Chasing Vivi

by A. M. Hargrove

  “So, Vivi, why didn’t you ever call me?”

  Pivoting in the booth so I can look at him better, I say, “Why would I? You and I never were friends at Crestview. We never hung out. You just used me to do your homework.” And I caved every fucking time. “Besides, I hated it there. People were rude to me and I don’t like being reminded of it. So what would be the purpose of calling you?”

  “Whoa,” he says, pausing for a breath, “Can’t we start from scratch? Let bygones be bygones and all that? We were both young and silly.”

  I press my lips together, trying to come up with a pleasant response. “Your memory is different from mine. I never had the chance to be silly and young and carefree. You were the popular kid. I was the fat ugly one. The girls were cruel and did terrible things to me. I’m sure you had a great time because they all adored you. You can’t possibly know what it was like to go through school having every day of your life suck. If you did, you wouldn’t be so casual about it.”

  His eyes shutter to half-mast and he tilts his head. “You don’t know that … you don’t know anything about me. You presume a whole lot, Vivienne Renard, yet you know very little.”

  “Ooh. What does that mean? Do you have some deep dark secret hiding beneath the surface you’ve never shared with anyone? Are you really a broken man and in need of some woman to come and rescue you from self-destruction? Do you loathe the man you’ve become and are afraid of that person?” I chuckle at my own joke, but then I notice he’s not laughing. His eyes are pained as two long creases appear in the small space between them.

  In a low voice, he says, “Never presume anything, Vivi. Haven’t you learned that yet?” He empties his glass in one long swallow and stares straight ahead.

  Remorse flows through me. It was a bit harsh, I suppose. “Sorry. You were one of them, you know. I never belonged in that school. I hated every minute of it.” I think back to all the memorabilia I trashed—the things Mom saved for me—when I cleaned out the house. All those ugly uniforms she’d kept and scrapbooks she’d made for me, thinking I’d treasure them. The idea of them makes me shudder.

  “Why did you go then?” he asks without looking at me.

  “My mom wanted me to. After Dad died, I didn’t want to rock her flimsy boat.” I wish she’d explained to me back then how much it was costing her and how much debt she was throwing herself into. It would’ve made our lives easier because I would’ve told her how much I hated that place.

  The waitress pops over and we both order another round of drinks. Bourbon is his choice—Weller to be precise. I order another beer. When she delivers them, I watch him swirl it around in his glass a few times before he takes a hearty gulp.

  “So, Vivi, why’s a smart girl like you working in a coffee shop? You had all the brains. I thought by now you’d be working your way up a serious career ladder in some rocket science capacity.”

  A rueful laugh leaks out of me. “Yeah, those were my thoughts too. Funny how life never seems to fall in line with what you want.”

  He rubs his chin and it reminds me of the sound I hear when I file my nails. I peek down at them and they look awful—ragged edges with cuticles crying out for attention.

  “So what stopped you?” he asks.

  “Life.”

  “Where did you end up in college?”

  “I graduated from MIT.”

  “No shit.” He nods appreciatively. “I always knew you were a damn brain.”

  “And look where it got me.”

  “Why not go somewhere else if you’re so down on this place?”

  I rub my arms. A wicked chill penetrates my bones. The whole job thing sucks. More specifically, it angers me. “I’m on the hunt now and have been for a few months.”

  “What’s your degree in?”

  “Computer science and engineering.”

  “From MIT.” He appears pensive.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy shit. And you’re working in a fucking coffee shop for a greasy-headed twat?”

  That makes me laugh. “That’s about right.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Prescott, it’s a long story.”

  “I’m not in a hurry. Do you see me leaving? Am I trying to dash out that door over there?” He points to the exit.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head and laughing.

  “Tell me. And this better be good because my guess is you graduated with a 4.0 and all kinds of honors. Am I right?”

  I shrug.

  “Come on, Vivi.”

