Tangled Mess

by Middleton, K. L.

  “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “He was trouble growing up, and I’m sure with all of his money and fame, there’s nothing to stop Ransom from being an all-out-hell-raiser.”

  We walked out of the apartment and Sinclair locked the door.

  “I know one thing,” said Jesse with a wicked grin. “That deep, sexy voice of his raises more than just a little hell for me; too bad he’s straight.”

  He was definitely straight. In fact, I’d never forget the look in his eyes right before I’d kissed him.

  It had been at his graduation party. His sister Remy and I had snuck some beer and gotten pretty tipsy. She’d left at some point, to pass out in her bedroom, while I’d played cards with some of Ransom’s hot friends in the basement. When he’d wandered in, and noticed what was happening, he’d pulled me away from the table, down through the hallway to the guest-bedroom, and proceeded to chew me out. I could still remember the fire in his eyes that night.

  “What in the hell were you thinking?” he’d barked, angrier than I’d ever seen him.

  I’d raised my chin. “I was just playing cards. What’s the big deal?”

  “It wasn’t just cards. Obviously, you’ve been drinking.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I’d lied.

  His slate-grey eyes had burned into mine. “Stay away from those guys, Taffy. They don’t care how old you are, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Not understanding exactly what he was getting at, I’d placed my hands on my hips and looked at him defiantly. “That’s exactly the point,” I said. “They don’t treat me like a child. Not like you do.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You are still a child. You’re what…fifteen, sixteen?”

  I didn’t tell him I was fourteen. “I’m not a child and…I have a boyfriend who… kisses me. In fact, I’ve done a lot of things.”

  A look of surprise, and then amusement had spread across his face. “Oh, is that so?”

  He had me backed up into a corner and was so close that I’d never noticed how perfectly sculpted his jawline was or how full his lips were. “Yes, so you see…I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  He’d stared at my mouth, making my tummy fluttery and warm. “You may not look like one, but you definitely are,” he’d replied in a low voice.

  My heart had pounded madly in my chest as I’d imagined what it would feel like if our lips touched. I’d kissed a couple of boys already, but none of them were as handsome or as experienced as Ransom. Still tipsy, I decided to be daring, like the girls in my teen romance books. I got onto my tiptoes, slid my hands around his neck, and crushed my lips against his.

  He groaned, and kissed me back for a couple of seconds, until our tongues touched. Then, he stiffened up, and pushed me away. “Whoa, what in the hell are you doing, Taffy?”

  Horrified and humiliated that he’d rejected me, I blinked back my tears, and ran away from him, and the party, four blocks to my own house. It was the last time I seen him.

  Chapter Two

  Ransom

  The loud pounding on my bedroom door almost matched the horrible one wreaking havoc in my head.

  “Ransom!” hollered my agent, Sonia Jenkins, from the other side of the door. “Get your ass out of bed and get dressed! Now!”

  “Hold on,” I muttered, trying to ignore the all-too familiar nausea and heartburn. I sat up and reached for the bottle of ibuprofen and Rolaids on my nightstand. The unexpected rustle of silk sheets startled me.

  “Hey Ransom,” smiled a strange brunette, stretching out next to me.

  Normally I kicked them out before I passed out. This one had apparently slipped through the cracks. I cleared my throat. “Oh, hey…listen, Susie. You’ve got to get dressed and leave.”

  Her face darkened. “It’s Sara.”

  I grinned. “Sorry, Sara. Come one, you’ve really got to hustle. You don’t want to be in here when Sonia rips me a new asshole.” My head was beginning to clear and I was now just remembering how I’d fucked up big-time this morning. I was supposed to be on the set of American Icon an hour ago.

  The girl stood up, stark naked, and I felt my cock twitch. She bent down and picked up a lacy, purple thong. “At least something got fucked,” she mumbled, under her breath.

  Apparently, I’d been too drunk to perform. Too bad it bothered her more than me. “Sorry Cindy,” I said. “Maybe next time I won’t have such a whisky dick.”

