“I’m not convinced we need him,” Brock said, holding up a grainy photo of Keith’s mouth covering hers.
“Oh you will, when Dion confronts Keith about his unwelcome advance toward me.” She said it without thinking. But what a great approach! That way there wouldn’t be a storyline about her maybe being Keith’s mistress. It was amazing what a show like this could do with a bunch of woman telling lies. She’d persuade Dion to be so crazed that they’d run with an outraged honor story, rather than a desperate ex-wife one.
“We’ll see,” Brock said, picking up his fountain pen. “We’ll see you at six tomorrow. Lizzie has all the details.”
“Great. Thanks, Brock,” Kasee said, standing up. She walked out of the building without taking out her phone, then went down the street to a coffee shop and ordered food before calling Dion.
“Dion.” Well, he’d picked up, though he sounded nine-tenths asleep.
“It’s Kasee. I never heard from you last night.” She turned away from the bright sunshine outside.
“Ended up at an after party at a hotel after the big concert.”
“You partied with Mick?”
“No, athletes. Great shots, though. Spent the rest of the night loading them.”
“Did you sell any?”
“Don’t know yet.” He yawned audibly. “What time is it?”
She took the phone away from her ear. “It’s after ten. I had no idea.”
“Three hours of sleep.”
“Sorry. I’m sleep-deprived too. But listen, Brock is not happy that I met your family without cameras. I don’t know who told him about it. Lizzie said she’d stop selling us out to the blogs, but maybe she made a side deal with Brock.”
“You probably said something to the wrong person.”
“Anything is possible.” Though she’d learned early last season not to drink all the wine they pressed on her. There had been a couple of confrontations that would not have occurred if she’d had one less glassful.
“Do they know much?”
“I don’t think so, and I basically told them your life is off-limits unless they offer you a paid cast position, so I hope that stops it. Brock is cheap.”
“Okay. Anything else? Sorry, but I’d like to go back to sleep.”
“Yes, just one thing.”
“Yeah?” His voice had gone muffled. Another yawn, maybe.
She spoke quickly. “I need you tomorrow for another event, and I have a game plan for us.”
“Okay. I’ll call you later.” The phone disconnected.
She wondered if he’d been awake enough to even remember their call when he woke again. But she wasn’t annoyed. She’d had a wakeup call-to-action this morning too. Not fun. As her order was called, she made a mental note to call Dion again in the late afternoon, just in case.
Chapter Six
“They sure like these outings,” Dion said, extending his hand to Kasee to help her out of the limousine in front of a brick-front building. Normally, the producers liked more than one “lady” to share a vehicle so they could get interaction during transportation, but no one had been available. Kasee lived much closer to the art gallery than the rest of the cast.
“We shoot six days a week,” Kasee said. “When they are on a roll. Tired people say crazier things. I was on camera yesterday.”
“Doing what?”
“I had a lunch with Stephanie.”
“On purpose?”
She chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. “It was set up for us. It wasn’t like either of us called the other.”
“What did you talk about? Did she call me a hunk of chocolate again?” He gave her a wry expression as they crossed the sidewalk.
Lizzie trotted over to them with their microphones. For some reason they hadn’t been miked for the drive over, which had given Kasee time to catch Dion up to date. They’d never had time for a long chat the day before because he received a call about some nineties rock star supposedly cheating on his wife in a waterfront hotel on Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
“No, we talked about how her divorce was going. She did ask about you, but I knew I’d end up saying something about your mother, so I changed the subject.”
He frowned. “Why my mom?”
“That she’s white. You know. Stephanie is one of those girls who like to know everyone’s family tree.”
His voice came out an octave lower. “Well, I don’t see Brock here with a check for me, so it’s a moot point. I’m not putting my mom on camera.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Kasee agreed, hearing the tension in his voice. She felt the same concern. “I’m so glad my parents live in Virginia and only visited that one time during the shoot last year. This isn’t for everyone.”
Lizzie turned on their mikes and a camera operator came out of the gallery’s front door, ready to shoot their entrance.
Dion forced a smile. “What is the occasion tonight, Kasee?”
Kasee matched his cheerful, evening’s start expression. “We’re celebrating Stephanie’s cousin. Tonight is her gallery debut. She’s a metal artist.”
“Fascinating,” Dion said. “I wish I could have brought my camera.”
“I didn’t have much notice. Stephanie only told me about this at lunch yesterday. I’ve been out of the loop while working on my realtor’s license.”
“It takes time to study or hold a job,” Dion said. “But I’m proud of you for trying something new.”
Kasee took his arm as they walked through the open door. “You never told me. Did you get those shots last night? Of the philandering rock star?”
Dion’s smile brightened. “Yes, ma’am, I did. With a scenic backdrop of tall ships. Twenty large, baby.”
“Woo-hoo!” Kasee said, squeezing his thick biceps. “We both had a good day yesterday.”
A server held out a tray of champagne. They both took a glass as they surveyed the cast members in the room. Kasee saw Tammy standing alone, staring at the curvy, rough-backed sculpture of a woman in some kind of silvery metal. She touched her purse. The letter she’d written her ex-friend was inside.
