by Tiana Laveen
She swallowed. “I’d rather not answer that.”
“Go on and plead the 5th but in the meantime, I want you to get the fuck outta my house and go pack a bag to last you a couple nights. I’ve gotta practice for a new act I am working on, a business conference this afternoon and a show tonight, so swing through if you want. I’ll put your name on the list. If not, that’s fine, but meet me around midnight. I’ll call ya.”
“Paxton…” She grimaced. Watching the man’s mind work overtime was at times a frightening sight. “What are you trying to get me wrapped up in?”
“We’re getting on a plane and flyin’ out to Honolulu late this evening. Just me and you…”
She squelched a smile, despising herself for not only being excited, but downright thrilled.
“It’s time you had a little more faith in me and what I’m capable of giving you. I’m not trying to be the great, big, white dick you conquered and lament with your girlfriends about years later, like some story amongst fishermen. Nah, I want more than that… not to be some sexual memory. I want a relationship, and I want it with you…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Few Fries Short of a Happy Meal
She looked Cassidy in the eye before tossing her favorite swimsuit in the bag.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’s got something over me, like I’m drugged.” She laughed.
“That penis!” Cassidy said with attitude, hand on hip. “I told you about it, remember? Tell me, was the rumor true?”
“I can’t kiss and tell.”
“Ivy!”
“All right, yes, it’s true!” She cackled. “The sex… oh my God. Girl…” She paused, closed her eyes and shook her head as a wave of the deliciously nasty and carnal images flooded her mind. “I don’t think anyone can top that. He knew he was good and he knows I’m hooked. Arrogant fucker! That’s all I’m going to say though. I don’t want my business all in the streets.” She waved her hand lazily in her friend’s direction. “You’re my best friend but you’re still a reporter. Can’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” She giggled as she waded through her make-up drawer, trying to find her favorite nude lipstick.
“Don’t go, Ivy. You’re just going to be his latest conquest. He’s been with hundreds of women. He’s a playboy.”
“And I’ve played men, too. When I said I was finished, I meant it at the time. I only had hookups that I know you are well aware of. I’m no angel. Look, we do what we need to do at any given moment just to get to the next step. You have never judged me for that, at least not to my face, so maybe you should give him the same consideration.”
“But you’re not rich and famous!”
“I beg your pardon!” Ivy stated with artificial angst. “I’ll have you know, I am a big damn deal.”
“Yes, you’re a household name, but that’s here in Vegas. This man, on the other hand, has an international following, Ivy! Yes, he’s charming. Yes, he has money. Yes, he has swag and apparently is great in bed, too, but if you go, you’ll regret it.”
“But I want to, Cassidy. That’s just the thing.”
Her friend sighed and the worried expression on her face broke her heart. Cassidy sat on the side of her bed and looked at her as she packed her things, her glum appearance a permanent fixture on her face.
“Ivy, I was there by your side and had to witness Bryan break your heart. Before Bryan, there was Terrence. Before Terrence, there was Sean. Should I continue?”
Ivy ran her tongue over her upper teeth and tossed a pair of white flip flops in the bag, too.
“You can if you want to, Cassidy, but it’s not going to change anything. I care about him.” Her heart swelled as the truth of the matter poured out. “Do you realize I’ve been studying this man for months? This relationship, or whatever it is or what anyone wants to call it, started way before now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“By the time I met him, I knew bits of him… the bits he couldn’t hide. I’d looked at hundreds of photos of him, checked out his televised performances. And now, I’ve seen him live several times. I was forming an attachment to him before we’d even officially met. He chose me, Cassidy.” She pressed her finger against her chest. “Out of all the people who have been trying to interview this man since he was just a young twenty-year-old with potential and unbridled passion, he picked me. That was no coincidence. Do you realize how private this guy is? For him to bring his guard down like he has, and this fast, shows that he and I have a special connection. He told me that he feels like he can talk to me and everything will be okay. Yes, he might end up being just like Bryan, Terrance, Sean, Darryl and Keith, but I need to find out! I can’t stop potential opportunities just because of what happened in the past.”
