We had been on set for sixteen hours and the scene was not coming together.
I was bone tired and frustrated and so was he. For a full hour we argued about the execution of the shot, and because I was right, I refused to back down. But he refused to listen. When the director called it a night, I stormed off-set with Ryan hot on my heels. Throwing an arm over my shoulders he said, “The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.”
Thinking on that, I looked up at him and smiled in gratitude. Thank God for Ryan, truly. “Who said that?”
“Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“Are you sure it wasn't da Vinci?”
Taking me into his arms and swinging me in a circle he said, “What I'm sure of is that tomorrow when you reshoot that scene, he'll listen.”
And Ryan was right, he did. From that day on, I chose my battles.
Two showers and a lot of bourbon later, I was sitting next to Nix waiting for him to wake up.
I had cleaned him as best as I could and even dressed him in his dad’s clothes, which I'm sure he'd thank me for later. I was hoping he’d be so pleased about that he’d thank me with orgasms.
His mom was in the kitchen trying to stay busy while his dad just stared at me.
What did I even say? Was it my place to try and explain a self-explanatory situation?
But fuck it, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“He really did quit for me.”
“But?”
“The head honcho put a price on my head, a big one. He convinced him that my death would leave him with no choice but to come back.”
“How much?”
“Ten million,” I laugh asking, “Thinking about cashing in, dad?”
“No,” he says solemnly. “I don’t give a shit about money. I give a shit about my boy. My boy who ain’t never been right but is better than killing for cash. Guess if he’s gonna walk away, you’d be a good reason.”
“He loves me,” I say simply. “And your son didn't just kill for cash, there was a higher purpose involved.”
“You love him?” he asks, ignoring my last statement.
“I commandeered your sword, scaled your roof, and tried unsuccessfully to stab an assassin to death on your back lawn. Yeah, you could say that I love him.”
“How does being a stunt woman factor in with dating a killer?”
“It doesn’t.”
“No?”
“No,” I smile brightly showcasing my confidence. “Because I quit too.”
“He’s going to get you killed,” he growls low. “Just by associating with him. You understand that, right?”
“We’re all going to die, dad,” I say, testing it out a second time. I’ve never had the privilege of calling anyone dad and figured it may as well be his dad. “And if I go out fighting next to him, I’m not complaining.”
“Fuck,” he scrubs his face. “Why’d you go up on the roof?”
“No one ever looks up,” I explain simply, and to that he only blinked, which depressed me. It's really a simple concept, that for some reason people struggle to understand. “Look, all my life I’ve taken risks for the rush it gave me. I lived for the next big thing. Then I met him,” I say brushing his hair from his face. “The high I get his from his love is more potent than any adrenaline rush man could offer.”
“You gonna give us grandbabies?”
At this, his mom peeked in, and I noticed her hands covering her mouth and her eyes shone with tears. Happy tears. At least mom liked me… “I’m going to tell you a story,” I begin and for the next half hour explained how we met and the circumstances behind it. When I found myself in the present tense, I shrugged and said, “Nix saved me too.”
“Nix?” he asks.
“Pet name.”
Shaking his head, he stands ready to leave the room. But on his way out he squeezed my shoulder mumbling, “Lots of grandbabies.”
Chuckling to myself, I lean down pressing my lips to his, whispering, “I know you’re awake.”
When his arms came around me I let him position us, gladly taking the role of being on my back. “Never fucked in my parents’ house.”
“Because hookers don’t make house calls,” I joke quietly.
Biting my bottom lip, he whispers, “Finn, I’m going to make you come on my mother’s couch.”
And oh God, he did. Twice.
Drowsy, sore from having my ass kicked and incredibly comfortable in his arms, I was dozing when his mom yells, “Dinner’s ready!”
Laughing into my neck, Nix asks, “How many grandbabies?”
Everything inside of me clenched. Kids of our own? We haven’t even survived the threat yet…But, I loved him, he loved me. The idea of kids didn’t suck, so instead of replying, I gave him a stealthy blow job on his mother’s plastic covered couch. I did this for two reasons. One, if we made it out alive, we could revisit a future with kids in it and two, mouths don’t get pregnant.