by M. S. Parker
“Maybe I will,” I lied and licked my lips. “I can sell the package to you now and sell them to TMZ after, double down on my profit.”
He chuckled, so close that I could feel his hot breath brush over my neck.
I glanced back at him, gauging his distance. He couldn't have been further than a foot away. His scent, musky and male, drifted over to me. I shivered.
“You know, these are actually pretty good.” His voice was lower now, with a touch of that divine hoarseness that peppered his music. “Apparently, you've actually got a little talent under all these quills.”
“Well, some of us have to pay the bills with more than just our attitude,” I snapped back. I don’t know why I was on the defensive so abruptly. Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere when he told me the photos were good, and it had stroked this hidden part of me that sought his approval. Maybe it was the fact that he was shirtless and standing so close that I could feel his body heat. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above.
Either way, this whole situation needed to end.
I turned around, fixing him with a stern stare. “I’ve got other clients coming in...”
Sean sidled up another step until he was dangerously close. I was a tall woman, and I rarely felt cowed by anyone. If anything, I was the one who usually did the cowing. But Sean was tall, wide, and muscular. He radiated testosterone and sex. I suddenly saw him as the rock god he was, the intimidating skyscraper of a man who was collectively adored and idolized the world over. His intelligent blue eyes had flecks of gold in them. His strong jaw had the perfect amount of stubble. And his trademark messy black hair had reached optimum messiness. It was like standing in front of a poster, except this poster lived and breathed and hungered.
His gaze flicked down to my mouth. Was he going to kiss me? That was what people did before they kissed, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t know, not having had many from which to draw a comparison. And something in my gut told me that if he did kiss me, it wouldn’t matter if I’d kissed every guy in Seattle. There would be no parallels to draw, no earthly comparison I could make.
The big question that remained was...if he kissed me, was I going to let him?
Suddenly, Sean pulled something out of his back pocket and reached around me to deposit it on the counter. “For your time.”
He stepped back, and I could breathe again. I evaluated what he’d left for me as he walked over to his shirt and began pulling it on. The wad of hundred dollar bills stared almost mockingly at me.
“That’s too much,” I told him. It was not a gracious refusal of his gesture at all, but an irritated protest.
What kind of person got mad about being overpaid? Me, apparently.
“You’re worth it,” was all he said in reply, a sly grin on his lips.
Before I could protest further, Sean Morris walked out of my photo studio, and possibly out of my life. I had no indication that he was coming back, that whatever he’d hoped to achieve out of this little meeting had gone to plan. And as I watched him step out onto the street, I reflected bitterly how that man could make me feel like a prostitute without me having to even take my clothes off.
Ten
Sean
I left the photo studio with a spring in my step. I could feel Hazel’s eyes on me as I left, burning a hole in my back. I welcomed the burn. I had her interest now, and that put me one step closer to having her entirely.
The sky had cleared a little, which was good since I was only in a t-shirt still. I thrust my cap and sunglasses back on my face, aiming for my classic black 1970 Dodge Charger RT, parked just down the road. It was one of the first things I purchased when my star rose. I loved my Bellevue mansion and the limitless amounts of drugs and alcohol that accompanied the rise in my career, but this car was my baby.
I passed a woman on the way, and she kinda craned her neck to look at me as I passed. I didn’t think much of it at first. She was redheaded and petite, with a curvy little figure that I wouldn’t have minded running my hands along. Her looking at me was probably nothing more than sheer animal magnetism.
But then when I glanced back and saw her turn heel and start chasing after me, I got the feeling she was after something specific.
“Hey!” the girl called.
I turned and smiled politely, waiting for her to speak.
“You’re Sean Morris, aren’t you?” she asked.
Apparently, not everyone was oblivious. Sometimes in this situation, I’d tell the person they were mistaken, sometimes I wouldn’t. Today I was feeling high on my victory with Hazel and was curious what kind of woman chased down a rock star in public.
I gave a short nod. “Do you want an autograph?”
Her hazel eyes widened, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. It was a good look for her. But then she seemed to shake herself, and the expression of wonder gave way to one of serious inquiry.
“Not right now,” she said. “Did I just see you leaving that photo studio?”
My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Who wants to know?”
It was an odd thing for a member of the press to focus on.
Normally, they would have been more interested in snapping a picture of me leaving the studio, then they would add their own salacious caption. “Rock star leaves family photo studio after raunchy roll in the reels with sexy photographer.”
Heh. I wish.
“I'm a friend of Hazel's.” The woman stretched her hand out for me to shake. “I'm Cora Charming.”
I tentatively took her hand, wondering what in particular had compelled her to chase me down. It had to be a ploy to get in my pants, didn't it? Not that I'd normally complain, given that this chick was totally hot, but today I just didn't...feel like it.
Still, what was the harm in turning on the charm a little and seeing where it went? Maybe she could even help me with Hazel.
“What can I help you with, Cora?” I shot her my best smile.
Though my looks were obviously affecting the now pink-cheeked woman in front of me, she seemed to deliberately steer away from any opportunity to flirt.
