by Tiana Laveen
“Hey, Ivy! You’re finally calling me back, huh? Too busy being underneath and above Mr. Starr,” the woman teased, followed by an annoying, catty giggle.
“Yeah, well, I am back to the real world now. The bae-cation is officially over.”
“Oh no… What did Paxton do?” Ivy tossed her closed door a glance, leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Paxton didn’t do anything. It’s Eric, Cassidy. He’s demanding to see my story on Paxton so far.”
“Okay, and…? What’s the big deal?”
“Well, I’m at a crossroads and I am not certain what to do. Paxton told me some pretty confidential stuff. I’ve seen things, too. He let me get close, real close. At this point it would seem like a betrayal. I cannot in good conscience reveal everything I know about this man. He values his privacy for a reason.”
“Wait a minute, Ivy. This is your dream! No one, and I mean no one, has been able to interview this man! It falls in your lap. He swings the door wide open to allow you inside and you are second guessing yourself? No way!”
“Cassidy, that was then; this is now. The more comfortable we’ve become, the laxer he has been regarding his life. He was quite defensive and easily offended when we first began conversing. Now, I can practically ask him anything and he’ll answer. That’s more than progress. That means he trusts me.”
“Look, whatever you do, of course he’ll understand. He knows why you were there in the first place. Just because you two have had sex, this should change nothing! Besides, according to The National Enquirer, he’s slept with half of Vegas anyway.” The woman snickered. “He allegedly had a threesome with a couple A-List celebrities. They haven’t refuted it. Looks like they did some sword swallowing on his behalf.”
“Not funny, Cassidy… and that’s the last thing I need right now.” She rubbed her forehead as a headache emerged.
“Ohhhh, come on. Look, if he cares about you like you say he does, then he knows first and foremost that you’re a reporter, Ivy. This is your job. He’ll trust you’ll tell his story with the utmost respect. No sensationalizing, no degradation. Have you asked him about it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“And what did he say?”
“He just says to do whatever I think is best. That’s no help; for all I know, he could be testing me.” Yeah… she never forgot those words he’d said, admitting he’d done just that. They stuck to her like glue.
“Look, I would just take his word for it. You have to give Eric what you promised. He and you have a lot riding on this. An interview with Paxton Starr could turn your career into gold. You’d be on the national radar, not just locally.” Ivy took a deep breath and spun back and forth in her chair, more confused than ever. “I know you and Eric sometimes have a bumpy relationship, but at the end of the day, your success is also his. So, keep that in mind.”
“All right, I’m going to let you go. I’ll talk to you later.” Ivy sighed as her anxiety reached new heights.
“Ivy, it’s going to be okay, all right? On one hand, you have your love life; on the other, you have your job. Now, the path is blurred and yeah, you have to make some choices.”
“Yup, I do. Nothing about this is easy. I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks… I’ll mull this over.”
“No problem, and sorry about the joke about him sleepin’ with half of Vegas. It was uncalled for. I was just tryna lighten the mood but that was uh, well, not the best thing to say I suppose. I’m sure he’s a great guy; otherwise, you wouldn’t have been on cloud nine.”
“Thanks for the apology. You have foot in mouth disease and for you there seems to be no cure. Story at eleven.” They both chuckled before she disconnected the call. And then, she sat there… minute after minute after minute staring at her computer. Adjusting herself to sit straighter, she finally began to type across the blank Word document page…
Do you believe in magic?
A man standing 6’4”, dark hair, eyes that burn bright like a new sun sporting a permanent twisted grin, glides across the stage like torrential rain cascading along a window pane. He is the thing that deep REM dreams, tall fish tales, and supernatural wonders are made of. When he opens his mouth, you hear psychedelic orchestras, the waves of the Pacific Ocean, the notorious dialect of native Bostonians, and ohhhhs and aahs from a sold-out arena.
