Role Play(Plaything #4)(4)

I had just settled onto the couch with the script and a bag of red licorice whips, the only food easy to eat while wearing a clay mask, when my phone rang. It was Brock. Again.

It was almost laughable how little I had thought about him once I'd told him it was over. Apparently, I had let the relationship drag on just so I wouldn't be alone. And as I looked around at my somewhat disheveled apartment, I realized being alone had its perks. I hadn't spent even one hour of time watching a movie that I didn't want to watch, or sitting in a noisy sports bar where I didn't want to be, or at a party with Brock's annoying friends stuck in conversations that I didn't want to be part of.

The phone stopped ringing. No voicemail this time. I was relieved. Maybe he was finally giving up. I wasn't sure why he was still working at it when it was obvious the clawed woman was waiting for him in the shadows. Or maybe she'd told him to bug off too.

I placed my feet into the foot hot tub, a kick ass item I'd bought on sale at the pharmacy. It massaged the bottom of my feet. And the humming motor was quiet enough that I could still watch a movie without turning up the volume. The paper mache apartment building allowed any sound to travel freely between apartments and even through floors, something I learned quickly when my upstairs neighbor decided to buy sharp heeled shoes.

I relaxed back as my feet luxuriated in the hot water. Why the hell was I still wearing a bra? I resorted to the Houdini style bra removal, taking the bra off without removing my t-shirt or disturbing the clay mask caked on my face.

I stared at the script with distaste. It had been a long day at Bulk Mart. It had been free sample day in the bakery department, and the customers kept flowing through the doors like a river after rain. I had been on my feet all day, and I needed a little down time before I started practicing my lines.

I picked up a licorice rope and bit off a piece as I grabbed the remote and clicked on the television. I was down to one content provider, the only one I could still afford. I flipped through the choices from front to back and realized I had seen all the movies I wanted to see for the month. I turned off the television and dropped the remote on the couch.

I picked up my phone, deciding just out of boredom, to do a little research on the Plaything company. After all, it didn't hurt to know whether or not the man across the way was a fabulously rich and successful businessman or just a run of the mill pervert. Although, there really wasn't anything run of the mill about the beefcake guy across the hallway. And now I had moved on from thinking of him as big and handsome to beefcake.

My fingers typed in Plaything, and an entire Wikipedia article came up about the company and its founders. My neighbor's nice looking face was smiling up at me from the page. So he wasn't just a beefcake. He was a rich beefcake. Why the heck was he living in my building? Maybe he was a cheapskate. Or maybe he lived a secret double life as a pervert. I tossed my phone, deciding I'd let my ridiculous imagination have free reign for long enough. I needed to study.

I ripped off one more bite of licorice and picked up the script. It was heavy. Wonderful Russell had marked off the scene I needed to study with two sticky notes.

If I could have had back all the time I'd spent studying lines of scripts that never came to anything I'd be back in the sixth grade. I knew the movie business took a lot of persistence, some talent and a whole bunch of luck, but I wasn't sure I had any of those qualities. Of course, I could give up on the dream and head back to my small hometown to work in the bank or the local food market. But that option sounded as inviting as sticking a flaming hot poker through my eye. I'd had a lot of disappointments so far, but I just wasn't ready to give up.

I took a deep breath and turned to the first sticky note. I read the first line. "God, Michael, why are you always so cruel?"





Chapter Eight





Aidan





A few beers with the England brothers was plenty. They tended to break into boring sibling rivalry shit when they'd had a couple of drinks, so I was glad to leave the bar. I stepped into the elevator in the apartment building. It clunked and squeaked as if it was on its last thread of cable.

I stepped out into the hallway. The lights above buzzed as if they too were on their last breath of life.

As I neared Jane's door, I heard her voice. It sounded more urgent than I remembered. It seemed she was having a tense conversation with someone. I was never one to eavesdrop, but as I neared her apartment, I could hear that she was close to tears. I stopped to listen, knowing full well it was none of my business.

"I told you to stop," she pleaded. "Don't please. I won't leave you. I'll stay." A sob followed and my mind shot back to the first time I saw her, visibly upset and angry at the man standing with her in the elevator.