She planted a hand on her hip. “I'd like to know what you were doing in there in the first place, for a start.”
“Why don't you just ask Hazel?”
She smiled. “Don't think I won't. But I want to hear from you why you were in there.”
“To get some pictures taken.” I shrugged. “Isn't that what photo studios are for?”
Cora raised a skeptical brow and folded her arms over her chest. She almost looked intimidating. Almost.
“Bullshit.” She shook her head. “I'd have an easier time believing you got lost on your way to the Key Arena and stopped in to ask for directions.”
This girl played hardball, almost as hard as her friend. I liked it.
“You're not an idiot, I'll give you that.” I chuckled. “Most of the women I talk to on a day-to-day basis would have eaten that answer up and requested dessert.”
“I can't tell whether that's an offensive generalization or merely a pathetic fact.”
I could see that the only way to communicate with Cora would be to keep to the facts. I could be direct.
“Take it how you will. As for your question, the truth is that I came to find out more about Hazel. We had an...” I searched for the word, “unsatisfactory introduction the other night.”
Cora scoffed. “Unsatisfactory? She threw a drink in your face.”
My neck bristled. I didn't like being reminded of my humiliation. Of course, it wouldn't be an embarrassing moment anymore after I nailed the pretty drink tossing photographer. Then it would just make the conquest even more satisfying.
“Yes, she threw a drink in my face. Can you blame me for taking an interest in her?”
Cora shifted from one foot to the other, examining me. Her jaw was tight.
“She's an interesting girl, so no, I can't blame you. But I'm sure she thought it was an obvious rejection, rather than some kind of twisted emotional
foreplay.”
I had to laugh at that one. “Maybe. Hard to tell these days.” I shifted the topic slightly to my advantage. “So, what's her deal? Is she seeing anyone?”
Cora's eyebrows shot up, and she exhaled through her teeth in bewilderment. Then her lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, my friend. Entirely the wrong tree. Perhaps not even in the right forest.”
I frowned, confused. “She’s not into guys?”
That didn't make sense, not when we'd shared such a tense moment only a few minutes before. I felt her desire, even if she hadn't even understood it fully herself. She wanted me, she just couldn't admit it.
“No, she's into guys,” Cora replied. “But she's not looking for guys, if you catch my drift.”
I didn't.
Cora caught my furrowed brow and explained. “She's not looking for guys because she's looking for a guy. Singular. As in, she's saving herself for marriage.”
Well, that was entirely unexpected.
“She's saving herself,” I repeated, more to myself than anything else.
It threw a wrench in the mix, but it wasn't an unavoidable obstacle by any means.
“Yeah, and even if she weren't...well, your reputation precedes you, Sean Morris.”
“Hazel's a virgin?” I clarified.
Cora nodded. “And so she shall remain for some time, I expect.”
“Because why? I'm not good enough for her or something?”
I had one helluva an ego, and this was the first time in a long time that I'd come close to doubting myself. Why would Hazel not jump at the opportunity to lose her virginity to a successful, hot as hell, well-endowed rock star like me?
A pained expression crossed Cora's face. I could tell she didn't agree with her friend's reasoning, and she didn't look forward to explaining it to me.
“Uh, well...here's the thing. Things like fame, money...hotness...they don't matter to her. She's looking for something a little bit deeper.” All traces of awkwardness left her face, and her expression grew stern. “And to be honest with you, I love your music, and I think you're hot as hell, but Hazel isn't a trophy to be won. I wouldn't want to see someone like you hurt her. So maybe just deal with your bruised ego and go find another conquest.”
I was impressed by her loyalty to her friend. And her balls. Nonetheless, I fixed her with a cocky, nonchalant smile. “I'll take that under advisement.” Then, turning and continuing down the street to my car, I called behind me, “Tell Hazel I'll see her around.”
Once I was in the quiet of my car, I pulled out my phone and leaned back in the seat. Brad picked up after two rings. He always did. It was part of what made him a good manager.
“Sean,” Brad said. “Keeping out of trouble I hope?”
“Never have and never will. But that's not what I'm calling about.” I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel, liking this idea more and more as it became clear to me. “I want you to fire our tour photographer. There's someone else I want to bring instead.”
Eleven
Hazel
I still hadn't normalized my heart rate before Cora burst through my door with a wild look in her eyes.
“Cora!” I forced a smile. “What are you doing here?”
She thrust out her hand, which was holding my debit card. “You left it at Original Thai.”
“Oh, thanks.” I grabbed it, wondering why she looked so troubled over one little debit card. I was about to find out.
“You would not believe who I just saw outside. Sean motherfucking Morris.” Cora jumped up onto the counter, swinging her legs back and forth. “Or I suppose you would believe that since he was just in here.”
My cheeks flamed. “Yeah, he stopped by.”
“Girl, he looked hungry. What happened in here? He said he just stopped by to get some pictures taken, but that seems a bit far-fetched.”
“Nothing happened!” My eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. “He just...showed up. And wanted pictures taken.”
Cora grinned. “Dick pics?”