When he swings his arms and waves his enchanted hands, he demonstrates a gorgeous, heartwarming display of curious floral buds that emerge out of thin air from the center of palms, and grow within seconds – in full bloom. You see the sky open above your head and the night will fall. A moonlit kiss is swept across your cheek as you ask yourself, ‘Do my eyes deceive me?’
Nail-biting undertakings take place in your presence, a one-man extravaganza filled with flying blades whooshing in his direction. You don’t dare to blink lest you miss the zooming motorcycle he rides, perfectly balanced along a tightrope, and the entire scene is set ablaze for your viewing, heart pounding pleasure before he disappears into thin air. Who is this madman? Or, is he the sanest of us all?
Perhaps we are the ones who are afraid to confess our raw emotions, but those very feelings drive us to see him time and time again. We turn from spectators to full-blown fans, converted with the greatest of ease.
We come from all across the world just to spend one hour in his presence.
He does the things we wish we could…
Says the things we often should…
And has the creative visions we wish we would…
Remove the veil…
I present, the greatest reluctant hero, yet most infamous Illusionist of all time,
Mr. Paxton Starr…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Big Brother is Watching You
His thumb glided over the two small red dice that dangled from the silver chain draped around his neck. An empty glass of something strong sat to his right and to his left, a beautiful woman dressed in white, her locks piled high atop of her head and a light, exotic fragrance drifting from her rich skin. She’d never seen him gamble before; it was his dirty little secret. He hated at times that he was so damn good at it. Punto banco baccarat was the game of choice that evening, and he was winning. He was on a high, about to risk it all when a gentle tap came upon his shoulder, then warm, sweet breath tickled his ear.
“Quit while you’re ahead.” He wanted to tell her to beat it, remind her that she’d invited herself when his plan had been to go solo, but when he looked into her eyes, he remembered what he’d said, ‘This is us.’ His own words coming back to beautifully haunt him.
Heeding her warning, he rose from the seat and announced his departure. Taking her hand, he regarded the time as they walked through the main gaming arena of the Palazzo Resort Casino. Several people working there whom he was familiar with waved in his direction. Deciding to not attract any attention, he kept his head lowered and kept going towards the exit.
“Your driver is usually already parked out front,” she remarked as she looked about, then down at her watch.
“We’re not taking the limo.”
“Oh… then how are we getting back to your place?”
He ignored her question and sped his pace. A large crowd of college age people gathered close by, whooping and hollering, living it up on the Las Vegas Boulevard strip. He averted eye contact. Soon, they approached his parked electric blue and silver Harley Davidson Road King that he kept on the first floor of an adjacent parking garage, chained and alarmed.
“Oh no… no way, Paxton.”
“Yes way, get on.” He hopped on the thing, turned it on, and beckoned her over. “Now.”
“No! You’ve been drinking!”
“I had one drink all day, a scotch… you saw me, you’ve been with me all night.”
“But what about during the day?” She frowned and put her hand on her hip. Her expression dripped with suspicion and disapproval.
“Unless you’re telling me that a bowl of Cheerios is the next g
ateway drug, I’m clean as a whistle.” He threw up his hands. “I’ve done nothing that should cause you concern. Now come on, let’s go.”
He delighted in her trepidation as she hiked up her dress and climbed on the bike behind him. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, he winked at her. The woman screamed as he jetted off, flying out of the parking garage like a bat out of hell. She cursed his name, but he only increased his speed, zigzagging and weaving between cars. When they arrived at his home, she sounded as if she’d lost her voice. Raspy and hoarse, she told him a thing or two before hopping off the hog, her finger in his face, her locks wild and beautiful and dark venom in her eyes. Ignoring her protests, he dragged her along towards the elevators, but not before pausing to steal a kiss. After they got on and he selected the 15th floor, she started up again.
“You could’ve killed us!” she went on after his lips touched hers. “This isn’t some show with people all around to help you should something go awry.”
