Helpless (16 page)

Read Helpless Online

Authors: H. Ward

BOOK: Helpless
5.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Chapter 12:
The Date

 

John settles me into the passenger seat.  I don’t think I have ever had to jump into a vehicle before.  Thank god the seats are black and not yellow, I don’t think I could stand nothing but yellow all around me.  I strap in for the ride.  He pats me on the bare knee.  

             
“Hold on sweetie, this might be a bumpy ride.” 

             
He smirks at me.  Now that is weird smirk.  This fool is all smiles and now a smart-assed smirk?  Now that I think of it, having a place all rented out is not going to be as fun as I thought.  Not because of Mr. Smilie here, but because there will only be the waiters.  No one else there to watch.  No one else there to give me admiring stares because I am so beautiful. 

             
I am just about to reach into my L.V. bag to pull out two boosters to take care of the boredom looming ahead when John reaches down to a cup holder and lifts up a fancy travel mug. 

             
“Drink to get us started?”

             
“Don’t mind if I do.”  I reach over and sip it.  It is syrupy sweet and red.  “What is this?”

             
“Don’t you like it?”

             
“It’s fine, just too sweet.  I’ve never had it before.”

             
“My own mix.”  Another smirk.  I don’t even know why he is smirking, but I have an urge to smack it off his face. 

             
John reaches forward and pushes the radio to life.  Some heavy metal screaming comes from the speakers.  Really?  A rich, upper-class guy is blasting this with
me
in the car?  It is loud and annoying.

             
“Can you turn that down or off?”             

             
He is looking straight forward and driving like he never heard me.

             
“Yo, John; that could give me a headache.  I know you don’t want me to have a headache.”  I smile sweetly.  If this guy is planning to get any from me, then he will realize his mistake and turn that noise down at once.

             
Instead he glances at my out of the corner of his eye.  “Oh, I’m pretty sure you will have a headache anyway.”  Smirk.

             
I am puzzled.  This is not how men treat me.  They fawn all over me.  I’m a supermodel.  I’m a drop-dead gorgeous red-head.  I always get what I want.  I frown.  I start to turn in my seat to face him.

             
Suddenly I can feel the seatbelt holding me.  It has not tightened up or anything, I am just sensitive to it, can feel the whole length of it.  My eyes feel a little dry and I blink them.  My brain is going foggy and I find I don’t really care about the music at all anymore.  My whole body feels a litter heavier.  Like someone turned up the gravity on earth.

             
“Feeling better now, sweetie?”

             
“Mummph,” I mumble.

             
“Yes, I thought you would see it my way.”  Smirk.

             
We drive a little, I have a stupid grin on my face.  John must not be able to not brag and it is killing him, he soon breaks the silence.

             
“Like I said, my own little mix.  It makes you…agreeable.  Now we are really going to have a private party.  I’ll show you how I treat stuck-up bitches like you.”

             
Something registered that he was not being kind, but my foggy brain could just not compute what was going on.  John must have seen me struggling to think about what he just said.

             
“Sorry, you need something you can do for my mix to work best.  So listen up now.  I want you to walk along with me from the Hummer to the building we are pulling up in front of.  Understand?”

             
“Walk wid chew.”  I smile and nod.

             
“Good girl.  Sit there until I come around to help you out.”

             
“Sit.”  I nod.

             
We pull up in front of a high rise building.  Definitely not a restaurant.  Not anywhere near the Sky Deck he said he rented out just for us for the whole night.  This high rise is a little dingy.  Not up to my standards.  I’m not going to want to touch anything.

             
John fairly bounces around the front of the massive gas guzzler.  He is smiling and actually whistling.  He opens my door.  I lean out toward him.  He props me up and reaches in to unlatch my seatbelt.  I feel him squeeze my breast as he backs out.  Now I have a frown on my face again.  I am too foggy to react like a normal person, but nobody gets to squeeze my boob without putting in the time and money first.  I am frowning only because this is just not the way things should go.

             
John has me lean on him as I slither out of the high seat I am in and into his arms.  “You are going to walk to the door with me like a good girl, aren’t you?”             

             
“Um hum.”

             
We start to move.  I’m sure to the few people looking on this looks like a couple where the girl has just had a few too many.  But at least I am still frowning, trying to puzzle out the boob grab.  And bless my Manolos – the high thin heels slide right into a crack in the sidewalk a few paces away from the grubby door and I fall down.  The movement of my trip must have been too sudden for John to get a good enough gripe to hold me up.

             
A few people come over to help me to my feet.  I try to waive them away. 

             
“Thanks but I’ve got her.  She just had too much to drink and we just need to get up to our apartment now.”

             
“Don’t live in this dirty place,” I declare.  My brain may be fogged, but I’ve got twenty years of pursuing perfection.  This building is seedy and run down.  Even drugged I don’t want to go in and touch anything in there.

             
“Want to go back to hotel now.”

             
That was enough to cause the people who rushed over to help my beautiful self begin look strangely at John.  Now instead of waiving one away, I reach out a pretty little white hand and grab an arm.  The guy puts his hand over my hand and moves closer to me. 

             
“I have a feeling this is not your girlfriend.”  The stranger squares up with John.  The other two move until all three are kind of in a line facing John. 

             
“That’s right.  Now let me get her inside and get her some coffee.”

