RIA

 

It feels good to be finally arriving home after spending the evening with the Recoil family. They weren’t exceptionally welcoming, except for Nate of course, and what a surprise packet that was. He appears to be so out of his comfort zone. Nate appears to be the odd one of the group, maybe the outsider, the one that doesn’t get along well with everyone. I’m not sure, but he was different to the rest of them, which I kinda liked.

Walking up to my front door, the white double doors with stained glass inserts are architecturally perfect, just as you would expect from a house in the Hollywood Hills. My door swings open and I take a deep breath as a vast enveloping gush of nothingness greets me. No running dogs, no smells of home cooking, no family members calling out ‘welcome home,’ just my home with its clean, crisp white walls and stark blandness.

I exhale and walk in, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I close the door behind me. You’d think for all the money I’ve amassed I could have decorated this place a little more chic. But mother always said a clean and spacious home is the best. So I went minimalistic, maybe too much so, and now my home feels barren and bare—a wasteland of self-indulgence and isolation. I wish I had more artwork in here to spruce the place up a bit.

I think of Nate the artist, and wonder if he could do anything to liven this place up. His arm was so alive with intricate artwork, I wonder if he designed the tattoos himself?

He’s really quite attractive in the way he looks. Down to his brown hair, the smooth jawline, and his twinkling blue eyes. Not to mention his god-like body. He really is a delight to behold.

But I know, rock stars are never good to mess with. Look at what happened when I met Kade from Backlash—that ended with me heartbroken and him whoring it up like the asshole he is.

I want to help my little artist, though. There’s a vulnerability in him I like, and even though I may seem like a tough bitch on the outside I do actually love to help people. And if assisting him with learning how to read will make him feel better about himself then I’m all in.

There’s a photo of me with my father on the buffet and I glance lovingly down at it. With a smile, I reach up and gently touch the necklace hanging around my neck.

I miss him.

God, I miss him.

Taking a deep breath while my heart beats a little faster, I turn heading for the stairs and make my way up to my bedroom. It’s been a long week. I’ve just finished filming another epic movie that’s sure to be a blockbuster. I’m wiped, had it, and over Hollywood for a while.

Other than this music video I’ve signed up for with Recoil, my schedule is now clear for a long stretch. I need some down time. I’ve been working too damn hard. But in this industry if you don’t consistently work hard, you don’t keep up the momentum, and if you don’t keep up the momentum then you’re last week’s news. Well, that’s what Patrick, my stepfather and one of the world’s biggest movie producers, says anyway.

 

NATE

 

Matt continues to grin at me still as we stand in our burgundy kitchen. It’s annoying because he’s been doing that all the way home from the office, and he’s continuing to do it now we’re home.

“What?” I ask, and he chuckles.

“Well, you were quite cozy with our little A-lister weren’t you, Mister Nathaniel?”

I furrow my brows and frown. “Fuck off! Just ‘cause you weren’t the center of attention for once, you can leave me the fuck alone.”

“Okay Snappy Sam, cheer the fuck up. She reject you or something?”

I roll my eyes annoyed that he automatically assumed that she’d reject me, but I really don’t want to tell him that Zaria’s found out my secret. A secret I hold so close and away from prying eyes. I drown in it every damn night and I definitely don’t want him to know that she knows. Let’s face it, the more people that know what a loser I am the more it makes it official.

“No, she didn’t reject me. In fact, I got her number. So shut the fuck up.”

“Oooh…. Nate, dude, you’re gonna get into an Oscar-winners panties.”

I groan. “Jesus Matt, is that all you think about? She’s a person you know. Not just some fucking pussy to throw around.” After my little outburst I storm past him back toward the staircase that juts out into the open plan living room. Grabbing ahold of the wooden balustrade my feet start to pound heavy on the wooden steps which look like they’re floating up to the mezzanine level.

“Nate, I was only kidding,” Matt calls out as I head past the pool table and toward my bedroom.

“Whatever,” I murmur so he can’t hear me and continue stomping to my room.

The rich chocolate walls do nothing for my somber mood as I flop down on my giant king sized bed. Sinking down into the mattress my thoughts wander to Zaria and how stunningly pretty she is.

