The house is located on a quiet street in Bel Air.
I had never seen a house this huge; sprawled across several acres, appearing like a luxurious castle rather than a home. On the car ride over, Wesley spoke briefly about his mother. Married to husband number six, a man that invented some digital device that is used on planes hence the wealth. If I thought Emerson’s home was big—this was on another level.
The community was gated, and even after we passed the security check, there was another large wrought-iron gate that had two men manning the entrance. Wesley is fidgeting, pulling out a cigarette in the car. I wasn’t fond of his smoking and my girlfriend duties may not have included nagging. I decided, for now, I would keep my mouth shut.
My focus is on my dress. I’m extremely uncomfortable. There is way too much boob showing. The black bodice is low-cut, draping down my chest and matched with a sheer skirt. The lady in the store said it accentuated my wide hips. It wasn’t the most awful comment she made after I got the Julia Roberts treatment à la Pretty Woman.
“Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight?” He leans into me, running his tongue down the middle of my exposed chest. “You taste just as nice.”
I wanted him, inside of me. I’d never felt this sexual attraction to a man that made me so irrational. Did people have sex in cars with drivers just doing their own things? God…how I wanted to answer my own question.
My lips make their way to his, and with the click of my seat belt, I’ve removed it and straddle him. I grind myself against his crotch, watching that devilish smile play on his lips. Our kisses become deep—my desperate moans escaping into his mouth as our bodies heat up.
“You need to stop or we’ll never get out of this car.”
“So what?” I clasp his face, bringing it close to me so I could taste him again. I hated the smell of cigarettes. I wanted to tell him that. And despite my hate for nicotine—I was becoming addicted to the taste of him.
I clear my thoughts, though with much difficulty, and then—a slap of reality knocks me fierce. “It’s too much. It’s not me.”
I climb off him, laying against the seat and taking a deep breath. He pulls me back onto him; a slight struggle as my dress tangles on the heel of my stiletto. His stare—deep and with intention—only makes me more self-conscious.
I wasn’t like any of the Hollywood women. I plucked my eyebrows, and never professionally waxed anything. I thought life could be solved with a shaver and tweezers. Once, Phoebe made me go to a beauty salon so she could get false eyelashes for prom. I remember sitting there, flabbergasted. The lengths that women went through to beautify themselves. Mom once told me that women would kill to have my lashes.
Then there was the whole body-image thing. I expected only the finest of plastic surgery tonight. Artificial breasts and pouty lips. Botox faces and still expressions.
“You’d run circles around these women. They know it. You’ll feel the wrath of their jealously. And the men…you just stay by my side.”
“But…”
He kisses my lips, softly, pulling back and gazing at me with his mesmerizing eyes. “You’re beautiful…and mine. Stop worrying.”
The calm of his voice eases my concerns. I pull myself off him, resting into his side as we continue the drive. I take note of his advice. This would be the first time I had ever attended such an event. I’ve done the prom nights, weddings and the occasional bar mitzvah, but nothing that involved rich people throwing around their money for a charitable cause.
The car turns the circle, past a massive stone fountain, and parks out front. The driver courteously opens the door, guiding Wesley out first. Wesley extends his hand, allowing me to hold on as these new stilettos were difficult to balance in.
I wondered if the driver saw anything behind the privacy screen, but as I watched his goodbye, he remained professional and didn’t let anything on.
In front of the main entrance, a white strip of carpet leads to double doors which open courtesy of the doorman. He kindly offers to take our coats; Wesley had his suit jacket on which he hands over without a thank you, and I take mine off, revealing my dress in full. I thank him, unsure if I needed to tip him but I’m not left with much choice as Wesley pulls me into the foyer.
“Again, you look sexy as fuck.” He kisses my neck, not caring that people lingering in the foyer are gazing at us.
“You said I dressed like a nun.”
“Well if nuns dressed like this I would be lining up at the convent begging for forgiveness.”
I slap his arm, gently. “You look handsome…okay kinda hot.”
“Kinda hot?”
“Okay you look hot. But if I focus anymore on your hotness, I could mop the floors with my panties,” I tease, the excitement running through me.
“Damn, and here I was thinking you were going commando.”
“Maybe I am. What if I said that to throw you off? Nothing like an unsolved mystery of panties versus no panties.”
As if—commando wasn’t my thing. I hadn’t even graduated to a thong. I’m wearing this lacy number; French cut which is as small as I could go without my ass hanging out.