  “It’s Sara,” she said, this time with a bright smile. “So, you’re really going to call me?”

  “Of course,” I lied.

  She snapped the front of her bra. “Good, because all of my friends had warned me about you; I didn’t want to believe it, though. I mean, you were a complete gentleman last night.”

  I had to admit, I was always a nice guy when I was shit-faced, because booze took the edge off. I wondered what her definition of a complete gentleman was, though. I’d obviously talked her into sex.

  I stood up and tossed her the pink camisole next to my feet. “Thanks.”

  She caught it and scowled. “This isn’t mine,” she said, dropping it quickly.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, pulling up my jeans.

  Usually the help took care of forgotten articles of clothing, but Brandy, the new maid, had more than likely been the owner of the pink camisole. I vaguely remember her lips around my cock, and my hands on her tits, before I’d taken off for the club last night.

  “Ransom!” yelled Sonia. “Dammit, we don’t have time. Get your shit together!”

  I zipped up my jeans, walked over to the bedroom door, and opened it. “Sorry, Sonia, I totally forgot.”

  She glared at me. “Same excuse. What part of ‘getting your career back in order’ do you not understand? Nobody is going to want anything to do with you if you keep pulling this shit.”

  I ran a hand through my dark brown hair. “Do I have enough time to shower?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No. But you’d better. You smell like a mixture of tequila and a used tampon wrapped in fish-guts.”

  Just then Sara, wearing a tight black dress, and sexy red stilettos, sashayed over to us, and then pressed her lips to mine. “I think he smells awesome,” she said, with a wink. “Bye sexy.”

  “Later, doll,” I answered, watching her hips sway as she exited. Thank goodness I’d left my beer goggles at home.

  Sonia snorted. “Jesus, Ransom. I hope you’re using condoms.”

  I chuckled. She was crass, bossy, and never took shit from anyone, including me. She was also a die-hard lesbian, and I loved fucking with her. “I think I may have saved a couple. Want to join me in the shower?”

  “You couldn’t handle a woman like me, Ransom. My pussy would chew you up, and spit you out.”

  I cringed. “Jesus, I think my dick just crawled up into my stomach.”

  “Good. Now take your shower before I beat the hell out of you. I’m seriously pissed-off right now, Ransom. This shit of yours isn’t doing either of us any favors.”

  I sighed. “Sorry.”

  Truth of the matter was, I hadn’t really thought about Sonia. Obviously, she took a lot of the heat for me. I owed her big time.

  She pulled out her cell phone, and waved me towards the bathroom. “Just get your ass moving.”

  An hour later, we were pulling up to the “Icon” audition site where thousands of people were already lined up. “Jesus,” I said, reaching for the bottle of rum I had stashed inside of the limo. “Don’t these people have lives?”

  Sonia slapped my hand away from the bottle. “No drinking today. And no, many of them don’t have the kind of life they want. That’s why they’re here.”

  I sat back and stared out the window. “They have no fucking clue.”

  “What was that?”

  I tilted my head and smiled humorlessly. “Come on, Sonia, this lifestyle isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Oh, quit being such a fucking pussy.
You have everything. Fame, fortune, women waiting in line to lick your balls, and yet you’re still complaining. What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Yeah, and all I had to do was trade my soul.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I mean shit, I have no fucking freedom.”

  She waved her hand. “I don’t know what’s gotten in to you lately, but you’re talking nonsense.”

  “Seriously, what if I wanted to fly off to… to… Hawaii? Tonight and without any security?”

  She pushed the button on her pen several times, staring at me like I was completely nuts. “You know very well that you can’t leave L.A. right now. You have too many responsibilities. Like it or not.”

  “Okay, what if I wanted to travel somewhere secluded, where nobody really knows me, after this ‘American Icon’ shit is completed? And I’m not talking about that island I purchased six months ago.”