"Please don't hurt me again." She gasped as if someone was choking her.

I tried the door. It was locked. I positioned myself sideways to the door and rammed into it with my shoulder. The paper thin door splintered into long shards, right along with the cardboard quality door jamb. I pushed the dangling door out of my way and stepped inside the apartment.

Jane was standing in a plastic tub of water, her face smeared in a heavy gray cream that made her rounded eyes look gigantic. The gray substance also perfectly outlined the O shape of her mouth.

My gaze shot around the room. No dangerous looking characters in sight. "Oh shit."

"What are you doing? Why did you break down my door?" She glanced frantically around, apparently for something to fight me off with. She picked up a book and held it like a shield in front of her as she hopped out of the foot bath.

"I heard you through the door." I wondered just how big a rock would have to be for someone my size to crawl under it. "I thought someone was hurting you."

She didn't seem to know how to respond.

I stupidly decided to fill in the awkward silence. "Remember our last encounter when you found my coffee table full of sex toys? Well that is no longer the most embarrassing moment of my life." I forced a smile.

The thick paste on her face cracked as she burst out laughing. I laughed too but with less enthusiasm because I was still feeling like burrowing under a rock.

Jane went to wipe a tear of laughter off her face and looked horrified when her fingertip brushed the thick cream. "Oh my gosh, how embarrassing." She rushed past me toward the hallway.

"I don't think there's anything you could do to feel more embarrassed than I feel right now," I called to her as she disappeared into the bathroom.

I took the time alone to inspect the damage to her door. It was totaled. The shitty door jamb and lightweight door had both fractured into massive splinters. It was too late to call the building supervisor, and I doubted there was anything that could be done tonight. With all the noise, not one neighbor had stepped into the hallway to help or find out what’d happened.

Jane returned with a freshly washed pink face, a color that made the green of her eyes stand out even more. I worked hard not to let my gaze drop, but her naked nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her shirt were making that impossible. She caught where my attention had landed.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting visitors." She disappeared into the bedroom and returned wearing a sweatshirt. "I suppose I should explain myself, just so you don't think I'm in here talking to myself. I'm an actress." She paused and shook her head. "I mean I'm hoping to be an actress. So far my resume consists of parts in high school plays, a commercial for deodorant and extras on movie sets." She glanced over at a stack of bound paper. "I was practicing for an audition."

"Well then, bravo. You had me convinced it was real."

"I suppose that's one check in the positive column. I'm not sure what the protocol is here. Do I thank you for coming to my rescue?" Her eyes widened. "I didn't even ask—did you hurt yourself?"

"Nope, luckily the door and the jamb are both made out of Saltine crackers."

She laughed again, which relieved some of the complete humiliation I was feeling from having broken through her door like Frankenstein's monster.

"I will call the supervisor first thing in the morning and let him know I'll pay for everything. But in the meantime, there's no way you can sleep in here. I'll let you have my place, and I'll stay here. Let me just go over and straighten things up. I'm pretty much a slob."

She waved her arms around. "Uh, have you noticed that you are standing in a cyclone zone as well. I couldn't put you out like that."

"You have to—I mean, it's not putting me out, and I wouldn't get a wink of sleep knowing you were sleeping in here unprotected."

She tilted. "Maybe not so unprotected. After all I have a six foot plus neighbor with the shoulder span of two men and an ability to walk through walls. Or at the very least doors made out of crackers."

I stepped closer and was relieved she didn't take a step back. After our two encounters, one where I came off as a creep with a dildo collection and one where I stormed into her apartment like a madman, I expected her to shrink away from me.

I stopped a few feet away not wanting to push my luck. "Come over as soon as you get your things together."

"Fine, but you can't sleep here. It's not safe."

"I don't think anyone will carry me off into the night. At least not without a crane. I'll be fine, and that way I can make sure no one steals your stuff. Really, Jane, I have to find some way to work off the embarrassment I'm feeling. I haven't done anything this humiliating since I fell off the top of the gym bleachers in high school trying to impress a girl with my dance skills. By the way, she was not impressed, and I broke my ankle in three places. At least this time all my bones are still together."