Chapter Ten- Table Read

There is no one else for me. I begin and end with you. ~ Samantha Towle~ Lia I have had so many auditions in the last couple of years to make me want to give up this ever-present dream of being an actor. To have had the temerity to persist every time I wasn't picked was one of the things im proud of about myself. Right now, I was on the threshold of fulfilling this lifelong dream; the sound of Serena on the speaker's phone directing me on what to wear was weaved in that dream. The many times we stayed up at night planning out how our passions could be entwined were about to manifest. I would be a famous actress, and she would be a household name in the fashion industry, and she would be my own personal stylist. Considering how often she has picked out my outfit over the years, it's fair to say she will do a great job. "Jeans? Are you sure, S?" I was hesitant; it was my first meeting with the team of Children of Blood and Oli. I wanted to make a good impression. "Trust me." She said convincingly. "I want you to look beautiful, elusive, and untouched like.." "We both know I've been touched." I drawled, cutting her off. Serena burst out laughing, a knowing laugh that reminded me how much she knew about Luc and me. "Yeah, you don't have to remind me; I know a looot" she dragged that last word for effect. "Lucky for you, nobody knows that." "Why do I need to look untouched anyway? This is Hollywood; showing skin is not a big deal." I argued, going through my many pair of jeans to pick out the best, though they all looked great, beautiful, new. "First impressions matter. I want them to wonder about you. I want them to be curious about who you are. The only way to do that right now is by how you dress. It's Hollywood; they expect you to wear something perhaps scanty sexy. I want you to wear modest but sexy. Wear blue high-waist ripped jeans, a loose-fitting white shirt, tuck in one side, brown ankle boots, and the watch Zion bought you for your sixteenth birthday." That had me j******f from putting the outfit together on top of the bed, "it's crap. Have you forgotten how it looks" She chuckled. I could imagine her seated on top of her bed, legs beneath her, doodling the outfit on her pad to see what I would look like. "That's the idea. Don't let them know how much you're worth. Right now, no one in the business knows you come from money; wearing a designer watch makes a statement you're either rich or a wannabe." I sighed out loud. She was right, of course. Serene thinks of everything. If it were left to me, I would have worn the watch mom bought me in the same year Zion bought me this outrageous fake piece. "I'm nervous, S," I tell her while oiling my body. "I know. I would be worried if you weren't," she says in a small voice. I wear my black panties, a matching b*a before dressing as per Serena's directive. "Wear your hair down." I look at my image in the big mirror on the wall, my hair flowing past my shoulders, my face bare of makeup staring back at me. I don't look so bad, I tell myself, pulling up my jeans. But then I stare at my boobs; they're still so small. I remember how much I would will them to fill up my b*a; they never did, though to my satisfaction, and perhaps vanity, I have caught Luca staring at them like he was ravenous on numerous occasions. When I'm done, I look at my image again. I think I see what Serena referred to as untouched. I can't explain it exactly, but I do understand the look she was going for with my lips in light pink gloss, a little skincare that leaves my skin relatively shiny and healthy. "Send me a picture." her voice sounds like an order, which I later concede to as I leave my room with Serena still on the phone to get Luc's opinion on my outfit. We haven't talked about me offering to have s*x with him. But our interaction is not awkward at all; we are still good housemates, great friends; however, there is still s****l tension scorching every time we are near each other, which often leaves me wanting to jump him. He is waiting for me to go to him; I can feel it. If only he knew I had been planning our physical relationship for a while, he would jump me too. I get why he was uncertain of my motives. He didn't want me to regret it afterward or, worse, blame him. "Luc, " I called. I heard a chair scraping on the kitchen floor before I saw him stand against the door, hands across his chest, watching me walk toward him. His eyes showed none of his emotions; Luc was an expert at hiding emotions; it was like he went through a course to attain that nonchalant glance our fathers get every time they're in a business meeting. I have been in some of them since I was little in my father's office at Pulse. "How do I look?" I stand before him with my hands stretched, phone in hand, knowing Serena was waiting for the answer as much as I was. "Beautiful," he says in a husky tone. "Just beautiful ?" Serena grates with annoyance. Luca jerks his head up in a questioning glare. I shrug, grateful that he had not said anything suggestive because Serena wouldn't have let me live it down. He doesn't say anything for a while; his gaze, however, tells a lot as he roams his eyes on me from top to bottom and then again until my insides are quivering. He knows it, too, because I spot a gleam in this gaze. "You look gorgeous..." he trails off in a deliberate pause, " like innocence wrapped up in a modest, sexy outfit." Serena howled, clapping, "that is exactly the look I was going for." "Thank you, S," I