She turns her head the other way, says nothing.
There’s a giant push broom leaning against a nearby wall. I grab it and start carelessly moving it across the floor. I sweep a large circle around her feet. “Or we could talk about gluten free dietary alternatives. That’s absolutely relevant. What the hell do you think I want to talk about?”
She still says nothing so I keep talking.
“I know. We could discuss that old Savage-endorsed adage that tabloid publicity is the best publicity.” I get right next to her and her breathing quickens. I reach out and tug ever so lightly on the sleeve of her shirt. “Of course once upon a time when you had the chance to test that out you crawled back into your den like a gutless rat.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”
“Good. I do hate to be blamed for things.”
“Oscar…” she says, her voice trailing off, her eyes full of pain.
“I’m not looking for an explanation, Loren. After all this time I don’t really fucking care.”
Her eyes flash. “Well, good for you. But you seem to be going to a lot of trouble for someone who doesn’t care.”
“And for someone who used to hold all this celebrity crap in contempt, you’re sure going to a lot of trouble to whore yourself out.”
She whirls around, swatting me away, her eyes flashing. “That’s not fair.”
“Nothing’s fair, baby.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah you did.”
Ren knocks the broom right out of my hands. It clatters to the floor. “Why the hell are you here, Oscar? Why now?”
I kick the broom away. “That’s a real bullshit question to ask me.”
She scowls, then adopts an ominous tone. “I can try a different one. How much cash did Gary promise you?”
Laughter erupts out of my mouth. I’m mocking her and she knows it. “Honey, just because you’re for sale doesn’t mean the rest of the world is too.”
Her mouth falls open and her face reddens. I’ve hit a nerve. Good. I’d like to get on every single one of her goddamn nerves with a cattle prod and juice some sense into her.
“You have no idea,” she spits caustically and throws the rubber hose clumsily toward my feet like she’s all of a sudden going to be tough. But then she backs away as her eyes skate nervously from side to side like she’s searching for something.
I get it. She’s trying to figure out how she’s being seen right now.
“Holy shit.” If there was something nearby to punch I would punch it. Instead I glare at her. “The cameras. The motherfucking cameras. That’s what you’re looking for. You trying on a pose for the best angle?”
“Shut up.”
“How about you turn to the side? Give ‘em a profile shot. Suck in your stomach and push out those pert little titties. Didn’t Gary give you orders? Sex appeal matters when it comes to ratings. You know, maybe old Gary should have paid for you to have some work done to enhance your assets. Need to grab that male eighteen to thirty five demographic.”
“Goddammit, shut up!”
She’s about to lose it but I don’t feel like shutting up. I take a step in her direction. Her breathing catches and her brown eyes widen.
What the hell does she think I’m going to do? Hit her? I’ve never hit a female in my life.
But she betrays herself when she looks down. She zooms right in on my cock like it’s just shouted her name. No, it’s not fear that made her gasp. It’s something else.
For whatever reason, this girl is deprived as all hell and every inch of her is shrieking for a good, dirty screw. In truth, I’d be game to give it to her, right here and now, but I’m not going to let her off the hook that easy.
“You know,” I whisper into her ear, “America would probably get off on some hot and filthy incest.”
Her face twists and her body tenses. There we go. God, she’s angry. Shit, it’s hot.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Maybe. No one’s ever claimed the job though so as far as I’m concerned I’m Mina Savage’s kid.”
“The hell you are.”
“Eh, a moot point at this juncture. But it’d be good for ratings if we offered the folks at home something to spank their shit around to. In any case, if you’re unwilling, there are other options. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Lita around yet.”
I’m hitting way below the belt now. The mere mention of Ren’s mother is like a slap across her face. There’s more than one reason for that.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she whispers.
“If you believed that lying bitch then you think I already did fucking dare so what’s the harm in talking about it after all this time?”
“You bastard, I wouldn’t believe Lita if she told me the desert is dry.”
“The way I remember it, there seems to have been a few questions. Care to ask them now?”
“No!”
“Fine. We don’t need to talk.” I lean in so close I can nearly taste her. “I’d really rather not hear your voice when we’re getting busy anyway.”
She gives me the coldest of glares but she doesn’t fool me a damn bit. If I tear her pants open right now and shove my hand down there I know I’d get nothing but a warm, wet welcome as her pussy clenches my fingers like a vice. But her eyes flash again and she scoffs, keeping up the charade. “So this is who you are now. Nothing but trash?”
“I always was, Loren. Your mother told you so, remember? Gutter trash that can and did fuck anything with a hole. You knew it. Don’t tell me you didn’t get off on that. You loved it.”
The way she’s looking at me, she might start swinging both fists at my head. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m hard as iron right now? I’m not thinking about what we once had. Things have gone downhill fast since I walked into the barn and none of that long dead tenderness has any place here.
I want it rough and dirty. I want to bend her over, spread her wide and conquer the living shit out of her.
And I know she’d let me.
But then just like that all the fight fades from Ren. Her shoulders slump. She looks at the ground and bites her lip.
“Loren.” I reach out to touch her but stop short. It hurts suddenly because I know she’s no fucking actress. She looks miserable because she is miserable.
“No,” she whispers, writhing out of my grasp. “I can’t do this here.”
My hand falls to my side. “Here’s as good as anywhere else.”
She breathes, slowly, in and out. There seems to be a pattern to it, like maybe it’s some new age technique that’s supposed to clear her head. Maybe I was a jackass for barging in here like this, for blindsiding her on this absurd show in the first place. I’m not sure what I’m hoping for out of all this. But I’m not going anywhere until I figure it out.
“It’s not going to be so easy to dismiss me this time.”
She nods tiredly. “I didn’t think it would be.”
She leaves. I let her go. I stand there alone in a dusty barn, knowing I’m being watched and unable to make myself care. I shove my hands in my pockets and my left knuckle is scraped by an object. I withdraw the rock I’d casually picked up on my morning hike. It looks completely ordinary, parts beige and pinkish red. It isn’t valuable. If you tumble it in a rock polisher for a month it will emerge with a brilliant red color. I like it the way it is though. Five years ago I had a rock just like this and then I lost it. At the time I didn’t even know what it was, just a thing that I’d grabbed as a hasty keepsake because I’d just had the best night of my life and wanted to keep the memory close.
As it turned out, forgetting would have been merciful. I couldn’t forget the most important parts. I’ve spent five long years trying.