by Virna DePaul
He grinned. “I would love that.”
Somehow, I found it in me to tease, “You hungry, Wolf?”
“Always, Little Red. Always.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Wes said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. We were sitting in the very back of a high-end burger place, in a quiet, private corner. When we first arrived, a group of teenagers were strolling down the street, stepping off the curb to let Wes and I walk by. Two of the boys were holding hands, and I gave them a smile as we passed. Just before we turned into the restaurant, we heard murmurings of Wes’s name and Point Break—the kids were sure they’d just had a Wes Shaw sighting. My heart had started to pound, but Wes had tipped the hostess fifty dollars and asked for this private booth away from windows, and we’d escaped without a big to-do.
We’d talked, sharing some of our pasts with each other—I now knew he came from Little Rock, Arkansas and that he’d walked away from his family and his hometown after some sort of painful argument. He knew I had a couple of sisters and a passel of nieces and nephews—and the conversation kept flowing even after the food came. It seemed like we couldn’t stop talking, sharing a bit more about ourselves, reveling in learning about the other.
Now, across from me, having just polished off a burger, Wes looked less like a rock god and more like a sexy young guy my age.
“What’s amazing?” I asked. I was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to the burger, although it smelled delicious.
“That you managed to convince your father to let you come to NYU. Most girls I know from my hometown, from my church, all had a hard time getting out. Getting away from their families. At least not without repercussions. But you, you’re doing it all. That’s pretty fucking sweet.” He nodded, then knocked back a whole glass of water.
A deep pride blossomed in my chest. I’d told him about my college courses, about convincing my father—with my mother’s help—that I should major in religious studies at NYC, that it would be good for me to expand my horizons. I’d even told Father it would make me appreciate my family more. That had sealed the deal. Ironically, my move to NYC had only accomplished the opposite—given me a deeper appreciation for the world outside my bubble.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” I smiled and pushed my salad around on my plate. Too nervous to eat, worried that Point Break fans would bust their way back here, that someone would snap a picture of us together, I thought about where to take the conversation, now that he knew my life story and how I ended up here. “What about you? What’s going on in your life? Well—” I almost snorted. “I mean, besides touring the world and oh yeah, going platinum and winning Grammys. Pfft. God, I sound like an idiot.”
“Hey.” He slid his hand across the table. “You don’t sound like an idiot. I’m glad you asked. You don’t realize how many people assume it’s the rock-and-roll lifestyle all the time, and guess what? I actually have other shit I like to do, you know?”
“Really? Like what?”
“Like film school,” he said, then looked puzzled, like he hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth.
“Are you serious? Film school?”
“Uh, yep.”
“Wow, I would’ve never guessed. But…how? I mean, you’re in a rock band. Pretty busy, I imagine.”
He shrugged. “Took a couple of courses when I was in LA, and my professor told me about this online program where you can get your BFA in film directing. I applied and was lucky enough to be accepted. So…” He spread out his hands as his enthusiasm built.
“But why? I mean, you can’t be hurting for money, right?” I asked.
“I don’t like not having a purpose, and Point Break won’t last forever. Directing is actually a dream of mine, so I went for it. In fact, we’re about to shoot a movie for our band, and I’m going to ask the director if I can direct one of the scenes. You know, go with my vision. I haven’t told many people,” he said. “Not even the guys in the band.”
He had to be kidding. Wes Shaw was really sitting here, telling me about a secret ambition of his? “Wes, I’m honored you told me. And impressed. Really, that’s incredible.”
“Thanks. I’m going to show Henry my student portfolio. Explain to him what I have in mind—” Suddenly, his eyes flickered and he tilted his head. Then an incredulous expression crossed his face. “Holy shit. You’d be perfect.”
I laughed nervously. “Perfect for what?”
“For the lead in the scene.” He laughed and waved a hand. “Don’t worry—you wouldn’t have to act or anything. No lines. You’d just dance to the music and we’d film you. If I talk to Henri and he agrees to let me direct a scene, will you come by? Let me introduce you?”
