Wicked Bad Boys

by Bella Love-Wins

  Fred answered first. “My team is set. Larry and I will go ahead, pick up some gear, and meet you, the road crew and the security detail at the airport after the photo shoot. Jenny and Lucas will return to the LA field office to keep working on the unsub’s internet activity.”

  Plans seemed to shift underneath me. The last time I had been briefed, Fred and Larry were going to accompany Johnny and the crew for the photoshoot. Now they were going on ahead of us. It was clear that going with the flow had to become my new motto. Kevin nodded, and looked back to Johnny and me before checking his watch.

  “I’ll be ready in five,” Johnny said. He folded his eggs over and slid them out onto the plate he had waiting.

  The agents exited and I downed the rest of my coffee. Kevin left to oversee the assistants and drivers. They were busy loading luggage into one of the two limo-bus vans waiting outside to take us to the photoshoot. The assistants and driver would wait with our stuff so we could head directly to the airport to catch our plane. I had seen the pile of luggage in the foyer that morning. I had to smile. I had been worrying back in Miami that I was bringing too much stuff. My three bags—my original two and now a third with my trendy, new-fangled, hand-picked, Johnny-Q-Venom-worthy fashion ensembles—were a tiny fraction of the number of bags in that mountain of luggage.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?” Johnny asked, in between bites of his breakfast.

  I turned back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the whole thing went sideways on you. Now you have to be my personal babysitter and they’re getting you involved with the media, changing your hair, all that. And I didn’t notice any Kevlar in that wardrobe either. So you’re signing up to do all that, plus practically standing by to take a bullet for me, if it comes to that.”

  “I’m good with it. I can handle it.”

  “All right. Just asking.” He took another bite.

  “Johnny! Amanda! Now,” Kevin shouted from the living room.

  Johnny dropped his plate in the sink and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. He took my hand as we left the kitchen. “It’s got to be believable, right?”

  I nodded, and we followed the sound of Kevin’s voice out to the driveway. I did what I was told and climbed into the back seat of the first van. The other one was full to bursting with all of the luggage. Minutes later, we were off, heading to downtown LA for the photo shoot. As we rode along, I stared out the window, too tired to mentally object or form and opinions. Johnny sat in the row ahead of me. He seemed to be doing some thinking of his own.

  We hit the streets at probably the worst possible time. Rush hour. The roads and highways were packed. It took over an hour to get to the hotel. Kevin had booked the presidential suite for the shoot. The entire time we were in the van, Kevin had the phone to his ear. He complained loudly to the driver about the traffic, and kept compulsively checking his watch.

  We eventually arrived at the location, and had lost a ‘precious’ hour, as Kevin put it. Johnny and I were whisked away to separate hotel rooms for more hair, makeup, and wardrobe. I was already ninety percent done, so they did a quick touch-up. The photographer had yet another wardrobe consultant on hand.

  She walked me over to a rack of dresses to choose from. “It’s just in case,” she told me.

  Everything was short, tight, and low-cut. I looked at few of them, and settled for what I had on. This electric blue dress with asymmetrical accents on the side was closest to my style. It was the most flattering, in my opinion, and the wardrobe girl agreed the color would pop.

  I turned to the hotel room door, and Kevin was standing inside the room among the hair and makeup people. “There she is! Come with me, Rachel. Let’s get these two lovebirds in place.”

  Rachel. That was the name Fred and Kevin had picked out for my alias. I didn’t even get to pick my fake name. I would be Rachel Preston to the media, to keep my real name under wraps. He and Kevin left the other details up to me, but they both stressed that the less I said during the interview, the better.

  And Kevin’s sarcasm was unmistakable. I faltered at the broad grin on his face. It was as fake as this sham of a relationship Johnny and I were about to pose for, so the media could magically spin it into existence. He took my arm and led me out of the room, across to the presidential suite. He walked me through the large living room full of lighting and set staff, into a larger bedroom. My eyes instantly went to the bed. It appeared to be the focal point of all the cameras and lights.