tell her; she grumbles a little, wanting to remain on so she can hear whatever Luc would say next. I don't want her to hear it. I want to be the only one that hears it, even though I would probably end up telling her some of it. Ending the call with a promise to call her immediately after the table read, I slid the phone into the back pocket, then returned my eyes to Luc. He is still standing in the same spot, his stance the same too, but there is a change in his eyes. They look lustful. My breathing ragged, my chest rising and falling haphazardly. I can't control it when he stares at me like I'm delicious, which he says I am. He doesn't say anything for a while. I don't say anything either; I take a few steps until I'm standing in front of him, our fronts almost touching. With my breathing still rapid, I raise my hand to cup the side of his face. He closes his eyes as if shutting me from whatever my touch was doing to him. Seconds later, while caressing his stubble, they flutter open. I can read them—the l**t, the need. I wonder if mine have the same look. Standing on my tiptoe, I kiss his lips. I hear him whimper, but he doesn't take any initiative to kiss me back even though I know he wants to. "You said I would have to kiss you first if I wanted you to kiss me again," I whisper, my gaze on his, hands awkwardly placed on his arms still across his chest. He hasn't said anything yet. I'm beginning to feel irritated because I didn't have much experience with seduction, unlike him. That thought pushes me to full-on anger knowing a bunch of women knew how he felt inside of them while I lived with his memory at fourteen years. I turn to walk out on him, but he holds my hand. I move around to face him, then he wraps his arms around my waist, hoisting me against the wall before dropping his lips on mine for a soft kiss. "They will want you." He whispered; I chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his body on mine. There is something to be said about a woman's body pressed against the body of the man she loved, and I did love Luc. I never stopped. "Who is they?" I sound cocky. He glares at me, letting me slide off his body until my feet are on the floor. "The men around that table." He grunts, pulling me to him, my a*s pressed into him, feeling his erection. He knows I can feel him because he draws me closer, too close. I almost feel it as if it wasn't inside his grey sweatpants. "I will ask whether they want to have s*x with me." I taunt. He whips me around, fuming, looking down at me in righteous anger. I want to laugh, but I don't. "What?" His voice is calm, way too calm to make me cautious. I shrug, " you turned down my offer, remember?" I bite my lip, holding down a chuckle. He wouldn't like me laughing at his expense, but it was great knowing he was jealous of me. I never had a guy jealous of me; that it would be Luc kind of gave me a little power. "Don't mess with me, Lia." How could I not? He was all big and territorial. I put my lips on his cheek, "don't worry, you're the only one I want to fuck." His scowl is so sudden I burst out laughing, rushing out of his arms to return to my bedroom for my purse. My body is literally vibrating at the idea of Luc and I finally having s*x. But first, I put that in one of the compartments in my brain because I needed to focus on what was about to happen. I picked up my small black purse. I pulled out the phone from the back pocket of my jeans and slid it into the bag, keys, and wallet, then ran down the stairs. Luca is at the door waiting; he pulls me into his arms again, kissing me in front of Dev and Matteo. They gawk. Little hypocrites. I know they knew of our relationship; they were best friends. Whatever one knew, the other must. Matteo knew or suspected Luc and me were more than friends. I should feel embarrassed with the way I kiss him back. I'm not. I know why he did it, though; it was to tell me that if I chose to have a physical relationship with him, the people around us would know of it, especially our bodyguards. "See you later," I whisper, gently wiping lip gloss from his lips. He nodes and I step from his embrace with my eyes still on him before I sprint off to the car parked in the driveway. "Break a leg." I hear him say. I don't turn around nor say anything; however, I give him a small wave as acknowledgment. I lean back in my seat at the back of the car, remembering I had left the script. "Dev, wait," I shout, already panicking. How could I forget the most important thing? Was this a sign that I would fail? What if I mess up, and they write me off for incompetence? "I left the script." Dev doesn't turn around; we drive in reverse. Luca jumps in front, holding up the booklet that was my script. I love this boy. I thought, holding down the button to open the window. He leans across it, placing it on my lap, giving me a smooch before smacking the car for Dev to drive off. I can feel Dev watching me from the rearview mirror. "What?" I ask, opening the script. I get a giddy feeling again. "Nothing," he says. I don't press him. I don't want to talk about Luc, and at the moment, my head is heavily invested in my next appointment. Oh my God! I murmured to myself when I entered the room with a round table. Everyone seated looks at me; I smile shyly, tightening my grasp around the handbag to keep my fingers from trembling. I have been in situations in my life where ordinary people would have peed themselves out of fear. I didn't. Not because I'm better than most, but because