“Not sneaky, I like getting my way, especially with you.” Next went her shirt. “I want to make love to you with the ocean, moon, and stars as our witness.” His shirt joined her clothes beside the chair. “Any objections?” He hung over her with fire burning in his eyes.
“No, but I need to tell you something.”
“Later princess, right now all I want is this,” he covered himself and found his place in the warmth of her body. Oh man, I’m a goner….
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thursday morning they were loaded in the SUV at three in the morning. Marques climbed in next to Brione after walking through the house one last time. The bodyguards arrived to accompany them on the press tour, starting with a morning radio show.
“We are all set.” He slammed the door closed and fastened his seat belt. “Ready baby?”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me. We’re back on the clock.” She elbowed him and passed the morning itinerary.
“Hold the elbow and kiss me before I embarrass you for real.”
“You are the worst.”
“Nah, I’m just a sucker for your kisses.” She leaned over and kissed him. Who knew the softest kiss would drive him insane? That he’d find himself gone for an organizing, checklist toting, law student.
“No more until we’re off the clock,” she insisted.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I mean it.” Her stern face didn’t intimidate him.
“Bri, I bet—”
“No more bets. I seem to always be the one folding.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hands.
Marques laughed, and she started covering the list of appearances for the day. They stopped for coffee, and while they waited in the drive-thru, Brione reminded him to turn on his phone.
“It was nice while it lasted,” he thought aloud.
“I agree.” She turned on her phone and went about scrolling and responding while he reached for their coffees. He placed them in the cupholders and turned on his phone too.
Back to back chimes signaling incoming text messages filled the cabin of the SUV. He had over thirty.
“What the—” He opened message after message, and his temperature increased.
“What is it?” Brione placed a hand on his forearm.
“A song from the album was leaked.”
“I’ll check the alerts. Pass me my laptop.” She turned to Bull in the third-row seat.
Brione powered up while he dialed Devin, as head of marketing and promotions to get an update on the leak. They rolled through Miami to the radio station, the eerie feeling of the past coming back to haunt him lingered in the pit of Marques’ stomach.
Leaked songs could kill his album release. People won’t buy what they can download for free. As the phone rang, he found his headset and went back to reading text messages.
That night changed everything in an instant. One minute everything seemed perfect and the next he lost it all. But then he failed to lean on the resources around him, not this time. This time he would reach out to Cameron, Bruce, and his entire team if it meant keeping the life he’d worked so hard to reestablish.
“Hey,” Devin answered, he sounded wide awake.
“What’s this about a leak?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Where are you?”
“We are heading to the station.” He tapped on Sam’s name in his stream of messages and heard a gasp. “Hold on Devin.” He turned to her. “What is it?”
Brione turned her cellphone screen to him. It was pictures of them. “Is that the Houston concert?”
She nodded, Marques grabbed the phone and scrolled through the page. Them having dinner at a restaurant in South Beach. Them walking on the beach last night.
“Where are these?” Mixed feelings surged through him.
“Everywhere,” she said, stoic.
“She’s right,” Devin confirmed in his earpiece. “The pictures popped up yesterday then Wife You was leaked sometime last night.”
“Who? How?” He could feel Brione shaking at his side. She was shaking her head and scrolling through the pictures. He grabbed her phone.
“Andrew,” she let out in a hushed plea.
“Stop baby. Let me take care of this.” She nodded, and he passed the phone back as they pulled up outside the radio station. He pulled her against his body to give her comfort. “Devin, should I cancel?”
“No. Do the interview. Damian is already digging into it. Keep your cool and don’t make a big deal of it. Play it down as much as possible. At this point, only one song was leaked, and it seems intentional.”
“Intentional?” he whispered keeping an eye on Brione. “Who is it?”
“We don’t know. But this doesn’t look good.”
“Have you talked with Cameron?”
“Yeah, we’ll work it out. Right now, you need to wow them and call me back as soon as you walk out.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry Baby Boy, we’ve been through worse.”
“Okay.” They disconnected, and his blood was burning. Who would do this to them? He had to trust his team and get his head space clear for the interview. This team of jockeys was known to dig up dirt, but they had loyal listeners. He had to nail the interview.
“Baby, don’t worry.” She nodded. “Are coming up with me?”
“No, I’ll stay here and assess the damage. I’ll see you when you’re done.”
“Okay.” He kissed her and stepped out of the SUV with Bull at his side. One person came to mind—Sam. He hoped he was wrong. He walked into the building leaving a quick voice message for Damian as he passed through the lobby. If she had anything to do with it, Damian would find out.
Marques rode the elevator up and stood outside the door of the studio waiting for the “On Air” light to turn off. He took several deep breaths, shaking his arms at his side. Focus on the interview, focus on the music. The pictures and text messages had to wait.
The light switched off, and the door opened. Marques learned as a young performer to turn on the entertainer. In his head, he channeled his father’s grace, his mother’s charm. Over the years, he sprinkled in Cameron’s arrogance. On his own, we was a musician, who loved music more than the crowds. Who loved sweet words and lyrics more than the screaming fans. But the interviews, performances, and fans were a packaged deal.
