Celebrity

by De Ross, Melinda

  “It would be nice if you said something.”

  His words, tainted with nervousness, snapped me out of my musings. Slowly, deliberately, I put the milk carton on the table, took a fortifying breath, and turned to face him.

  “How do you know you’re in love with me?”

  My question took him aback, but after a moment he recovered. Moving close to me, he took my hands in his. He spoke softly, choosing his words carefully, as though he was answering not only me, but himself as well.

  “I know it because I want to spend every moment with you, and I think about you all the time, day and night. All my plans, present and future, include you. When I make coffee in the morning, I make it light because I know you like it like that. I even started to put the toilet seat down,” he added with a lopsided smile. “I find myself reaching for you in the night and wake up panicked if you’re not there. Your smile is the first thing I look forward to in the morning. And my most beautiful memories are the ones I’ve built with you.”

  There was a long silence after he finished speaking. Our heartbeats couldn’t be heard, of course, but somehow the air pulsated with the bond that was forging between us in this magic moment. I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and its twin glittered in my soul. They weren’t tears of sorrow, but of wonder, of joy, of happiness so powerful it could consume me. I abandoned myself completely to it, to the miracle of having this amazing man love me, truly love me.

  Taking his face between my palms, I stared up into his eyes.

  “If this is what love means, then I’m in love with you too, Blake. Madly in love. The reason I’ve asked you why you love me is because I’ve never experienced any of this before. I write about love and relationships, but the truth is the only men I’ve ever loved were those conjured up by my imagination,” I confessed, making his lips twitch in amusement. “I dreamed of a man like you even before I met you, but never in my life had I imagined you could love me back.”

  He pressed his lips against my forehead and drew me to his chest, holding me close.

  “I’ve never felt this either, Kendra, for anyone. I thought I was in love a few times, but now I realize that wasn’t the real thing. This is,” he said, tightening his embrace. He took my chin between two fingers and angled my head to look at my face. “What we have is not only special, it’s real. And we’re not going to lose it for anything, ever.”

  ****

  I’ve heard there are times in a person’s life when one lives in total bliss, on a pink cloud surrounded by a haze of sparkling happiness. I’ve always thought that was only material for online dating ads, but to my amazement, I was now up on that pink cloud, loving every second of my life with Blake.

  Two days later we were at the airport, the entire cast and crew scattered about, waiting for our flights. Blake and company were going to Copperville to finish filming, and I was going home to Malibu. I was glad that, in the airport pandemonium, no one had recognized Blake yet. Of course, with a bearded face, aviator sunglasses and a dark cap, he was relatively inconspicuous—as much as a tall, bronzed and mouthwatering guy can be. Sandra, Mark, and the rest of the team were similarly attired. There seemed to be a code for stars undercover.

  Blake and I sat close together, talking about the movie, and even discussed taking a small vacation after his return. My plane was the first to depart. When it was time for me to board, Blake pulled me into his arms for a lengthy kiss. When he finally let me go, the others were whistling or making lascivious comments. With flaming cheeks I said goodbye to everyone, then rushed to the gate.

  The flight was long, but I passed the time reliving the days spent with Blake, making plans and researching some exotic places where we could go after the filming was done. When we finally landed against the background of a gorgeous California sunset, I was more than ready to get home, curl up with Duke and sleep until tomorrow.

  I took a cab to my place, where I found Mrs. Finch watering the plants in the front yard. As I approached, I saw Duke lifting his head, sensing an intruder. When I called out to him, he went berserk and started to run toward me, tongue waving, tail flying. His muddy paws hit me right in the chest, and he knocked me on my ass on the grass, where we hugged and frolicked happily, under Mrs. Finch’s indulgent gaze. As the housekeeper chattered and Duke licked adoringly every exposed part of my body, I could only grin widely and admire my green and lavender castle. There was no place like home. The only thing missing now was my king.

  ****

  When I woke up the next morning, I experienced the same pang of panic Blake had described, when instead of him I found Duke’s hairy ass next to me in bed. My heart skipped a short beat, but then I began laughing and scratched Duke behind the ears, receiving a loving kiss that left half my face covered in saliva.

  “Well, you’re not Blake, but I still love you. I wish you’d stop French-kissing me though,” I told him, rolling onto one side.

  Duke took no notice and started to chew playfully on my hand. After a few minutes, I dragged myself to the kitchen to make some coffee, then walked out to the front patio. I sat cross-legged on the divan, thumbing through the morning newspaper and listening to Duke gulp down a can of dog food.

  As it turned out, I didn’t get beyond the first page, which featured a large photo of Blake and me, sharing that big sloppy kiss at the airport.

  “Well, shit,” I said on a resigned sigh, frowning at our faded jeans and unkempt appearance. “I wish the first photo ever taken of us as an official couple was a little more glamorous.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next couple of weeks went by painstakingly slow. What was supposed to be six to eight days of filming turned into fifteen, because of Mark’s perfectionism. But I talked with Blake on the phone every day, and he assured me every hour of work was worth it. The movie was almost finished, and it was shaping up to be a masterpiece.