“Whoa, wait. No, no, no…” The stars in my eyes fizzled out. Me, Sara Crawford? Appear in a concert movie? With rock stars? Why—so my father could find out and forbid me from leaving Texas ever again? “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, why not?” He propped his head up on his fist and looked at me with a cute puppy dog face I found hard to resist. “Most of the scene I have in mind involves interviews, but the other part...” Wes straightened as he envisioned his movie. “The other part would be a live performance of one of our songs, like a music video. I want you to be in it.”
I blanched. “Wes, I can’t do that.”
“You’ve been on camera before.”
He was talking about my father’s TV ministry. I hadn’t appeared on “Glory to God” since I left Texas to go to college. “That couldn’t be more different. That was for my dad’s televised sermons and a few specials. All I did was stand there and look innocent. Nothing like what you’re talking about.”
“Are you worried I’d take advantage of you? That I’m trying to move too fast? Trick you into spending time with me?”
“That’s not it. I want to spend time with you. I just…being in a rock video is quite a stretch for me. I…I can’t be seen in public that way.”
“No problem.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. When it was. A big, big deal. “We’ll get you in a wig and big sunglasses, makeup, totally decked out. You’ll be incognito. It could be like your alter ego coming out.” He sat back, biting his lip, obviously having fun envisioning his idea.
And to my surprise, I didn’t keep saying no.
There was something alluring about being featured in a music concert movie. Something wild. Something untamed. Something daring. Besides, if I didn’t like flirting with the wild side, I would’ve never started following Point Break so fiercely to begin with. And I never would have done what I did in the elevator with Wes.
He must have sensed I was weakening because he said, “Sara, no one will know it’s you. You should see the magic our team can do for some of our video girls.”
“Please. Those girls don’t need any magic. They’re hot enough without any help.”
“You think they’re hotter than you? No way.” His bright eyes wandered down my neck to my chest, and though I should’ve felt dirty, I didn’t. His gaze was unbelievably intimate, making me feel special.
I gulped.
Me in a music video. With Wes Shaw and the other Point Break guys. With open access to more of him, which meant possibly getting close to him again. Very close. My mind spun with the possibilities. A double life. It felt risky.
It felt like a risk I wanted to take.
“If Father ever found out...”
“He won’t find out.” Wes laid his hands across the table, asking for mine. “Trust me, Little Red. I know what I’m doing. I just need to convince Henri to give me a chance.”
I did trust him. A person didn’t just get to be a famous guitarist in an award-winning rock band by chance. Rock stars had to be crafty, talented businessmen as well as showmen. In that way, Wes was a little like my father. Whereas my father’s business was about promoting his TV show and leading his flock, Wes’s business was about promoting rock-and-roll, letting go of your inner self, and being free.
; “So? Will you do it? Will you trust me?”
I was still nervous and scared, but I wanted to do it.
I relished spending more time with Wes.
I relished being free.
I slipped my hands into his. “If Henri agrees to let you direct, and you really want me to be in your scene, then yes. I’ll do it.”
Chapter 6
Wes
Two days later, I stood in the dim studio warehouse where we stored Point Break equipment and where we’d be filming our band video. Yesterday, I’d pulled Henri aside and asked if I could direct a small segment of the film, just a bit of backstage antics and one song. I’d shown him some of my student films, and amazingly he hadn’t laughed at me. Instead, he’d made a couple of positive comments about camera angles, timing, and lighting, seemingly impressed with what I’d done. Then he’d nodded and agreed—I could direct what I wanted, on the condition that he had final approval. I told him I agreed, and that I’d be bringing someone to meet him the following day.
Now Sara was here with me. She’d gotten out of her class and taken the subway out to the warehouse, texting me first to tell me she was on her way. I’d managed to keep Henri busy until she got there so I could pitch my concept of her as the lead with her by my side.