             
“Don’t like your special drinks, wanna my hotel.”

             
Not too elegant as speeches go, but the point seemed to get across to the strangers and John knew he had lost.  He stomped back to his Hummer and squealed tires as he sped off.

             
“What’s your name?”

             
“Natalie.”  I’m still under the influence of that drink and happy to be helpful.

             
“What hotel are you staying at?”

             
“Pan Sific.  Pific.”

             
“The Pan Pacific in downtown?”

             
I smile.

             
The people have a discussion between themselves as to should they get a cab for me, go with me, or even take me to the local hospital.   At the mention of hospital I get agitated so they promise not to take me.  What they actual do is take me to a small café and get me some coffee, ice water and a scone.  They figured the scone would soak up anything in my stomach and they could watch to see if I was going to get worse and have to go to a hospital, or a little better and they could ride with me in a cab to the hotel.

             
All I said for a while was, “Fattening,” as I nibbled the scone.  But I ate it all and drank my coffee and water.  I was a little better.  I insisted that I could take a cab by myself, but they all three piled in with me and walked me to the front desk and made sure a few hotel staff members were surrounding me before they left.

             
I was helped to my room and collapsed on my bed.  I fell immediately into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

              I missed my shoot start time in the morning.  I woke up to the harsh ring of my hotel phone.  Aldo was frantic.  I just never was late for my job.  I slurred that I was fine, I was just running late and to hold the car downstairs until I could get it together.  Aldo insisted on talking with me until he heard the shower run and made me promise to call him when I get in the car.  What a mess. 

             
I take a barely warm shower so I can jumpstart myself awake.  Then I toss on my clothes and just tie my hair back in 4 ponytail loops so it looks put together and the wardrobe people can take care of me.  I am actually horrified that I am keeping my crew waiting.  I am a Diva, but I never do the late thing.  For some reason that is my one trademark and I am proud of it. 

             
My head is still a little fuzzy as I check in with Aldo.  I tell him it was something I ate, that I am actually not feeling 100% but can do the shoot.  I tell him I feel so bad for being late and ask if he can arrange for a smashing lunch to be delivered and maybe some small presents for the crew.   To make up for the time they are just standing around waiting for me and to do damage control, like my dad does.  Keep them happy and they won’t complain to the media.

             
This was one little slip and I don’t want the word to get out. 

             
As I am standing in wardrobe getting a little foundation sprayed on and waiting for my makeup to set, I realize how close I came to being raped or even murdered last night.  I almost cry and the girl doing the spraying notices.

             
“Ms. Collins, are you alright?  Can I get you anything?”

             
“Oh, sorry, it was just something I ate last night; and I feel bad I overslept and kept you all waiting.”  I lie, I mean, I can’t tell this girl I’ve never seen before that it is hitting me just how close I came to something disgusting and violent last night.

             
My throat constricts.  “Can you get me some chipped ice to suck on?   That should coat my stomach.”  I remember how they really did help during those times my mother would starve me.   My body jumps at the casual way my brain just threw that at me!  What about suppressing those memories?   That’s how I operate.  I’m not supposed to remember anything from those dark days.

             
Last night must have weakened my brain barriers.  I don’t like it.  I don’t want to think about Maya and those years of torture.  I shake my head and reach out for my ice chips.

             
“Am I almost ready?  I want to get in front of the camera as soon as I can so we can get caught up.”  I lie again.  I want in front of the camera so I can start to pose and smile and do my job and keep any more memories from ambushing me like that last one.

             
I manage to push any childhood memories away as I stroll out in front of the crew.  I operate on automatic for well over an hour.  We are taking a break for a scene update and I am sitting in a lounge chair sipping on some pineapple mix.  My brain reminds me of what almost happened to me last night.  Then it flashes to Jason treating me so well and setting up that private capsule in the giant Ferris Wheel.  It is like night and day. 

             
Unbidden, my thoughts plow forward.  There is no way Jason could ever be the kind of scummy man who would take advantage of a woman like whatever John had planned for me.  But he did, didn’t he?  In a different way?  But no, he tried not to have sex with me at first.  He tried to keep it friendly.  Is it possible he really did fall in love with me?  No, he was doing it for the money, to get his career started.  I know deep down I have too many problems for a normal guy like Jason to love me. 

             
I fuss, I cross my legs.  Then I can hear my mother’s voice yelling at me to uncross my legs so I don’t get varicose veins or any marks that others can see.  Unconsciously I uncross my legs.

             
I try to push everything from my mind and get back to work. 

 

Chapter 13: The Holidays

 

I’m back in London.  My place is quiet.  I pop a booster and walk out onto the terrace.  I think how I always come out here to look down and feel the open space and watch the bustle of people when I am feeling restless. 

             
I think back to my time with Jason.  He took the restlessness away.  Could that all have been fake?  I realize I have an actual longing inside me now.  Before I lived my life, but had no joy.  When I finally learned how to feel joy, something went terribly wrong.  I countered that with anger and shutting myself off from feelings again.  That lasted for a little while. 

Other books

Murder Fir Christmas by Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene
6: Broken Fortress by Ginn Hale
Betrayed by Christopher Dinsdale
I Am Scout by Charles J. Shields
Recoil by Joanne Macgregor
Looking for Mr. Good Witch by Joyce and Jim Lavene