Celebrity Dirt: A Fake Relationship Romantic Suspense Standalone

by J. D. Hollyfield

  I twist my body to face him. “It’s not childish.”

  “Then what is it? Foolish? Did you not rebel enough as a child?”

  “First off…” No. I was a perfect straight-A student. My parents were devout in their religion. The worst thing I did was chew gum in church.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “First off, this isn’t me rebelling. It’s me making a difference—exposing what goes on behind closed doors in this city.”

  Logan’s laugh is cynical and decidedly unamused. “Do you even know who you just sat down with?”

  “Yeah, his name is Renaldo, and he seemed… well very nice.”

  “Nice. Are you fucking kidding me? Nice? Ha!” He throws another angered glower my way. “That nice man you practically passed out from when he sucked on your hand—”

  “I did not almost pass out.” It’s called swooning. “And for the record, he was quite attractive.” My hands fly out, grabbing the center console and the door armrest as Logan takes a right turn going a million miles per hour, the back of his car fishtailing.

  “I don’t give a fuck! Renaldo Valdez is a fucking human trafficker. Do I need to spell out what that means, Addy? He trafficks young girls. Sometimes as young as five.” He hisses, bringing his eyes back forward.

  The color drains from my face. “Wait, I thought he—holy crap.”

  “Yeah, holy crap. Wake up, baby cakes. This isn’t some gossip story. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep this shit up.”

  Human trafficker.

  New ventures.

  My mind starts racing over everything they said. It didn’t make sense at first. The whole time, I assumed they were talking about drugs, but they were talking in code. “I get it now.”

  “Fucking finally.”

  I turn to Logan. “No, I get it. The containers. The barcodes. The coloring. They aren’t talking about drugs. They’re talking about girls.”

  Logan whips his head in my direction. “What the fuck are you talking about? They were meeting to strike a deal for Renaldo to obtain waterway access. Vincent only deals narcotics.”

  “They were. But on the way there, Vincent said he was broadening his horizons. Looking for a new business venture. The other day when Vincent gave you that paperwork. You just assumed drugs, right? But those containers. They were color-coordinated. In the meeting, they talked about colors. I think they meant girls. Each color meaning a different thing. Quantity, quality. Age maybe? And I think those barcodes are actual humans. My god, there were hundreds upon hundreds on that list.” My stomach turns sour thinking of Renaldo’s comment about “lost” product. It can only mean…

  “I think they’re transporting the girls in the containers. Renaldo said they had a delay in Florida. Issues with his port. They lost some of the product. I think he meant—oh my god, as in due to the delay, some girls died. We have to stop them!”

  “Fuck.” Logan clenches his jaw to the point of cracking teeth.

  “Listen, you can be something bigger than Vincent’s goon.” His eyes flicker with anger. “You want this to be your life? To be involved with someone who puts drugs on the streets? Trafficks children? You’re better than that. You have to do something!”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s called doing what’s right. Logan, these people need to be exposed.” He doesn’t respond. “Hello! Are you even listening to me? How can you seriously turn your back on—”

  “Oh, says the one dressed up as Vincent’s doll? Really? Not sure why you’re so worried about this life. You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine.”

  “That’s not fair. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Oh!” he scoffs. “So, you were forced into those fancy clothes. How horrible is it to be covered in diamonds? Thousands of drug dollars draped along your—”

  “Stop—”

  “Does the little journalist not like the truth? Welcome to the real-life of drug smuggling and trafficking. Did you want me to hand you over to Vincent now? Or will you play hard to get for a bit longer—”

  “Stop!”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started. Those pretty clothes worth it? He sure knows how to pick ’em. All alike. Every single girl—”

  “Stop. Why are you doing this?” I shamefully wipe at a fallen tear. He doesn’t answer me.

  We pull up to his house, and he shuts off the engine. Without another word, he gets out and storms up to his front door. As I climb out of the car, my irritation grows. Why is he acting like I’m the one at fault here?