“She’s perfect for the part, Henri,” I said, then winked at Sara. “Don’t let the goody-two-shoes look fool you—Sara transforms into a rock vixen quite easily.”
Henri’s bored, half-mast eyelids examined Sara from head to toe. “I do not think we need a ‘video girl’.”
“It’s my band. My video. My section,” I reminded him.
Sara stood beside me, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “If it’s too much, I understand,” she told Henri, who barely looked at her and stifled a yawn. I had to take a deep breath to keep from slapping that look of ennui off his face. “I’m flattered that Wes even asked me.”
“No.” Facing Henri, I said, “I know what I’m doing. You saw my student films, so you know I’m capable of directing a great segment. We’re talking just one scene here. I don’t want the others to know I’m directing until it’s done, but—”
“They don’t know yet?” he asked, frowning.
I hesitated. I’d just wanted Henri to give me the green light before telling them. Seemed more legit that way. Yet he’d given me the green light yesterday, and it wasn’t lost on me that while Sara, a girl I’d known mere hours, knew I was going to be directing a segment of the film my bandmates, friends I’d known for years and who would actually be in the film, didn’t know.
“I’m sure they’re going to love the idea,” Sara said, bumping her arm with mine.
“Thanks.” I smiled at her. “And besides,” I said to Henri, “all things eighties are back in style, so having a video vixen would be perfect. Sara would be perfect.”
“I don’t identify with the term ‘video vixen,’” Sara muttered in my direction. “But thanks.”
“Get used to it. You’re hot. So. Fucking. Hot,” I muttered back, loving the smile that got out of her, and loving even more how she lifted her chin, pride filling her face.
“Really?” she whispered. At my broad smile, she beamed. Then she turned back to Henri. “Sounds to me like Wes has the skill, the talent, and the sense to pick the perfect video vixen. Also, the band hired you, not the other way around, so I’m not seeing what the problem is here.”
I almost died. Dead. Bam. Crossmarks over eyes. Ka-blam.
Sara Crawford! Slaying the director man!
She was fierce as fuck.
Henri stared at her, then at me. Finally, he sighed. “I do not want this to feel like a Whitesnake video with the girl writhing half-naked over an automobile.”
“What’s wrong with near-naked writhing on automobiles?” I held back my smile.
“I’ll happily writhe on whatever Wes asks me to writhe on,” Sara proclaimed, shoving her chin even higher in the air. I almost laughed because I could see the worry creep into her eyes—pretty sure she didn’t want to writhe on anything—then she added, “Either way you look at it, Mr. Henri, with Wes’s contribution, you’ll have a blockbuster on your hands.” Sara looked so fucking cute coming out of her shell and being the badass I knew she could be.
“I don’t much like your frivolity over this,” Henri said. “I’m quite serious.”
“As am I. And I promise, it won’t look anything like a Whitesnake video,” I reassured him. I wanted to create my own iconic image, not copy one of the greats.
“Filming will begin in a week or two. Be prepared with the scene script, costumes, makeup, lighting,” Henri said, then walked away.
Sara leaned into me. “Who’s Whitesnake, anyway?”
“Way before our time. I’ll tell you later,” I murmured. “And are you sure you don’t want to climb half-naked over the hood of a car? I kind of like the idea myself, personally.” I threw an arm over her shoulder and she elbowed me in the ribs.
“I might dance or sing or look like a fan in the crowd, because uh…that’s not much of a stretch, but I’m not crawling over cars or wearing anything revealing.”
“Damn. Fine.” I relented.
But secretly, I imagined her exactly that way. Half-naked. Nah, better yet, completely naked, writhing over the hood of a car, making love to it. Kissing it with her ruby red lips, auburn hair splayed out over the shiny chrome finish. Knees apart, straddling the hood ornament, holding on to it and pressing it into those folds between her legs, taking deep pleasure from the seductive dance.