“I’ve never had a motorcycle accident and I’ve known how to ride since I was seventeen, baby. Pipe down. You’re starting to give me a fuckin’ headache.”
She jabbed him in his shoulder, her favorite spot to stash a hearty punch. He chuckled and rubbed along the bruised flesh. Soon, they were entering his suite. It was unusually cool in the penthouse. The woman wiggled out of her shoes then headed to his bathroom. He enjoyed the way her ample ass seesawed in the black and white striped bodycon dress. Making his way over to his refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of wine then removed two wine glasses from the cabinet and poured the drink to the rims. He drew quiet when he heard her speaking on the phone.
Who in the hell could she be speaking to this late? Only thing people discuss in Vegas at three in the morning is money and fucking, and in that order…
He inched closer to the hall bathroom, quiet as he could be. A swell of jealousy was born within him as thoughts of the woman talking to another man in a romantic way consumed him in a flash. Heat spread across his face. He was losing his mind with all sorts of horrid, fanciful phantasmagorias of her making plans to ride some buck’s cock like a bronco.
Don’t I fuck her good? Shit, why would she go to another?
“And that’s what I told them. I just need a couple more months but I need it in writing. Well, what did you expect me to do? I just heard the voicemail just now! You act like I’ve been twiddling my thumbs this entire time… No, I’m not even at home right now. What does it matter where I am at? My location has little to do with this but my address sure as hell does! They didn’t even have the decency to call me during normal hours. How the hell should I know, Richard? Look, just call them for me, please? You’re the one that got me the place and know Sam. I have no problem with a rent increase, but I need an updated contract. The money is not the issue, they know that; they didn’t go about this the right way… I wanted month-to-month anyway because I want a bigger place… Yes, they knew, they said fine! Now, it’s a big problem and I can’t… Right, exactly, I can’t get another contract that reflects our verbal agreement…”
He slowly stepped away from the door and returned to the kitchen, pleased that it wasn’t another man in a romantic sense, but it was in fact about money. He leaned into the counter and crossed his ankles, waiting for her return.
“Damn it!” She came barreling out, pulling and tugging at her dress.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious to her plight.
“My rent contract for my apartment needed renewed, but I didn’t want another yearly contract. I wanted to go month-to-month until I found another place.” He handed her the glass of wine and she took a gulp, and then another, the latter bigger than the first. “The landlord said it was okay but now they are putting pressure on me to be out by the end of next month. Like I need this shit!”
“They probably have another potential tenant.” He placed his empty glass in the sink and grabbed a box of cereal.
“I’m sure they do but they’ll never admit that. Anyway, I probably need to scramble to find a new place soon. I just haven’t seen anything I like that’s close enough to work.”
“How about you move in with me?” He kept his back towards her, but he could almost imagine her facial expression. He burst out laughing just thinking about it.
“Move in with you? Huh? Paxton, I can’t—”
“Why not?” He slowly turned towards her and popped a handful of Chex cereal into his mouth. “If you don’t want to stay long, that’s fine, but at least that way it could buy you some time until you find something else. No more pressure, no more worries.” He grinned wide as he chewed noisily, knowing that those sorts of sounds grated her nerves. She offered her palm and he placed a handful of cereal inside it. He watched her toss the little wheat squares into her mouth and give them a few dedicated chews before swallowing. Taking a sip of her wine, she shook her head.
“I’m crazy like you now. Your brand of insanity is contagious.”
“Why’s that? You wanna be my volunteer to be sawed in half next week?”
“No thank you I’m already split in two as is it seems. No, what’s crazy is I am actually considering this.”
“Well, you have a need, and the opportunity is here.” He turned back towards the sink and rinsed out his wine glass.
“I have plenty of friends and family I could stay with, Paxton. I don’t need to stay with you. The truth of the matter is that I just want to.” She stood beside him and placed her glass in the sink. Their hands both reached for the sponge he’d laid down at the same time. “When your maid isn’t here, who’s in charge of tidying up and cleaning?”