He shakes his head, laughing. “Save it for later, baby. And thanks for your visual.”
With my hand in his, he leads us to the main room but not without a cheeky gesture of ‘accidentally’ brushing my hand against his crotch. He’s rock hard; testing me with a delicious smirk that only fuels the desire burning through me.
We enter the large room filled with guests. It’s such a beautiful room; high ceilings with fancy chandeliers that lit up the room and created a warm ambience. Each wall is covered in artwork; expensive looking, though put together with the lighting and silk drapes—made the room look amazing.
People are standing around, happily chatting in small circles. Almost everyone is dressed in black or white; a few wore some daring colors and stood out in the crowd. A waiter walks past carrying a tray of champagne which brings attention to my thirst. Wesley grabs two for us, at least, I thought they were for us. Instead, he drinks both of them, one after the other.
Annoyed, I grab my own and follow on cue.
“Waiter,” Wesley yells, annoyed. “We aren’t done yet.”
The waiter—a young fellow—looks rather bored and uninterested at Wesley’s rude behavior. To avoid coming across like rich snobs—which I wasn’t by a long shot—I grab another and thank him kindly.
“Why don’t you just go to bed with him,” Wesley bellows, out of nowhere.
“What did you just say?”
“Never mind.”
I heard him. Loud and clear. Just as I am about to bring it up again, a woman stops where the two of us are standing. She’s quite short, though wearing high gold pumps and a slimming white beaded dress. Her hair—platinum blond—is curled nicely and pinned to the side. I would say she looked mid-forties but hard to pin point behind the obvious plastic surgery done to her cheeks and lips.
“You must be Wesley’s girlfriend, Milana.” She extends her hand, awaiting a shake in return. I didn’t know who she was or whether I should acknowledge that my real name was Milana. I thought I would be Anita Dick for the night?
“This is my mother,” Wesley says flatly, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh!” I grab her hand immediately to shake it. “Please to meet you Mrs…”
I draw a blank, realizing I didn’t know her surname.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ve change husbands more than I have underwear. It’s Mrs. Cole. But please, call me Gina.”
“Gina.” I smile politely.
“Now, tell me, how did you both meet? Are you an actress?”
“Uh no, I’m a personal assistant.”
Her eyes peak with curiosity. “To Wesley?”
“No, Mother, to Em. If you must pry.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you look beautiful and I really hope you enjoy the night.”
“I’m sure I will Mrs…I mean, Gina.”
Gina examines the both of us, following with a fake smile. She latches onto Wesley’s arm which appears to make him uncomfortable. “Have you said hello to Carson?”
“I said I’d come to support the event.”
“Wesley, don’t start now.”
The tension mounts between them, broken by the guest speaker announcing the events of the night. We turn our focus before an applause erupts and music carries on. Wesley excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the corner with a napkin and some shrimp. Upon my second bite, my clutch begins to vibrate, prompting me to retrieve my cell.
“Milly, what have you done?”
Phoebe’s desperation catches me off guard, forcing me to move towards a room less noisy to be able to listen properly.
“Phoebe, what are you talking about?”
“Liam, he came back home and he’s been…”
“What, Phoebe? I don’t have time for this. Liam is a big boy,” I tell her, covering my guilt.
“Liam is a big boy? So what Liam said is true. You’re screwing Wesley Rich? My God Milly, have you lost your mind? You know what disease he must carry. I can’t believe you would do this to Liam. And why didn’t you tell me about Wesley?”
“Because, he was just a friend. I don’t know what Liam told you. Yes, we are now in a relationship. Liam and I are over. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you but I didn’t want to expose this just yet. It wouldn’t be good for my career. I hope you understand that.”
I could hear the breathing on the line; Phoebe’s wrath of fury ready to unleash.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You said you wouldn’t become one of them. You cheat on your boyfriend and with the worst possible guy. Next you’ll be snorting lines and shooting up like your new boyfriend.”
“That’s uncalled for!” A waiter walking past turns my way, quickly moving on with his head bowed down. “You don’t know Wesley. Just because you read it doesn’t mean it’s true. I haven’t changed. Maybe you’ve changed. I have to go now.”
“Well, just to make you feel better, Liam is fucking Sienna; the hot blonde from the pub.”
“Thanks a lot,” I respond rudely. “I have to go now.”
I hang up the phone without haste, letting out an annoyed huff. How dare she say those things to me. Despite our close friendship, her words were mean and hurtful. I turn the corner in a fluster, only to be blocked by a man. I don’t recall seeing him before; older yet dashing in his black tuxedo.