I would like to get to know her better.

Hopefully with her offering to teach me how to read I’m going to get to know her, the real her.

 

***

 

After a pretty restless sleep last night, I’m supposed to be going into the office with the guys today, but I honestly can’t be bothered. Talking music or even playing music right now doesn’t interest me. For some reason I have Zaria on the brain and all I want is to talk to her.

How fucking weird is that?

As I roll over in my bed my cell stares up at me. I swallow hard wondering whether I should do what’s currently circulating through my brain.

After some arguing with myself I decide, fuck it.

So I pick up my cell and look through my contacts to find her digits. How I know it’s her is because after she saved her number, I inserted the symbol of a dove next to her name.

Why a dove? I’m not entirely sure, but I feel a sense of peace when I’m around her. Even though Zaria finding out about me not being able to read had me internally panicking at first, there’s something about her that’s calming and peaceful. Therefore a dove seemed to fit perfectly. I always put a picture icon next to everyone’s contact, that’s how I tell the numbers apart on my phone. It’s my way of learning how to tell one name from the others.

Like, for instance, Matt is a rhino, Danger is a skull and crossbones, Ryan is a monkey, Tillie is a pair of glasses, Lunar is a pink motorbike. I work best in pictures. But then again I guess it’s the only way I can work, seeing as I can’t read the names properly.

I’m not completely illiterate because I can work out some things, like some basic small words, but only a few simple ones. I couldn’t string a sentence together. I know for a twenty-two-year-old that’s pretty fucking lame, trust me I know. Why do you think I have such a complex?

Looking at the dove on the screen, I hope that talking with her will make me feel better. She wanted to catch up anyway, to tutor me, so why not get the ball rolling right now?

The phone rings a couple of times and then she answers quickly.

“Hello?”

“Ah… hey, Zaria…”

“Nate?” she replies as if she’s unsure.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She lets out what sounds like a bemused laugh. “Ha, guys never call. It’s always a text message.”

I wince. “Well, I can’t actually text… words and all, you know the drill.”

“Oh shit, right, sorry. How’d you know what number to call?”

“I put a picture symbol next to each person’s name.”

She lets out another bemused laugh. “What’s my symbol?”

“A dove.”

“Like the bird?”

I chuckle. “Yeah.”

“What’s that represent?”

“Peace and calm.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs simply. “I like it.”

“Awesome. So, ah… would you like to do something today?”

“What like a date?” she quickly replies.

I laugh nervously, running my hand through my hair and sitting up on the edge of my bed.

Wow! This got serious real quick.

“Ah… it can be. Or it can be two people catching up. Whatever you’re more comfortable with?”

“Umm…” there’s a small pause, “…can we try option two first and not think my being nice to you is anything other than friendship?”

I feel a little hurt by that answer, but I’ll take it on the chin as I swallow hard then try to get the words out. “Okay. What do you wanna do?”

“Why don’t you just come to my place? We can have a dip in the pool, have some food, watch some TV and just hang out?”

A small smile reaches my lips and I take a deep breath. “That sounds awesome.”

She gives me her address and I hang up. Then I pull on my swim trunks and walk down the stairs to head out to the garage.

Matt’s in the kitchen and looks up at me as I enter the room. “You heading into the office?”

“Nah, not going in today. We’re not recording or doing anything important. You’ll manage without me for a day.”

Matt jolts his head back in shock as his eyes widen. “Where are you going then?”

As I pass the kitchen bar I grab an apple and decide not to tell him then turn around and walk out the door toward the garage.

I slide into my car and turn on the Bluetooth hands-free navigation system. I speak the Hollywood Hills address into it and it plots out the navigation route for me to follow. I love that I can speak into it and it sets the course so easily, as obviously I can’t type it in. I love technology for that reason it makes it easy for me to live.

After a short drive I pull up a steep embankment and to a fenced off area where a security team man the fence. I raise my brows as they start walking toward my car. Pressing the down button on my electric window I wonder what the fuck’s going on.

A shaved headed Jersey Shore looking guy lifts his dark glasses to stare me down. “Are you the artist formally known as Nate?”