“But you have to learn from the past, Ivy! You’re a smart girl, but crazy when it comes to men and I don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t help but feel protective over you.”
“And I don’t blame you.” Ivy wrapped her best friend in her arms and gave her a gentle squeeze as she sat beside her. “I’d feel the same, but I am learning from the past, Cassidy. He’s different… I can’t tell you exactly how, but he is. I’ll call you while I’m there, okay?”
Cassidy looked hesitant, but then nodded in resignation.
“Be careful. He’s a magician, an illusionist—the best of his kind. Are you aware he has a couple stalkers? It’s frightening. Some people even come from all over the world to see him and treat him like he is some sort of God.”
“I see you’ve been doing your research.” Ivy shook her head at the woman. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard about that.”
“Good, because if he can do that to thousands of people, he can do it to you, too. This is the last thing I’m going to say, and then I’ll let it go. He’s well trained in turning skeptics into believers.”
“I don’t think it’s about converting people to the Starr religion, so to speak, Cassidy. I think he just wants someone to believe in him, just like you and me, and most people in the world. We want someone to trust us, at least one time. And we want someone who desires for us to be in their presence. That’s what he wishes for, Cassidy. He wants to love, and to be in love. He wants to be understood and not shunned. He wants someone to want him around—not for what he can do for them, but for what they can do for each other…”
“Feels Good” by the Gorillaz played out the speakers in the private jet. Paxton sat by the window, and Ivy on the aisle with a tray between them laden with expensive hors d’oeuvres and sweet treats.
He gripped her hand, his long fingers covered in black tattoos of spinning diamonds, money signs, skulls and broken hearts. In his other hand he held a champagne glass filled with bubbly. She looked at the man, noting his black hair, perfectly combed into place. The collar of his black leather jacket was popped up, and he looked cool in his all black outfit, T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, more than likely name brand. The silver necklace with the red dice that he always donned gleamed on his skin above the low-V collar of his T-shirt.
Slipping his hand away from hers, he raised it in the air. An attendant parted the thin red curtain that hid her from view and approached with a smile on her face. She shot Ivy a glance that soon turned into a curious stare.
“I’m over here.” Paxton snapped his fingers with a smirk, seeing the odd interest as well. “Can we get some caviar, please? And French fries… I want French fries.”
“Of course, Mr. Starr. Anything else?”
“Mustard.”
She nodded, then walked away.
“I like to dip my fries in mustard,” he explained as he shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable.
“Should I include that in the article? That’s actually something fans enjoy knowing. Odd little tidbits about what their favorite celebrities like to eat.” Ivy explained.
“If you want. It’s up to you,” he stated dismissively, waving his hand about.
“Well, it would help you. It ma
y not seem like much to you, but to your fans it would—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the fuckin’ fans. Look, I’m not here to talk about the fans, Ivy,” he snapped. His dark, thick brows gathered in a bunch. “I’m here because I want to be with you. Alone. You’re not a fan of mine… you’re my lover.” He turned his gaze away, leaving her in a state of confusion mixed with lust.
“How do you know I am not a fan? You don’t know that.” She kept her smile at bay. The man’s moodiness didn’t disturb her in the least. To her, it simply meant he was thinking, his thoughts swirling as he tried to figure out his next move.
“A fan would’ve jumped at the chance to fuck me. A fan would’ve tried to go through my shit if I left them alone in my house, especially for hours at a time. You didn’t touch anything. I know when my shit has been gone through. A fan woulda blabbed their mouth to everyone and took a bunch of photos of my house and all the shit we were doin’ together and posted it on social media. A fan woulda tried to take pictures of me naked, dumb shit like that. You had plenty of opportunities. I tested you, tried to see what you were made of. You’re no fan.”
