I pace back and forth past the huge, black, stencilled number seven on the white brick wall in my holding cell. I’m trying to tell myself to stay calm. That this won’t matter. No judge in his right mind is going to keep me detained over this shit.

But I’m fucking pissed.

I want to show that cock-blocking Hollywood pretty boy what a real assault looks like. I want to smash his Botoxed face until it looks like a Sloppy Joe. I can just see his stupid smirk, the satisfaction he got from knowing he had me arrested. Anger rolls like a tidal wave just beneath the surface of my skin, splashing inside me like churning acid, burning me from the inside out.

My shoes squeal each time I turn on my heel and walk the four paces until I hit the cell wall and turn and walk again.

Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch, scrunch. Squeak!

Repeat.

Repeat again.

And again.

You’d think I would be dizzy from turning so much. Maybe the cyclone of rage swirling in my head is balancing it out somehow. I know I need to calm the fuck down, that I should sit my ass on the glorified ironing board they call a bunk and chill out, but I can’t get there yet. My fists unclench and ball back up tight, as I pace.

And pace.

Still pacing.

Suddenly I hear a buzz and stop in my tracks, staring out the glass window on my door into the hall. I can see a woman who looks like she should be playing an officer on television, not doing real cell duty in a LA jail. Her bleached hair is swept up into a bun with tiny strands that don’t look like they accidentally fell out, framing her face. Her makeup is heavy, especially around the eyes and her shirt looks like it may have been assigned to her before she grew her generous breasts.

Is she pretty? Yeah.

Do I give a fuck? Nope.

All I care about is getting out of here and getting back to the one woman whose beauty eclipses the superficial looks of every other woman I’ve ever met. I close my eyes and see Vanessa’s face, her sparkling brown eyes filled with genuine kindness that this town hasn’t taken from her. I see her full lips, swollen with desire. I see her tousled brown hair as she lies against my chest after we’ve fucked for hours.

For the first time since I was put in here, calmness washes over me. She is my escape from this anger. She is my freedom.

The officer stops in front of my door, swipes her card in the electronic keypad, and punches in a code. The door buzzes loudly and clicks as she opens it. “Alright, Mr. Keenan, you’ll be happy to know the charges have all been dropped and you are free to go,” she holds the door open for me as I stand in stunned silence.

“Wait, what?” I tilt my head, my eyes scan her name tag: Summers. My eyes quickly dart back up to her face, searching it as part of me wonders if she is fucking with me.

“I’m sorry, do you need another few hours in here to think it over? Or do you want to come with me right now and get processed out of here,” she looks at me from the side of her eyes and I snap out of my disbelief.

“No, I’m good. Sorry Officer,” I march out through the open cell door and follow her down the hall.

What kind of game is Erik playing? He goes out of his way to get me arrested just to drop the charges before the day is over? Knowing him and knowing this town it’s all probably some kind of publicity stunt. I wouldn’t put it past him.

As I follow Summers through the labyrinth of hallways out to the front a million scenarios pass through my mind and not even one of them is because he feels any kind of remorse, or wrongdoing. Finally, the blonde in blue opens the last door to the processing area and I see a sight for sore eyes.

Standing next to the window with a halo of sunlight casting in on her, Vanessa truly looks like an angel. Her smile eases the last of my nagging thoughts and releases my tension. I close the floor between us and wrap my arms around her tight, lifting her from the ground as I kiss her soft lips.

“Sir? I need you to sign some paperwork and collect your things,” Officer Summers rolls her eyes at me. I guess I can see where she’s coming from. I’ve only been locked up for six hours, not sixty years, but my heart doesn’t seem to know the difference. Time away from her, especially time shrouded in uncertainty, is painful. I gently place her feet back down on the ground and kiss the tip of her nose.

“Go on, get your stuff,” Vanessa smiles up at me, “I’ll be waiting right here,” she reassures me.

