Bad Boy Rich

I WILL stay away because that’s what good girls do.

It was an unusually dreary day in Los Angeles. The rain was falling lightly creating a humid atmosphere and overcasting the normally shining sun.

I’m sprawled across my bed, head resting on my pillow while I stare up into the ceiling with mom on speakerphone.

“It sounds like you’ve settled in well, sweetie. I knew you would be perfect for that role,” she says, as I listen attentively.

“I guess. What about you, Mom? The nurses’ report looked positive. I received it only yesterday.”

A small sigh escapes and echoes through the speaker. “The grounds are beautiful. The staff are wonderful. It’s just that everyone loves to socialize and sometimes I just want to sit and read.” It was the most honest thing she had said during our call. “Never mind me rambling, tell me how your brother is doing? I spoke to him last night. His gig went well and I think the music scouts were impressed.”

“You spoke to him last night?” My slight annoyance with Flynn prompts me to sit up. He never told me a thing. In fact, he stormed out of the apartment in his usual dramatic way. “He’s quite busy. We don’t get much time to chat.”

I hated that I just lied to Mom.

“He called me, same time he calls me every night.”

“He calls you every night?”

“Honey, what’s going on? You sound upset.” Mom softens her voice, worried.

“Nothing. I mean, he’s just a lot of work, Mom. I don’t know how you deal with him.”

Mom laughs, soft and angelic, easing my frustration. I missed her terribly, I was never shy in telling her this.

“Give him time. The two of you never see eye to eye on much. Let him be and it will work out. There was a time when you were a handful. A parent’s job never ends.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I don’t think I understood the magnitude of being responsible for someone until we came here. He got a piercing, Mom.”

“I know. He told me, actually showed me, a picture.”

Flynn’s secret phone calls with Mom were getting on my nerves. “Nice, so what else is new?”

We spoke for a few more minutes till the ‘Jenga’ crew called Mom for their Monday game. I hung up, grabbing my pillow and staring at the wall.

It had been three days since that night with Wesley. I hadn’t heard a peep from him, resorting to Googling his whereabouts to only find out he was in Louisiana filming a movie. I felt pathetic for doing it, even more pathetic for ignoring him because I thought giving him a taste of his own medicine would be fun.

I promised myself I wouldn’t think about him. I didn’t need that complication in my life. It wasn’t like I was in love with him or anything, I was just looking for someone to have fun with. I was deprived of that bad-boy interaction, at least, that’s how I sold it to myself. Phoebe would have given me the exact advice, though this time—I purposely held this from her.

We talked almost every day, mainly about people back home or her love life. She was intrigued with my job, begging me to tell her who my boss was. I chose to also withhold that information. If Phoebe knew anything that went on—she’d book herself a one-way ticket and be permanently crashing on my couch.

It was easy to busy myself with work, though every time I was alone with Emerson, I wanted to ask her questions about him and them. My mind burned with curiosity but I knew we had a professional relationship and didn’t want her to think that anything was going on because it wasn’t.

By day five, I had managed to catch a few more hours of sleep, which improved my mood. The more I distanced myself from Wesley, the easier it had become. After lying in bed for an hour and watching the sunrise, I made the executive decision to completely forget about him, full stop. A combination of ‘in the too-hard basket’ and my late-night call with Liam.

Liam wasn’t shy in telling me how much he missed me, suggesting that we Facetime. It was fun, a walk down memory lane until he wanted to take it a step further.

“I miss you, all of you.”

His words, sweet, full of honesty, made it difficult for me to lie to him. I missed him, but the guilt would overcome me and I struggled to say the words back.

“You’d hate it here. Too many people and the traffic is on another level. Would you believe I got stuck on the freeway from the beach to my place for almost two hours? It’s normally a thirty-minute drive.”

“I wouldn’t hate it if I were with you.” He slows down his words, heavy breathing following. “Milly, take off your shirt.”

Liam was lying in bed, wife beater on and his bed hair sitting on his pillow so messily. He looked good. I did miss him. I missed his touch, the way that everything about him was so comfortable.

“Liam,” I offer a smile, “I can’t do that. Flynn is home. Maybe when he’s not home?”