  She shook her head. “This show is going to last about three to four months. Then, we have that European tour. It’s already set up.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And what if I don’t want to tour?”

  She leaned forward. “We talked about this, weeks ago. You just recorded all of those new songs. You have to tour, Ransom. Everything has been arranged.”

  I sneered. “See. No freedom.”

  “Jesus Christ. Most guys would give their right nut to be in your position. What in the hell has gotten into you?”

  The limo stopped and our driver got out.

  “I’m just tired of it all. I mean, fuck, my entire life is being planned out by everyone else but me.”

  “That’s because you’re too irresponsible to handle it all yourself. Maybe if you’d get your drinking under control, things would be different.”

  “Drinking? Right. This shit started long ago, when I signed away my rights with Icon.”

  “Signed away? Listen, this isn’t just about you, Ransom. Too many people are counting on the success of your albums. Your band, the lives of their families, all of your sponsors, and hell, even me. When you fuck up, you’re not only hurting yourself, you’re hurting all of us.”

  The limo driver opened my door, and I got out, without answering. Everything she said was true, and it was ultimately why I stayed, and just didn’t disappear. The band counted on me. They were my brothers, and I owed it to them.

  As I was escorted towards the back entrance, a reporter asked me when I was touring in the U.S. again, and then thrust her microphone into my face.

  I gave her a cocky grin. “Not sure. They haven’t told me yet.”

  Doug, one of my bodyguards, blocked another reporter and barked. “Stay back!”

  The media was everywhere as security quickly surrounded me, and I was ushered towards the building.

  “Ransom,” hollered a female reporter. “Are you late?”

  “Ransom,” yelled another one. “Partying all night, again?”

  “Come on now, drugs and alcohol are bad,” I yelled as I entered the building. “Everyone knows that.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” said Tonia.

  “That hurts,” I said, putting a hand on my heart. “Why are you so cruel?”

  She looked past me. “Here comes the shit-storm.”

  I turned around just as Joe, one of the show’s producers, rushed towards me. “Hurry, and get him into makeup,” he growled, glaring at me.

  “Hey Joe.”

  “Jesus, do you have any idea of the shit you’ve caused because you’re late? One more time, Ransom, and that’s it. We’ll find someone else.”

  “Sorry. My alarm didn’t go off this morning.”

  His lips thinned. “Your alarm…”

  “I’ll get a new one,” I said, with a straight face. “Have my eye on this Mickey Mouse model.”

  His eyes blazed with anger. “Stop the fucking bullshit, and get your ass ready.”

  I saluted him, and then stepped into the dressing room they’d assigned me. A half hour later, I was whisked away out and ushered to the football field, and a long table, where the other two celebrity judges were waiting.

  “Where in the hell have you been?” asked Tyrone Farr, a talented R & B artist who was also a record producer.

  “Flat tire,” I said, sitting on the other side of Deidra Swan, the third judge. “It was a bitch getting those lug nuts off, let me tell you.”

  “Hello Ransom,” smiled Deidra. She was British, married to a famous country-singer, and had helped to launch the careers of many artists in the last twenty years. I actually had a great deal of respect for her. “So happy you could join us.”

  I knew she was also irritated, but wouldn’t hold it against me. She was a fan favorite on Icon, and as sweet as they came. It was why she was one of the judges. She had a heart of gold, and always voted for the underdog when they had even a spark of talent.

  I held out my hand. “It’s my honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Swan.”

  “Oh… you can call me Deidra,” she answered, shaking my hand. “And the feeling is mutual, young man. Now, be a dear, and try to be on time from now on.”

  I smiled. “To see that beautiful smile of yours, again, I’ll not only be here, but I’ll have breakfast waiting. Do you prefer bagels or muffins?”

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, I see it’s true what they say about you,” she said, releasing my hand.

  I tilted my head. “What is that?”

  “That your bullshit could fill up this stadium,” interrupted Tyrone.

