Whisky Moments

by Bowie, Emily

  Leaning back into my chair, I take another delicious sip of my coffee. “Now, now. If you want to talk to me, you don’t have to make weird shit up.”

  Her face drops, glaring at me even more.

  “Would you like coffee?” My hand gestures out, showing she’s empty-handed. “After all, this is a coffee shop.”

  Her back straightens as I fluster her. “No, I don’t want you to buy me a coffee.” She sputters.

  “Camilla, I wasn’t offering to buy you one. You have made it perfectly clear you can take care of yourself.”

  Her eyes go wide and her nostrils flare as she realizes her error.

  I probably should be nicer, but this is too much fun. “Coffee dates aren’t my thing. But, I would love to take you out for dinner.” I smile sweetly.

  “Bless your heart.” Her hand goes to her chest as she bats her thick black eyelashes. “A date with none other than Rhett Steele.” This smile of mine always hooks them. I thought for sure the so-called Black Widow would be different. I’m a little disappointed she is like every other girl I’ve met.

  Oh well, better for me.

  “Fuck off.” She practically spits in my face, standing up and marching out. That ass of hers is tight as hell. If she’s going to make a spectacle like that, who am I to be deterred? Watching those hips sway could become a pastime I enjoy.

  I chuckle into my coffee, liking the fire in her. Maybe convincing her to date me won’t be that bad after all.

  Looking at my watch, I have two hours till she has lunch with her girlfriend. I would call her and her friends the in-crowd of Nashville. If they’re seen in your business, you are on the map and your business will turn to gold.

  Finishing my coffee, I bring out my pad of paper to see if I can come up with a new song. I’ve had major writer’s block for the last year and have had to rely on songwriters. I hate it. The old me wrote a song a day. I had the leisure of tossing or selling the shitty ones.

  My hand hovers over the paper, trying to think of something, anything. Not even a tune or lyric comes to mind. It’s like my mind is blank. Dick’s words come to me. I need to be inspired. Go out and find a girl to have fun with.

  That didn’t work. Instead, I welcomed a stage-five clinger into my life. She still showed up to my rented house after months of telling her I wasn’t interested. It only stopped, because I gave up having a permanent address. I’m always honest with my intentions, yet my experiences with women always seem to backfire on me.

  I can’t help but think about my family. Each of my siblings have found love and are truly happy. I miss being around them. For the first time in years, I felt free and happy to be me. There was no pretending, and no one was trying to kiss my ass; family comradery at its finest.

  They may tease that I would never be able to make it back in Three Rivers now that I’ve had a life here in Tennessee, but I could do it. Just not on the family ranch. My allergies stuff me up worse than a Build-a-Bear. I chuckle, thinking about how no one in my family believes me. I could be wheezing, unable to breathe because my dad made me brush the horses yet again, and I’d be told to suck it up and stop pretending. It was another factor in me deciding to come here to see if I could make a career out of my singing.

  I probably should be more upset that in my thirty-five years of telling them I have animal allergies that no one takes pity on me, but it’s more of a fond memory I have when I get homesick.

  CHAPTER 9

  Rhett fucking Steele. What the hell was that coffee date thing, and why did I think he was asking me? I shake my head, chanting this to myself as I storm away from him.

  He has this mischievous, sexy grin that challenges everything I do, but then he opens his mouth and he’s the biggest dickhead there is. I see the way he talks to other women, all charm with sexy promises laced into his words. Then he sees me, and poof, that magic is gone. I get it; I’m the Black Widow. That nickname alone should be reason enough for me. I want to hate him and fuck him all at the same time. That makes him dangerous. I deserve better than an asshole.

  I’m still fuming over our whole run-in as I’m driving to meet my bestie. I need a classy mimosa and to bitch my head off. Seeing a spot close to our out-of-the-city brunch place, I swoop in, not wanting to miss out on it. My foot is a little too heavy as I think about what I would do to Rhett, when I’m lurched backward from hitting the car in front of me.

