by Vi Keeland
“Did I forget to tell you that?”
“Umm … yes, I would have remembered if you slept with Massive Mulch.”
“The curiosity finally got to me. We stared at that anaconda bulging from his pants for ten weeks. I had to see it.”
“He was gross.”
“I didn’t look at his face.”
“So …”
“So what?” she asks coyly.
“Was it as big as the outline we stared at for months?”
“Bigger.”
“He was still gross.”
“He ruined me for petite-penised men everywhere.”
I laugh. “I totally forgot what we were talking about. How did our conversation turn to Professor Mulch?”
“I was making a point. Just because you slept with someone doesn’t mean you’re committed to them.”
“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t feel right because you can’t play ding dong ditch.”
“The kids game?”
“The adult version. Where you play with his ding dong and then ditch him.”
“You need help.”
“I need to play ding dong ditch,” she teases. “But seriously, Kate. I know you have feelings for Cooper. You know where I stand on that one. It’s time you put yourself first and find a little happiness. Yet we both know you won’t do that… . not when you see it as being at the expense of your mom and Kyle. So if you’re not going to give Cooper a real chance, then really jump back into the show. The last thing you need is to be heartbroken and not be able to help your family.”
I heave a heavy sigh. “I know you’re right”
“Aren’t I always?” She bumps my shoulder.
We step off the elevator and I’m surprised to find a man at our door. “Flynn … what are you doing here? I thought our date wasn’t until tonight.”
“Maybe he’s playing ding dong ditch,” Sadie mumbles so only I can hear her.
Flynn smiles at me, eyes doing a quick sweep up and down. I’m wearing a tummy-baring yoga top and second-skin yoga pants. But I’m also a sweaty mess. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to go on a pre-date date?” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
“A pre-date date?”
“A date before our date.”
“I thought we were off until five today.”
“We are. I was hoping to take you out, without the cameras, before our date tonight.”
“Umm … I’m supposed to help Sadie at her office today. This is Sadie, by the way.” I motion to my best friend. She has that gleam of excitement in her eyes that always got us in trouble growing up.
“Don’t be silly. We can do it another day.” She turns her attention to Flynn. “Nice to meet you. You’re even hotter in person.”
Flynn’s smiles, amused at her forwardness. “We’re all set then.”
“But …”
Sadie interrupts me. “No buts. Go, have a good time.”
Flynn looks to Sadie, the two of them exchanging more than just a glance. “You should listen to your friend.”
“I’m a mess.”
“I like the way you look.”
“And I smell.”
“I like the way you smell too,” he says with a lopsided grin.
“Can I take a quick shower?” I finally concede, ignoring his comment.
“Sure.”
“Flynn and I will get to know each other,” Sadie says, unlocking the door.
That, I’m a little afraid of.
Forty-five minutes later I’m freshly showered and ready. I hear the tail end of Sadie and Flynn’s conversation as I walk into the living room. “The fire department had to come and take apart the machines.”
“Please tell me you aren’t telling that story again.”
“It’s a good story.”
“It isn’t a good story. And I was nine. How much more play do you think you can get out of it?”
“You were fourteen.”
“I was not fourteen. I was twelve.”
“You said nine. I had to go with fourteen to get you to admit the truth.”
I roll my eyes. “I was reaching for something I dropped.”
“A Justin Timberlake sticker in one of those little see-through plastic gumball containers that are impossible to open.”
“It was a collectible sticker,” I defend my action, what else can I do at this point? As if getting your head stuck between gumball machines in the front of a busy supermarket on a Saturday morning isn’t bad enough. Admitting you had to be rescued by the fire department because you were trying to reach for a Justin Timberlake sticker just makes it that much more embarrassing.
Flynn stands. “Wanna know what I got from that story?”
“Not really,” I say.
He walks toward me. “That you have a thing for musicians.” He takes my hand, weaving his fingers through mine, and raises our joined hands to his lips. “Means there’s hope for me after all.”
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
“Why not? It can’t be against the rules if we aren’t on a show-sanctioned date.”
“It’s against my rules.” He glances at me and smiles, eyes quickly returning to the road.
The radio plays a familiar voice. “Is that … ?”
“Yep,” Flynn says proudly.
“Wow. You’re on the radio. Turn it up!”
“I’d come off pretty full of myself if I blasted my own song on the radio, don’t you think?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard you on the radio.”
“Me too.”
“Are you serious?”
“I knew our manger pushed out the single early to a few stations. But I’ve never actually heard it played.”
I blast the radio as loud as it can go. Flynn taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives, the smile never leaving his face.
“That’s very cool. I can’t believe we just listened to your song on the radio for the first time together,” I say as I lower the volume back down.
His normally cocky attitude turns humble. “I’m glad I was with you.”
A short drive more and then we pull into the parking lot at Qualcomm Stadium. “Are we going to the Chargers game?” I ask excitedly. My Dad and I spent many Sundays watching football when I was a kid. I hadn’t yet caught on that he was betting the games back then.
“We are.”
