When she looked back up, he was gone.
Chapter Four
Sean sat at the little dinette table he’d bought last year at a flea market. He looked at the empty chair across from him. Two chairs and only one had ever been sat in since he’d put them outside the small galley kitchen. Ron had called him only twenty minutes ago to tell him the lab work had come back negative. He didn’t know whether to puke or jump up and down with joy. The thought of selling his body on screen made his stomach turn, but the cash would be sweet, and his life could be a lot easier. He could’ve told them the lab tests would come back fine and saved them the outrageous doctor bill. But he admired Abigail for testing her employees. At least he knew he’d be safe while he earned the money he needed.
It’d been over a week since he’d heard from either one of them. He figured maybe they’d changed their minds until he received an envelope in the mail. He couldn’t believe he actually got paid for jacking off in front of them. He thought that was just part of the interview, but by the way Abigail had looked at him, he figured she must have gotten quite a show.
Sitting in the studio on that blue sofa, he’d shut his eyes so he couldn’t see her, see that flow of soft hair over her shoulders, the way her breasts bounced up and down when she breathed. She’d fueled his need to get off. The only way he could keep from stripping her down with his eyes was to close them. He’d never let another person know they had the jump on him. No one controlled him, owned him. Never. Again. Not even a curvy little nympho like Abigail Swanson.
The handwritten note folded around his first paycheck said she was looking forward to having him on their team. He still hadn’t thrown it away. The floral-scented paper was sitting on top of his dresser. He didn’t know which kind of flower it smelled like, but it smelled fucking great.
He got up and headed for the bathroom. Ron said he had a shoot scheduled for today if he wanted to start now. Sean couldn’t pass it up. It was a solo. He could do it. Hell, he’d done one already. No big deal.
* * * *
Sean rechecked the address on the piece of paper and turned the truck left into a subdivision. Not just any subdivision. He’d worked with Stan on a roof in this neighborhood. It was full of doctors and lawyers. High-end homes with even higher-end price tags.
He pulled into the brick driveway at the address Ron had given him. After cutting the engine, he sat for a minute. What kind of people would live in a house like this? The vision of a small ranch house with once-white siding tainted a dingy gray popped into this head. It’d been a long time since he’d let that memory invade his space. Chills waved down his body, and the smell of old bourbon stung his nose. He could smell it—would always be able to smell it. It was the alarm, the ding of the bell letting him know his fucking foster dad was about to take a swing at him.
“Hey!” A hard rap on the window made him jump. It was Ron. “Are you going to sit in there all day?”
Sean grabbed his duffel bag and opened the door. “Hey, man, wasn’t sure if I had the right place.”
Ron took the bag from his shoulder and flung it over his own. “Yeah, you got it right. This is my partner’s place. Pretty nice, huh? He’s an ER doctor. Don’t worry. He’s not here, on for his twenty-four-hour shift. He lets us use his place whenever we need it. Wait till you see the bathroom. Off the hook, man. You’re going to have a great time today. Most guys really like these solo scenes.”
They reached the large portico, and Ron opened the front door. “We’ll go over what the scene is about and give you some direction, then let you go with it. Did you eat lunch?”
Sean followed Ron into a marble-floored foyer. Fresh flowers set in a large vase on a round table in the center. His nose tickled. Abigail. “Yeah, I grabbed a bite.”
Ron led him up a flight of stairs. “If you want something else, let me know. Abigail had your shoot catered.”
Sean nodded. Catered? It’s just me.
They entered a huge bedroom. He didn’t know there were so many shades of white in the color wheel. Everything looked so clean bathed in bright white, off-white…well, other whites that he didn’t know what to call. It was a clean slate. He could appreciate that.
“The bathroom’s just through there. This is Carl. He’s the cameraman and for today also the director.” Carl extended his hand, and Sean took it. A firm shake. The marine.
“And this is Tipsy—I mean Sarah. She got a little out of hand two years ago at the Christmas party, been Tipsy ever since.”
Her apologetic smile at Ron’s comment made him feel more at ease. “Hi, Sean. I’ll do your hair, makeup, and wardrobe today.”