  Closing my eyes, my whole body slouches. Why today? Hitting my steering wheel in frustration, I step out, slamming my door. I run my hands through my long hair, looking to see the damage I’ve caused. The fact that my fingers get caught up in a tangle only makes it more frustrating. I can see an obvious dent and white marks on their paint job from me scratching their bumper.

  Long legs step out. I’m ready to plead my case when I look up to see none other than Rhett fucking Steele.

  “Why are you stalking me?” I gasp. “If you weren’t parked here, I wouldn’t have hit you.”

  This has been the morning from hell. I’m not sure if I can take it anymore.

  “Camilla, you’re lucky you hit me and not someone else.” His voice is stern and full of authority. I hate that my first thought is that his voice makes him even sexier.

  Placing my hand on my hip, I stare into his green eyes, not knowing how to react to this man. “Now why is that?” I hate that my body is responding to him. I can feel my nipples tighten against my bra.

  I need to go on a date. I need to get laid, obviously. It’s been way too long.

  He gives me that panty-dropping smile. “Go out with me, and I’ll forget this ever happened.” He looks like a cat who ate the canary. That smirk of his looks too victorious.

  Rhett Steele is not a fan of mine. I don’t even want to know why he is all of a sudden interested in me. I know when not to trust someone.

  “No.” I hand him my personal assistant’s card. “Call Mindy when you have an estimate on the damage. I’m more than happy to pay.”

  When his hand refuses to move, I step into his personal space. Even with my five-foot six stance, he towers over me. Using my pointer finger, I hook his front pocket while my other hand slowly places the card inside it.

  Grabbing the door, I look over my shoulder to see Rhett leaning against his car, watching me with curiosity.

  *

  “Rhett Steele?” Kellie questions, her perfectly manicured eyebrow rising.

  “I hit his car.” My shoulders sag as I sit down, and Kellie moves my drink toward me.

  “Maybe that’s karma’s way of slapping your hand for dumping your drink on him,” she puts out there, stealing a glance out the window. “By the way, how did you not end up as front page that morning?”

  “A girl needs to stay mysterious.” I chuckle, still not believing I wasn’t the headline. Maybe I feel a little bad for throwing Rhett under the bus. I’m a sore loser whenever he’s involved. I can’t help it. That man pushes all my buttons.

  “Drinking already?” Rhett’s smooth face enters my vision as he sits down at our table. “What number is this one today? Is that why you ran into me?” His face is completely serious, making the blood drain from mine.

  “Excuse me?” I rear back, insulted. “I’m not the one who’s been to rehab.” I use what I’ve seen in tabloids against him.

  He reaches over and pats my hand sympathetically. “Recognition is the first step.”

  Kellie spits her drink back into her glass, bringing my glare to her. She’s loving this. I’m never going to hear the end of it.

  “I have not been drinking.” I’m horrified he would think such a thing.

  “Here’s the thing. You didn’t give me your personal information after you hit my car.”

  “I gave you Mindy’s card.”

  “Alcohol can make people lie and do things they normally would never do.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I’ll need a picture of your license, insurance, registration, and your personal numb
er so I can get you that quote you asked for.” He leans in so it looks like only I can hear, but he talks loud enough for Kellie to keep her front seat with our exchange. “I don’t trust that number you sexted me earlier. You’re probably setting me up with it.”

  I was wondering if he was going to bring that picture up or not. “You expect me to disappear on you? Not all of us can pull a Rhett Steele vanishing act.”

  He chuckles at my words that are meant to hurt him. “Is she always this growly before her first drink?” he asks my best friend.

  I can see the humor in her eyes. Slowly, she bends closer to him. “You should see her without coffee if you think this is bad.”

  A growl erupts from me. This man is going to cause me to have high blood pressure.

  “Here is my license.” I slam it down on the table.

  He holds it up, inspecting it. “I thought Canadians were supposed to be sweet and apologetic?”

