Gods & Monsters(70)

The bed has cream-colored sheets. They look like cotton. Thank God. It’s something I’d buy for myself, for my own home. This eases me a little.

The last guy, however, eats up all my hard-found calmness. He is not the tallest, but the broadest of all the men. He has shaggy hair and he’s wearing a black t-shirt, like my Abel. But unlike my husband, this man doesn’t look warm or welcoming at all. It could be because he’s the one setting up the video camera on a tripod, directly facing the bed.

I gulp and stand frozen at my spot as Abel walks farther in.

My husband shakes hands with the shaggy-haired man who immediately starts to explain things. He’s talking too fast for me to understand. I’m not liking him at all, and the dislike only grows when he says he’ll be in here with us. He explains that the tripod camera is for the amateur look, but he has a hand-held one too that he’ll be using to take shots from different angles. The big tattooed-guy with the camera around his neck will be taking still snaps and the lights guy will be here to deal with any lighting problems they might have.

“It’s pretty simple, really. Just follow your instincts.” He’s gesturing with his hands, shaggy hair bouncing. “Do what you guys do in your own bedroom. It’s supposed to look all natural and spontaneous, okay? Have her suck your dick or eat her out, you know? Whatever you’re comfortable with. The whole point is for this to look like a homemade video, all right? People are eating this amateur shit up.”

He says something else but I can’t hear him over the ruckus in my ears. My body is going haywire. My heart is bouncing around, jumping into my throat, falling into my stomach. I feel it sliding out of my body through my extremities, leaving me empty and dizzy. My brain’s rejecting this entire scenario. This isn’t what I pictured. I don’t know what I pictured, actually. But this isn’t it. I can’t do this.

I’m shaking so hard that I have to steady myself on the surprisingly chilled wall. Relax, I tell myself.

Calm the hell down. It’s okay. Things are okay.

If I don’t want to do this, we won’t do it. Right? No one’s pointing a gun at me or Abel. This is our choice.

But damn it, I’m disappointed.

I’m sliding down the wall, my legs spasming. In a flash, my husband is by my side. He buries my face in his chest and I inhale his apple-scented musky smell.

“You okay, baby? I’m here,” he murmurs as he simply holds me, like a mountain giving me shelter. Then he commands, without turning back or looking at anything but me, “Get out.”

“What?” By now, I know the voice of the tripod camera guy and I know this sharp rebuttal comes from him.

“Just get the fuck out,” Abel orders, squeezing me.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

I feel him getting closer to us and I cling to Abel tightly. I’m not proud of it, being a nervous ninny, but I can’t help myself.

My eyes are squeezed shut but I open them when a calm voice enters the argument. “Come on, man. Let’s go. Look at her, she’s shaking.”

Then I get a peek at the man who just said that and I realize he’s Nick, Blu’s husband. He’s the one with the camera around his neck and tattoos all over his arms.

“And how’s that my problem? If she wasn’t sure, she shouldn’t have come here. We’re not here to waste our time.”

Abel growls, ready to fire back at him, but I clutch his shirt and stop him. “Abel, no. Don’t. He’s right.”

“I won’t let anyone talk to you like that.”

“It’s okay.”

His jaw clenches and I increase my hold on him. We’re not here to fight with anyone or get arrested. Abel doesn’t need that. Besides, I can fight my own battles. I puff out a breath and step out of his embrace. He’s reluctant to let me go but I pat his chest, hoping to tell him that it’s okay. I face the man who’s glaring at me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I, uh, I need a little bit of time. Is that okay?”

Abel can’t stop himself, obviously, so he answers before the man can. “It’s more than okay. Now get the fuck out of this room before I kick you out.”

The man doesn’t like that and he’s already charging at Abel but Nick stops him and pulls him back by his t-shirt. “You crazy, man? We’re not here to start a fight. Come on, let’s go. You’re the one who’s wasting time. If you keep standing here like a jackass, she’s never gonna do it, okay? So, let it the fuck go.”

A minute later, after a lot of glaring and panting, the men are out, and we’re alone inside the room.

I face my husband, who’s staring at me with an intensity that makes his gaze a solid, tangible thing. I’m about to tell him that I can’t do this because I’m the biggest chicken in the history of the world, but he doesn’t let me. He marches over, bends down and hoists me in his arms, bridal-style. All I can do is gasp his name, hold on to his shoulders as he strides to the bed and sits down with me on his lap.

“You okay?” He frowns, his thumb tracing the shape of my lips.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I…” I shake my head. “I panicked.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I don’t care. If you don’t wanna do it, we won’t do it.”