Stinger (A Sign of Love Novel)

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I walked back to the elevators and pushed the "down" button. What the fuck had I just done? I was gonna get sued and I'd never make a film again. So why didn't I give even a small rat's ass right now? I was basically penniless and jobless and I felt… fine. What exactly are you going to do now fuckwit? What about a fucking plan before you do some shit like that? I laughed out loud. A plan. I reached both hands up and laced my fingers together, putting them on my forehead and letting my head fall back. I stood like that for a minute until I heard the elevator ding and the doors start to open. I dropped my hands and started stepping toward it, when I saw who was getting off. Shit! Tim.

He looked surprised. "Carson," he said, frowning, "you can't be done already." He looked down at his watch, his frown deepening. The elevator doors closed behind him and he took a step closer to me.

I took a deep breath. "The shoot is over, Tim. But only because I walked out."

His brows snapped down. "You walked out? What the hell is going on?"

I shook my head slightly. "Listen, Tim, I would have called you later to let you know. But I'm done. I'm not gonna be making films anymore."

He looked at me for a second, his eyes narrowing. Then he let out a sharp laugh, lacking in any humor. "Well, Goddamn. She must have been one hell of a fuck for you to throw your whole career away. Now I really wish she had taken me up on my offer to join me in my hotel room."

I jolted. "Your offer?" I asked, watching him closely for a couple beats. "Your fucking offer?" I repeated, realization that Tim had propositioned Grace when he came to my hotel room the day before, crashing into me.

I moved on him before he even knew what was coming, grabbing his dress shirt and walking him backwards until I slammed him against the wall. Rage was pumping through my blood as I got right up in his face. "You sick, depraved mother fucker. How dare you speak to her like that! How dare you even fucking look at her! I should beat the living shit out of you!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" he interrupted, yelling. "Over a piece of ass, Carson? Over a fucking piece of ass?"

A coldness spread through me as I took him in for a beat, balled up my fist and smashed it into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and I let go of him, letting him sink to the floor. He looked up at me dazedly.

I stepped back and pushed the elevator button again. That same coldness took over my body, the feeling that I was watching the scene from above washing through me. In that moment, something felt like it clicked into place, my body jolting slightly. "I'll no longer require your representation, Tim," I said, without emotion. I felt nothing for the sleazy asshole bleeding on the floor in front of me, nothing but hollow contempt. The elevator doors opened and I stepped into it, my eyes never leaving him as the doors between us closed.

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I hopped in my car, a black Nissan Pathfinder that I had bought six months ago after signing with Courtney, and sat there without starting it for a couple minutes, staring unseeing out my window. I leaned forward and banged my head on the steering wheel, resting there for a minute as I cleared my head. I leaned up and started my car and drove like a homing pigeon to the entrance of the freeway. As I drove, I glanced up at a billboard I'd seen a thousand times driving through this part of the city, and my eyes drank it in for the first time, seeing it from a different perspective now. A feeling flowed through me that I couldn't explain, a strange energy that suddenly pulsed through my veins at the idea forming in my brain. Without thinking too much, I pulled out my phone and looked up an address on the Internet. I turned on my GPS and followed the prompts until I arrived at my destination in Santa Monica about twenty minutes later. I parked and got out of my car before I could talk myself out of this. As I was pulling the door open, I glanced up at the sign, Navy Recruiting.

One chance to change your mind, Carson. I paused for a second, but then pulled the door fully open.

I walked in and was immediately greeted by a man wearing a khaki uniform, with a nametag and a few ribbons on his shirt. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Was I really going to do this? Grace's face popped into my head. "I'm here to enlist," I said.

"Well, okay then, I'm your guy," he said on a big smile. "Come on over with me. I'm Petty Officer First Class, Duane Mitchell," he said, stopping to shake my hand quickly and then continuing on to his desk. He sat behind it and indicated a chair on the other side. I sat down.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Carson Stinger."

"Okay, Carson, well before we get started with anything, let's chat for a minute. What's brought you to this decision?" He leaned back in his chair, studying me.