  “I’m sorry. Here is my license. I’m so sorry for hitting your car.” I put all of my acting energy into trying to sound sweet and not grinding my molars down on each other.

  “Now that’s the spirit.”

  I hate this man.

  “Do you mind if I steal her for a moment to get that insurance?” He winks at Kellie, and she giggles, waving us off.

  “I hate you,” I whisper to her as I stand.

  “The more times she says she hates you, the more she loves you. Keep that in the back of your head, Rhett.” She waves at me like a dork. I want to hide, and no one seems to be helping me.

  I don’t stomp away, not wanting to make a scene. I don’t need my ass tied to Rhett in any way. His hand puts pressure on the small of my back, and I try to wiggle away from it.

  Unlocking my car, I pull on the door harder than necessary before climbing in to get the information he needs. I slap it into his hands as I glare up into his eyes. He captures my hand before I’m able to pull it back. We stand there, hand in hand. I hate how warm his are. His large paws engulf mine, making them look tiny. Then he pulls me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around me, his fresh pine smell engulfing me. I hate how I notice how strong and muscular he is. Or that he must have shaved sometime after I saw him this morning.

  My thoughts are silenced as I feel him place a kiss to the top of my head. I’m dizzy and confused. What the hell is happening to me?

  Shaking him off, I take a large step back.

  “Payback’s a bitch.” He smiles at me before taking a picture of my insurance. He turns around, arrogantly tossing my papers to the ground, not even bothering to hand them back to me.

  Arrogant jerk. Charming for a millisecond then the asshole remerges. I stand by my actions and hurtful things I said to him. I’m not sorry anymore. For a moment, I thought maybe I was too harsh, but I wasn’t. He wanted to fuck with my head.

  Bending down, I pick up my stuff, putting everything away. Kellie and I may need all day to get this ‘need to run Rhett down with my car the next time I see him’ out of my system.

  CHAPTER 10

  From dumping drinks to kissing. Are the Black Widow and Rhett an item?

  I rip the front page off, allowing the paper to float to the ground while I ring the rest of the magazine in my hands.

  “This is outrageous!” I laugh, because I’m so dumbfounded. “Tell me no one actually believes this.”

  Kellie can’t answer me as she rolls around on my bed, crying because she’s laughing so hard. I throw the gossip magazine at her, only for her to laugh even harder at me. “I have to pee!” Rolling off my bed with a thud, she crawls till she can stand, racing toward my bathroom.

  “Please tell me why you find this so funny?” I slump onto my bed before lying flat on my back. Blown up on the front cover are Rhett and me in an embrace, with it looking like he’s giving me an affectionate kiss on the top of my head.

  “If this photo is photoshopped, we can do something about it,” she calls out from the bathroom as she turns on the tap to wash her hands.

  “Ugh, it’s not.” I fling my arm over my eyes, closing them for a brief second. At least it’s not People magazine claiming this.

  “It’s not that big of a deal. I was in that magazine for kissing that European soccer player just last month. By next week, no one will remember.”

  “You think?” I sit up, hoping she’s right.

  “Yes.” She levels me with a look that makes me breathe easier.

  *

  With my best friend gone, no one is telling me to stay off the internet. I can’t help it. I scour for everything Rhett Steele. Our picture has popped up on a few more sites.

  Should I make a statement?

  Turning off my computer, I try to stay away, knowing I can lose hours on it before even realizing it.

  As I sit down with my notebook, I begin to hum. I have had this tune in my head for the last day and it won’t go away. I feel like it’s an “I hate you” type of song. Closing my eyes, I begin to think about Rhett’s face. Slowly, I start to get a feel for the chorus lyrics. I lose myself in my hum as I jot down words and phrases that come to me. When I get stumped, I doodle along the side until the right rhyming words come to mind. Before I realize it, hours have passed and I have a rough draft of a song.

  It’s catchy, making my foot tap. I need to get into a studio to record it. I already know it won’t be waiting to go on my next album. I plan to download it onto iTunes the moment I feel it’s perfected itself.