“I’m going to speak to Tammy for a minute,” she told Dion. “Back with you in a bit.”
~
Before Dion could protest at being abandoned, Kasee had walked away, purpose in the swing of her step. He admired the way her slim waist flared into generous hips. The way her backside filled out her dress ought to be illegal. He took a sip of his champagne, willing his cock to de-swell. But he had no doubt that he was going to attempt to hit that tonight. She’d been willing once. Maybe tonight she’d invite him into her bed. What would her bedroom look like? He didn’t even know if she was the messy type, with discarded dresses flung around the room, lingerie spilling out of drawers, high-heeled shoes dropped carelessly in the corners…
Damn. He willed himself to think about football. Sweaty men colliding, the smell of spilled beer and acrid sweat. Anything to stop from embarrassing himself in his tight suit.
“You’re staring at my wife like she’s a filet mignon at a steak house,” Keith said, walking up to him with a mixed drink in his hand rather than the ubiquitous champagne glass. Kasee’s ex, though handsome on camera, had large pockmarks on his face and his hair was a faded red, already white at the temples.
“Who, Tammy?” Dion snorted. “I like woman with curves. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He enjoyed the fact that a camera man was recording his insult. Score one for Kasee.
“I meant Kasee,” Keith said, his voice dropping from its usual salesman cheer.
“She’s not your wife anymore,” Dion said, setting his full glass on an empty tray on a pedestal. Around him, spotlights highlighted scenes of slaves working on plantations, a creepy mix of bucolic splendor and his ancestors’ pain. What kind of gallery was this? Who was buying this art? Was it meant to be ironic?
He stepped away from Keith and took a closer look at the sculpture in front of him. It was a compet
ently constructed beaten metal relief of a woman from the back. The other side was raw, hollow, as if her front was missing. When he bent closer, he saw her hands were bound behind her. A woman into erotic bondage…or a slave? He shook his head, uncomfortable. “Time to leave.”
“Can’t take the heat, huh?” Keith jeered.
“This art is insulting to my people,” Dion said.
“It’s made by your people,” Keith said. “This gallery sells African-American art.”
“African-Americans aren’t a monolith, Keith,” Dion said. “I can be insulted all by myself. I don’t want to look at slave images. I want to move beyond all that.”
Keith smirked and put his face closer. “That why you’re trying to go after a rich white chick? I’ve got news for you, buddy, she ain’t that rich.”
“Kasee’s rich in a lot of things,” Dion said evenly, turning his head away from a whiff of Keith’s alcohol-laden breath. “One of those things is freedom from you.”
Keith’s face collapsed in on itself as he bared his teeth. “You may find yourself ousted real soon, son. We still love each other.”
“Don’t call me ‘son,’ ” Dion said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You prefer ‘boy’?” Keith’s cheeks hollowed and his eyes bulged.
He forgot about the cameras. “You racist son of a bitch,” Dion snarled, unbuttoning his jacket.
“What you gonna do? Hit me?” Keith made something like a giggle as he drained his glass and set it down. “You gonna rise up?”
Dion stopped dead. What was he doing? He straightened his jacket. “Against what? I have a great life and not only that, I have the woman you want. You’re an idiot, Keith. Move on.”
Kasee’s ex’s face contorted. His hand clenched into a fist and he flung wildly. Dion grabbed the surprisingly light metal sculpture, holding it like a shield. Keith’s fist bashed into the metal. As the rest of the room went silent, he screamed in pain.
Dion sighed. “Do we have a doctor in the house?”
Behind him, he heard a cry of outrage. He turned away from the cursing Keith, bent over holding his injured fist with his other hand, Lizzie racing toward him, and saw Keith’s fiancée throw her champagne glass to the ground, her hand swinging up toward Kasee’s face. Was she going to try to hit Kasee?
He moved a step in their direction, but Kasee saw Tammy’s motion and jerked away. Instead of connecting with Kasee’s nose, Tammy’s hand closed on Kasee’s hair, wrenching her head sideways.
Amber and Juliette were closer than Dion, but they did nothing but shriek. Dion raced forward as Kasee batted her hand at Tammy, but then Stephanie’s hand closed around Tammy’s wrist. She pried Tammy’s fingers off of Kasee’s hair. Dion reached them and he wrapped his arm around Kasee’s waist, gently moving her out of reach as her strands were released.
Stephanie forced Tammy’s hand open. Several gleaming strands of Kasee’s perfect flaxen hair were in her palm.
“Ouch,” Stephanie said, meeting Dion’s eyes.
Dion shook his head as he supported Kasee. “Good work, Stephanie. Thanks.”
“Thank you for dealing with that one,” Stephanie said, jutting her chin in Keith’s direction. “I hope someday we live in a world where no white man ever thinks to call a black man ‘boy.’ ”
Dion sighed. “It’s always going to sink to the lowest common denominator in a fight. I happen to know Keith’s best salesman is a brother because he goes to my church. I doubt he’s an actual racist. He’s just pissed that I’m sleeping with his ex-wife.”