  Meanwhile, I started working on a sequel to The Diary, in parallel with the romantic comedy I was writing. I didn’t usually tackle two projects at the same time, but I needed to occupy my days with something, to make Blake’s absence more bearable. The only thing that shadowed my happiness was the reluctance I sensed from my parents, during our weekly conversations. They never criticized me, but I felt their reserve regarding my relationship with a movie star.

  The fact that we were always in the newspapers didn’t help. Though none of us had ever talked to a journalist about our relationship, the more we kept quiet, the more intrusive they became. One paparazzo approached me at the mall, asking if I was the Kendra Kensington, Blake Tyler’s girlfriend. I told him no and walked quickly away, hoping that was that. No such luck. The next day my makeup-less face was in one of the most obnoxious tabloids, under the headline: DOES THIS PALE LOOK SIGNIFY THE END OF THE KENSINGTON-TYLER ROMANCE?

  I kept telling myself the reporters and media people would stop harassing us, that only the novelty of our relationship made it a fresh and juicy piece of gossip. But every time I saw an article about it, it bugged me. I felt these people had no dignity. Where had integrity and respect gone to? Probably Eden, with Adam and Eve’s ghosts, next to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

  Like me, Blake was trying to make a joke of the paparazzi’s absurdities and kept reassuring me they would become bored soon and leave us alone. And to think some stars loved this kind of life, even did outrageous things only to be forever in the spotlight... I would’ve given anything for peace and privacy, but if that was the price I had to pay to be with Blake, I didn’t think twice about it.

  When he finally arrived in Los Angeles, I was beside myself with excitement. I wanted him to come to Malibu right away, but to my surprise, he insisted I come to his townhouse in L.A.

  “I just realized you’ve never been here,” he said, his voice sounding tired and scratchy on the phone. “We’ve been away from each other more than we’ve been together. Now get your sexy ass in here.”

  “What about Duke?” I asked, cradling the phone betwe
en my shoulder and cheek, while I rummaged through the closet, trying to decide what to wear.

  “Bring him over. It’s about time I met him. Write down the address.”

  I grabbed an eyeliner pencil and a makeup removal tissue and scribbled down his address and directions on how to get there.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Let yourself in. I’ll probably be dead asleep in the tub.”

  ****

  Blake’s townhouse wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Although I knew he was a simple, modest man who enjoyed simple things and didn’t feel the need to show off his wealth, the house surprised me. It was quite small when compared to the other houses in the select neighborhood, where even the grass looked expensive and the view of the sun sinking beyond the palm trees was spectacular.

  Blake’s house was completely ordinary—rust-colored brick with a patch of front yard and an adjoining garage. Nothing fancy, just neat and tidy. I let myself in using the alarm code he’d given me, then ushered Duke inside, unclamping his leash. He sniffed around cautiously, looking curious but not scared.

  The interior of the house fit the exterior: earthy colors, little furniture and some tasteful antiques that filled the space harmoniously. It was a man’s house, no doubt about it. Everything was in shades of brown, black and white. No trace of a female influence, no pink slippers in the hallway or fussy paperweights scattered about. No magazines on the coffee table in the living room, just a big-ass TV and a massive sofa, with cushions so large one could get lost between them.

  As I continued to snoop, Duke followed me in silence. He seemed to love playing spy. We discovered the kitchen, which was done in tones of shiny beige and looked barely used. Then we climbed the wooden stairs, admiring the old, curling railing and thickly carpeted steps. Feeling it was rude of me to intrude like this, I decided to make my presence known and called out Blake’s name. When he didn’t answer, I opened the first door I saw. It was an office of sorts, with only basic furniture: a medium-sized desk, a very comfortable-looking chair, a PC and printer. This room also appeared to be rarely used.

  When Duke nudged my hand with his nose, I closed the door and moved on to the next.

  “Now this is a manly bedroom, if ever I’ve seen one,” I said, taking in the king-size bed, flat-screen TV and the clothes strewn on the floor.

  In the dim light I spotted a bag lying in a corner of the room, half unpacked, and a few other clothes scattered over an armchair. The drapes were drawn, and a single slice of light came in from what was probably the bathroom. As I walked toward it, my heart raced for no apparent reason. Well, it was only that I’d missed Blake so much and I’d envisioned the moment of our reunion hundreds of times in my mind. Yet here I was in his house, and he wasn’t even there to greet me. Talk about an anticlimax!

  Feeling peeved, I pushed the bathroom door open, then stopped short when I saw him lying in the large, oval tub, his eyes closed, bare chest rising and falling with each breath. Drops of water glinted in his wet hair and on his skin, which looked as delicious as caramel in the soft light. It made me want to lick him all over, then let him do the same to me, until he was hot and hard inside me, throbbing with the lust that made my own knees weak.

  When his gray eyes opened, I bit my lower lip involuntarily. His lips stretched in a smile, lighting up his clean-shaven face.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey,” I replied, feeling absurdly shy. “How are you?”

  “Great, now you’re here. Is this the famous Duke of Kensington?” he asked, as Duke stepped inside, nose working like a vacuum cleaner.

  “Yep.”

  “He’s a big fellow. Aren’t you, boy? Come here, let’s shake paws.”