I give a curt nod and then chuckle as the Jersey dude stands back up nodding to his counterpart, who types something into the gate and both gates start to swing open wide.

This all seems so official, but then again, Zaria is a massive movie star and I guess she does need all of this security around her. After all, she’s way more famous than I am.

Jersey waves me on, so I accelerate and drive through the massive black wrought iron gates and continue up the long drive. The driveway curves and is made up of what appears to be cream cobblestones, but right in the middle toward the end as I reach the mansion is a gigantic Z in black script. It actually looks quite impressive even if it is a bit over the top.

The driveway then curves in a circle around a massive fountain with a small green hedge which I park next to. I’m pretty sure this fountain is probably bigger than my fucking bedroom and my fucking bedroom is huge. Shaking my head at the opulence, I get out of the car and walk up the marble staircase to the incredible white double doors.

“Fucking hell,” I murmur taking in the expensive appeal of this place. It’s not like I can’t afford something like this, it’s just that I’ve never wanted this type of luxury. And let’s face it, this might actually cost me most of my savings.

I almost don’t want to step on anything, including the stairs, in case I break them. There’s not one thing I’ve looked at that doesn’t appear like it could cost anything less than six figures, everything looks so fucking ridiculously expensive.

I gently rap my knuckles on the door trying not to knock too hard, I don’t want to break that either. My heart is racing so fast I feel a little lightheaded. Sure, I knew she was worth a lot of money, but knowing it and seeing it are two different things.

Hell, I have a bucket load of money, but fuck, Zaria’s got to be worth billions.

The door swings open and my eyes open so largely I must look like a fucking idiot as she stands there wearing a see-through sarong thing and a white bikini underneath. It shows her perfectly toned body and leaves very little to the imagination. My cock twitches in my shorts and I have to think of toads and mud to try and stop myself from getting a full on boner while checking her out.

“You never seen a girl in a white bikini before, Nate?”

I smirk. “Sure, but you rock it so much better than them.”

She smiles and steps aside for me to come inside. She’s holding a drink, and the first thing I notice is that the glass has a straw in it.

“You love your straws!”

She swallows hard then fakes a smile. “I’ve used them ever since I was a kid.”

Zaria turns and walks off effectively shutting down the conversation. I step through the door fully and close it behind me. Casually, I start to look around. The place is kind of a letdown once you get inside. I was expecting it to be opulent and extravagant, but it’s basically all pristine white furniture and marble floors. I mean it’s nice, but it’s not the glamor that Zaria portrays—the diva that she depicts herself to be.

She’s one mystery package this woman.

I’m yet to figure her out.

I do happen to notice one piece of artwork on her wall. It’s a movie poster of her with a barrage of awards around it. Instantly, I recognize they’re her Oscar awards, and I gasp slightly from that realization. Looking at her picture on the poster she looks amazing, completely glamorous and every part the A-list celebrity she is. I must admit I’m having a little bit of what you might call a ‘fangirl’ moment as I look around in awe.

Zaria laughs shaking her head. “How can a rock star be awestruck? You’re famous, too?”

I scoff out a half-laugh. “Out of the four members of the band, I’m the least famous. I’m the fricking drummer after all.”

She furrows her brows and tilts her frame slightly. “Funny, out of all the guys… to me, you’re the most interesting one?”

Trying to hide my smile, I have to admit I do get a small buzz from hearing that. I’m not normally the one that people find appealing.

“Why me?”

She smirks. “Because you see me for me… the real me.”

“So the diva attitude is a farce?” I give her my best rock star smile.

She nods. “I was born in Israel. My father was an Aluf Mishne in the Army.” I furrow my brows and she notices. “Sorry… I mean Colonel. And when he died my mother wanted a better life for me, so she moved us to America. I was still very young, around twelve or thirteen.

Mom met Patrick Bloomfield, the mega-popular movie producer of the New Hollywood era. I’m sure you have heard of him. Anyway, they quickly fell in love, got married and we became citizens. My now stepdad, Patrick, saw a quality in me that he couldn’t ignore. Acting classes began quickly and I was thrust into Hollywood as a child actor in commercials and the like, which has led me to where I am today. Anyway, Patrick always said that to be in this industry you have to be a diva… live the diva life, act the diva bitch. If you’re nice, people will walk all over you and take advantage of you. If you’re a diva, they respect you and do everything and anything you ask for. That’s why I put on the so-called ‘diva’ personality to everyone, but in real life I’m actually quite lovely.” She smiles a megawatt smile.

