebrows drew together as I looked at her, and Maria responded to another expression, like a mind reader.
“That's Jaclyn. She's new, getting her legs. Don't mind her.”
With her fingers still around my forearm, she tugged me down to sit next to her. It was gonna be hard to not mind Jaclyn when she looked like she was going to pass out any minute.
“Girls, this is Brittany. She's our guest tonight.”
I'm glad she was clear on what I was, “guest,” not someone staying longer than a few hours.
Another girl, with a short brunette blunt cut and bangs, sat forward, rummaging through her top until she pulled out a vile and waved it in the air. “Brittany, do you...?” Her voice trailed off, hoping I'd get it without having to say it.
I felt my voice get stuck in my throat. Method acting was a bitch when you have to battle your own moral compass at the same time. I quickly ran through my master list, searching for a bullet point that read: Try drugs in LA with sketchy women provocatively dressed.
Besides trying some Molly at a senior party, while I was still in high school, I shaped my master list around chasing feelings instead. I wanted to experience every feeling my parents disbanded from entering their home, but here I was, confronted with playing the role of a drug dealer’s girlfriend or being myself. Myself almost never won, hence the ambition to be an actress.
“I only sample Hunter’s merch.”
Maria and the still unnamed girl laughed together, like I was missing something. I felt my eyebrows wrinkle at them, waiting for the punchline of a joke when Maria touched my leg, “It’s all Hector’s merchandise, mija. Hunter is just one of his boys.”
I sculled myself for not studying my character enough. I knew the lines, but that was half the battle. I needed the backstory, the details, the things Hunter wasn’t sharing with me.
He was holding back in every aspect when it came to me. I couldn’t blame him. How easy could it be to love someone when their own parents couldn’t bring themselves to even fake it for eighteen years? I wasn’t throwing a pity party. I detached myself from them enough to numb those parts of me, except when they made demands centered around Liz. Then my walls cracked just enough for the insecurity to creep in.
Now it just felt like a fact: I was going to love myself better than anyone else could, and that was that.
Mister was on my master list, when really he was just the safe bet when I needed to stretch my inch.
“It’s a couple’s thing. We only trip together.” I pushed my long platinum hair over my shoulder with a snide look on my face, resembling how much they wouldn’t understand. I was praying all my acting classes paid off when I needed it to the most.
The girls seemed satisfied with my answer when the girl with the blunt cut wrapped her nostrils around the glass and sniffed up an unmeasured amount.
Is that how Jaclyn got to be an overused rag-doll?
Hunter had perfect timing when I heard footsteps, and my head snapped in their direction too eagerly. He looked untouched, except his suit jacket was thrown over his shoulder and his sleeves were messily rolled up now.
You watch too many movies, bitch. This isn’t Scarface.
I heard Brittany’s bubbly voice in my head mock me for being so nervous. Hunter could hold his own and me loving him secretly wasn’t going to save him. I finally took a deep breath and kept my placid smile in place when our eyes met. He stopped walking, taking inventory of me, just like I was of him. Both enacted the same as we came.
Standing up, I walked over to him, ignoring where I was, who was around, and all the risk closing in on our every moment. I strutted like myself, shedding Brittany altogether. Around him, it was hard to maintain anything but authenticity. He demanded it from everyone around him. Be yourself, or don’t be around him. I stopped right in front of him when he tossed his jacket on a bar stool before teasing me with not holding back, but all he did was keep staring at me.
My voice barely pushed the words out of my throat, “Are you okay?”
The sly smirk crept up his face; he was pleased to know I cared. It solidified my actions from earlier with proof. Another thing Hunter demanded of people: He wanted proof of almost everything. Now he had it. It wasn’t just me under him begging for more; now he could see every worry and panic float to my surface, pushing past my self-tan.
His hands slid against my face, not stopping until I could feel his fingertips at the back of my neck when he pulled my face closer to his. Everything in me fluttered with so much force that I still felt as uneasy as I did waiting for him to reappear. My lips brushed his slightly, teasingly in a way I knew he hated. He hated the buildup, the foreplay, the beginning parts of love… He wanted proof, authenticity, and permanence.
I was ready to meet every demand the day in the alleyway when I met him. He shook everything about me into a place I never thought I’d be: loved.
I plucked the joint from his fingers and took a long inhale until my lungs burned. I released the smoke into the alleyway. His features were scrunched up in surprise that I even existed.
Same thoughts exactly, pal.
“I didn’t know she had a sister.”