  He walks in, barely holding the door for me, and disappears into his kitchen. I follow him, preparing myself for a fight. “You know, I don’t know what your problem is, and quite frankly, I don’t care.” He ignores me and opens the fridge to grab a beer. “Seriously, what’s your problem with me?”

  He doesn’t bother looking at me as he twists off the cap and takes a long swig.

  “This whole hot and cold attitude of yours is getting really old. One minute, you’re telling me to play by your rules. Be the compliant girlfriend. Perform for the crowd. The next, you’re telling me to knock it off. To get my nose out of your business. Then you’re back to telling me I can’t go home. And if I’m in so much danger, why’d you just leave me here this morning? Huh?”

  He stares at me, sipping on his beer as if nothing I say affects him. “Hello! Anything?” I shake my head with frustration, disappointment, anger. “You know what? Forget this. I don’t need to stay here and pretend anymore. Because honestly, the fact that you’re willing to sit back and do nothing makes me sick. And yeah, I may be all done up in drug money, but at least I know that what I’m doing is for the better good. For a story that will save lives. You’re just a low-life jerk who’s willing to murder—”

  A beer whips across the kitchen and shatters against the wall. In a flash, he’s on me, pushing me up against the wall. “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you don’t care enough to do anything for those poor girls. I know you don’t care that you help distribute illegal drugs. I know you killed that innocent girl on that boat. You knew she wasn’t Francesca—and you just shot her. Her parents are probably worried sick about her. Little do they know, she’s floating in Lake Michigan!”

  “You know nothing!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall next to my head.

  I jump, clenching my eyes closed. This is the first time I’ve seen him show violence toward me, and it frightens me. I bite down on my lower lip so he doesn’t notice it start to quiver. “If I know nothing, then tell me. Vincent doesn’t own you. Everyone has a choice. Do the right thing and help me bring these horrible people to justice. But know this, with or without you, I’m writing this story.”

  “You’re fucking not.”

  “I am. I don’t need you to do this.”

  He leans in, his forearms pressed against the wall, caging me in. “You so sure about that? The only reason Vincent hasn’t taken you and violated you until you’re so broken and addicted to the heroin he’ll shoot you up with, is because of me.” The visual sends chills down my spine. “He’s biding his time. He plans on taking you. He’s just waiting for the perfect moment. And he will. But he also knows I won’t go up against him. You’re in one piece mentally and physically because he needs me. Is this story worth it to you? When Vincent gets bored of you, which he will, he’ll do what he always does and toss his broken toys away to the wolves. I’m sure he already has a plan to sell you off to Renaldo, who I can guarantee already made a nice offer for you after today.”

  “Wh—What?”

  “If you don’t think for a second there’s already a price tag on you, you really are as naïve as you look. Renaldo will buy you, and Vincent will give you right up. He doesn’t see you as a person. He sees you as a toy—a plaything he will ruin, break, and sell. Open your fucking eyes!”

  The only thing I want to do is kick him in the
balls. But his threats have me rattled. I want this story, but what if I am in over my head? My stomach becomes uneasy. My lips thin, and my pupils expand.

  “That’s right, baby girl. Let it sink in.” His voice is low, his mouth so close to mine. I wish he would kiss away the chilling thoughts settling inside my head. His eyes drop to my lips, and I silently beg for his warmth. My heart rate spikes, the fury between us transforming into a different kind of heat. I hate what he does. The life he’s caught up in, but this connection that keeps growing between us has me longing for more. He leans in closer, and I inhale a ragged breath, suddenly desperate for him. I push off the wall and lift my chin, about to take what I want, when his phone rings, killing the moment.

  Pushing off the wall, he grabs for his phone and looks at the screen. “Gotta take this.” And he disappears through the back door.