I nod in understanding. It makes sense. It’s not how I’d do things, but I guess if you’ve been brought up that way then you wouldn’t know any other way to get what you want.

“I could see through the act.”

She smiles. “That’s why I like you. I knew you could see me… the real me. You weren’t judging me like the others.”

“You didn’t judge me either, for my… um… disability,” I say.

She waves her hand through the air like she has flicked those words away. “It’s not a disability, it’s merely a hurdle. I’ll help you. First, though, I’ll get you a drink and then we’ll get started. What’s your poison?”

“Umm… beer?”

She nods and steps off toward the back of the room approaching a mass of glass doors that lead outside. I follow her and watch as she opens the door, sliding it along as it concertinas open, letting the warmth of the day break through into the room. She steps down onto the paving, so I follow her outside.

As I look around it’s more like a tropical resort than a backyard. There’s an infinity pool overlooking the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by palm trees and leafy green plants with a splash of colored flowers here and there. At the shallow end of the pool it appears like it goes from water to sand. It’s crazy. Near the deeper end is a large rock formation with a waterfall, and around the pool are a variety of sun lounges. By the side of the house is a fully functioning bar, so I just stand there in awe.

This. Is. Amazing!

She heads to the bar, pulls out a Bud and brings it over to me.

I smile taking it from her hand and twist the cap off. “Thanks.” Raising it slightly in a cheers motion toward her, she smiles tilting her glass with a very colorful straw which is twisted in the shape of a love heart in the air too, then heads over toward a set of sun lounges. I follow and we take a position next to each other lounging back and enjoying the Los Angles heat.

“So, I have some books and stuff here that we can begin the learning process if you want to?” she asks.

With a sharp inhale I ask, “Oh right, you’re serious about teaching me?”

She nods picking up one of the books from the table beside her and shows it to me. “Of course, I guess I need to know what level you’re at before we can really get started. Before all of this…” she gestures around with her hands, “I started an online course to teach children in elementary school. I never actually finished the course because my career took off, but I kept all the coursework and books. It was something I really wanted to do, but acting overtook everything, even what I wanted in the end.” She casts her eyes down and I catch some sort of look, but she quickly masks it and moves on. “So what level are we talking,” she reiterates.

I slump my shoulders. “Well, I know the letters of the alphabet and I’m familiar with some words. I know my name and how to sign it. I can form some smaller very basic sentences but that’s pretty much it. It’s all really basic and has gotten me through to this point.”

She nods and purses her lips. “Question… how did you get through school if you couldn’t read and write?”

“It was tough, really tough. I had to learn the basics as you know, but I struggled a lot. Matt stepped in, he read me everything, filled in all my work. Whenever there was a test or anything he went as me, things like that. Sometimes it’s handy being identical to someone… I was in special classes but even so, I left school as soon as I could. He stayed on longer but it was tough. Without Matt, I would have failed for sure. As it is I only scrapped by. The only classes I excelled in were music and art. All the others… yeah, it was a train crash most of the time.”

She frowns and nods. “Sounds like Matt’s an amazing brother?”

I half-smile. “He has his moments, but don’t tell him I said that... big head syndrome and all.”

She giggles and smiles bright, so stunningly beautifully that my heart kick starts, beating a little faster.

“Has your difficulty been diagnosed… like a dyslexia or something?”

Swallowing hard trying to stop my heart from racing, I block my mind from thinking too much and answer with, “No… no diagnosis.”

Her smile falters slightly and she nods, while her eyes give me warm acknowledgment like she knows there’s a deeper story but I’m not ready to divulge it to her yet. She doesn’t push either.

She tilts her head. “Okay great. Let’s get started then.” She pulls out a notebook and hands it to me along with some pencils. I take them willingly with a great big grin.

It feels awesome that she’s helping me with this, and for the first time I don’t feel ashamed, I feel empowered that someone other than Matt is making time to help me.