Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins

Chapter 1

Dylan

You can’t run away from the past.

You can tidy the mess it leaves behind. You can even clean yourself up; do the twelve steps, find God, think happy thoughts and do yoga, but it’s still there. You can drink, and fuck and fight, try to get so high, feel so good, that you bury the pain beneath all the ecstasy, but when you come down, the past will be waiting for you, like a monster at the gates.

Patient, immovable, unrelenting.

The wounds of the past never heal, you just learn to cover them up.

So far I’ve been doing a good job of distracting myself from the pain. I’ve developed a pretty good method of blocking things out over the years – it involves women, parties, and never saying no.

Then this new movie comes along, the biggest project of my life, with the hot shot director who’s going to put my career back on track, get me pointed back in the right direction. It’s a second chance at doing what I do best – if I still can.

The catch? Gemma comes along too. The girl who’s supposed to keep me in line, who’s supposed to keep me away from the things that make the pain disappear. A guardian angel that I never wanted.

She’s a pain in my ass. A square. A watchdog. Tough and uncompromising. Organized, on-time, and on my back. Breathing down my neck and busting my balls every chance she gets.

It doesn’t help that she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and it’s pulling on emotions within me that I thought were dead a long time ago.

I push open the hotel room door and see her jump up from a sitting position on the couch. Then the police officer beside her stands up.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had company,” I say, a smile rising on my lips. “Shall I leave you two alone?”

“Dylan! Where the fuck have you been?!”

“I just went for a little walk,” I say, as clean and pure as the driven snow. I stride into the room and touch her gently on the shoulder, before offering my hand to the officer, who’s eyeing me with a little suspicion on his beaten-down face. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

He takes my hand and I give him a good shake.

“Ms. Clarke was worried you’d get yourself in trouble. She says you left the premises in a temper.”

“Oh dear!” I say, giving him a warm sitcom chuckle. “Not at all. I just got a little stuffy in the casino – you know how those places get on a busy night – and went for a little walk, a little fresh air. I feel pretty good now, actually.”

Gemma stares at me, too incredulous to speak, while the officer’s concern relaxes.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I stuck around…seeing as it’s you. You’ve got a bit of a reputation. Wasn’t sure if I’d need to call back-up. Or an ambulance.”

“Ha! That’s all just publicity, you know. ‘This actor’s a bad boy.’ ‘This actor is a smart guy.’ We’re all just boring, regular people when you get down to it.” I shrug, sheepish.

He nods. “But that doesn’t sell movies, right?”

I snap my fingers and point at him. “Absolutely.”

Gemma shakes her head when she sees the officer smiling. He fiddles with his cap and steps closer, as if about to whisper a secret.

“Hey, I probably shouldn’t, but do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead,” I say.

“That movie where you play a car thief; did you do your own stunts in that?”

I laugh. “Of course! You think I’d turn down the chance to drive some of those cars?”

He whistles in awe. “That’s pretty fucking cool. That movie has some sweet rides in it.”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “And you know what? Once that movie was done, they gave me that Skyline.”

“Seriously?”

“No shit.”

We share a laugh that’s interrupted by Gemma sighing in exasperation. We straighten up a little, losing the smiles fast.

“Ok well, everything seems to be in order here. So I’ll let you folks get back to your business.”

“Sorry for wasting your time, officer,” I say, as I follow him to the door.

“Hey, uh, one more thing. You mind signing something for me?” he says, just before stepping through the doorway.

I wink at Gemma before turning back to him.

“Of course. Least I can do.”

Once the police officer has left, in proud possession of a signed traffic ticket, I close the door and walk back into the suite, where Gemma is sitting on a couch with her