  I giggled, which seemed to reassure Duke that everything was okay. He walked toward the tub and sniffed politely at Blake’s wet, outstretched hand. Deciding he was friendly, he gave it a reluctant lick. When he tasted shower gel, he snorted and sneezed, bursting the bubble that had landed on his nose.

  Blake and I began laughing.

  “He’s mad about soap bubbles,” I said.

  “That’s obvious,” Blake replied, taking some foam and throwing it at Duke, who went berserk, snapping his jaws at the fragile balloons, his paws slipping on the wet tiles.

  “What shall I do with him?” I asked, after the hilarity subsided.

  “Take him into the kitchen and see what he’d like from the fridge. Leave the back door open for him. The backyard is a mess anyway, so there’s not much damage he can do. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I took Duke downstairs, gave him a piece of ham I found in the fridge, filled a bowl with water, then left the back door ajar. When I returned upstairs, Blake was just coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped carelessly around his hips. As I moved toward him, he reached out and grabbed me by the waist, crushing my mouth with his. It was a sizzling kiss, one that melted away all the memories of the days and nights we’d spent apart, talking only briefly on the phone, trying in vain to diminish the distance between us.

  When we finally drew apart to breathe, he took my face between his palms, looking at me hungrily.

  “God, I missed you so much,” he said, lowering his lips to mine again.

  We weren’t able to keep away from one another. I think we both wanted just to kiss, to embrace, but passion seized us so quickly, so strongly that in a matter of seconds we were on the bed, kissing madly, gripping one another in desperate need. I yanked his towel off, craving the feel of his skin on mine. The next moment, he was tugging my jeans down my hips and he was thrusting into me, making me cry out, overwhelmed by mind-blowing pleasure. He pushed high and hard, our hips meeting ardently, our gazes locked. In less than a minute we were clutching one another, shaken by an incredible orgasm that left us breathless and dizzy, tangled together on the bed.

  When I finally recovered my breath I gasped, “I missed you too.”

  We took one look at one another and began laughing.

  “I’m a mess!” I exclaimed, trying hopelessly to untangle my hair with my fingers.

  I was still wearing the black T-shirt and matching cardigan, which was wrinkled around me. At some point I’d kicked my sneakers off, and now I discovered I had only one sock on. As for my panties, I had no idea where they’d landed.

  Blake, on the other hand, looked gorgeous, his naked body slick and tanned, his wet hair sexily disheveled. He reached out his hand to remove something from my hair. When he held it out to me, I saw it was one of my silver earrings, in the shape of a leaf.

  “I can’t imagine how this fell off without my feeling it,” I wondered, replacing the earring in my right ear.

  “I can.”

  His smug grin should have annoyed me, but he was so damned gorgeous I couldn’t stop smiling myself. Crawling over his chest, I settled there comfortably and propped my chin on my forearms, looking at him. We were almost nose to nose.

  “So, tell me, how was everything? When will the movie be ready?” I asked.

  “Right on time,” he replied, stroking my back idly with the tips of his fingers. “The Oscars are in February, and I really think we’ll snag at least one.”

  I shook my head slowly. “Marie said that too, but I just can’t believe it.”

  “You’d better. But that doesn’t matter. The movie is a masterpiece, Kendra,” he said seriously. “You should be proud of that, Oscar or not. After all, I can name a few movies that had no qualities to even be considered for an Oscar, yet they won more than one award.”

  “I know exactly when it all started to go downhill.”

  His lips curved in amusement. “Me too. Maybe I’m too old-fashioned, but I feel that lately the awards haven’t got anything to do with art anymore.”

  I sighed, laying my head on his chest. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. How was Copperville?”

  “Dusty. I could swear you described that particular village when you wrote the novel and script. The yokels were a pain
in the ass, always trying to get close to the set. They were so curious you’d think they’d never seen other humans. Not to mention Sandra and Mark have been fighting all day long. I think because he was too tired and she wasn’t getting any.”

  I giggled. “Well, sex depravation is not good for one’s temper.”

  “Tell me about it. I wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.”

  He began telling me about one particular scene they had to repeat over and over, but his voice grew drowsy. I gazed at the dark shadows under his eyes, feeling a pang of concern.

  “You’ll finish the story tomorrow. Now get some sleep,” I whispered softly.

  But when I tried to get up, he caught my arms.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked sleepily.

  I hesitated. “Um... Home?”

  He shook his head and dragged me back into the bed. “No way. Tonight you’re staying right here with me.”

  Before I could protest, he put one arm and one leg around me, drew the sheet over us and rested his head on my chest. Touched, I smiled in the dark, stroking his hair with the slightest motion of my fingertips. It was a wonder how I could harbor such a variety a feelings for this man, from the most unholy desire that urged me to rip his clothes off every chance I got, to a sort of maternal love that made me want to cradle his head against my chest forever.

  I sat with him as he slept, listening to his breathing. When I was sure he was deeply asleep, I eased myself out from under him and slipped out of bed. I switched on the light in the bathroom, leaving the door ajar to see my way through the room. Quietly, I began to tidy up. I wanted to unpack Blake’s bag, but I had no idea what he kept where, so I left it alone.