So, he turned on the entertainer as he crossed the threshold. He became the man people paid to see, he was every bit of the performer, the romantic, the homeboy, the man. He put on the mask hoping it kept his dreams intact, while some unknown person hiding on the internet tried to sabotage years of work.
Marques greeted the jockeys and put on the headset. He pulled the rolling chair to the table and adjusted the microphone near his mouth. He could hear the sounds of his title track from the EP playing before they introduced him.
“We are in the studio this morning with yo boy, Marques. Man, how are you this morning?”
“I’m good man. Glad to be here.”
“The ladies are already blowing up our lines to talk with you. We’ll open up for live calls after we get the exclusive information about your tour, EP, and now a new album. When do you sleep, man?”
“I don’t.” They laughed. “My team is grinding right now. We’ll sleep once the album hits the online stores and streaming platforms.” He relaxed as they asked questions about the producers and the song line up. The interview flowed.
“Before we open the lines, the blogs and social media are going crazy with a leaked track from your album titled Wife You. And I can’t lie it’s a banger.”
“Thanks. I learned of the leak this morning myself.” He laughed, with Devin’s words in his head. Play it down. “I guess the fans are eager for more music, now.”
“And the pictures?” The laughter stopped.
“What about them?” He turned to the jockey asking the question.
“Is it true that your girl is engaged?” Engaged.
<
br /> “What?” He struggled to remain focused on the questions asked.
“The woman in the pictures is reportedly engaged to the son of Texas billionaire…” the jockey shuffled through pages scanning the contents, “the name is Stewart Bradley, Jr.”
“He sounds rich.” The female jockey giggled.
“Nah man. I’m not responding to rumors about pictures shared without our—my, consent. I’m here about the music.”
Brione is engaged. His heart sank. The rest of the interview was a blur. He left giving them tickets to the show tomorrow night with a smile plastered on his face. But inside he was stuck at “your girl is engaged.”
He dragged down the stairs, returning to the SUV. Brione stepped out.
“Give us a second.” Marques waited for Bull to climb inside the SUV and close the door. Then he turned to Brione. “Is it true?”
Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “Bri is it true that you’re engaged to be married.”
“It’s not what you think—”
“You are—”
“Not to me.”
“What?” His neck jerked back, “What do you mean, ‘not to me’? Either you are, or you aren’t. Yes or no, Bri.” She stepped back, he reached for her, and she pulled away.
“Brione you came on this tour knowing exactly what was at stake for me. I can’t afford to have this splattered over the tabloids. This is my career. My life.” His throat tightened. He saw the lone tear roll down her cheek, and it infuriated him because he knew. “It’s true.”
Don’t bed where you make your bread.
He broke the rule, and now his career may be over before it began. He stumbled back. The crisp morning air and the rising sun did little to break through the bleak shadow descending over them. He couldn’t look at her.
“Bri please tell me it’s not true. Please.” He glanced up and stepped closer not reaching for her when all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms. To kiss her. To tell her it would be all right. But he couldn’t. Not without knowing the truth.
Her silence said it all.
“I’m falling for you hard and fast. Either we have to fall together or end whatever we have here. And this, between us,” his hands moved in the space between them. Marques stepped forward, she flinched holding her hands up with fear dancing in her beautiful eyes. “Baby, I would never put a hand on you.”
“I can’t do this,” Brione whispered.
* * *
“What do you mean you can’t?” Brione heard the edge in his voice, and his energy filled her body. She had to get in the car quick, he wouldn’t understand. She had to get back to Houston, fast. The pictures made it to Stewart, and now everything could slip through her fingers.
Brione kept her eyes on the ground and gripped her purse to her side as she walked the short distance to the car.
Stewart sent her several of the pictures via text accompanied by a threat that shook her to the core.
What do you think your superstar will think of these?
Brione called Stewart. Hitting redial a million times. He didn’t answer. She tried his parents, her parents, nothing. So, she scheduled an Uber hoping to leave before Marques finished the interview. But like a fool she waited, wanting to face him, then she saw the look in his eyes when he asked about the engagement. It was her undoing.
Brione did that. She caused the pained look in his eyes. She entertained this relationship knowing Stewart always found a way to win. She knew he was somehow responsible for those pictures. His favorite threat ringing true, “If I can’t have you, no one will have you.” He’d done it again.
This relationship went too far. It was only supposed to be one week. Not falling in love with him. That wasn’t part of the deal. Her contractual obligation had been fulfilled.
“Where are you going?” Marques yelled. She didn’t look up or respond as she sat in the backseat.
“Sir, I need to leave,” she told the driver.
“Are you—”
“Now.” The force in her voice sealed the deal. She felt the car moving backward.
“Brione….Bri….” She could hear him yelling her name, and it was breaking her heart. She had to choose Kayla. And if having Kayla meant she couldn’t have Marques then she’d have to settle for the memories. Because she refused to live another year without her daughter.
