Claiming Johnny: A New-Adult Novel

by Dunning, Rachel

  “A duty.”

  “Yeah, this is what I want: Hot. Bad-ass. Kind. Loving. Romantic.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I mean it!”

  I look around, looking for one of Thunder’s crew. We blend, he had said.

  I know one of them is looking.

  -49-

  I call Thunder.

  “Hey, how’s the fat girl?”

  “She’s not fat.”

  “Yeah, she’s looking pretty hot these days. Looks like she really cleaned up.”

  “She might need some help.”

  “The nose you broke?”

  “Christ, Thunder—where are you?”

  “In your head.” He laughs at his joke. “Protection?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is she worth it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s helped settle my head.”

  “By sucking your cock?”

  “Thunder.”

  “Hey, you want one of my men to watch her. I need the facts.”

  “She helped me settle my head... I don’t know how, by listening, I guess.”

  “So she’s a friend.”

  “Yeah.”

  “OK. Done.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. She’s a friend of yours, so she’s one of us. If she stops being a friend, deal’s over.”

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Owe me? Christ, I’m doing this for selfish reasons, Johnny. The drama between you and Nicole and Cat over the years has taken its toll on Alice. And I’m looking to settle her mind so that every time we’re in bed together she isn’t thinking about something else. I’m sick of friends of yours getting into shit. Purely selfish.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe what you want. I’ll keep someone on the girl. Indefinitely.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Fuck me, you ask a lot.”

  “She’s a good chick.”

  “And?”

  “And she, uhm...”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Never mind.”

  “You know I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me, Johnny.”

  “Your guy, uhm, make him young.”

  “Young.” I can hear the mirth in Thunder’s voice. “And, let me guess, good looking?”

  “Do you have any of those?”

  “Pfft. These are bikers, Johnny. Chicks dig bikers. They’re all good looking in their eyes.”

  “More importantly...”

  “Maybe I will charge you. What now?”

  “He needs to be a good guy.”

  “Let me guess, he should take her out for drinks?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And put a handkerchief down on the floor before she gets on his bike?”

  “Ideally.”

  “I’ll need a few days.”

  “I’ll be here until you find someone.”

  ~Cat~

  -50-

  Yup, I’m depressed.

  Yup, I’m gonna drink.

  Yup, it’s stupid.

  I don’t care. Not today.

  I open up the minibar and pull out all the little bottles inside it. I line them up on the table and open the first one, down it. Then the next one. Down it. The third...

  Bill calls a few times. I don’t answer. He leaves a few messages, sends a few texts.

  Bill: Are you freaking crazy? This will ruin you!

  Too late, bud. It has ruined me.

  I drown my sorrows in booze, drown them completely. And I can’t even tell you why or what for.

  Is it for Nic? Is it that Tiago opened up old wounds that have killed me for nearly a year?

  I text Nic, my old friend who doesn’t answer and doesn’t call. But she doesn’t text back.

  Pointless.

  I think of calling her, but I don’t. It’s clear she doesn’t wanna talk to me.

  The little bottles remind me of my dad, how I fell down the stairs and broke my finger while he beat up mom in a drunken stupor. How Pat and Johnny walked in, how Johnny threatened to kill dad if he ever did anything like that again.

  And then I remember Christmas, the car dad bought me, the car he and Johnny and Pat worked on together, how the engine roared and fired the moment I turned it on. A boy’s car.

  The same car which took my dad’s life.

  I down another bottle.

  And another.

  Dad, oh dad, I miss you...

  My phone buzzes.

  It’s Franz.

  Franz?

  I answer. “Heya!” I realize the booze has made me lightheaded, and that maybe my Heya! was a little too enthusiastic.

  “Catherine.”

  “What’s up!” Still overeager.

  “I just wanted to know what time I should pick you up.”

  Pick me up?

  Oh, shit. Fuck. Shit. “Uhm, yeah, right...” I try and focus on the wall...but it’s moving.

  Shit.

  “Uhm, about that...”

  “Are you standing me up?” Jeez he has a sexy accent, a freaking German Tough Guy accent. OK, I’m really drunk.

  “Uhm, no, Franz...shit...look...truth is...well...I’m a little...drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Is he laughing?

  “Yeah, uhm, well, it kind of didn’t work out with the shoot and I...yeah.” Loose-tongued.

  “I see. Well, are you too drunk to go out for a drive?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea in my state of mind.” Because you’re freaking hot.

  “You think I would take advantage of you?” You ssink I vood take advantage off you?

  “Yes.”

  He laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t think I’m in a position to take that risk.”

  Franz bursts into laughter, loud and deep and rumbling. Fuck me, even his voice is good looking.

  “How drunk are you?”

  I look at the wall, swaying. “Well, let’s just say that in about an hour I’ll probably fall asleep.”

  “Then let’s have a coffee. A strong coffee.”

  “In your limo.”

  “If you prefer, I can call you a taxi, and meet you somewhere.”

  Man, am I really this distrusting? “No, no, I mean—I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You are.”

  Loose-tongued. Everything’s dandy. Franz is a nice guy. And the world is a happy happy place. “An hour?” he says.

