CIRCE
I make it back to the station trailer in under ten seconds. Running up the stairs, out of breath and completely unhinged, I walk inside. No one else is here but me, my unease, and my insecurities.
As I’m clearing up my station, Carli, my other associate and only friend, wanders in. Bouncing gleefully, jacked up on her ninth or tenth coffee of the day, she’s the girl that makes me smile, makes me step out of my comfort zone (more than I’d like), and makes me be something I thought died long ago. I was something more then, but not now.
“Interesting day, huh?” Carli asks me as she sets herself up in the chair I vacated less than an hour ago.
“That and more, love.” Sweeping up my purse, I gather up my phone, half-finished bottle of water, and the granola bar I left behind. Carli’s the complete Memoirs of a Geisha stereotype, albeit modernized. With her China doll complexion, bright blue eyes, mocha colored hair and infectious energy, she’s hard to ignore. Carli is radiant. The first time I met her, I was enamored by her no-nonsense attitude and carefree personality that was just so ‘in your face.’
We met at college where I was quiet, reserved, trying to hide out. She was the one with an enthusiastic need to know me; the hiding-at-the-back-of-the-room girl. Carli repeatedly yanked me into her insane orbit. I tried to shake her, but it was no use. Once she latched on, she was like a fat tick looking for lunch, and I was the meal. That was ten years ago, and now, I couldn’t see my life without her. She’s the yin to my yang. She’s the dark-haired beauty, and I’m the redhead. We both hide our secrets, and we accept each other the way we are—aloof, crazy, and sometimes shut-off from others.
I wasn’t always this way, though. I had hopes and aspirations. Those were, unfortunately, crushed in a split second.
No, that’s a lie. Those dreams were squashed flat, like a bright ladybug on a windshield. Sometimes, I miss that girl. But, that carefree, loving, and adventurous girl is gone, and I’m who replaced her.
It’s funny how everything can change in the blink of an eye. I used to be like Casper, revelling in the roar of the crowd. The pure rush of pushing your limits, trying to best yourself. It was an aphrodisiac, and that was what I yearned for. Now I blend in, becoming unnoticeable. A no one, sitting quietly, allowing the world to pass me by.
“Are you coming to the awards ceremony with me? Or are your plans the usual?” Carli asks without turning. Pushing and pulling on the various levers and switches of the board, she adjusts it to her needs. “Hiding out like the psycho cat lady you envy?”
“I don’t envy her, per say. I’m her assistant, and I don’t do litter.” Carli turns and swats my arm, smiling deviously. I know that look. It spells trouble for me, like restraints and flashing lights, trouble. “Car, honestly, I’m not sure. I’ll probably curl up with a book and a beer in the hotel room.”
“Oh, sweets,” she says sadly, but in a fake way. Pulling away from the blinking lights, she levels that look I’m so used to. It’s the one that clearly tells me I’m in for a heap of insanity.
“You need a life, and hell, you need fun while we’re traveling. My segment ends in two hours, and I’ll be cleared out of here likkity split. Meet me back at the room, and don’t think I’ll take no for an answer. We’ll go out for the dick-swinging, boob-sizing, and all around male posturing exhibition. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” I say back, but with less conviction.
“Yes, and that’s final, Circe. I won’t leave you to hide out. You’re going to engage in humanity.” Knowing Carli, if I don’t engage in the party, I’ll be subjected to weeks and weeks of moaning, groaning, and constant reminders of how I’m more of a wet fucking blanket than a friend.
“Fine.” Placing my granola bar in my bag, I throw away my now empty water bottle into the trash. “But, you know I didn’t bring anything dressy, so don’t expect a miracle.” Carli rolls her eyes at my comment before waving me off. With a smirk, she adjusts the headset over her ears and returns to the control board, leaving me no room to argue. I’ve been dismissed.
~~~~~~~~
The two of us have been back here in our room for about an hour. I skipped away through the crowds around Casper’s caravan as fast as I could, racing to the sanctuary of my hotel. I’ve already had two beers, been schooled by Carli, and packed up most of my things. If I’m going to be fired, I might as well be ready for a quick exit with my head held high. She thinks I have it wrong. Carli turned on the US news, showing me the damage I caused by opening my mouth.