“You must be Wesley’s new girlfriend. Gina told me all about you.” He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “I’m Carson Cole. Gina’s husband.”
“Oh right.” I return the gesture, ignoring the fact that he held onto my hand much longer than I anticipated. “Wesley’s stepfather. Have you seen him around by any chance?”
He’s standing awfully close to me, making me somewhat uncomfortable.
“I haven’t, but you know, Wesley isn’t one to commit. Take it from me, darling, you don’t want to put all your eggs in one basket. You’re a pretty girl.” He glances rather obviously at my chest, his breathing fast paced.
“I should probably go find him.”
Carson grabs my arm, a little forceful. “Why don’t we go find him together. I think I saw him upstairs.”
“How about you let go of my arm?” I point out, biting down to stop myself from screaming. “I have to go.”
I turn left, unsure where I was heading. It’s a dead end, making me anxious as I know that Carson is close by. A door opens, a waiter exiting what looks like the kitchen with a tray full of canapés. I go inside, zig-zagging between the kitchen staff busily preparing meals. The other entrance opens up to a small patio where a few people are standing around smoking. I scramble through the grass, stilettos digging into the dirt till I’m back at the front.
Wesley is beside the fountain; a young woman in front of him standing rather close. I stop fast in my tracks, watching them from afar. I could only see her physique from behind; curvy backside in a tight white dress that stopped just short of ass. If it were any shorter, I was certain her anatomy would be seen by everyone here at the party.
The pumps she wore were gold and strappy, wrapping around her ankle and reaching her mid-calf. Her figure—slim, and exactly how the magazines depicted actresses. No doubt she was one.
I did, however, admire the color of her hair. A bright colored red that was paper straight and fell just above her waist. Though my gut is telling me that I shouldn’t be admiring a woman who has casually placed her hand on my boyfriend’s chest.
Wesley seems agitated, removing her hand abruptly and lighting up a smoke.
“Fuck off. What are you doing here?”
“Stop the games. Let’s go…c’mon, a quick fuck upstairs. You can take me up the ass…I know you loved it that way.”
Wesley smiles; my stomach swarmed with this sick feeling from his enthusiasm. This wasn’t the way to start a relationship. I could butt in, interrupt this so-called hookup, or I could act mature—trust in my boyfriend.
I so wanted to trust him…
His smile becomes a sinister laugh. “I took you up the ass so I didn’t have to look at your face. Go away.”
The woman attempts to slap his face, but Wesley is quick to hold her back.
“You asshole!” she shouts, defiant and stomping her feet. “The last time you chose to act like this, you paid a very high price, Wesley. I’m not sure you want to make the same mistake again.”
“Sweetheart.” He touches her face, admiring her lips with a longing gaze. “You are the mistake. You’re everyone’s mistake. Now carry on, I’m sure Carson is waiting for you in his office. I’ve heard he likes young ass too. Right up your alley.”
Her words were jumbled, and with an irritated huff, she disappears back into the house leaving Wesley alone. Whatever I just witnessed, seemed surreal. It was like I walked onto the set of a soap opera. People sleeping with random people, deceit, lies. This wasn’t me.
No, me was hanging out with my best friend back home, lying on the grass out back and counting the stars while we consume large bags of marshmallows and discussed Phoebe marrying a prince of some small country which led her to becoming a queen. Foolish, out-of-this-world but nevertheless—it’s what we did.
Tonight was too much for me. The events, the people, losing my best friend and Wesley’s promiscuous ways. I couldn’t rid myself of the ill feeling that nestled its way and just sat in the pit of my stomach. It could be the shrimp, but I knew deep down it was more than that. This, all of this—is another world to me. It terrified me.
And when something drove fear into me, my reaction was always to make it go away. Do whatever it takes.
Taking slow breaths, I walk towards the fountain. Wesley’s eyes meet mine with an annoyed expression.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he barks, irritated.
“Not hard, I assume. Can we go now?”
A gust of wind blows between us. Wesley’s expression softens as he puts his arms around my waist and pulls me into him.
“Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”
“Just not my thing,” I lie, coupled with a forced smile. “Let’s have some fun. Take me somewhere fun.”
It’s as if he knew that what I needed was to escape reality. A sardonic grin spreads across his handsome face, his intentions anything but good.
“You want to have fun? I know just the place…”