He took her hand in his once again, his eyes glued to the window at the fluffy white clouds, and a sky so blue it seemed it had been poured right out of a can of azure paint. “I don’t like flying on planes. I mean,” he said with a shrug, “I don’t hate it. It’s just not something I look forward to. But I like the clouds… I like being so close to them that if it weren’t for this window, we could touch ’em. They are what dreams are made of, the ones that aren’t crushed, that is.”
“What are crushed dreams made of, Paxton?”
“The ashes of the dead.”
The attendant returned with a large plateful of crispy French fries, ketchup, mustard and a platter of caviar. She placed it down on their tray.
“Thank you, babe. What’s your name?” Paxton began to move about in his seat again. He seemed to do that quite a bit, could never keep still. Nervous energy, Ivy suspected.
“Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth, it’s legal to smoke weed in Vegas, as long as you do it on private property. I wanna get some of that Maui Wowie. What’s the law for it in Hawaii? Do you know?”
Ivy’s mouth dropped open.
“Don’t include this in the article,” the man warned before turning back to the attendant who stood there with a smirk.
“It’s, uh, illegal actually but there are medical marijuana laws that you can utilize. You can’t use it in your car or anything like that though.”
“Good enough. I’ve got a medical marijuana permit. If I didn’t smoke sometimes I’d lose my fuckin’ mind. Thanks for the info. Oh, and here…” He jammed his hand in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed the lady a fifty-dollar bill. “I’d give you more, but I don’t carry much cash on me.”
“Thank you so much.” She folded the money, a grin on her face.
“You’ve been pretty good, I tend to get on people’s nerves, or so I’ve been told.” He huffed. “I don’t like how you looked at my girlfriend a second ago, but other than that, you’ve been pretty fuckin’ nice. Tell the pilot to stop bouncin’ around though, will ya? He’s goin’ too goddamn fast. Is there turbulence or something?”
“No turbulence, Mr. Starr. I’ll let him know.” She smiled and winked before turning on her heels and disappearing behind the red curtain once again.
“Girlfriend?” Ivy smirked and shook her head at the assuming and pompous son of a bitch.
“Yeah.” He looked at her as if she were crazy to suspect he thought of her as anything less.
“I don’t think smoking marijuana is a good choice on this trip, Paxton.” Crossing her arms over her breast, she knew in advance that this conversation would go absolutely nowhere but decided to engage in it nevertheless.
“I am so surprised to hear that comin’ from you!” He rolled his big, light gray eyes dramatically. “Ms. High and Mighty, Snooty-Pa-fuckin’ tooty. I have no fuckin’ idea why I am so attracted to women like you. It’s a crapshoot.” He ran his hand against his chin and shook his head in angst.
“Women like me? What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means… full of so-called morals unless it applies to yourself. Judgin’ people. Mean women… I like mean chicks – what can I say? And if they’re smart and resourceful, well, ya ring my Hell’s bells on all scales! And for your information, I don’t even smoke every day, but if I didn’t smoke at all, you’d hate me.”
“How do you know I don’t hate you now?” She chuckled as she leaned her seat back to fall asleep.
“If you hated me you wouldn’t cum so hard when we fuck. I screwed you right after my show tonight; you were practically beggin’ for it. When I hit that spot, you looked like you’d been fuckin’ electrocuted. Jazz hands ’nd all.” He burst out laughing after she punched him in the shoulder with all of her might. Leaning over, he gave her a gentle kiss then turned back towards the window. She stared at his back. That was how Paxton ran his life.
In an instant, without warning, he’d turn to you and let you see him in the buff. Exposed, raw and real. Then, on a dime, he’d leave you with only traces of him, offering you the back of him, or a profile, if you were lucky.
As Ivy watched him, her journalistic brain was studying, taking him all in. Something within her had awakened from this man’s presence in her life and, in that moment, she realized she might be seeing more of him than he’d exposed to most.