  “Johnny, here’s your girl,” Kevin said, pasted-on grin still firmly in place.

  It occurred to me that Kevin had no choice but to go along with this cover story now. So even though he not-so-secretly despised me—for reasons that were still unknown to me—he had to play nice in front of everyone else. I felt some relief. I would get a break from his glaring and sniping when we had any kind of audience.

  “Rachel, this is Lanna,” he said. “She’s one of the writers for Celebrity Star magazine. She’ll do a short interview after the shoot. Nothing too extreme. Just a few questions for Johnny and Rachel, right Lanna?”

  Johnny came up from behind me and laced his arms around my waist. The intimate gesture threw me off, and I almost did a martial arts block to push his hands away. Luckily I remembered we were in a fishbowl. Everyone was watching, and expected to see us happy and in love. I relaxed my hands and placed them over Johnny’s, giving them a quick squeeze.

  “Nice to meet you, Rachel,” Lanna said, holding out her hand for me to shake.

  Johnny released me and I stepped forward to shake her hand. “Likewise,” I said, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt.

  “Let’s get going, we have a tight schedule here, people,” Kevin said.

  I couldn’t tell if it was the lights, the swarm of busy people, or the skintight dress, but all of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by the whole thing. I had not done a photoshoot for over eighteen months, and I never had to get this dressed up. Plus, I always shared the spotlight with another female MMA fighter for those promo shoots. Johnny was in his element, but all eyes were on me. I was the newsworthy buzz for the moment, icing on the cake that was Johnny Q Venom. On instinct, I took hold of Johnny’s hand. He became my anchor, to keep from running out of the room and right back to the post-celebrity obscurity I had grown accustomed to.

  “You look amazing in that dress,” he whispered in my ear. He pulled me close to his side while everyone rushed around to tweak the set.

  “Thanks,” I replied nervously, trying to force myself to relax.

  “Okay, Johnny,” Lanna called from across the room. “We’ll start with you standing in front of the bed. And Rachel, honey, you’ll be here. Just relax on the bed. Be flirtatious, sultry.”

  My eyebrows shot up at her. “Is this a photo shoot, or porn?”

  Johnny laughed. “Not to worry, Rachel. She’ll keep it classy.”

  He winked at me, still smiling. I tried to laugh along, but my stomach had bunched up in knots. I stared at the scene in front of me, trying to wrap my mind around how exactly I was going to pull this off. As Rachel. What the hell?

  Chapter 14 - Johnny

  “Rachel, darling. You have got to loosen up, honey,” Lanna said.

  I glanced over at Amanda to gauge her reaction to Lanna’s instructions. Her face was blank, and although she nodded, it was pretty clear to everyone in the room she was in over her head. And Lanna had been so used to people in the business, she struggled to help. What she thought was helpful was just adding to Amanda’s stress.

  We were two hours into the photos shoot. Things were not going well. Lanna had set the scene for us; she wanted us to act like we had just gotten back into our swanky hotel room after a party, and were staying in for the rest of the night. The magazine wanted sexy, fantasy pictures of us together. So far, it had been photos of Amanda that Lanna felt looked stiff and uncomfortable.

  This was not working. I hated seeing her so freaked ou
t. At the same time, I was baffled by her reaction to me. I understood we were not a real couple, that this was all a charade—for now. But it was like she forgot I had rocked her world a few times already. She was tense, and would recoil every time I touched her. It did not make sense. I tried not to take it personally. The cameras and crew were enough to make anyone antsy. There had to be something else going through her mind.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, looking down at her.

  “Uh huh,” she mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “Except I don’t do loose. Or slutty, or whatever it is they want me to be right now. And I can’t get used to her calling me Rachel. I keep wanting to look around to see who she’s talking to.”

  “Can we get a minute alone?” I called out to Lanna.

  Kevin stepped in from the sidelines, holding up his wrist. “No, we don’t have time. At this point, we are barely going to have time for the interview.”

