CHINA
When I woke today, the sun was shining, the birds were calling each other in the grand palms, and I was ready for day nine of my incarceration. With the first few days out of the way, I think I’ve done a marvellous job at avoiding the good officer. By staying to my end of the building and having Cassidy bring in every meal, I’ve been flicking through various TV series’ like candy. Plus, I’ve caught up on world news, avoiding anything about myself.
I’ve relaxed. Well, honestly, I can’t call it relaxing per say, as I’ve sequestered myself to one hallway in my own home.
Picking up my coffee, I sip on the lovely Hawaiian filtered beans as I snack on toast and honey. I feel like a bit of a voyeur. With the patio doors open to the light of day, I watch as he finishes up his fifteenth set of laps in the pool in the past two hours. His lean, muscular body passes through the water cleanly, hardly leaving a wake as he passes back and forth. He’s fluid and sleek, his pace is consistent, and it’s a joy to watch. First it’s butterfly, then backstroke, scull, crawl, and front stroke, before flicking back to a flawless butterfly, without taking a break. Admitting that I’m finding Officer Mason a contradiction to everything I’d envisioned, I should’ve known not everything in L.A. is what you think it is.
I’ve flicked through social media links daily. Hell, hourly, looking for anything that would indicate that he’d prove me right about his intentions. I expected posts like At Doll’s house. Who’s jealous? Or something obvious, like a picture of the place. Even a caption of me in an ankle monitor with drool as I slept in a chair, but there’s been nothing. He’s a gentleman, and I find that sexier than anything else I’ve seen about him thus far.
Leaning back on my lounger, taking in the view, I soak in the rays. As Officer Mason rises out of the water at the shallow end to stand with his back to me, I watch as he slicks his hands through his hair and pulls it back, down his nape. I find myself eyeing every inch of his lovely form.
Pulling up out of the pool, the water trickles down his shirt, across his shorts, and down his long muscular legs. It’s funny that he wears a shirt in the pool, but I guess he’s hiding the tattoos that Harlow told me about. Grabbing a towel off the chair, he scratches it along his legs and down his shirt, before rubbing it roughly against his head and draping it across his shoulders. Shaking out his hair, I’m mesmerized by his automatic ministrations.
Everything is the same every day. He rises early and swims from five thirty to almost eight before hitting the gym. Cassidy told me he has the same routine at breakfast with four eggs, and almost a pound of bacon and sausage links. He then runs the track for an hour or so before returning to his room, where I assume he showers and dresses. That’s when he returns to the kitchen and eats an even larger meal than the last. What I’ve yet to find out, though, is what he does after that. He disappears. The house is pretty big, and even though it has some hiding places, it’s not big enough that he can hide that large frame.
So, why am I so scared of a conversation with him? How is he fairing during his judge inflicted incarceration at Casa Crown? Is he missing his life? His freedom? His personal space? After our last encounter at the courthouse, the one I don’t even remember, we haven’t spoken. I haven’t been within a ten-foot radius of Risen Mason.
Cassidy thinks he’s fabulous. She’s mentioned it almost every time she brings me a meal or my clean clothes. Risen this, Risen that. Did you know that Risen...blah, blah, blah. And to make matters worse, I’ve had nonstop texts and phone calls from Harlow, Hallette, Wyatt, and Cathryne. It’s so bad that I’ve actually had to shut my phone off for a bit of peace and quiet.
Admitting the downside of hiding out in this wing is that some of my favorite areas are down by his. It’s pissing me off that I’m being such a baby about staying away. I should just man up, so to speak, and talk to him. Really, the man helped me out of a major bind that could have gone so horribly wrong. He even put his money where his mouth is, sequestering his own ass to my home without any inclination of payment, social gratification, or status jump. I still find myself wondering why he would do this.
Checking him out online, the only thing that popped up was info about his L.A. Police force job. There, standing loud and proud in his class picture at the back, is the quiet patrolman, Risen Mason. I must have stared at it for hours, but there was nothing more. The internet was devoid of information, which pissed me off. No one in L.A. is empty online, so it intrigues me even more. Who looks after his publicity? They must have some pretty heavy influence to blank out everything. Even our joint incidents that hit the paper have disappeared.
Walking back into my suite, finishing the cup of coffee, I place it and my plate on the tray and head for a shower. I guess if I want to know more about Risen Mason, the only way to do that is to ask. To do that, I have to leave the goddamn room and exit this hallway.
Starting the water, I pace back and forth in front of the counter, talking to myself. “This is stupid.” Stepping into the water, I let it trickle down, invigorating my resolve. “Stop being such a pussy. You kick ass on the track, but you’re fucking afraid to talk to the cop that saved your ass.” I’m a grown ass woman, talking to myself.
“Fuck this,” I mutter fruitlessly. “I need a fucking party.”
That’s it! I totally need a party. But what about the good officer? Will he be a wet blanket and halt the festivities?
What does it matter?
Screw him. It’s not as if I’m leaving the house, and he’s still here to keep an eye on me. I’m keeping to the stipulations of my house arrest, it’ll just be on a larger than life scale.
Shit. Why am I worrying about what he thinks anyway? He can hide in his wing if he doesn’t like it.
Stepping out after I’ve finished, I text the girls. Each of them answer ecstatically for the chance to let off a bit of stress at Casa Crown. God dammit, we’ll plan out one of the best birthday parties that the city has ever seen.
And that’s saying a lot for Hollywood.