He’d given her a backstage pass to his life, trusting her in ways he’d fought against for years. She was truly hand-selected, chosen. For that, she was grateful…
CHAPTER NINE
Not the Only Fish in the Sea
“What is your favorite movie?” Ivy asked him as they entered their suite at the Halekulani Hotel in Honolulu.
“I don’t have one favorite movie. I like sci-fi, action, and horror best though.” He took their bags and placed them on the luggage rack, side by side.
“Oh wow, this room is unbelievable, Paxton!”
“Ever been to Honolulu before?” He took off his jacket and laid it atop the bed.
“See.” She paused and waved a finger at him. “This right here is a prime example as to why you need to stop smoking, Paxton. You already asked me that.”
“No, I didn’t. I asked you if you’d ever been to Hawaii, and you said, ‘Yes.’ I am asking you about this specific city. I need to stop smoking? Maybe you should start.” He marched over to the refrigerator and checked it out, making sure they’d stocked it in the manner he’d requested. “I’ve got a question for you now.”
“What is it?” He heard a zipper coming down and assumed it was either her purse or carry-on bag.
“What makes you wanna get up in the morning? You know, what gets your juices flowing?” He threw the cap of a bottle of Fiji water in the nearby trashcan and took a sip.
“Well, I love my job. I enjoy the research I do for each story I write, whether it’s just about a local baseball team or the President of the United States. I love it.”
“See.” He set his water down on the counter and removed his shirt, tossing it on a chair. “I don’t think that’s the right answer.”
“Why not?” Her lips curved in a smile as she sat on the bed and began working on the straps of her heels.
“Because there’s more to it, you know? You say you like the research, but it’s gotta be a feeling you derive from it, Ivy. What actually gets your blood pumpin’ is not your job; it’s digging and finding little scraps of information, especially the stuff no one else may have seen or put together. You could get the same high from a number of professions.”
“You might be right about that… It’s an interesting way to look at it, that’s for sure.” Her shoes hit the floor. “You said ‘high’. Are you always looking for a high?”
“I get bored, so yeah, I need a high. I get high from what I do, too, but it’s not so much the things I can do;
it’s the reaction I get. I like it when I confuse people, baffle them. They’re tryna figure out, ‘Hey, can he really do that or is he bullshittin’ us?’”
“Well? Which is it?”
“A bit of both. Let’s get some rest then get ready for dinner.”
She fell back against the pillow. “Sounds like a plan…”
His gaze zoned in on her hair, the way it went in a million different directions, kind of like his spirit. Her eyes fluttered closed. After taking a few hearty gulps of his water, he approached her, removing all his clothing by the time he made it to the foot of the bed. She opened her eyes when he covered her body with his and their gazes met as he knocked her thighs apart. Reaching between them, he went for her pants buckle; the cold metal felt good against his fingertips. He buried his face in the crook of her neck while he slid the belt from the loops and let it fall on the floor. Moments later, he had her completely bare, her warm, smooth body beneath him. Dragging his lower lip across her mouth, he squeezed her tit and moved in a humping motion between her legs. Her sighs and moans drove him crazy, and when her wetness saturated his pubic area, he craved her in the worst way.
She wrapped her body around his, holding on as he drove his dick within her. Thrusting deep and slow, he kept a steady pace. Their tongues found each other and rolled in a sweet oral embrace. Rising up on his hands, he kept his stride. He rotated hard to the right, then the left, drawing circles deep within her pussy. Her screams grew louder and, in the distance, he could hear the muted sounds of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, the Israel Kamakawiwo’ole version, playing the soundtrack to their lovemaking. It had to be drifting up from the resort pool area.
“You feel so good inside me, baby.” He loved the smile she wore so well, the look of ecstasy on her face. He kissed her lips so he could taste that joy, see what it felt like if he drank the flavor.
“I love making you feel good… you have no idea.”