“God, no!”
“So, what did happen?” She cocked her head to the side, examining me. “Did he just get his photos taken and leave?”
I sighed and massaged my aching forehead. I was getting a migraine something fierce. I just wished this day would end so I could go home and sink into a bath piled high with bubbles and figure out what the hell was going on with me.
“Well, I mean, he obviously came over here looking to get another shot at getting in my pants,” I replied. “But I told him to fuck right off.”
It was a lie, but only a little white one. While I hadn't been that aggressive, surely, he'd gotten the message. If I was open to his advances, he wouldn't have left with some crappy photos and a set of blue balls. And those were surely just as poignant a reminder of my disinterest as any, right?
Before Cora could ask anymore questions, the office phone rang shrilly. I scowled. It was more often telemarketers than potential customers.
“Give me a sec,” I told Cora, walking down the counter to the phone.
I noticed her slip off the counter onto my side and go over to my computer, where she often checked her Facebook or surfed the web while I was busy.
“Good afternoon, Flash Flash. This is Hazel, how can I help you?” It was a good thing the person on the other end of the line couldn't see my beleaguered expression, which clashed noticeably with my polite and happy tone.
“Just the person I want to talk to,” said an unfamiliar male voice.
Could it be Sean calling me? What would be the benefit of doing so?
“I'm Brad Jones. I manage Flagship Inferno. I understand that Sean is a fan of your work, and I'd like to invite you to tag along on their upcoming North American tour as the tour photographer.”
I nearly dropped the handset. “Um, what?”
It wasn't a dignified answer, but it was the only thing I could think of to say at all. Surely this was a prank call. It had to be! But it was such a specific kind of prank call that I didn't understand why anyone would do it.
“You are a photographer, right?” Brad asked.
“Yes, yes I am,” I said. “Sorry, I just wasn't expecting this.”
“I understand. Don't worry, I'll send over documentation with job information, so you know what to expect. But I thought I'd call and offer you the job personally first. It's a great opportunity, and you should feel lucky that Sean has taken such an interest in you.”
Oh, I was feeling something. A few somethings. Surprised, first of all. Confused. A little pissed at Sean for being so presumptuous. And hell, throw in some giddiness for good measure.
“Can I get back to you after I check my schedule?” I asked, trying to sound as confident as possible. I didn't stutter, but beyond that, it was obvious that I was freaking out over here.
“Sure thing. I'll send over more information right away. What's your email?”
I rattled the address off and hung up the phone, eyes staring at the wall without seeing.
Cora was still at the computer, and a second later, she piped up, “Who was that?”
I turned to her and swallowed hard. “That was Sean's manager, Brad Jones. He offered me the spot of tour photographer on the band's upcoming North American tour.”
Cora's mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly. “Yes, I'm fucking serious.”
She squealed, bounced over to me, and pulled me into a spine-crushing hug. It was funny how she was so much shorter than me, but still managed to squeeze me in a death grip.
“I don't know...”
Cora pulled away from me with a puzzled expression. “Oh, right,” she said. “Your...schedule.” She walked back over to the computer and clicked around a little. I was just about to ask her what she was doing when she said, “Got your schedule here. I see what you mean.” She pursed her lips, as if truly troubled. “You've got a family coming in next week to do a
“novelty” pregnancy shoot, whatever the hell that is.” She tutted. “Can't miss that.”
“Cora,” I said reproachfully. “You know what my problem is here. It's not my schedule.”
“Well, I can't think of any real reason you could have not to take this offer.” She crossed her arms and turned to face me with a challenging expression. “You'd be crazy not to do this! It's your chance to get your foot in the door. Whatever Sean wants or thinks is going to happen on tour is irrelevant.”
“How is him wanting to sleep with me irrelevant?” I asked. “Who's to say that he won't take my acceptance of this offer as a sign that I'm giving in?”
Cora smirked. “Girl, plenty of women have done the deed to get ahead in the world. There's no shame in it. And you don't even have to have sex with him, that's the beauty of it. And anyway, if it means a rise in your career...” Cora smiled reassuringly and lifted her shoulder in a subtle shrug. “I know that we have differing opinions on this kind of thing, but as far as I'm concerned, use it 'til you lose it and count your money on the other side.”
I was unable to hide the expression of horror that crossed my face. Playing this twisted game with Sean just to get ahead? Was Cora crazy?
Or was she onto something?
I still wasn't convinced this was a good idea, but Cora wasn't totally wrong. If I'd already gotten Sean to hire me based on his desire for me, what else did I stand to gain? It wasn't like I had any problem keeping my legs shut, so I didn't even consider it playing with fire.
Though, when I remembered the way he looked at me, I also remembered the burn.
Twelve
Sean
The lot was a rush of activity, crates flying this way and that way, people yelling at each other over the hubbub as they tried to coordinate the packing of all the tour materials into the appropriate vehicles.
I stood on the sidelines smoking a cigarette. I was more interested in the way the smoke curled off into the sky than I was in what was going on in front of me, but Brad wanted me present.