I was raised knowing danger, death, and crime were in my veins as much as blood. This room intimidated me more than the first time I held a real g*n while hunting with Luc, my dad, and my uncles. I recognized almost everyone in the room except some writers, studio executives, and others unknown to the public. The show's main cast was already there except one—Trixie Goldberg. She was the second female lead. Her character was my favorite —sassy, witty, beautiful, and intelligent. There have been rumors she is struggling with d**g addiction and that the show was contemplating firing her. It was sad; I felt sorry for her; this show had made the cast so popular; I knew movie directors and producers would go for some of them based on their popularity when the show breaks or ends. "Good morning," my voice sounds squeaky, and I hate that I may come off as unsure to this room of very successful people. Fortunately for me, they seem to get it because they smile, answering my greetings with lively laughter. The show's director, a woman, and one of my role models—Camille Díaz lifts her head a little to fix her eyes on me. They're brown; her brows are every girl's dream, thick, trimmed to perfection. She looks at me as if she is trying to figure me out; I look back, willing myself not to cave under her stare; I do, averting my gaze to walk inside the room, squirming until I get to the unoccupied seat near the door. "Sit by me, Lia," Camille says when I sit down. I get up immediately, my lap forcefully hitting the table, making the water bottles shake. I want to hide my face from the embarrassment I feel especially knowing my face is as red as my hair. "Don't be nervous," Camille tells me. How could I not when I'm this messy? But I nod my head, sitting on the chair she is holding out for me. "Thank you," I murmured, placing my bag on my lap. I can feel myself breathing, and I swear everyone around the table can too. I look up, and my eyes meet with Maxwell Vanderbilt—the show's male lead. He is also from one of the wealthiest families in America. He is tall, with everything a well-built man could possibly have; his face, however, is what has me staring. His high cheekbones, a strong jawline, stubble that must be shaved every morning to attain the rough yet shiny feel, hazel eyes, and full, lightly red lips that I'm not sure are natural or from a lip gloss. He is a beautiful man. I understand why every female under sixty has been swooning over him since the show began. "Welcome to the show, Lia," Patrick Pearson tells me. He is the producer. He is a middle-aged man with thick black hair and brown eyes, like Camille's. "Thank you." This time my voice sounds confident, and I'm so proud of myself that I can't stop smiling at him. I sat there as if I was finally playing with the big boys. I had two scenes; I vowed to wow these people to want to recommend me. This is how careers are made, rubbing shoulders with influential people in an industry, making sure you do your best to leave an impression. After around ten minutes, everyone had arrived, but we waited for another thirty for Trixie. She walked into the room in dark sunglasses, a pink mini skirt with a slit on the side, Black velvet almond toe Manolo pumps, a black bomber jacket, and a chain shoulder bag. She was beautiful in person, but I got the sense she was a horrible person. I wasn't wrong. She acted as if she was the boss; I didn't understand why everyone put up with her; perhaps it was easier than to keep arguing or quarreling over mundane issues like why there were no caramel toffees—her favorite sweets. Once everyone was seated, it was time for an introduction. Everyone said their name and job When we began to read, I felt butterflies in my stomach, not the kind that dissolves, the type that swims around. My character was the new girl running into the solid back of the popular boy in school—Maxwell, aka Adam McKenzie. We have a moment where I awkwardly apologize while carrying books in my hands and a heavy backpack. I'm a nerd. I so love the character. What I don't understand is why the show introduced a new character to interact with the male lead for only two scenes. I don't think much of it because Maxwell and I look into each other's eyes while I murmur sorry under my breath, to which we are met with applause. "That was perfect, Lia," Camille says, Patrick agrees, and I'm inwardly beaming at their approval while Maxwell peers at me in a look I don't understand. I couldn't wait to start filming. I'm radiating inside and out when Camille holds my hand. She is telling me how much she loves my voice. I tell her how much I love her work. She laughs, not shyly as I did; I guess she gets compliments like that often; she laughs in an obvious manner. I feel like I'm walking on air when I emerge from the room to the car park, where I find Dev waiting for me. I grin, hopping toward him with the excitement of a little girl. My next appointment of the day is with Dr. Rife, the gynecologist, to assist me in getting birth control. She turned out to be different from what I expected. She is young, tall, slender, with a curly bob. "You must be Lia," I nod, sitting on the seat beside her desk. "Dr. Orsini told about you." she has an inviting smile, a personality that invites someone to trust her. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," I say. Starting to feel anxious about the reason I was in her office, to begin with. She raises her hand as if to say it isn't a big deal. Dr. Rife takes me through various contraceptives. I'm nervous and afraid; she tells me there is nothing to be worried about; women have been using birth control for years. I laugh awkwardly, and she throws me an understanding look, and I think I cannot like her more than I already do. She is patient. The way she takes time to explain every option in detail answers my questions, which include gaining weight from hormonal imbalance. "It's possible, but it's temporally. Also, it wouldn't be so much if you do gain; it will shed off pretty soon." I nod. "I want the injection. I'm afraid I might forget to take the pill." "Smart choice. It's important to understand ourselves and our bodies when making such decisions." I feel a pinch when I get the injection, but I bite my lips to keep from gasping from pain. I've always hated needles, but I know this one will be worth it. "See you in eight weeks." "Thank you," I tell Dr. Rife as I pull down the arms of my shirt. After my appointment, I leave the hospital, eager to see Luc again. This will be our first night in what I was hoping would be a series of them. It's almost four in the evening when Dev and I are driving home. He is chattering nonstop about him and Matteo discovering hidden gems, which I know is a euphemism for strip joints with what Luc tells me offers happy endings. I run into the house immediately Dev stops the car. Luca is by the window watching me. I run into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck. "I loved every minute of it," I whisper; he leans over me with arms on my waist. I feel small wrapped around him like this; he is so big and alive, his soft breathing skimming my cheek. "Luc," there is urgency in my voice. "Yes, " he answers, caution in his. I can tell he knows what I'm about to say to him. "Take me to bed." "Lia..." he calls, sounding like he doesn't have the energy to fight me or have this conversation. "Don't worry about anything. I'm on birth control." I'm immediately grabbed from his arms, his hands tightly on my shoulders, glaring at me in shock. "What? Why?" "Because I want to have a physical relationship with you, Luc. I told you this days ago." "I thought it was because of the excitement. The need for release, happens more often than you think." "I'm sure. I was planning it before my Agent called me." He smiles, then laughs, sighing with relief. And then he touched my lips gently with his. I want more, so I cling; unfortunately, he lifts his head, disappointing me. "Take me to bed, Luc." "Who says the bed is the only place I can have you?" He drawls minutes before he scoops me up. I giggle, hiding my face in his chest, a little embarrassed that I was about to be n***d with him. I know we did this when we were fourteen, but that was a decade ago, my body has changed for the better, but still, that doesn't make it less embarrassing. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, placing me on the dining table. I nod, feeling his erection when he stands between my legs. He stares at me. His green eyes darken the more he looks at me. I can feel my body throbbing, my fingers shaking. I watch him take out his phone; I don't say anything; I'm not sure I can because I'm afraid I might fumble through my speech. "Where are you?" I don't know who he is talking to, but I see him grin a second before he hangs up. "It's you and me now, Lia." He tells me. I figure he was either talking to Matteo or Dev. We had the house to ourselves without worrying about someone walking on us. But what if our parents were to walk in on us? I don't think much of it because Luca kisses my neck, slowly unbuttoning my shirt; I tremble when his fingers skim against my skin. He removes my shirt and whispers, "lie back." I do, lying on the table like a pagan sacrifice, his gaze never leaving mine. I'm breathing heavily, and I want to close my eyes because I don't think I have the energy to keep them open. I shut them when he puts his mouth on my n****e over the lace, moaning, wondering whether that sound came from me. He teases my n*****s for a while, then drops his mouth on my stomach while unclasping my b*a. I feel a breeze like a caress, which hardens my n*****s more, but his mouth makes me whimper. Leaning over me, he rolls his tongue in one of my n*****s, then sucks it deep I swear my body feels as if it's no longer mine. It was his. I feel a million sensations as his tongue trails my body. He is torturing me; I can feel it. The way the tip of his tongue touches me slightly before dipping his whole mouth into my n****e, his other hand cupping the other breast squeezing it and caressing it almost at the same time. I'm whimpering, moaning at this delicious t*****e, knowing whatever he was doing was too much, yet not enough. My legs shake, trying to cross them to stop it, it perhaps chasing the throbbing feeling between my legs. I cry with relief when his hands reach the waist of my jeans. "Lift your a*s a little," I know he is telling me, but I have no strength to do as he says; I'm emotionally and physically gone I have no power over my body. I'm also embarrassingly wet, so drenched it feels like I have peed on myself. "Lia," he breathes. I shake my head, "I don't think I can," I tell him, and Luca must be the devil himself because he cups my p***y over my jeans, rubbing his hands over it slowly, and then quickly that I j******f the table, turning my body on the side, moaning like I was in pain. I'm never going to trust my body again, not with Luc. It will always choose him over me.