  I stay put against the wall until my heart stops pounding out of my chest. “What am I doing?” I cover my face with my hands. Just three days ago, I was a measly associate journalist at a tabloid magazine. And now I’m trying to become Barbara Walters and expose the darkness of Chicago’s king of the drug cartel—who just added human trafficking to his resume.

  I walk toward the kitchen window. Logan is outside, pacing the backyard on a call. His scowl and drawn eyebrows tell me he’s in a heated conversation, so I decide to let him be. I take a seat at his island and tap my fingers against the granite. This is insane. Why did I even think this would pan out in my favor? As much as I want to get this story, I also want to remain off drugs and in one piece. His warnings start to take flight in my mind. Image after image chills me to the bone. I wrap my arms around myself. My eyes dip to my clothes, forgetting I’m in this ridiculous outfit. Leaving Logan to his conversation, I head down the hall to his room. I discard the clothes Vincent bought me and help myself to Logan’s closet. The couture is replaced with oversized sweatpants and another hoodie that has my name written all over it. Since there is no shame in my game, I take the fabric to my nose and inhale the lingering scent of him.

  “Ugh…” Maybe he’s right to call me childish. I’m so blinded by the desire for this story, I’m not seeing the bigger picture or the true danger. I should heed his warnings and walk away from this story. But walking away from the fact that there are hundreds of girls trapped in shipping containers waiting to be sold to monsters is something I can’t do. I just need to buy myself some time until I figure out my next move.

  When Logan returns, he finds me on the couch. “What’s all this?” he asks, eyeing my outfit change, then the two open bottles of beer on the coffee table.

  “An olive branch? Listen, I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. And I may be foolish to think I can get this story and come out in one piece. And for that, I’ll back off. But if I do that, I need something from you.” He doesn’t reply, his eyes trained on mine. “I need to understand why.”

  He finally breaks his silence. “Why what?”

  “Why do you stay? Do the things you do? For someone like Vincent? I haven’t known you long, but I know you deserve so much more than the ugliness you subject yourself to. I need to understand how you do what you do without remorse.”

  A few more seconds pass before he comes forward and sits next to me on the couch. “Addy, not everything is as it seems.”

  “Maybe not. But the big, bold issues seem pretty cut and dry. I’ll quit giving you a hard time about this story. I’ll back off if it’s truly what you need. But there’s more than just a story here, and I just can’t understand how you don’t see that.”

  Logan places his hand on my thigh. “I do see. Every fucking day. I see it all. It’s why I can’t let you get close to it. Don’t think for a second I don’t make choices I hate. See shit that keeps me up at night. I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see.” He throws himself against the back of the couch, his hands rubbing down his face.

  “Hey, I get it. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. If anything, I should be groveling. The way I acted today. I’m sorry for earlier. I lost my temper. I should never have—”

  I wave my hand. “It’s fine.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I stop him. “Nope. No apologizing. We’re both idiots.” I bend forward, reaching for the beers, and hand him one. “How about we make a truce?” He accepts the beer, waiting for my proposal. “I promise to play nice and do what you say to detach myself from you. I’ll go away quietly and keep the story to myself, but in return, I want you to make a promise to me.” I reach for his free hand. “Promise me you’ll get out one day and find a better life? You deserve so much more. It’s ugly and sad, and you’re worth more than this. You may be broody and grumpy with a scowling problem, but deep down, there’s kindness and dedication and…just promise you’ll find a better, safer life? I bet you would make a great car salesman.”

  His brows raise, and a slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “A car salesman?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. Suit and corny tie. Bad haircut and coffee breath. Sounds like the perfect life.” I get lost in his cheeky grin, forgetting why we’re not a real thing. I shake it off and tap his hand still resting on my thigh. “So, we got a deal?”

  He pulls his hand from under mine and cups my cheek. “Yeah, Addy. We got a deal.” His touch is beginning to have this effect on me. Ignoring the silly flutters swarming inside my belly, I raise my beer to his, clink our bottles, and take a sip. His eyes linger on my lips before they pull away, and he takes a deep pull of his beer.