“We are.” He ran his sudsy hand over hers before taking her glass, washing it as well, then rinsing them and placing them on the rack. He breathed long and slow when she laid her head on his shoulder. They stood there for quite a while, watching the faucet drip. The plip plop of the water onto the silver basin made music, an aquatic tune his heart could dance to. After a short while, it ceased. The ballad had ended. Hoisting her in the air, he placed her on the counter, the swell of need within him great. She yanked her dress upward, around her hips.
Their gazes hooked onto each other, never breaking. Snatching her underwear down her legs, he flung them to the floor, then unzipped his pants and entered her hard, stealing her breath. She gripped the edge of the counter and threw her head back with a gasp. The drip sound returned, this time louder than before. Gripping the back of her neck, he layered her throat with kisses. He pumped harder and faster, the dripping faucet competing with his thrusts. Ivy draped her arms around him and sucked on her lower lip as she sighed and whimpered, then vibrated against him. Her body convulsed in that all too familiar lovely way.
“Is it good to you, baby?” Not waiting for an answer, he planted an urgent kiss on her mouth. His balls tightened and she swallowed his moan when he released his seed, rapid thrusts followed by shallow plunges until he’d given all that he had. Placing one more kiss against her lips, he shakily pulled back from her, his dick half limp and shiny with her juices. He ran his hand through his hair, grabbed the bottle of wine from the opposite counter and said, “Come on to our bed. I’ll give you your own key in the morning…”
There was no easy way to say it. He’d become a problem…
Paxton sat in his dressing room, his world collapsing one damn brick at a time. He and Major had been having epic verbal showdowns, the kind that grated his damn nerves and made him avoid the son of a bitch at all costs. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his reflection in the vanity mirror. The show would begin in less than thirty minutes. Like clockwork, his brother burst through the door, standing there like some tower with a big, concrete chip on his broad shoulder. Major pointed in his direction.
“Pax, this is the last fuckin’ straw. When were you going to tell me she moved in?! I was by your place earlier and she has turned the fuckin’ office into her own space. Her printer is even there!”
“Yeah, reporters need to have their printer, computer ’nd shit. Who tha fuck are you? Dad?” Paxton leaned forward, grabbing his nail clippers and working on his pinky finger. The nail was a bit too long and jagged, needed a bit of TLC. “I didn’t realize I had to clear who I date, fuck, and love with you.” His brother visibly swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s my girlfriend. Ya expect me to let her be out in the street or livin’ with a cousin she doesn’t even like? She needed some place to crash and so here we are. Worry about your own shit.”
“Really? You hired me to take care of your shit; now you don’t want me worryin’ about it when it no longer suits ya. I’m tired of your bullcrap, Pax. First, you do an interview that you knew was bad news, all for some fuckin’ pussy. You’re so blinded by pretty women, it’s pathetic! Then you get in over your head and now not only does she know everything about you, she’s gonna blab your whole damn life. The shit you’ve kept under wraps for a reason. She knows about the drinkin’, the partyin’, the gamblin’, your bouts of depression, the whole fuckin’ nine! You probably even told her about your stint in the mental hospital when you were seventeen.”
“Yup. She sure does. Funny though, she didn’t use it against me like my so-called blood that is standin’ here looking down on me.”
“I’m not looking down on you. I’m concerned! What’ll happen when you two break up, huh? You can’t commit to one fuckin’ woman! Just three months ago you were high off your ass and fuckin’ two bitches in the ass in a bathroom in Denny’s! Enough of this shit. I know my brother!”
“You don’t know shit!”
“I’ve known you your entire life, son of a bitch. This time will be no different! You have all these fuckin’ crazy ideas. You never see through with any of them. You live in the land of make believe. You’re just a big dreamer. Jesus, Pax, when are you gonna stop this shit, huh?”
Paxton rubbed the red dice pendant compulsively between his ever-moving fingers until the damn thing felt hot to the touch.