  “It’s okay. I can do this,” Amanda said.

  She seemed to shake off some of her anxiety. She reached her arms up to my shoulder and arched her neck so I could lean in and kiss her. She still felt rigid in my arms, but it was a start. The photographer started taking pictures, so I continued. I pressed my lips to her skin. She was fine until the clicking of camera shutters started again. She tensed up. It gave me an idea.

  “Can we get some music? The sound is way too tinny in here,” I said.

  “Excellent idea, Johnny!” Lanna chimed in from the sidelines. She clapped her hands and an assistant hurried to one corner of the room. Within seconds, a flood of music filled the air, drowning out the background noise of the set.

  Amanda finally made eye contact with me.

  “We can do this,” I said, leaning in to put my lips to her ear. “Just imagine I’m your man, and I’m crazy about you.”

  Her arms relaxed and I pulled her in closer. I moved my hands down her sides, smoothing over the soft fabric of her dress. Even with the audience, touching Amanda got me aroused when I explored her curves. She was still in fighting shape. I loved the feel of her firm body underneath my hands. My thumbs grazed her sides, and she took in a sharp breath. I smiled. She was getting there. I brought my hand up to her face and cupped her chin. When I kissed her, the remaining tension melted. The kiss deepened and she pressed in closer to me. Our bodies meshed together. It was a perfect fit.

  “Good, good! You’ve got it, Rachel!” Lanna called out, above the music.

  We got a lot more shots, and stopped for a break while Lanna checked on what the photographer had taken so far.

  “Rachel, how do you feel about taking off some of these clothes?” Lanna asked, approaching us after looking over the photos.

  “What?” Amanda’s eyebrows raised in alarm. She glanced up at me, her eyes wide.

  “Everything would be covered up in the pictures, obviously,” Lanna tried to assured us. “Maybe we can do a few with Johnny unzipping your dress, sliding it down. You know? Something tasteful.”

  As with anything else in this music business, I had to take a stand. “We’re not doing that, Lanna. I’d like to keep Rachel all to myself.” I grabbed Amanda’s hips from where I stood behind her, possessively pulling her into me.

  Lanna seemed disappointed, but backed off. “All right. Then I think we have what we need for photos. We can start on the interview now. Go ahead and get ready. I need you in a different dress, Rachel. You have five minutes.”

  I took Amanda’s hand and walked her out into the hallway.

  “Thank you for getting me out of that…striptease scenario craziness,” she said.

  “You don’t have to thank me. Real or pretend girlfriend, that’s not something I’d let them do to you.”

  She nodded thoughtfully before entering her dressing room. I stood outside her door for a moment. After she disappeared, I went back to my room down the hall to get back into the clothes I wore to get here, then went back to wait at her door. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a shimmering low-cut pink dress. All I wanted was to put my hands all over her. Too bad there was no time.

  We returned to the main room, and Lanna started the interview. It was pretty standard. She asked the usual set of questions people pose to new couples—where we met, was it love at first sight, how serious we were, what Rachel thought of the rock star lifestyle and living in Hollywood, whether this new love story would affect my next record. On and on and on it went.

  Amanda let me do the majority of the talking. It was at Kevin’s direction, and I had to admit, it did make sense. I was the one who would have to remember some of these answers for at least the duration of the tour. I stuck to the scripted soundbites Kevin had cooked up—that Rachel and I met months ago at a coffee shop, and had been swept away, crazy in love ever since.

  Amanda played along, smiling and chiming in her excitement at the right places in the conversation. And while it went much more smoothly than the photo shoot had gone, it felt rehearsed and plastic to me. Lanna didn’t seem to pick up on it, so I left it alone. She also wasn’t going to run out of questions anytime soon. Kevin ended up stepping in to cut the interview short.

  Amanda changed and we all piled back into the van and raced to the airport. It was two hours behind schedule. Kevin’s assistant had received a call from the charter plane company. We had missed the departure takeoff window. They had sent the road crew and security detail ahead on a commercial flight. It meant our delay did not affect the concert setup.