“I’m a huge Chargers fan.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Sweetheart, the way you wear that t-shirt, the lightning bolt stretched tightly across your chest, I may very well have to turn in my lifelong Raiders fan-club card.”
“You’re a Raiders fan?”
“I’m a Kate fan.”
Good answer.
The fifty-yard line is so close, some of the players on the sidelines may very well hear my screaming. It’s a tied game at half-time and we decide to get a bite to eat.
“Hot dog?” he asks as we move to the front of the line.
“And a beer.”
“Girl after my own heart.”
There’s a crowd milling around the beer station; a small group of girls of about eighteen or nineteen are staring in our direction. Eventually, they make their way over to us. “Aren’t you Flynn Beckham?” one eyelash-batting girl asks.
Flynn’s arm wraps around my waist. “I am.”
The small gaggle of girls squeal. “I’ve seen you at Stardust a dozen times!”
“Well, thank you for coming. We’ll be back on the road soon.”
“Would you sign an autograph for me?”
“Sure.”
The smiling girls dig into their handbags, one of them pulling out a red felt-tip marker. She pulls up her shirt, revealing a lacy red bra overflowing with more cleavage than a push-up bra could ever offer me, and thrusts them in Flynn’s direction. “Sign over my heart,” she says.
“That
’s very sweet of you. But that wouldn’t be very respectful to my girlfriend here.” He motions in my direction. It might be the first time they even notice I’m standing next to him.
The girl looks annoyed at my presence and doesn’t lower her shirt right away. But Flynn handles it with grace. Grabbing a napkin from a nearby dispenser, he begins to scribble, asking the girl’s name. “Jenny,” she says. He writes her a quick note, complete with a few sketches of music notes, and signs his name.
His hand on the small of my back, he leads me away. “I hear the game starting. You ladies enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”
“Nicely done, Rockstar,” I bump shoulders with Flynn as we make our way back to our seats. “By the way, I think your girlfriend would have been okay with you signing some skin. It doesn’t seem so risqué since you’re dating four other women.”
Flynn stops and unexpectedly pulls me close to him. “That’s all for the show. But today, when it’s my choice, I’m here with you only.”
Our evening date is nothing like the way we spent our day. Gone is the casual, fun atmosphere as Flynn takes my hand to board the beautiful catamaran for a sunset cruise.
“You look beautiful. I can’t decide if I like you better in a Chargers t-shirt or a dress.” He looks me up and down approvingly.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well, yourself.” His dress shirt and suit are both dark, but his tie is the perfect shade of pale blue to match the sparkle in his eyes. Even though he’s dressed more formally than this afternoon, there’s still an air of casualness about him. A laidback vibe that I can’t help but notice is so distinctly different than what Cooper Montgomery throws off. The way that man comes off is anything but causal. I feel guilty thinking of Cooper when Flynn has been nothing short of perfect today. In fact, I can’t seem to think of a single thing Flynn’s done to sour me to him since the day I met him.
We find a quiet spot on the bow and the catamaran sets sail. The uniformed waiter brings us drinks and hors d’oeuvres and quickly makes himself scarce. It’s almost easy to forget we’re being watched by the prying eye of a camera hidden somewhere discreet. The beautiful boat glides smoothly through the harbor, the front slicing tranquilly through gleaming waters as the sun begins to set in the distance.
“Come here.” Flynn wraps his arm around my shoulders and hauls me close against him. It’s nice. Peaceful almost. I really do enjoy his company. I lean back, allowing myself to relax as he locks both arms around me.
“I had a good time today,” he says, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“Me too,” I exhale.
“I always have a good time when I’m with you.”
“Me too.”
“Kate …”
I turn when he doesn’t say more. “I like you,” he rasps, meeting my gaze.
“I like you too.”
“A lot.”
Oh. I have no idea what to say. I really do like him. Sort of a lot too. But something keeps holding me back. Or more correctly, someone keeps holding me back. If Cooper Montgomery hadn’t barreled into my life, Flynn and I would most likely be in a very different place right now. I need to focus—keep the memory of the kiss we shared before I met Cooper in the forefront of my mind. It was nice. Passionate even. There was a spark, I know there was. I just need to get back to that place. Yet I tense up when he moves in closer.
“Is it the cameras?” he whispers in my ear.
I have no idea how to answer, so I tell him the truth. Well, mostly the truth. It was difficult for me to forget the cameras even before I met Cooper. “Maybe a little.”
A member of the Throb crew comes out from nowhere. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. But can you speak a little louder? We can’t pick up your voices out here too easily.”
Flynn sighs loudly. “Yeah. No problem.” He smiles and leans his forehead to mine, intentionally whispering to avoid the mics. “I get it. I like that you’re more comfortable when we’re alone. Real life won’t have cameras.” He kisses my cheek and his sweet smile turns flirty again. “Well, unless you want cameras. I’d be into that too if it’s just for our eyes.”
chapter twenty
Cooper
“Coop. You got a minute?” Miles pops his head into my office.
Not really. “Sure. What’s up Miles?”
“The ratings on Throb are climbing every week. Most reality TV shows drop as they go. We’re heading in the other direction.” He beams, but I stiffen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s not here to only share good news.