“That was the sound bite of the week. Fuck, the month! Every affiliate has played that back for two straight hours on repeat.” Carli tunes into entertainment shows out of New York, where the anchor is talking about nothing else. “God, Circe. Casper looked like he wanted to eat you.”
Carli’s grinning from ear to ear as I look at the footage. Taking in the amazing and gorgeous Casper Crown as he grins, Carli flicks through the channels and I watch each show, where it’s all the same thing. He’s smiling at me. I’m like a deer in headlights, and he leans in close with that word soon.
“Look, dark darling. I tell you about every encounter, every sordid detail of my escapades and you accept it. Circe, you’re like a sponge absorbing all my quirkiness. This was cool, and wickedly amazing. Everyone is going to want to know about you, and how you got him to show some sliver of emotion.”
It’s true that most of his interviews are very concise and to the point. He gives very little of himself away, but today he was relaxed and informative—sweet, even. I don’t normally do that type of thing. I try to be non-existent so that no one asks questions. Now? I have the feeling my past may catch up with me.
“I don’t think it’s that spectacular. It’s not like he told me what position he likes in bed,” I say as the vision takes shape in my mind. His naked form, elbows deep into the mattress, as his beautiful face hangs above me with a look that would melt a glacier.
What would it be like? I haven’t had a lot of partners like Carli has. Carli’s lineup would take a week to write down. Mine? Two seconds. I’ve only had two, horrible sexual experiences, and both I had to finish off in the shower after they were already snoring. Despicable and unfulfilling is how I’d describe them. Now, I’m a lone wolf with my pinkie toy.
He’d be a great one-night stand if I could ever bring myself to do it. Thing is, I’m not a pushover when it comes to letting guys get under my thick armor. It normally takes me a few months to warm up enough for anything more than kissing. In all honestly, I’m a prude. Casper, obviously, isn’t frugal with his partners, and if today was any indication, I’ll be damned if I’d become a notch on his bedpost. I’m no one’s dirty moment.
“Circe, you got close enough to find out what’s under all that bravado. That little tidbit was simple, yet it caught Casper’s attention.”
Had Casper hit on me? Or was it just to pull the attention away from the other reporters? Was he trying to deter them from asking further questions about the guy on the track? Maybe.
Honestly, does it matter? Not really.
Sort of.
Yes. No?
Fuck!
Who am I kidding? Him being so close was panty-melting awesome, but scary nonetheless. At this rate, I’ll need a few moments alone in the bathroom.
“Don’t you understand what it was you did?” she beams, poking me in the side, trying to drag me from my musings.
“No, I don’t. It was spontaneous, and totally not rehearsed. Why is it so…so—”
“Apeshit?” Carli interjects, popping a sticky toffee bar in her mouth.
“Yeah, I don’t get it.” All I see is that if I had let him leave when I knew he was about to and kept my ass in the shadows, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.
“You don’t see yourself, do you? God. How often do I have to explain this to you?” She looks exasperated with my apparent ignorance. “You are a knockout. One, I might add, who got a reply from the undisputed bike god today, Circe.”
Giving her the meanest eye roll I can muster, I flick through channels, seeing wave after wave of the same reports and those amazing eyes. I’m mesmerized by those eyes.
“Casper totally called you out. He had you move up to the front, then eye fucked you. Everyone saw it. I can’t believe you didn’t.”
“Oh, I noticed. I’m just deciding on the best way to avoid it. I’m not his kind of girl. I don’t spread my legs for a wink and a nudge. I’m not someone with fancy style and perfect hair. I’m not even close to Casper’s type. I’m the hot mess, not the hawt mess.”
Carli is entirely too happy about this whole thing, while I’m fucking scared that this can get me in some shit. I’ve worked too damn hard to get on Jim and Jackie’s show as an assistant. One impromptu moment with Casper and I’m on the chopping block.