  I’m still resisting, but then he smirks. Nothing is sexier than Prescott Beckham smirking. Okay, maybe his ass. But whatever. Then he suddenly says, “Hey, let’s play my favorite game.”

  “No way. I’m not playing Truth or Dare with you.”

  “Why not? You used to at Crestview.”

  “Because you always figured out a way to persuade me to do it. Don’t you think twenty-seven is a little old for that?”

  “Not at all. You’re never too old for Truth or Dare. Come on. Don’t be such a chicken. If you don’t want to tell me something, take the dare.” He grins and sticks the tip of his tongue between his top and bottom teeth.

  Jerk.

  I check the time and see it’s almost eight-thirty. “One hour. That’s it. I leave at nine-thirty.”

  “Why then? I didn’t think Cinderella turned into a pumpkin until midnight.”

  “Ha-ha. I have to go to Brooklyn and it’s freezing out.” I leave out the bit about how scared I am going home so late by myself. “And you have to answer, too.”

  “I was planning on it. But I get to go first.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “All righty then. Truth or dare, Vivi?” He’s lowered his voice into that raspy-sexy tone.

  My palms are already sweating. “Truth.”

  “When I saw you at lunch, what did you mean by me ‘having the girls wrapped around my homework binder,’ or whatever it was you said?”

  Well, fuck me. Why’d he have to start with that?

  Chapter 4

  Prescott

  Vivi rubs her hands on her thighs. She’s nervous and has been ever since I stood over the table. She seems to have more confidence in herself now than she had when I knew her but that doesn’t account for her skittishness. Back at Crestview, she had been overweight—I knew that—only I didn’t know, or maybe I didn’t pay attention, to the other girls giving her a hard time. And why should I have? I had so much going on in my head I could barely keep my own shit together.

  “So?” I prod. “Homework binder?”

  “You did a pretty good job with me. I only figured you put the other girls in the same boat. You know, with the homework stuff and all.”

  “I had you wrapped around my homework binder at Crestview. That’s your metaphor for finger.”

  It’s not a question. I’m baffled because I had no idea. Yeah, I was a flirt, but I flirted with everyone to get what was necessary. It was the only way I knew how to accomplish my goals. She needed the money and always acted like she had no interest in me whatsoever.

  “Of course. You had everyone wrapped around your finger. Well, maybe more of them were wrapped around your, um.” She points in the direction of my dick.

  Sexy little Vivi can’t say dick out loud. Isn’t that the cutest thing in the world?

  “Say it, Vivi.”

  “Say what?”

  “You know what.” I lean into her and get close to her lips. “Say it.”

  Her chest puffs out as she says, “Dick.” Her lovely neck flushes pink and two bright spots of fuchsia dot her cheeks. This is sweet innocence at its utmost.

  “Excellent. Now say cock.” I put a great deal of emphasis on the “c” and “k” at the end of the word. Silver gray irises turn stormy and deep creases form on her forehead.

  “Why would you want me to say that word?”

  “Because it makes you uncomfortable as hell and I’m an asshole. I like to see you squirm,
Vivi.”

  “I won’t say that. It has nothing to do with truth or dare. And besides, it’s my turn.”

  I take a couple of good slugs of my drink, sit back, and cross my arms. “Do your worst.”

  She puts an elbow on the table and rests her cheek on her hand. “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.” It’s impossible not to laugh at her comical expression. I curtailed her plans.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Do what?”

  “Pick dare.”

  “I most certainly can.”

  Her head tilts back, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. A chuckle escapes.

  “You’re a jerk,” she says.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Okay, then. I dare you to tell me why you loathe the man you’ve become.” She gloats at the clever way she’s twisted the game. And stupid me should’ve figured out she’d come up with something like this. Vivi was always brilliant.

  “Loathe is extreme. Let’s say I’m not particularly fond of who I am right now.”

  “Fine. Go on.”

  Now I’m the one who’s squirming. Where do I even begin? Vivi is almost a stranger to me. There’s no way I can bare my pathetic soul to her.

  “I have daddy issues.”