Her heart screamed, go back! But she couldn’t. And then a feeling settled over her, a feeling she’d left in Houston the moment she boarded the bus. A feeling, as familiar to her as breathing, loneliness.
Brione booked a flight to Austin and stared at the phone trying to decide who to call next. Call Marques. Call him.
She was accustomed to spending time alone. From childhood, she hid in the perimeters of her own life. Her parents the outgoing socialites, her brother much like them loving crowds of people. Not her. She loved her own company. But as the wheels turned putting more distance between her and Marques, she missed him. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Could she trust him enough to tell him about Kayla? To tell him everything. She held the phone to her chest and glanced at the clock on the dashboard ahead. The car smelled of cold fast food and cigarette smoke.
Marques had about forty minutes before his next interview. She took a deep breath and dialed his number. It rang several times then his voice mail clicked in. She tried once more and this time left a message.
“I’m sorry.”
She hung up and brushed away the tears. She knew Marques wouldn’t answer. Why would he after she left like a coward? But no one understood how hard it was to put on a smile and live day to day while dying inside. To have thirty minutes here, an hour there with the one person who meant the world to her. Now she had two somebodies, that made her life full of music and laughter, that made her world feel complete.
“Turn around,” Brione said to the driver. “I have to go back.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Marques stood on the sidewalk staring at the taillights until they disappeared. Should he follow her? Call her? Leave her alone?
Never in his life had his head and heart been at war like this. His stomach spun in a vortex of anxiety and disbelief. It chilled his soul. He invited heartbreak to his doorstep by proposing this one week with Brione. He paid six figures for this ache lodged in his chest. Choking the magic from their phenomenal week.
Marques fell for another man’s woman, the thought felt foreign, unreal. Brione was his. So he thought.
Your girl is engaged.
This was why fame and love couldn’t coexist. His thoughts should consist of his next interview. The next hit record. The next tour. His concert tomorrow night. Not Brione’s fiancé. Not how could he let her go. And the fact she didn’t refute the allegation only deepened his gut-wrenching agony.
“Not to me," Marques repeated her words to himself as he climbed into the SUV. He had more interviews, more playing down the fact that his girl, wasn’t his girl. A melody surfaced in the corners of his mind. He opened the note app on his phone and captured the running words at a rapid speed, challenging AutoCorrect to keep up as his thumbs translated the turmoil. His head chastising him, in thoughts of I told you so. Yet his heart, not willing to believe the past two months were a lie.
Not the business. She’d definitely handled her business. But the woman he loved from the front to the back of the bus. The woman he’d shared his dreams with. The woman who learned to translate and fulfill his every need and desire with absolute precision. It couldn’t be a lie. No one was that good.
Sam was.
Then the words Brione whispered in Coffee Confessions railroaded him. What if I come with baggage? Was this the baggage she warned him about?
Marques lifted the phone to dial the first person that came to mind.
“Good morning, to what do I owe this honor?”
“Morning Ma. You sound wide awake.”
“I have a globetrotting man and four titans for children. I’m either up praying, cel
ebrating, or mediating. Which shall it be for you this morning?”
“The latter.” They laughed. He could only imagine the calls his mother received from them. Today was his turn.
Marques watched the city out the window. The endless blue water and open highway made for a serene moment, a direct contrast to the war raging inside him. He knew without a doubt that he loved Brione. Boy, could he pick’em. He had to retract that thought. Brione was nothing like Samantha.
His journey from boy to a man was spear headed by his parents, and it seemed like the best place to begin. “Ma when you and Pops cut me off it felt like—”
“Love?”
“No, like I was left for the first time to fend for myself, and it hurt like hell.”
“Good.”
“Good?” He sat up straighter gripping the armrest.
“Son, you come into this world alone, you leave this world alone. What you do while you’re here is between you and God. Your father and I pride ourselves on raising our children to be independent, hardworking. Not asking for handouts, not entitled, and quite frankly son, you’d lost your damn mind.” An edge in her voice replaced her jovial tone.
“We cut you off to show you a glimpse of the man you are today. Our money does not make us. Our word, our integrity, our willingness to give to others. Our love defines us. And somehow in your pursuit of fame, you forgot it. All the pitfalls of fame your father dodged seemed to manifest themselves in you. Drinking, drugging, partying, womanizing, and your father and I had had enough.” He remembered and hearing her truth made him feel ashamed.
“Andrew I’d do it all again, and maybe sooner, if it means I’d see a fraction of the man you are becoming. Is this about Brione?”
Always a straight shooter. Marques told her about the picture, the record leaking, the need to provide a clean image to the public. “Ma, what am I missing? I’m torn between begging her to stay and fighting for this dream.”
“Dreams are what you make them, dear. Your father toured the world with all of us. It wasn’t popular, and his label discouraged it, but the SinSations were all about family. We learned to bend fame around our desires, and it worked. You have to find a way to do the same. Make fame work for you.”
Rockstar Secrets (Forbidden Chords Book 1) Page 18