“Okay.” Smacking her hands together, Carli rises from the couch. Turning off the TV, she tosses the remote down and stalks over to me. “So, tonight you have two choices. One, blend in at the party. Hide out in the back, get your single drink, then sneak out after fifteen minutes. You’ll be leaving me alone, again. And Circe,” Tilting her head side, she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows and shakes her head, “I know you sneak out on me every time. Don’t lie.”
“I—”
She tsks me, then continues on to her second point. “Two. If you dressed better than a tomboy out of the eighties—”
“I don’t dress—” I start again, and she tosses an empty candy wrapper at my head.
“Circe, you’re fucking gorgeous. You need to get your funk on. You need sex…with another human being.” Sorting through her luggage, she flings a dress at me. I duck as she attempts to behead me with the beaded ensemble.
“Let me doll you up. Nothing as crass as the groupies, but classically beautiful. Go hunting. You look like a homeless Raggedy Ann.”
“Damn, Car. Evil much?” She grins, laying a purple dress in my lap. “This is no more than a hanky. Come on, Car. Give me something with more than ten stitches.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Fine…here.”
Pretty, expensive, and exquisite dresses are not bought from my bank account now. That was the old Circe.
Carli and I don’t talk to each other about our pasts. I don’t know a great deal about hers, but I can smell old money from a distance; she’s swimming in it. Not that she flaunts it, but her style, and the pieces she wears shows that she’s been trained to understand beauty.
I lift the soft material and inspect it. “I guess I could dress a bit less like a—”
“A lost Madonna wannabe that lives on the streets with a mangy dog named Fart?”
“Ouch! Yeah. Okay, I get it.” I know if I don’t resign myself to her ministrations, she’ll keep this up all evening, and I won’t get a moment’s peace until she gets what she wants—me, as her project runway.
“Look, Circe. You’re a gorgeous girl and no one sees it under all that.” She waves her hands up and down my body, sneering at my current attire. “You really need to come out of the proverbial shell. Eyes turn your way, because damn, you’re a fuckin’ looker. I’ll even assist with keeping the ogres at bay, okay?” I laugh at the visual of a green Mike Myers’ monster finding me attractive.
“Fine. I give you permission to doll me up, but nothing excessive.”
She jumps up and down, crossing her fingers across her heart. “Light Fairy Godmother magic only. Promise.”
“Light, Car, light.”
Why do I agree to this shit? Probably because I love the hell out of her.
A few hours later, I’ve been primped, tucked, teased, and I’ve downed a couple good ales. Standing stunned, peering at the girl in the mirror, I take in the dark makeup, stiff hair—that wouldn’t move in hurricane winds—and boobs settled primly as stick up pads keep them firmly in place.
Why did I let Carli dress me like a desperate hooker? She promised light magic only. This is as far from light as Darth Vader is from My Little Pony.
“Carli, this is a bit much, hun. I look like a hunting cougar. No, a wanton slut. Yep, that’s it. A wanton slut.”
“Shut up. You’re ruining my project runway buzz. You look amazing.”
“I can’t go like this.” Slumping down on the couch, I crinkle the flowing dress she put me in and pout like a three-year-old who lost her tiara. Carli just laughs at me. She knows I haven’t worn something like this for a very long time. I don’t think she’s ever seen me ‘dressy.’ I’m always conscious of the way it makes me feel like the old Circe, showing off old scars that are a part of my past I wish to hide and reminding me of who I was and what I’d lost. In this, I feel so exposed.
I’m vulnerable.
“That’s it. I’m staying. Go on without me, Car.” Pulling at the dress’s zipper, she scoffs.
She pulls on my hands. “You’re going. No choice.” Lifting my slouched ass off the couch, she starts towards the door with me in tow.
“I have more beer in the fridge—”
“Of course we do. I put it there yesterday. Now, stop avoiding human contact, Circe. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“You’re going and that’s that.” Frozen in disbelief, I stand still. She really will make me. I’ll be kicking and screaming, spitting mad like a spoiled child and she’ll still force me to go.