  “Really?” Her question is one of disbelief and she appears to be holding back a laugh.

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “Um, yeah. Prescott Beckham, the guy with the world at his fingertips, has daddy issues? I think not. I Googled you after I ran into you that day. From all accounts I read there were no daddy issues to be found. Nada. Try again.”

  “I have a team that keeps my secrets out of the media. You wouldn’t find anything on me. But it’s true. I grew up without a mom and my father was not much of one. So, there you have it.” I give her one of my best smirks. It usually does the trick on most women.

  She leans back and tucks her chin closer to her body. “That’s it? And I’m supposed to buy that?”

  “That’s all I have for sale, Little Wolf. Sorry.”

  “You’re not a very fair player.”

  “My turn.”

  “Nope. I’m done.” She drinks another swig of her beer.

  “No, you aren’t. I’m picking for you. Truth. How many men have you fucked, Vivi? And what exactly have they done to you?”

  She shoves her arms into her coat and pushes at me to get out of the booth. But I have zero intentions of going anywhere. “Let me out, Prescott.”

  “Not until you answer me.”

  “That’s none of your business. How many women have you been with?”

  “Too many to count.”

  Her jaw flops open and I close her mouth with a finger under her chin.

  “You asked, Little Wolf.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “How many, Vivi? Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  She’s so delicious sitting here, her mouth only inches from mine, it’s all I can do not to lean forward and close the distance between us. I want to feel those plump lips against me, wrapped around my cock as I push deep into her throat. I ache to hear her moan as I tongue her tight little pussy. I want to bind her in silk and fuck her until she begs me to stop. I know Vivi is inexperienced as shit—I can sense it—and I want to introduce her to sex, to raw, lusty, satisfying sex.

  “So I know exactly how far I can take you.”

  “How far you can take me … with what?”

  “How many, Vivi?”

  “Two. Now let me out.”

  “Only if you promise to go out with me.”

  “Fuck you, Prescott.”

  “That’s precisely the idea.” Before she can think of anything else to say, I grab her chin in a firm grip and kiss her. At first, she kisses like a block of ice. Then she warms up, melts, and leans into me as she fists the sides of my jacket. There’s a whole lot more to Vivi Renard than she wants to admit and I plan to find out what lies beneath the surface.

  When I set her free, her chest rises and falls with exertion. “I dare you to tell me you’re not wet. I dare you to tell me that tight little pussy of yours wouldn’t love for my cock to slide inside it right now. And I would go so far as to say that when you get home, your fingers will be doing that very thing, won’t they, Vivi?” I pause a moment to savor her shocked expression. “I was right about you, Little Wolf. You live up to your name I gave you. Except you’re not hungry for food. You’re starving for something much wilder, much more wicked than that.”

  Standing, I allow her to get out of the booth. She’s trembling as she stands. “Vivi?”

  “W-what?” she stutters.

  “This time I’ll expect a call from you. Tomorrow to be exact.”

  Her head bobs as she hurries out of the bar. When she’s gone, I call the head of security at Whitworth Enterprises.

  “Jack, I need to get an address on Vivienne Renard.” I let him know she lives somewhere in Brooklyn and where she works. I also give him her mobile number. I’m confident I’ll have her address in a day or so.

  I call the waitress over for the tab so I can get the fuck out of this place. My dick is so damn hard that if I don’t bust a nut soon, I’m going to go crazy. Rubbing one off to the fantasy of Vivi blowing me is going to have to tide me over until I get the real thing. I hope she doesn’t keep me waiting too damn long.

  The next morning, when I arrive at work, Lynn inspects me. Then she follows me into my office.

  “You look good this morning,” she says.

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  “No. I mean, you look really good. No bender last night?”

  I inwardly laugh at the term bender. “I don’t overindulge every night, Lynn.”

  “You have lately.”

  “I promised I’d do better and I am.”

  “Thank you. And I’m happy to say you don’t need to brush your teeth.”