  They were now working on a new time slot for the rest of us. This meant we had to wait somewhere in the nightmare that was LAX. Thanks to my sunglasses and baseball cap, and a hoodie Kevin had on hand for me, we managed to make it into the airport without being spotted. I was relieved, mostly for Amanda’s sake. After the stress of the photo shoot and interview circus, I wasn’t sure she could take a full-on paparazzi swarm.

  Fred and Larry were waiting when we made our way into one of the executive lounges. The room was mostly empty, with just a few passengers in business suits sprinkled around the room, all typing furiously on keyboards or talking on the phone. None of them bothered to look up. We walked over to sit with the agents.

  “Where should I go?” Amanda asked Fred.

  “Stay here in the lounge. It’s easier to manage this smaller space than the entire terminal. You stay close to Johnny. Do normal couples’ stuff. Just keep your eyes open.”

  “Right.”

  “And don’t go getting lost somewhere, you two,” Kevin added. “We can’t afford another delay.”

  She nodded, and I clocked a flash of irritation in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if she was upset with the FBI, Kevin, me, or the whole situation. I didn’t want to be the thing that pushed her over the edge, so I took her hand and led her away. We sat in a pair of soft leather chairs in the corner of the room. For a while, we stared silently out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking one of the tarmacs, watching the planes taking off. She didn’t say a word.

  Kevin came over and broke our calm silence. He announced they were able to confirm a new departure time in two hours, and was not happy about it. Most of his displeasure was directed at Amanda. I wanted to get in his face and tell him to stop acting like an asshole. It wasn’t fair of him to blame everything on her.

  Chapter 15 - Johnny

  “We’re going to find some coffee,” I told Kevin, cutting him off before I ended up making a scene.

  I stood up with Amanda and placed a hand around her shoulder as we walked to the food and drinks at other end of the lounge.

  “Don’t let him upset you,” I told her.

  I fixed us our coffees, and she grabbed a couple of muffins from a basket on the end of the counter.

  “He’s pissed,” she finally said.

  “Isn’t he always?” I mumbled.

  We stayed in that section of the lounge, and Amanda settled into the seat next to me. I handed her one of the coffee cups before taking a gulp of my own.

  “I guess.” She sipped on her
drink, and then looked up at me. “You two are nothing alike.”

  “Cheers to that.”

  “You’ve been the one person in my corner for this gig. And I…I just want to say thanks.”

  “You don’t need to thank me,” I said, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ears. “I wish you were walking into a different set of circumstances.”

  “You probably wouldn’t need a bodyguard and FBI protection under most circumstances.”

  “True.”

  She took another sip and licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. I couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by her sultry lips. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and reminded myself it wasn’t the time or the place.

  “I don’t know how you do this,” she said after another couple of minutes.

  “Do what? Deal with Kevin? It gets easier after a while. No, I take that back. He’s a pain in the ass and that’s never going to change.”

  Amanda smiled. Seeing her relax was a ray of light in what had turned into a dark, hopeless-feeling day. “That’s not what I meant. How do you tolerate all these people telling you what to do and how to act? Those magazine staff would have had us half-naked and rolling around on a bed if you hadn’t said no. And then the never-ending questions from Lanna. That was intense.”

  “It’s the business. This is how it’s always been.”

  She stopped speaking and shook her head slightly. “I don’t know how you deal with it. It seems like such an invasion of privacy. Doesn’t it drive you crazy? I don’t think I could bear it over the long run.”

  “I’m used to it.” I paused. Her assessment stuck with me. Everything she described was part of my everyday life. And I wanted her to be part of it. She would be forced to deal with the pitfalls of fame too, at least on some level. “Didn’t you have that too, though?” I asked. “I mean, when you were fighting, you had to do photo shoots and interviews, right?” I played it off like I hadn’t seen her photos or read her magazine interviews a hundred times.