Brad
While I get dressed for the morning, getting ready for a long day at work, I can hear Shauna click-clacking on her laptop in the other room. She’s a “heavy-typer.” I’ve known a few, and it always makes me laugh.
She’s no doubt doing her morning routine, searching and reading the blogs for juicy gossip.
Some people find it odd that my personal assistant lives at my penthouse apartment, but that’s how I fucking roll. I don’t like to waste a single minute of my day, and if that means having Shauna live here rent-free, so be it. She doesn’t seem to mind, not even when I bring the odd girl home.
As I put on my watch, a Rolex, I imagine what kind of day I’m going to have. Good? Bad? Exciting? Boring? The possibilities alone are electrifying.
I’m a doer. I don’t find enjoyment in reading about what other people do. Especially not like Shauna does; she loves all that crap. But her ability to keep a finger on the pulse of this town is one of the reasons I hired her.
Shauna’s smart and savvy and remembers everything she reads. I’m lucky to have her. Truly fortunate.
I look at myself in the mirror. What a day yesterday was. It’s going to be hard to forget.
I feel myself becoming aroused. I stroke myself over my pants a few times, look at my watch, and start considering what I have time for.
“Hey, Shauna, how’s my time?”
“Looking good, Brad.”
“Do I have an extra fifteen or twenty? What do you think?”
I hear her typing away for a moment.
“Checking the traffic. Looks like there’s a minor traffic accident on the highway. I’m thinking not,” she replied. “We’re gonna need an extra few to get in on time.”
I stop stroking myself and sigh. “Okay, thanks.” I’m going to have to wait until I see Kayla again. Maybe after lunch, I think, smirking.
While tying my shoes, I hear Shauna groan or moan or something. She’s clearly affected in some way by something she’s reading. This isn’t out of the normal, but after yesterday, I’m feeling a little paranoid.
“Find something juicy?” I’m just teasing. I don’t expect her to answer, and I kinda hope she won’t.
“You could say…”
“Really?”
“Um…yeah…”
I’m done getting ready. I walk out of my bedroom to the kitchen area. I see her staring, reading, and in deep thought.
“Shauna?”
“Yes, Brad?”
When she finally looks at me, I wave.
“Oh,” she says, smiling. “Good choices. I like those colors on you. I think this outfit shows your serious side.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “What did you find?”
“Find?”
“Online.”
“Oh, right.” Her face goes back to its normal blankness. “How have things been with Kayla? Everything working out? Moving along?”
“Things are going well. Fine,” I say, not feeling like elaborating at the moment. “Yeah, fine.”
“Better than fine, I’d wager.”
“Okay. Better than fine. Why?”
“Much better than fine,” she says, winking.
I’m catching her drift. She knows something, but she’s being too shy to say it. I walk up to the breakfast nook where she’s sitting and pick up the apple she left there for me.
“You found something. What did you read, Shauna?”
“Just a couple of lines. A blind item. Nothing big….”
“But…”
“But there promises to be more.” She shrugs. “Sorry, boss.”
I take a deep breath. I’m trying to control my anger. It’s a battle, and I’m not winning.
“Show me,” I tell her.
Shauna turns her laptop to the side so I can see the screen. There, on one of the worst celebrity trashing blogs, is a headline about me and Kayla. I can hardly fucking believe it. “LONG LUNCHES. LONGER STARES. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT…”
“Fuck,” I say loudly.
Shauna does her best to deflect. “It could be about anything.”
My voice grows louder. “Fuck!”
“Maybe it’s nothing.” She tries to ease my anger.
But inside, I’m already a burning inferno of rage. “Fuck!”
I throw the apple across the room, striking a wall and knocking a framed painting off its hook.
“Brad—” Shauna begins.
“These fucking idiots, Shauna,” I say, beginning to pace. “Insiders. Paparazzi. Fucking fame seekers. What the fuck do they know? What the fuck do they want?”
“They want money.”
“I don’t need this shit. I don’t need this attention. Not now. Fuck. Not now.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Shauna repeats. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What happens next…” I reread the headline. “Shauna, what if they know what happened next?”
“What happened?” Shauna asked.
I give her a look. She knows the look. It’s the one I give when I’m about to get laid, or just did.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well…”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “Fuck!”
“I could make some calls.”
“You know what pisses me off the most, Shauna?” I ask, but I don’t wait for a response. “Kayla really doesn’t need this. She doesn’t need any negative press right now. She’s just getting started. Just getting her stride. She’s better than these dumb blogs. She doesn’t need this. Fuck. If this hurts her career, I’ll—”
“Brad.”
I look at Shauna. She has her glasses on, she’s sitting up straight, and her lips are drawn. She looks like my middle school vice principal when she was about to doll out a punishment.
“Yes?”
“I will make some calls. I will track down the sources. I’ll see if I can’t squash this before it goes anywhere.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“The blood stays on my hands, Brad. That is why you hired me.”
I finally laugh. Shauna lightens the mood. I really appreciate her being able to do so.
“Yes, that’s why I hired you.” I look at the oven clock; it’s getting late. “That and your skills as a getaway driver.”
“Oh shit.”
I pick up the keys and toss them to her. She catches them with ease. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drop them.
Shauna rarely drops anything. I’m beginning to feel more confident by the second. Shauna will take care of this.
Kayla will be fine.
Everything will be fine.