  She doesn’t wait for a smartass reply before she leaves. I avoid mentioning to her that I smoked enough weed to get all of SoHo stoned out of their minds last night.

  My ass barely hits the seat when the phone buzzes.

  “Mr. Beckham, Jack from security is on the line.”

  Hmm. That was quick. “Thanks, Lynn.”

  I click over to Jack and he gives me Vivi’s address. He also tells me it’s in the Bushwick area of Brooklyn, where the crime rate is extremely high. After thanking him, I wonder why the hell she chose to live there.

  My phone buzzes again and Lynn tells me Harrison is on the line.

  “Dude, what’s up?”

  “Don’t you ever answer your own phone?” he asks.

  “Not here. Why don’t you ever call my cell?”

  “I do. You never answer.”

  I check my phone and there aren’t any missed calls from him, so I relay that bit of news.

  “I called you a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Check the damn number you called. It’s not showing up on here.”

  We get that issue sorted out—he had the wrong number under his contacts for me—and then he tells me he’s in town. “Got in early this morning.”

  “Why don’t you stay with me?”

  “I don’t want to bother you. Besides, I have some of my staff with me. We’re at The Plaza for a few days.”

  I push my chair back to put my feet on my desk. “Who fucked up this time?”

  “Midnight Drake. I had to get out here and clean up a mess.”

  “What happened to her? Men? Women? Or both?”

  “Both and drugs.”

  “Ouch.” Harrison’s a fixer for Hollywood’s finest. He makes the worst look their best.

  “Yeah, she’s going to make a statement tomorrow about how she has an addiction issue and will be entering rehab for an undetermined length of time. I’ll be tied up with her agent and producer. She just signed a fucking contract for a multimillion-dollar movie deal. I swear t
his has been a shit show.”

  The doodles on the paper get darker and darker as I replicate the circles I draw. “So what exactly happened?”

  “She was caught in bed with one other woman and two men. There was bondage, lots of … gadgets shall we say. You know, whips, gags, floggers, toys, that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds like she had her kink on.”

  “Oh, her kink was strapped on all right. That along with some heroin.”

  “She’s fucked, man.”

  “No, she was simul-fucked. Heartily. Straight in the ass and pussy. And she was fucked up. Bad thing was she woke up and didn’t remember a thing. Says she was drugged and raped. It’s a damn mess. You should’ve seen the pics and videos. Anyway, I’m here to pick up the pieces and reassemble, as usual.”

  And that’s what Harrison does best. I don’t know how, but I swear the man could cover up a murder if he tried.

  “Did you say video?” I ask.

  “Uh, three to be exact. And the shit hit the net. Already got it pulled, though.”

  “So, dinner tonight?”

  “Sure thing. What time?” he asks.

  “You tell me. You’ve got the mess on your grubby paws to straighten up.”

  “Seven. And let’s go to that place you took me to last time—you know, the one the TV chef owns.”

  “I’ll make some calls and see what I can do. Expect a text with a confirmation. And make sure you change my goddamn number in your contacts, you moron.”

  He’s still laughing when he hangs up. Out of the three of us, Harrison was the most put together at Crestview. Weston and I came from fucked up families, whereas Harrison had a decent home life. His dad is the best. Weston and I envied the fuck out of him. I still do. Maybe that’s why he’s always trying to put people’s lives back together and is the damn best at it.

  As excited as I am to see him, I can’t deny I’m a bit disappointed. A part of me wanted to go and check out Vivi’s place, find out more about where she lives. My intentions were to go to her apartment and wait for her to come home from work. But that will have to wait until tomorrow.

  At seven, I enter Le Table. The hostess does everything but dry hump me as she seats me. Usually I’m interested in this sort of thing, and maybe would even give her my number, but not tonight. She can’t hold a candle to Vivi. Her lips aren’t as full, her eyes aren’t as gray, and her lashes aren’t nearly as long and lush. I’d also bet her pussy has been used and abused by a lot more than two men, and the thought of breaking that tight little thing in is worth the damn wait.