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“Would you like me to get you some popcorn? You look like you’re about to watch a movie or something.”
“Oh, I have a feeling this is going to be better than any movie could ever be.”
My bark of surprised laughter draws eyes in our direction.
“Oh yeah, that’s great. They’ll have us married off in no time,” she says excitedly. I shake my head in amusement. Yeah, I like her.
“So, tell me, Amber, why do you, Ms. E Television herself, need a beard?”
She sighs and adjusts herself in her seat. She looks me straight in the eyes. “Because I’ve got a kid. And the studio told me I needed a relationship to keep my contract. I need my contract to feed my kid. But I’m not putting up with any asshole ever again. So, I decided to find a beard.” She shrugs like it’s the simplest thing.
“You have a kid?”
“Yes. Zion. He’s 8.” She must see my eyes widen. “Yes, I had him when I was only sixteen—young and stupid—thought I was in love. Spoiler alert, I wasn’t.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, it’s okay because he gave me the brightest little boy in the world. He lives with my mother back home in Baton Rouge. That’s where I grew up.”
“What brought you to LA?”
“I wasn’t good for much but fucking and talking. So, I came to the one place where those things can actually make you money. And I got really lucky because I fucked a guy who was able to help me make money talking. I would have liked to fuck him forever, but he didn’t seem to want more than the couple of nights we shared.” She sighs and takes a sip of her water.
“You talk a lot,” I tell her.
“Thank you Captain Obvious,” she deadpans.
I laugh. “I think this might actually work out,” I say.
“I hope so. ‘Cause right now, I’m sick of men. If I have to spend time with one, I need to be with one who doesn’t want or need to fuck me.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You better not want to fuck me.”
“I don’t,” I say quickly.
“Well, jeez, take it easy on a girl’s ego,” she says with mock affront.
I laugh. “You’re funny. And it’s not you. It’s me. I love one woman. I always have. I can’t be with anyone else. I’ve tried. Failed. I also need a relationship for contract reasons, so … here I am.”
“So, you’re not gay?” she asks in shock.
“Who told you I was?”
“No one. I just assumed. The men who need beards usually are. Well, I’m sorry someone broke your heart, dick, and brain. And it sounds like you’ll probably never get over her. But we can have fun anyway.”
“Thanks. I feel better now.” I laugh again, and it feels good.
“I’m here to please.” She picks up her glass and holds it up and nods at mine.
I obey.
“Here’s to hiding from love until we’re brave enough to fucking fight for it. And to helping each other get brave enough.”
“Or how about, to not having a broken dick, heart, and brain?”
“You have to want more for your life than that,” she says.
“I used to,” I say honestly.
“Well, I’ve told you my story, you need to tell me yours.”
“Um, I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone …”