Bitch.
“No, no buts.” Grabbing up her clutch and mine, she takes my hand forcefully and starts off into the hallway, dragging me behind her.
The hallway is packed with teams, production employees and their dates, dressed to the nines. As I fret with the edges of the dress, Carli grins excitedly. She wants to go to satisfy her libido. These parties are meat markets, unbalanced when it comes to single men vs single women ratios. She fits right in. Single or not doesn’t matter if I’m being truthful.
Peeling my hand off the material, Carli does her best to halt my nervousness. “Stop pulling on the hem, you’ll split the dress in half. I wouldn’t put you in a dress that shows off anything you wouldn’t want seen, sweetheart. Please, relax and enjoy the attention. You’re absolutely stunning.”
“Honestly, I feel naked in this. You know I can’t stand attention.” I hate others seeing my scars. They ask questions I’m not prepared to answer, ever. Maybe someday I’ll be okay talking about them, but it’s still so raw.
God, I’m sweating. The dress is sticking at my boobs. The only thing holding them in place is the tape and perspiration. I shouldn’t have worn a thong. I’m expecting the dress to stick to the crack of my ass any minute now.
Forcing me to move, Carli holds my arm tight as she drags me towards the inevitable. With that ever-knowing grin, the one that says suck it up, we pass into the open venue space.
Jesus, I can’t believe I’m letting her lead me into this shitstorm.
“I’ll grab us drinks, Circe. Go grab some seats.” As Carli walks off to grab the libations that will help settle my frayed nerves, I smile weakly, nod, and grimace. She’ll grab me some weird and wonderful concoction that will be hard to spell, but as long as it makes me forget the night and my fears, I’m good.
“Okay. I’ll be over there.” Pointing to the far side, I pick a spot by the open balcony farthest from the crowds milling around the stage.
“I’ll be over soon,” Carli says, leaving me to flounder in the crowded space.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I wander off. “Why do I let her get away with this shit?”
Picking a table by the balcony, I settle in and wait.
Singling out the newscasters that we need to avoid for the night, I turn away from their questioning stares, looking anywhere but towards them. They’re the fake-nice people who’ll stab you in your sleep, after they get the story. Speaking of, looking around for Markus, I don’t see him anywhere around. I’m hopeful that he’s off with his boy toy, getting a bit of head in the closet, or drinking himself into a stupor. My wish is that he won’t show, and I can hop onto the plane for our next race without a public display or any other issues. Maybe I’m lucky and he’s been so busy sucking cock that he hasn’t had a chance to speak to our bosses.
Flattening down my dress, I use the tablecloth to cover my marks. Talking to myself, avoiding eye contact, I count down the moments before I can escape. “One drink. I can handle one drink. Maybe I’ll make it to dinner. Maybe I’ll pull a bathroom break and head out early.” Checking all the exits, looking for ways to leave without Car harassing me, I reach for the pitcher of water at the center of the table. Filling my glass, I down it quickly and await my fate.
Carli’s at the bar, entertaining others with her innate, infectious pull. People are always drawn to her natural bravado, charisma, and exotic beauty. I used to be that attention-grabbing person, and the spotlight that my sport and my upbringing enticed was intoxicating. Now, my objective is to be unattainable, unnecessary, unremarkable, and all around indistinct.
Before today’s impromptu interview, I wasn’t afraid of these parties. After the whole Interview with a Vampire moment that passed with Casper, I’m freaking the fuck out. For a moment, I was the old, confident Circe that didn’t mind the center stage. Letting the old me resurface after years in denial scares me.
Breaking away from her admirers and walking over with the most ungodly looking pair of drinks, Carli hands me my glass of pink slush foam on top of a purple liquid with a blue umbrella. All of it’s encased in a martini glass that is garishly garnished with a maraschino cherry.
"What the hell is this?"
"Drink. I command you. You look as if you're about to peel your skin off and pour salt on the wound. Did you notice the older yumminess I was talking to? I think he’s single. I mean, who am I to differentiate as long as the hardware isn't rusted?"
