Page 43 of Grunt: A Marine Romance

DUTS addict:it’s that slut Selena Marcil. 1

Reina Rumba:Can’t blame her! Bret’s fine. 2

Dima’s lover:Dima’s better off without her. 3”

Oh my God! I’m so screwed.

How did Perez know everything? She’d only been back together with Bret for two weeks. She hadn’t told anyone other than Jenny. Someone must have seen them. Maybe it was that room service guy—he had looked at them funny yesterday morning when he delivered their breakfast. Or the waitress at Mustards? What would Bret say?

Her life was completely over. What if Bret left her? Or her fans believed she cheated on Dima even though they hadn’t been dating? They could boycott her studio, she could get kicked off the show. And she’d never find another dance partner.

She didn’t want to tip Bret off just yet that their secret was out.

I wonder if. . . she leaned toward the window in her trailer and peered outside. They are! There were at least thirty paparazzi on the sidewalk. Video cameras and those long extender things. Who tipped them off? Wait, was that one guy pointing the lens at this window?

Flashes went off.

Selena slammed the curtains shut.

She was trapped!

Her driver was due to pick her up now.

Think.She poked her head out of the room and looked down both sides of backlot. Coast was clear! The Mission Impossible theme song played in her head as she slinked through the door. Super quickly, she ran through the maze to the garage. No cameras.

But her celebration was short. When she got to the garage, her driver wasn’t in sight. She texted him again, hoping the voices around the side of the building weren’t the paps. But of course they were. Driver, where are you? The cameras started going off as her limo cruised down the parking ramp. She ran to the car while it was still moving and pounded on the door for the driver to unlock it.

“Girl, you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked.

“That would be one solution.” She scrambled into the limo and reached for the Don Julio Blanco bottle. She took a swig of tequila, straight out of the bottle. Who needed the glass? “Sorry about all that. Just take me to the hotel. Fast. And try to lose those guys on our tail.”

The tires busted outta there. “Aye, aye, boss!” he squealed, yahooing for good measure. She left the glass in the rack and chugged from the bottle.

Another text appeared. It was from her mom asking if she was back with Bret. Oh Lord. Her mom wanted her to stay with Dima for the financial security and as she once said, “to not be a broke military wife.”

The driver turned onto the street of the hotel. Dammit. There were more paps waiting in the lobby. She almost told her driver to take off again, but she didn’t know if she could survive another mile with this Mario Andretti wannabe. Breathe, Sel. You can do this…. She put on her oversized Chanel sunglasses and opened the limo door before the driver could get there. She hobbled out and covered her face with her hand just in case the front desk attendants recognized her.

Immediately a TMZ reporter shoved a camera in her face. “Selena, are you having an affair with Bret?”

She pushed past him to the steps. A hundred feet more and she would be safe.

A Star writer blocked the entrance. “Selena, Selena, is it true that Dima walked in on you and Bret having sex backstage on the show?”

Are you kidding me?

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Get a life! That’s what I have to say.“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bret and I are just friends and we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Dima and I haven’t been in a romantic relationship for three years. We just ended our dance partnership. There is no scandal. Please leave me alone.”

She headed into the elevator but nearly stepped out again before the doors closed. The ride up took forever. Fifth floor . . . sixth floor… seventh floor. Ding! She stepped off.

Breathe, baby.

Room 715 . . . 717 . . . 719… she looked to the next door and spotted Bret, looking sexy as all hell, wearing Calvin Klein pajama bottoms and no shirt, wedged in the doorway, waiting for her.

She nearly bolted back to the elevator.

But before she could do or say anything, he seized her, pulling her into the brightly lit room, and started kissing her neck.

“What took you so long?” He clasped her hands in his. She melted.

“Bret. Wait.” She pulled away from him and moved toward the door.

“What is it?” He ran his hands through his hair, the same old nervous gesture from forever ago. “Sel, where are you going?”

“Here.” She stopped short of the door and turned off the light. Now he wouldn’t see the confusion in her eyes. He sighed. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was scared.

She made out his face in the darkness. “Bret . . . can you just hold me?”

“Come here.” The covers rustled as he got into the bed. She lay down and cuddled up on his chest. “No rush,” he whispered, “we’re gonna be together forever. This time, I’m not letting you go.”

That was all she needed to hear. She rolled on top of him. Their bodies were made for each other. He slowly undressed her, taking his time exploring her body. They kissed for what seemed like forever, just like when they were fifteen years old.

“You smell even sweeter than I remember,” he whispered.

Another star for Palmer’s Cocoa Butter.