  “Okay! Great. Now that that’s settled, what now?” Maybe we should seal our deal with a kiss?

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about the meeting? Anything that would give insight on Vincent’s agenda?”

  Boo.

  I fall back against the couch, trying to replay everything that was discussed. “Well…Vincent said business was ever-changing and that he wanted to broaden his horizons. I thought they were discussing drugs during the meeting, but it didn’t click until you told me they were discussing girls. They referred to them as product, which is why I didn’t originally pick up on it. I may have never put two and two together had you not told me about what Renaldo does, but it all makes sense. They’re going into business together.”

  “Did they discuss location? Dates?”

  I shake my head. “No, just colors, and then—oh wait, they mentioned the Calumet Harbor. The one Vincent had highlighted in the documents he gave you.”

  Logan gets up and returns with the papers in hand. He searches through them, and I point to the list when I see the highlighted name. “Here. Renaldo said he had an issue on his end. Something about his normal port. Kind of like, one minute they had port authorities in their pockets, and the next, they didn’t. Somebody is being paid off to allow these containers to ship in and out of the country under the radar.”

  Further strain appears in his eyes as he scans the documents. “What should we do? Those girls are dying. Maybe we can make an anonymous call!”

  “Addy, it’s best to just stop asking questions.”

  That’s going to be hard, considering the journalist in me wants to ask a million questions right now. Instead, I nod. “Got it.” I bring my eyes to the TV. We fall into a comfortable silence as we watch an unfamiliar TV show. My mind tells me to shut it down, but my mouth has other plans. “Logan?” I turn to him again.

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have to keep me here. I’ll stick to the deal and not pursue the story.”

  “Addy, at this point, it’s not about you exposing this story. It’s just keeping you safe. Today’s meeting, adding Renaldo Valdez into the mix…it’s just too dangerous. Until I figure out what Vincent’s motives are, it’s safer if you stay close.”

  “For how long?”

  He runs his hand through his hair. His eyebrows crease tightly, then releases. “I’m not sure yet.”

  Hmm… Got it.
“So…what does this all mean for us? I mean…all this fake boyfriend/girlfriend stuff.” I chew on my lower lip. “Will we have to continue to keep that up too? Until you’re able to safely get rid of me?”

  He turns to me, something lighting behind his eyes. “Yeah, probably. You know, to be safe.” His lips twitch, and the corners of his mouth spread into a lighthearted smile that sends a fluttering wave of goosebumps down my arms. I’m thankful to be wearing his hoodie so he doesn’t notice the hardening of my nipples. I nod so fast, I make myself dizzy and turn back to the TV, pretending my attention is solely on the show when my mind is on his full lips. His captivating smile and eyes that will haunt my sex dreams till I die.

  “Cool. Whatever. Totally fine with it. Whatever we need to do. Is it hot in here? Really thirsty. I’m gonna go get some water. Do you mind? Do you have water?” I shoot up from the couch and almost get taken out by the coffee table.

  A low chuckle reverberates off his lips as he grabs my hips before I somersault over it and settles me back onto the couch. Gently tapping my thigh, he says, “Relax, Addy. I’ll get some water.” He’s still laughing as he gets up and disappears into the kitchen. That’s when I slap myself on the forehead.

  “What the heck is wrong with you?” I grunt to myself.

  He returns with two glasses, and I shake off my hysteria and pull myself together. “Thanks.” He hands me the water, and I chug it down as if I’ve been living in the desert the past three days.

  “Did you want this one as well?” Logan asks, a grin forming on his lips.

  “Yeah, probably.” I take the glass just to give myself something to do and chug it down too.

  He doesn’t comment on my awkwardness as he takes a seat next to me and puts on a movie. It takes the first hour to finally relax. Logan is up and down, excusing himself to take calls. The last few days catch up to me, and I find myself falling asleep. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m in Logan’s arms.

  “What…where are you taking me?”