  A knock on my door has me standing. I feel good, relaxed. Song writing is better therapy than running. But when the words refuse to come out, I’m forced to do the latter.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Rhett is standing on my doorstep, looking perfectly at home.

  “What are you doing here?” I sigh. I didn’t realize he knew where I lived.

  “I have that estimate for you.” He gives me one of those wide grins that show off his perfect white teeth.

  “Is that so?” I nod, trying not to look him up and down.

  “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Now, why would I do that?” I cross my arms, refusing to budge. His large frame is starting to make it feel like he’s hovering over me.

  His lips purse before he shrugs me off and brings out a piece of paper from his back pocket.

  He stays standing right where he is, as if waiting for me to open the quote. Rolling my eyes, I open the paper, ready to transfer whatever he needs. My eyes nearly pop out of my head, and I audibly gasp when I look at the amount.

  The quoted price to fix up the small scratch is outrageous. “You plan on painting your car with real gold?”

  “You know how it is. People see a famous person and the price goes ten times higher. I’m sure you get that all the time.” He rubs his neck with his large hands, not looking a tad bit embarrassed.

  “I’ll give you the number to my guy. He doesn’t rip anyone off. It doesn’t matter who you are,” I tell him, ready to dig the number out.

  “Well now, you see, it’s my choice on who gets to fix it up.”

  My eyes slowly go back to his, realizing he has a plan. This is not an innocent mistake. He probably paid them to quote higher.

  “Is that right, eh?”

  His knees bend and he makes this adorable scrunched face, showcasing the small lines around his eyes. “I love when you talk Canadian to me,” he teases. “Next, do you plan on inviting me in for some poutine or maple syrup?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” My face is expressionless, my lips flat, not knowing how on earth this guy ever gets laid. I suppose if you used duct tape to shut his mouth, it wouldn’t be that bad. But then half the fun is gone with that. He’s a waste of a perfectly good cock, I’m sure.

  “How about I make a deal with you?” His hand goes out to the doorframe, leaning in toward me. “You go out with me once, and we can forget about this little fender bender that is your fault and I can put the word out that we are not together.”

  I can’t find his angle. To be hone
st, I don’t want another accident on my insurance. When I went home last winter, my brakes locked on ice and I ran a stop sign, causing me to hit another car. I was going slow enough no one got hurt, but still. Then I had that speeding ticket on the coast last summer.

  “What if I want the media to think we’re together?” I can’t let him feel like he won this too easily. His thick brown eyebrow shoots up, looking shocked. I don’t need him getting the wrong idea, so I quickly continue, “Fine, whatever. Where should I meet you?”

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.” Plucking the paper from my hands, he turns to stroll away from the door. He makes a show of whistling a tune as he leaves.

  I can’t believe I just said yes to a date. What does he get out of this?

  CHAPTER 11

  My heart wobbles as I walk up to Camilla’s house to pick her up for our date. It’s a strange sensation for me. Last time I felt like this was at my junior dance.

  “Chill out,” I whisper to myself, battling why I feel like this. I’m never nervous around women. I’ve been around Camilla enough for her to be familiar, and never once have I had this reaction. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold.

  Everything is going to the plan Dick and I set out. Before I know it, the media will be eating out of the palm of my hand again, like they had been before. Camilla will go back to the world she has always known. That girl has fought with the media since the day she was discovered on that television show.

  I’m not even at her door when she steps out. I stand there looking at her. She’s breathtaking. My heart does a strangled double thud, and I feel a tingle run up my body.

  Could I be having a heart attack?

  Standing frozen, I wait for more symptoms, only for them to disappear.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her honestly. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. I’m still awestruck. She’s not dressed up fancy, wearing slim-fit blue jeans with a casual white T-shirt, but it’s in the way her jeans fit her curves impeccably, hugging her assets. Her shirt stretching across her chest reminding me of those perfect handful she carries. I refuse to stare, trying to be a gentleman.