Fuck. What I’d do to have her star in that video.
Double fuck. I needed to calm down my libido. This was not the time or place for a raging erection—anyone could come down the hall. Focus, Wes, I reminded myself.
“First step, your costume. Let’s get that pegged down so you won’t worry any more about being recognized.”
“Here?” she asked, looking around the hallway.
“Prop room,” I explained. “Further down the hall. Ready?” At her nervous nod, I grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hallway to the prop and costume room. “We have a bunch of stuff. I mean, we’re not like nineties’ boy bands who have more costume changes than a Broadway play, but we have cool outfits.”
Inside, I picked a sequined vest hanging on a rack of clothing and showed it to her. “Yes? No?”
Sara cringed.
“Yeah, maybe not this one.” I shoved the hanger back onto the rack.
Sara eyed the room and picked up an especially ornate crown that sat on top of a steamer trunk. “No over-the-top costume changes, huh? What do you call this?”
“That one’s Tucker’s fault. He doesn’t mind drumming while looking like the Burger King mascot. Hey, what about this one?” I pulled out a long black wig.
“Too Elvira.”
“We don’t want that.” I gestured to the room. “You find what you like, okay?”
She tossed me a glance over her shoulder. “Really?”
“Dead serious, Little Red. See anything you want to wear?”
“I think this one is a great start.” She plucked out a black form-fitting mini dress with a big red belt. No matter what she showed me, I could envision her not only wearing it, but rocking it. I loved knowing I’d get to see a side of her most people wouldn’t.
“That’s hot,” I growled out. The way she formed it over her body and did a little pose sent spikes of heat all the way to my dick.
“What about this?” She added a jean jacket to the ensemble.
“Not so hot,” I said. I liked when she showed more of her skin, not less of it.
“It also stinks.” She pinched her nose.
“That would be Tucker again.” I laughed. “In his defense, he’s dripping in sweat by the end of each show. Why don’t you go with that dress and maybe this hat?”
“I don’t know. It’s too much spandex.”
“Sara, one can never have…too much spandex.” I gestured to the far left corner
where our dancers and back-up singers kept their costumes. Though we were a pretty hard rock band, we’d been known to feature girls squeezed into spandex in some of our numbers. “I’m sure you’ll find something back there to compliment your body.”
Sara headed to the corner, then stopped short, staring at the small table piled with costume stuff and a few outfits hanging on another rack. She waited for me to reach her before turning around and pouting. “Don’t you have anything that won’t look like I jumped into a pool of black paint? I don’t have the body for this type of thing.”
“Trust me,” I said. “You have the body.”
Reaching out, I took her by the waist and slowly drew her toward me. She gazed deeply into my eyes and her breath went shallow. My heart thumped hard against my ribs. A current connected our bodies in this small space. It was like we were in the elevator all over again, only this time we were surrounded by walls of clothing, and this time there was no fear.
But I could feel her heart pounding through her chest, and I quickly turned as hard as goddamned granite, ready for her. Sara Crawford was gorgeous and smart and sexy all rolled together, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since the night we met.
From the way her breath shortened and her tongue slowly touched the top of her teeth, I knew she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.
The skin of her cheeks became flushed. I pulled her in closer so I could feel her body’s warmth.
I pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. I had to kiss her. Taste her. Breathe in everything about her and immerse myself in Sara. I tilted my head and slid my hand to her neck, angling us so the kiss would be—
“I feel something,” she said.
Odd, but sexy choice of words. I went with it. “I feel something, too.”
“No, this…” She reached behind her and pulled out a red leather skirt sitting on the table I’d had her backed up against.
“Get rid of it. We have more pressing needs to address right now.” I edged my hips forward so she could feel my jutting cock. But instead of tossing the skirt aside, she stared at it intently, her eyes going wide and a smile building on her mouth—the mouth I’d been about to kiss until the skirt got in the way.
