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“So, Ben, how did it feel to deflower the most famous virgin in Hollywood?”
What. The. Fuck? As if a match is lit inside my body, my anger spreads like wildfire through my veins.
And Ben—the absolute fucking prick—just laughs in response.
I swallow hard against all the violent urges boiling inside me, and instead, focus on getting a look at Rocky’s face to see if she’s okay. When I finally get the right angle to catch a peek, she’s smiling still, but it’s infinitely more brittle.
She’s uncomfortable. I can see it in her uncertain eyes and in the way her shoulders sag ever-so-slightly forward.
I fucking hate this. I hate everything about this.
Like a bull on parade, inside my chest, my anger charges forward again.
I’m a split second away from throwing some power punches in Toby’s and Wilson’s faces and bouncing right over there to show Ben and the fucking reporter the meaning of respect, but in a brilliant flash of the woman I reconnected with that night six months ago, Rocky straightens her spine as her smile turns wicked.
“I can only assume you have to ask that question because you’ve never been with a virgin yourself, Gerry?” Rocky questions, her head held high in the air. “Or perhaps you’ve never been with a woman at all? Because if you had been with a woman, I’d assume you’d have slightly better manners than to ask a man and the pregnant woman on his arm what it was like to conceive their child. Would you ask your mother this question? What about a woman in the grocery store? Because if you wouldn’t do it in those scenarios, I can guarantee you also shouldn’t do it now.”
Attagirl. Instantly, pride fills my lungs, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep the smile that wants to consume my face under wraps.
Ben does his best not to gape, but he bears a striking resemblance to a large fish despite the effort.
“But if you most know,” Rocky continues, “it’s the best he’s ever had in his entire life. I am a goddess both in life and in the bedroom, and if you try to run this quote without referencing my sarcasm, you’re an even bigger pig than I thought you were.”
She steps away without saying anything else, and this time, I can’t not smile. Hell, it’s all I can do to keep the damn thing from bowling over all the people in between us. It is that big and obnoxious.
Heidi’s face is, not shockingly, quite the opposite. Horror makes the line between her eyebrows burrow deep into the skin to become the Grand Canyon of wrinkles.
Still, she doesn’t throw a shit fit, and as a man who has based his whole career on being strategic, that tells me something. She’s fully committed to keeping her shit together at this awards show, no matter what happens.
And I’d like to say the way Rocky just handled herself doesn’t plant a little seed in my heart, but I can’t. Not without being a big fat liar. With a bit of water and a short amount of time, I expect that little seed will probably be in full bloom…
Raquel
Pregnancy makes equilibrium feel harder to achieve than the ever-Earth-constant called gravity.
Heels are one thing. But heels while a six-month-old bowling ball sits smack-dab in my center is a whole other ball of wax.
Not to mention, this dress I’m wearing must be adding another hundred pounds to my already weighed-down preggo frame.
But being in the middle of the red-carpet extravaganza that is the Oscars, all I can do is breathe through the discomfort and force my mouth to stay in a smile.
You’re almost there, Raquel, I remind myself as I see the light at the end of the tunnel—aka the end of the media interview line.
Only a few more minutes of this and I’ll be able to head inside and sit the fuck down.
And then only, like, four hours of this awards show left to go.
Ugh. I choose not to think about that sad reality and focus on the fact that after tonight is done, Harrison promised me tacos.
Yes, yes, the tacos. Just keep thinking about the tacos.
With tacos in mind and the media interview line coming to a glorious finish, even the baby appears content and cozy over the idea that her daddy is going to feed her Taco Bell when all of this is through.
All is going well.
Until equilibrium gets the best of me and these goddamn awful heels strapped to my swollen feet. I teeter and trip on the train of my dress, and the weight of my belly tilts me to the ground.
Oh fuck.
The world around me explodes. Bright, vibrant flashes of light and a booming wall of sound, the wave hits me all at once and knocks me completely off the balance of my heels.