  “Oh, Tyrone,” sighed Deidra. “Play nice.” She turned back to me. “The rumor is that you’re a real charmer, and the women adore you.”

  I chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

  “Of course you do,” she said. “That’s why you get away with so much. Then there’s that sultry voice of yours. The female audience can’t seem to get enough of you.”

  “Why do you think they brought him in,” stated Tyrone, with a sneer. “It wasn’t for his punctuality, or his wit.”

  I scratched my jaw, wishing I would have had time to shave the itchy stubble. “What’s your problem, man? So, I’m a little late. You don’t have to be a fucking dick about it.”

  “You’re the one being a fucking dick,” said Tyrone. “One who’s selfish and irresponsible. But we all expected that out of Ransom.” He smiled humorlessly. “At least you’re predictable, man.”

  “Is that right?” I asked in a bored voice.

  “It is, so do us all a favor, and grow the fuck up.”

  “Settle down, boys,” said Deidre. “We’re going live soon.”

  “That’s right,” said Joe, walking towards us. “So we need you all ready. If you are going to argue, save it for the cameras. The audience loves drama.”

  “Shit,” said Tyrone. “It’s not even worth it.”

  “Live in four minutes!” hollered one of the cameramen. “Where’s Taylor?”

  “He’s on the other side of the field, interviewing some of the first contestants,” replied another guy on the set.

  “Someone go and get him,” said Joe. He turned back to us. “Now, remember, millions of people are going to be watching, so be professional but keep it entertaining. Tyrone, you do what you do best, be a critical prick, Deidra, you keep the audience on your side, and Ransom... I want you to charm the pants off of the women. Even the fucking scary ones who can’t sing worth shit, and look like descendants of Sasquatch.”

  “Anything for you, Joe,” I said. The truth was I just wanted to get this bullshit over with.

  Taylor appeared shortly with his makeup artist, who prepped him as we glared at each other with mutual loathing. When she was finished powdering his face, he swaggered over.

  “Ransom,” he said, breaking the tense silence between us.

  “Taylor,” I answered, wrinkling my nose. “Did you step in shit or is that your cheap-assed cologne I smell in the air.”

  His lips
thinned. “Your sister picked it out.”

  “I guess anything smells better than your Au-naturel,” I replied.

  “At least my Au-Naturel doesn’t reek of stale whiskey,” he said.

  “It’s stale Tequila, Taylor,” I said. “You should recognize that smell from the stripper’s navel you licked clean last weekend.”

  “Don’t start with the guilt trip, Ransom, it was my bachelor party.”

  “Oh, you remembered? I’d thought that maybe you’d forgotten that you were actually getting married.”

  Taylor was engaged to my younger sister, and I couldn’t stand the prick. He’d cheated on her at least once, but because it had been before they were engaged, Remy had given him another chance. Then, during his bachelor party, he’d disappeared with a stripper for fifteen minutes, and from the satisfied look on his face, along with her disappointed one, it was obvious he’d pulled his dick out.

  “We are live in thirty seconds!” hollered the director.

  “Oh my,” whispered Deidra, as Taylor walked away, “not much love between you two, is there?”

  “He’s a douchebag,” I said under my breath. “The only thing I love about him is that he lives in another state.”

  Where I lived in California, Taylor and Remy shared a penthouse in New York.

  Tyrone chuckled. “You just earned some respect, Cuz,” he said, running a finger along his goatee. “I can’t stand that prick, either. Guy is a slippery as they come. He’s engaged to your sister?”

  “Yep.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, man…that’s fucked up. You have my condolences, man. Hopefully your sister will see him for what he really is, and kick his ass to the curb.”

  “Agreed.”

  The familiar music started, we went live, and less than an hour later, life got a little more interesting.

  Chapter Three

  Tiffany

  The audition lines were longer than any of us had expected. Wondering if it was a sign, I tried backing out again, but Sinclair wouldn’t have it.