Carli, the sex freak, is once again chasing the unattainable. That guy is the epitome of unattainable. I watch him as he walks back to his gorgeous trophy wife after a bit of flirting with Car. She watches as well, as he slips his arm around the sexy wife. Carli shrugs, sighs, and flits back to her drink like nothing deters her need.
“What’s in this drink?"
"It's a blend of Sex on the Beach and a Frisky Kitten Margarita. It sounded yum, so drink up.” Winking, Carli pulls the straw to her mouth, sucking in deeply.
Taking a sip of the questionable drink, I find myself mildly surprised. It's not too bad. A bit sickly sweet for my tastes, but not wholly unpleasant. I think I’ll be able to make it to the bottom, gaining the liquid courage required to sit still through dinner without sobbing like a git.
“I’m worried today’s events will come back to bite me in the ass, Car.” Noticing her keen insanity, she eyes me as she thinks on my comment, processing the best way to lighten me up.
“Circe, I’ve known you for years now, and in that time, you’ve hidden spectacularly from everyone. Consider this my night, okay?”
I quirk my brow. “Really? This is your night?”
She laughs in the way that only Carli can. I know she’s trying to figure out a way to hook me up with a racer.
Fat chance, lady, because they’re all the same. Looking for a quick ride, a fast bit of relief, and a new trophy. I’m no one’s trophy.
“See those two guys at the bar? Crass is delish any day of the week, and Mahoney is…meh.” She gulps down a huge amount of her drink before pulling the cherry from mine. Twirling it around in her mouth before eating it, she laughs.
“They asked about you. The mysterious girl at the table, sitting all alone. I think they might join us. As usual, just say hello, be polite and sweet, then leave them to little ol’ Carli.”
“Look, I’m not interested in any of them, so take your pick or take them all. They’re all yours.” Sipping at the straw once more, I try to avoid the conversation that I know she’s trying to drag me into.
“That’s because you want Casper to see you all dolled up.”
“Don’t be absurd.” I try to act indignant as I pull the last bits from my glass. “I’m the last thing on his mind right now.”
“Sarcasm and self-deprecation. You’re going to need way more to drink to be tolerable. Drink up.”
“I didn’t intend to, but this isn’t bad.” At this point, I pretty much say fuck it and finish the drink off quickly. At this rate, I’ll be slung over someone’s back, dragged back to my room in an undignified way, and unintelligibly drunk. I know better on nights out with Carli. I should have eaten more today and drank less.
“How do we get said racer to visit us? You’re not nearly naked enough to gain his attention as he walks in, and I’m not drunk enough to dance on the table yet. So, what do we do?”
“Carli, I picked a seat back here for a reason. I’m hiding. I’m not looking for him to search me out.”
“Oh, yes you are. You wouldn’t have let me play Barbie’s playhouse with your attire if you didn’t want to be seen.” Carli smiles wickedly. Now I know I’m screwed. “You want Casper to see you,” she sings.
“Fuck off,” I say as I make that awful slurping noise when you hit the bottom of the glass through a straw. Peering through the fluffy pink at the bottom my now empty glass, I stand. “I’ll be right back.”
With all intentions of heading back to the room, the object of my desire walks in. In slim, tapered down, dusted grey pants, flat black loafers, and a crisp white shirt, the sight of him stops me in my tracks. Casper looks fantastic. His black tie is loose at his neck, and I imagine what I’d like to do with that bit of material.
“Pardon?” Carli giggles.
“Shit. I said that aloud, didn’t I?” Narrowing a look of disgust at her, she laughs deep, and I blush.
Instead of heading towards the bar, I change direction. Gulping mouthfuls of air is what I need instead of more to drink. And avoidance. Any and all moments relating to the gorgeous Wyatt Crown needs to be avoided. Especially if I’m to live through this night with my flat mate.
She won’t let this lie. The only thing I hope is that he didn’t see my inventory check of his attire. Walking out to the open porch, I inhale the sea air as I berate myself.