  “Er, yeah, fuckit, why not?”

  “Taxi, or limo?”

  “Uhm, hmmm, tough choice, hmmm—I think I’ll take the limousine.”

  “Good choice.”

  -51-

  I’ve sobered up a smidgen by the time Franz picks me up. The shower helped. I didn’t bother doing my hair, no time. I put on one of the freaking super sexy dresses that I bought on Tiago’s account (red, long, showing thigh) and slapped on some tights as well.

  OK, I’m not a hundred percent sober. And maybe I feel like flirting.

  Franz’s blue eyes pop open when he sees me. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you if you were drunk, but I can’t say the same for that dress.”

  He’s in a suit, no tie, and his shoulders could probably hold the world up.

  I let him escort me into the limo, and when he gets inside, I hope he decides to sit next to me this time, not across from me.

  He does.

  And then he puts his hand on my knee.

  And I let him.

  I let him because it feels good. Do I need to justify it?

  I’m an adult. I’m in a foreign country. I’m being driven around in a freaking limo, damn it. I’m single. So why do I feel like I need to sit here justifying it?

  It doesn’t help that Franz’s hand feels so good on my knee. It doesn’t help that the wine he’s serving is turning the heat up in my body, and making my legs feel weak.

  We h
ead off to a fancy restaurant at the top of some tower which turns and looks down over the city. People’s heads turn toward us as we walk past them. A kid, not older than fifteen for sure, comes to our table and asks Franz for his autograph. Franz obliges, smiling. The kid speaks to him in German. I have no idea what he’s saying. He barely glances at me.

  Franz blushes when the kid is gone. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I can’t turn them down.”

  “Bad publicity?”

  He shrugs. “Yes, but also...they look up to me. I’d feel bad if I didn’t treat them right.”

  “Do you ever get any privacy?”

  “Only in my limo. But even then it’s difficult. The only place I really get privacy is in my apartment.”

  “A movie star.”

  “Football player. I mean—soccer player.”

  We end up at said-apartment about two hours later. It’s not an apartment, it’s a mansion facing the river. Franz pulls out white wine, serves it to me. Before I know it, he’s behind me, his left hand on my arm...

  He rubs my arm up and down. “You’re tense,” he says.

  The liquor is gone from my system. I’m a girl, in some famous guy’s apartment. And this isn’t me. This is so not me.

  It crosses my mind that Nic would jump at this opportunity. I remember her at those parties from the Film Academy. She’d disappear into a bathroom somewhere and come back out licking her lips, not caring who stuck what inside her, not caring about protection either.

  Franz seems to get the hint, and moves his hand away. He heads over to a one-seater and I, awkwardly, follow him and sit on the leather couch opposite him.

  He takes a sip of his drink.

  It dawns on me that I haven’t let my body fall backwards, that I’m tense, leaning forward.

  “I’m not offended,” he says.

  “What?”

  “I’m not offended—that you’re not interested in me. Surprised? Yes. But not offended.”

  Oh, wow, that’s...embarrassing. I drop my head, feel my cheeks go red.

  “You intrigue me,” he says.

  “How so?”

  “Well, normally I bring girls up here, all sorts of girls, and they are so taken by who I am that normally I don’t have to do any work. Being with you is...humbling.”

  “I mean no...disrespect.”

  He laughs, that deep, rumbling chuckle of his. “No disrespect taken, and you can feel at ease. I find this...interesting, and I’d like to ask you a question, to which I’d like a brutally honest answer.”

  Right. I down my wine, pour myself another one. “Shoot.”

  “But I must ask for your discretion, Catherine. I am a celebrity in this town, and if this gets out...”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Me? You think I’m gonna go out and tell your life story to some magazine?”

  He smiles. “No, I don’t. Which is why I’m asking you this. I know little about you, but I know you can be trusted. You seem like one of those Loyal To The End types.”

  “It’s my downfall.”

  “I don’t think so. In a world of treachery, loyalty is a valuable commodity.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time I get stabbed in the back.”

  “Tiago?” he says.

  “And others.” I look at my glass, then at him. “I assume discretion goes both ways?”

  “Deal.”

  “So, your big dark secret, what is it?”

  “Girls,” he says. “Women. I have no problem getting any. Young ones, older ones, models, actresses, sluts, anyone. They know who I am, they know I am rich. They’re mostly interested in getting me into bed.”

  “Tough life.”

  “Actually...” He sips his wine. “...it is. Even the ones with seemingly true interest soon get caught up in the papers, the news, and soon their panties are falling off without me even asking them.”

  I gulp another sip.

  “So, being with you tonight,” he says, “has opened my eyes to something...discomforting.” I stare at my glass. “I’m a bore.”

  “You’re not a bore.”

  “No, I am. I know I am.”

  “I thought tonight was interesting. You didn’t bore me.”

  “But nothing sparked,” he says.

  “So?”

  “Nothing ever sparks with women for me.”

  “Maybe you haven’t met the right one.”

  He thinks on this for a second. “Interesting.” He stares out over the table. “Interesting.”

