Breaking Hollywood(86)
“Yeah.” I meet her eyes. “Just feeling…violated, I guess.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I need a smoke.”
I glance up at Gabe. I can see the frustration etched into his forehead, his jaw clenched so hard that it might shatter.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be out on the terrace.”
I watch him walk out onto the terrace. He leans against the railing and lights up a cigarette.
“He’s feeling helpless,” Vaughn says to me. “I know that’s how I’d be feeling right now, and if there’s one thing a man hates, it’s feeling helpless. If someone had done that to Charly and me…recorded us doing…well, fuck. Put it this way, I’d want to tear the fucker apart with my bare hands.”
“I should go talk to him,” I tell them.
“I’m going to make some drinks.” Charly gets up from the sofa. “I think we could all do with a little something strong right now.”
Leaving the living room, I go outside to Gabe. I can see how tense he is. His shoulders rigid. His body taut with anger and frustration.
“Hey,” I say in a quiet voice. I rest my arm on the railing, standing next to him, and stare out at the sky. “You okay?”
“No.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks the ash off the end. “I want to kill Digby. I want to get in my car, drive to his house, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. And I would never hit a woman.” His eyes come to mine. “Never. But that bitch…”
“I know.” I put my hand on his arm. “I want to kick her ass, too. But getting angry isn’t going to change anything.”
“I can’t help it.” He grinds his teeth, working his jaw. “Having sex with you…making love to you, it was the first time in my life that sex actually meant anything to me. And, now, they’ve fucking cheapened it.” He takes a pull on his smoke, drops it on the floor, and stubs it out with his shoe. He turns to face me. The sadness in his eyes hurts me. “They’ve made me feel like a whore all over again.”
“No, Gabe. No.” I take his face in my hands, forcing his eyes to me. “Feeling like that means they win. And I refuse to let them. Those moments with you—you making love to me, you fucking me, all of it—aren’t cheap. They’re everything.”
He lowers his eyes.
“Gabe, if you allow them to make you feel like a whore, that means that I’m one, too.”
His eyes snap back to mine. “Fuck no. Never, Ava. Never.”
“Then, don’t let them make you feel like a whore. Because, if you do, they win.”
“God, this is all just so fucked up.” He blows out a breath. “I feel like this is my fault. I brought you into my life, and then this happens…”
“You didn’t bring me into your life. I crashed into yours, remember? And the rest of it…I came willingly. And so what? They recorded us having sex.” I lift a shoulder, letting a smile onto my lips. “We gave them some pretty damn good shows.”
Light seeps into his eyes. “We gave some astro-fucking-nomical shows, baby.”
“Damn right, we did.”
“God, I love you, Speedy.”
“I love you, too.” I gently kiss him on the lips.
“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I come bearing alcohol. Bourbon for Gabe. I figured you liked whiskey; you have enough of it in there. And I made a G and T for you, Ava.”
“Thanks.” I smile at her.
Charly leaves the drinks on the table and disappears back inside.
Gabe is staring over at the glass of whiskey, an expression on his face I’ve never seen before.
“Gabe?”
“I drink too much, Speedy.” His eyes come back to mine. “Way too much.”
I know he does. I’ve always known, but he needs to come to this realization on his own.
“What do you want to do about it?” I ask slowly.
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think maybe I need to slow the drinking down. Or…I dunno…stop altogether.” He blows out a breath. “I think…”
“What?”
“I think maybe I use it as a crutch…to make myself feel better.”
“What are you saying?”
He needs to say this, not me. He needs to admit it to himself.
“I don’t know. I just know, when I think about never having a drink…the thought scares me.”
“Okay. So, what should we do about that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I think maybe I need help stopping.”
“Then, we’ll get you help. Whatever you need.”