Carli follows me out. “Circe, get your shit together. You’re smart. Casper is dangerous, untouchable, and magnificent. The last thing you should do is make your embarrassing girly crush any more apparent.” I watch her retreating form and think on her words.
She’s right. He’s a manwhore. He’s a flirt. He’s a cad. He’s definitely not someone I should want.
But I do.
“Fuck.”
Standing on that porch for a good ten minutes, justifying my own reasoning and calming my frayed nerves, I finally decided to re-join the party. When I return, both Crass and Mahoney, the two racers Carli chatted up, has joined our table, with Casper. For fuck’s sake! How the hell am I supposed to handle Casper in all his glorious deliciousness encroaching on the space I need to occupy?
Standing completely still, Carli looks over at me, seeing my quandary. She raises her drink, indicating a refill is needed. To make it through this night unscathed with Casper, I need to be drunk. Not just drunk, but that totally unintelligible drunk I didn’t want to be earlier.
Nodding my understanding, Carli smiles as I venture off to the bar.
“I can do this without falling apart,” I mutter over and over as I approach the bartender. Once it’s my turn, I give him my order. “Two more of that concoction my girlfriend over there ordered, please.” I point in her direction and he nods. As I wait, I watch our table. Carli is engaged with Crass, and when I say engaged, I mean her hand is on his crotch, stroking up and down as she whispers something I’m sure is quite filthy in his ear.
“Six euro,” the bartender says as he slides the drinks across the bar. Passing him his allotted amount, I turn and guzzle my drink down as I walk back to our crowded table.
Every step is agony as I envision licking the lingering moisture off Casper’s lips. If I was smart, I’d toss my drink in the air and run fast, but I’m neither smart, nor that chicken. Being near him is what I do and don’t want in equal measure.
Normally, I’m the one that has her cool composure, while Carli screams unintelligibly from the other room. I’m the one that listens to the headboard hit the wall a thousand times as I use my pinkie friend to shatter my world. Alone. Always alone.
Mentally gathering my wits, calming my overheated libido, I shore up the braces around my girlie bits. Moving towards the man who stars in most of my fantasies, I remind myself to be professional and poised.
“Here, Car. I got you another.”
Handing her the drink, I feel eyes bearing down upon me. Fearfully looking up, I see that Casper has cut off his conversation with Mahoney.
“Circe Maco. Nice to see you again,” Casper says, directing his crystal eyes my way. They’re piercing and as deep as pools. I’m falling in the deep end and drowning in a sea of soft blue.
When he says my name, it sounds dangerously erotic, like warm, rich hot chocolate. Or sitting on a cold day in front of a roaring fire. It’s everything beautiful in the world. My heart leaps and my voice evades me as I stare at him.
Get it together, Circe.
“Mr. Crown.”
He steps in close. “Please, call me Wyatt.”
I’m stunned by the mere fact that he wants me to call him Wyatt. No one, and I mean no one calls him that but his family and close friends. Even reporters know better than to call him anything but Casper.
Expecting an anvil to fall on my head, or a security guard to haul me away, I gather my courage and say, “Wyatt.” His face is only feet away, and I realize his eyes light up as his name escapes past my lips. God, his smile is beautiful.
My chest tightens and my panties dampen. Soon, I’ll either be back in my room with pinkie, or crossing my legs to hold the twitching at bay.
Brushing a few stray strands of hair from my face, he says, “I hope to see you later, Siren.”
Walking away from me, as if our moment was nothing, I stand there, shocked. My body is confused and my mind is clouding over. So much so, I don’t hear if he says anything more to Crass or Mahoney. Shaking myself internally, I sit down to consider all that just happened. It seems I wasn’t the only one that was surprised. Carli’s jaw is practically lying on the table, along with other occupants surrounding us. Ignoring them all, I turn and place my full attention on the podium, where Jack is about to start with the announcements.
Training my thoughts to the proceedings, I suck back on my liquid heaven and think about how my night just got a little trickier. It’s getting a whole lot closer to arrest-able drunken escapades, and overall, a ton messier.