“That’s great.” I wish the damn show would end already.
“The final four are going to be picked tomorrow night. I can’t wait to film the overnight dates.”
“What do you need, Miles?” Exasperation and anger shine through loud and clear.
“We rented a wing of the Four Seasons in Barbados to shoot the overnight date shows in. But it’s expensive. Between putting up the crew and closing off a section of the hotel to shoot for two weeks, it will eat away at a lot of cash. Cash that can be better used for more advertising.”
“So you want another loan?”
“No. I was hoping to use the house in Barbados to shoot.”
“My house?” Yeah. I’d like nothing better than to have Kate fuck Dickhead in my bedroom. Awesome idea. “I don’t think so, Miles.” The house was our father’s; I bought Miles out when we settled the estate. “Do you want to shoot them fucking in our father’s room?”
Miles shoves his hands in his pocket nervously. At least he has the decency to look embarrassed for asking. “What about if the crew stayed in the main house? And the contestant stayed in the guesthouse. Alone. We can keep the honeymoon suite at the Four Seasons and shoot there, but at least it would save me a fortune putting everyone up.” He pauses for a moment. “Dad used to give the keys to the crew sometimes after they worked hard on a film, as a bonus. I don’t think he’d mind the crew staying there.”
“I don’t know, Miles, let me think about it.” How the hell did I get so involved in his crap?
“That’s great.” He perks up and smiles like I’ve just agreed to something.
“Don’t look so happy, I didn’t say yes yet.”
“No, but you will.”
“I have a meeting.”
“Thanks, Coop. I have to cancel the hotel by tomorrow … if you could let me know by then.” Miles walks toward the door and looks back. “Oh. I almost forgot.” He reaches inside his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a DVD. “Today’s daily. The last one-on-one date. Women are going to eat this shit up. He actually sings to his date under the moonlight in the back of a catamaran.”
“Who was his date?”
“Kate.”
The contents of the large envelope I finally tore open are scattered all over my desk. I’d hired Damian Fry to dig up dirt on Kate right after she told me she was doing the show because she needed the prize money. The envelope arrived the morning after we’d spent the night together. But by then, I’d flip-flopped back and forth a million times between needing to know and feeling like I was invading her privacy reading through what she was obviously not ready to tell me. Forcing myself to ignore the report, I’d shoved it into the back of my drawer, unopened. Until an hour ago.
The visual Miles left me of Kate and Dickhead under the moonlight this morning has left me unable to focus. Again. Everyone has some skeletons in their closet—I needed to harden my heart by learning Kate’s. I thought whatever was inside the envelope might help me.
I stare at the mess of papers—the dirt Damian Fry dug up on Kate. Well, not really on Kate—she’s squeaky clean. Which is actually pretty amazing considering the man she was raised by. It’s her father who got her into the mess she’s in today. Leaving her sick mother with enough debt to drown her. And her brother. Damn it. I’ll never be able to think straight in a day full of jam-packed meetings.
Sitting around the boardroom table, I vaguely hear the voices of each department head drone
on with their project updates. My mind is somewhere else. A vision of Kate beneath me fills my head, her smiling up at me, eyes shining with emotion. But then just as quickly as it came, the vision is gone, replaced by him singing to her. She looks up at him with the same emotion in her eyes.
I thought not seeing it on the screen would save me from another day of picturing her in his arms. Damn, was I wrong. My brain has gotten more creative, deciding to play a scene for me to watch, even though it has no idea what really is on the video.
I make no effort to participate in the meeting. It’s a waste of my time and that of a dozen other high-priced people on my payroll. “Thank you for coming. See you next week,” I mutter, standing abruptly, and walk out of the room, leaving faces full of confusion in my wake.
Irritated with myself for my lack of focus, I decide to feed my obsession, even though I know it’s a bad idea. I walk into my office and head straight for my laptop. Helen follows me in, looking concerned. “Is everything okay? It’s only eleven and your meeting usually goes until at least one.”
“It’s fine. I cut it early. I have some pressing things I need to take care of today.” Yeah, like stalking.
I open the jewel case and slip in the DVD just as Helen begins to walk back to her desk. “Do you have Miles’s show schedule for today?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me when they’re shooting?”
“Sure.” She heads to her computer and comes back a minute later with a printout. “He’s shooting a commercial up at the rental house.” She looks at her watch. “It’s scheduled to start right about now.”
My jacket is on before she finishes the sentence. “Reschedule my afternoon meetings.”
“Really?” The surprise in her voice matches her face. I don’t go off schedule.
“Push them until tomorrow. I may not be back this afternoon,” I yell back over my shoulder, already halfway out the door.
My foot leans on the accelerator harder as my anxiety builds. The needle on the speedometer ratchets up to eighty, although I don’t even notice. My hands grip the wheel tightly as I weave in and out of traffic.
Her beat-up blue Jeep is parked in the circular driveway, jammed in with twenty other cars. I catch my reflection in the window—jaw tight, eyes set with determination, mouth in a taut line. The same way I look when a deal I’ve been salivating over for months is about to go south. I take a deep cleansing breath before walking inside.