  “Well, you’re not boring, and you are attractive. Christ, you’re...” I don’t say anything more.

  “Say it,” he says. “I’ve come to terms with the fact you and I won’t sleep together. I get so much falsity in this business, I’d appreciate an honest answer.”

  “Well, OK, honesty...” I put my glass down. “You are indeed hot. I mean, no problem there. And you’re fit, and you’re rich. You’re kind, gentlemanly...”

  “If you keep going, I might indeed try and sleep with you.”

  My skin goes hot. “It’s not you,” I say. “I mean, on another week, another day, another frickin lifetime, well...”

  “Tiago,” he says.

  “Oh, Christ, not a fucking chance. No. No.” I think of Tiago thrusting his tongue into my mouth earlier. “Fuck no.”

  He laughs. “I love how you swear.”

  “Sorry, it’s...an American thing.”

  “So, someone else?”

  Johnny. Oh, man, I’m so screwed up. “I’m not sure.”

  “Ah,” he says, leaning back. “Ah.”

  “It’s...complicated.”

  “It always is. You love him, this other man?”

  Yes. So much. Always have. Always will. “I told myself I didn’t.”

  “But it didn’t work.”

  “For a while, it did. I had resigned myself to it. There was...” I look over at Franz. He seems genuinely interested. “There was a spark there with me and him. Old high school flame, you know?”

  “Aha.”

  “What?”

  Franz shrugs, looks at his glass which is empty. I pick up the bottle and pour for him. “So he was your first true love.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Tiago?”

  “The second.”

  “True love?”

  I nod, not believing it. “Yeah, but it was one-sided. Well, I’m not sure about that.”

  “And with this other fellow, one-sided?”

  “No, no. He was...” I down the drink. “Well, I screwed it up. My dad died and... It’s a long freaking story.”

  “It’s a long night.”

  “I’d rather not. No offense. I’d rather...hear about you.”

  Franz smiles. “High school,” he says. “It was all so simple then.” He swirls his glass. “Yes, Janike was her name. The love of my life. I started playing football to impress her.”

  “And here you are,” I say. “Famous.”

  He shrugs. “Sometimes I wonder...if I wouldn’t give it all up for her.”

  “What happened?” I say.

  Franz looks up at me. “She slept with my best friend.”

  -52-

  “So she was a bitch.”

  “Not quite,” he says. “I was getting popular at school, girls were all over me. And I, well, I was young and I thought I had better ‘take the opportunity’ while I had it. So, we broke up.”

  “You broke up with her.”

  He clears his throat. “Yes, yes. There was a cute girl around me, very flirtatious, very flirtatious. And I thought with the wrong head.” He drains his glass, holds it out to me. I refill it.

  “I broke up with Janike, took this other girl to bed. We stayed together for a bit. Then another one came along. I broke up with the second girl, took the third one to bed. Soon I didn’t bother breaking up with them, I just...well...” Again, his eyes on his glass, lost in the wine. “I soon realized none of these girls were giving me what I wanted, what I really wanted. Sure,
they gave me lots of positions and other things. Janike, strangely enough, was a very sensual and yet simple girl in the bedroom. She was incredible. Nothing kinky, just straight sex. And, man, I have no idea what made that straight, usual sex so much more exciting than a finger up the asshole or chains or whatever.”

  Whoa.

  He looks up at me. “Sorry,” he says.

  “No, go right ahead.” Hello drunken honesty.

  “Well, I think it was the love, you know? I think sex with someone you love is light years above just sex as such. No matter what I tried—and I was getting desperate, truly desperate, so I tried a lot of things with these women, threesomes, BDSM, you name it—none of it came close to the sounds of Janike’s purr as she...”

  “As she what?”

  “As she exploded under me.” He pauses, staring at nothing. Then sighs. “Anyway, I was too late. I went to her, told her I was sorry, told her I wanted to give us another chance. Turns out she’d been sleeping with my best friend ever since I’d first broken up with her. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. And they had been at it for months. Every day.

  “I fucked him up, of course. Actually, I tried to fuck him up. I ended up with a broken nose.” He pinches his nose. “It’s still not one hundred percent right. Anyway, he and I had a fallout. She and I stopped talking.

  “They’re married now, she and him. Three kids.”

  “Are they happy?”

  “I don’t know. Ludwig and I never recovered our friendship. And Janike and I, well, things spark when we’re together. I bumped into her a few times since then. My heart pumped like mad. Her eyes went dark.

  “It’s risky. It’s risky for us. It’s best we keep apart from each other.

  “Besides, they have kids now. It...complicates...things.” He smiles at me.

  I pour us another drink, and then the bottle is empty. “Another one?” he says.

  “Fuck, why not?”

  We end up in bed together—no, not like that.

  I guess I must have passed out, because when I wake up, I’m being carried by Franz, and he’s putting me on top of his bed. I guess he senses my panic, but something in his eyes puts me at ease.

  He gets on top of the sheets next to me, and soon I’m curled under his arm.

  He snores terribly, and that only makes me laugh. Maybe it was just the booze, or maybe this Super Star really does snore.

  I get up early, take a shower in his bathroom.