“Okay,” I reluctantly walk over to the processing desk and sit in the seat as my skin crawls with impatience. Luckily, Summers looks like she’s as eager to get rid of me as I am to go. She pushes a stack of paperwork across the table at me and a small box holding my wallet, loose change and my gum. I sign on all the dotted lines without reading a word. I could be signing away my kidneys right now with this fine print and I don’t even care. Finally, I scrawl my name across the last sheet of paper and the officer lifts them all up and tosses them in a folder.

Summers turns to her computer and begins typing, “You’re free to go,” she tells me flatly without looking away from her screen. I almost make a joke about not turning this into a long goodbye, but think better of it and bite down on my smart-ass tongue, grab my stuff and practically lunge at Vanessa.

We walk out of the air-conditioned station into the roasting oven that is LA at three in the afternoon, and make our way over to her car wordlessly. I’m waiting for her to fill me in on what happened. To explain how this all happened so fast and then, almost as quickly went away, but she’s silent.

As we sit inside her car and she turns the key in the ignition, I look over at her. She’s biting her lip and not looking at me. What the hell is going on?

“You wanna tell me what happened? How did you know the charges were dropped? Did Erik talk to you?”

Vanessa’s eyes flit over to me and just as quickly look away, she puts the car in gear and pulls out onto the road frowning, like she’s thinking of what to say.

“Vanessa?” My eyes narrow as I try to pry the truth from her.

“Okay, so, you’re probably not going to, like, love this,” she begins.

“Always a great start,” I click my seat belt in place and look at her. She’s got her eyes completely focused on the road.

“Yeah, so, the thing is, back when we first started shooting the movie, Erik sent me some, well, pictures.” She licks her lips nervously.

“Okay,” I wait for any of this to mean something because right now she’s not making much sense. “What kind of pictures?”

She looks at me and shrugs. “You know,” she blushes and it hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Ohhh.” I’m not sure how I feel about this. “You mean dick pics.”

“Yeah.”

“So? What does that have to do with all of this?” I’m sure there’s a larger picture all these puzzle pieces fit together and make, but I’m not seeing it.

“Yeah, well, the thing is, Erik’s dick is tiny. It’s embarrassingly small,” she hits her signal and turns down another street, “and I still had those pictures on my phone. Not because I ever looked at them,” she begins to overexplain and her eyes grow wide with horror as she looks over at me for my reaction, “I swear, I just forgot they were on there.”

“Fine, whatever,” I hold up my hand. I wish she’d spare me the details and just tell me what happened.

“So, I called Fiona and she suggested I barter with Erik.”

“Barter?”

“Yeah, like, I don’t leak his teeny dick pictures to the paparazzi and he drops the charges,” she breathes in sharply and glances over at me.

“Really?”

“Really,” she searches my face.

Laughter erupts up from inside me forcefully like lava exploding from a volcano. “His dick is that small? It’s so small you could use it for blackmail? Seriously?” I manage to speak through my laughing.

“Yeah, for him that little eggplant emoji is just about life-sized,” she breaks out into a giggle and turns down her street. “No, that’s not fair,” she shakes her head, “it’s much too generous,” she snorts and it makes me laugh even harder.

Vanessa pulls into her driveway and throws the car in park. I look over at her, the way her cheeks are flushed pink from laughing, they way her eyes dance with happiness, and wonder how I ever got so lucky. I practically rip off my seat belt and jump out of the car, quickly making my way to her door and opening it for her. “Get out Beauty,” I demand, my voice thick with desire.

She doesn’t argue, she slips out of her car and as soon as her feet hit the pavement I grab the keys from her hand, scoop her up and slam her car door shut with my foot as she squeals. “I’ve got plans for this ass,” I give her plump booty a firm slap and her squeal turns to a mewl as I walk her to the front door, “and this time, nothing is gonna interrupt us,” I promise her.

“If I’m your Beauty, then you’re my sexy Beast,” she giggles. “Now, open the door,” her breath is raspy with need, “we’re wasting entirely too much time wearing clothes. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk straight,” she teases me, purring in my ear.

“Now that’s something we can both agree on,” I practically break down her door and walk with her over my shoulder inside.