Stephanie looked irritated as she hauled Tammy toward a producer. But Dion was happy. He didn’t want to escalate any race war on the show. Life was complicated enough.
Kasee tried to smile at him, but she was obviously in pain. “This gallery is disgusting.”
“Bad energy,” Dion agreed, squeezing her close. “I hate stuff like this. Why not make art depicting strength rather than suffering?”
“At least we won in terms of the show,” she said. “They'll never fire me now, but my ex might get fired for trying to hit you, not to mention what Tammy did.”
“I’d say she’s more at risk since she ripped out some of your hair.”
“The sad thing is, I was honestly trying to be nice to her. I guess our friendship really is over.”
“Why?”
Kasee pursed her lips together. Dion noticed her skin looked pale. She looked older than him, for once. “I saw she wasn’t looking well last time. I guess I remember her fondly enough to be worried. I felt like I should say something, you know, like suggest she have a physical. But I have no idea why she attacked me.”
“She’s probably threatened by the obvious sign that Keith is still into you,” he said. “She’s not going to let go without a fight.”
“She let me go easily enough.” Kasee stared at the floor. “Keith was more important than our friendship.”
“Or his money was. Can we go?” Dion asked. “I’d like to take you home.”
Lizzie came over to them. The room had filled with show employees, moving around the guests. It seemed like the scene was over. Dion repeated his question to Lizzie.
“We need to have you seen,” Lizzie said to Kasee. “For insurance. Then you can go.”
Dion waited, holding Kasee’s hand, while an EMT checked out her scalp and cleaned the area where Tammy had drawn blood. Kasee squeezed his hand tightly as the EMT dabbed with antiseptic while a camera man filmed, but said nothing.
Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to her townhouse. They were quiet on the drive. Dion was aware they were still miked and that Lizzie sat opposite from them with a camera. The assistant held up a small sign, which read, “Talk about what happened.”
Dion put his arm around Kasee’s shoulder. “How is your head feeling?”
“Sore. And Tammy wrenched my neck.”
“I would have thought she was too skinny to have much power.”
“I was taken by surprise. What did Keith say to you?”
“Just racist garbage. Nothing more than what I told Stephanie. Maybe it was the atmosphere of that gallery.”
“The slave imagery was only in the one room. The rest of it had some Caribbean landscapes, some masks.”
“It was a setup,” Dion said flatly. “I wouldn’t have thought Stephanie would go for that.”
“Maybe her cousin didn’t know what the gallery had planned. She’s in a BDSM lifestyle.”
Dion chuckled and rubbed his chin. “So her art wasn’t slave-oriented at all?”
“Not historical slave, certainly.” Kasee met his gaze.
He couldn’t help laughing at her dry delivery. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall when Stephanie talks to her cousin next.”
Kasee lifted her eyebrows. “You get into any of that at all? Ever tied anyone up? Spanked them?”
Dion noted that she had a sparkle to her eyes that had been missing before. “No, but if you’re game, I’m willing, as long as I’m in charge.”
“You’re the dominant type, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d like the idea of being tied up by anyone.
“Trust issues?”
He nodded. “It does not appeal.”
She tapped her chin. “I wonder what in your past caused these trust issues. Explain.”
Dion knew he needed to keep the tone of the conversation sexy and flirtatious. But Kasee’s question made that hard. “My high school girlfriend broke up with me in order to date the captain of the football team.”
“Really?”
“Yep. And here I thought she liked nerds.”
“I don’t think you’re a nerd.”
“Track and field was a lot nerdier than football where I went to high school.”
She slid her fingers up his arm. “I can’t think of anyone sexier than you.”
He forgot about the camera, about Lizzie. “No?”
“No.” She leaned her mouth again
st his ear, her voice going low and throaty. “I keep thinking about those things you did to me in your bed.”
His eyebrows went up. “Surely none of it was very unusual.”
“I’d never had sex so many times in one night in my life.”
“No?”
“That’s the problem with dating an older man.”
“Keith must have been only around thirty when you met.”
“Thirty-four. But he wasn’t as highly sexed as you are.”
He stared into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. Nothing existed more exciting than a turned-on woman. Her mouth tilted toward his. “Hell,” he muttered, and pressed his lips against hers.
She opened to him, dancing her tongue along his lower lip. He put his hand against her cheek, thinking to shield her from the camera, while knowing he couldn’t resist. Her perfume filled the air around him, encasing him in a private little Kasee-land where nothing else existed. By the time the limo stopped and she pulled away, his cock ached and she was panting.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered, taking his hand.
“Let’s go,” he echoed. “I can’t wait to get you upstairs.” They grinned at each other, ignoring Lizzie as they ran to Kasee’s front door.
~
Kasee stared at Dion’s shoulder, round with muscle, in the morning light streaming through the curtains. When she’d moved into what had been their rental property after she and Keith had separated, she’d wondered if she’d ever have sex again. If she’d ever want sex again, after years of flabby, self-absorbed marital sex. Dion had awakened something new in her. With Keith, their relationship had been somewhat based on awe, that a successful older man had wanted to date a college student. She’d never had anything like this sex-on-a-stick younger man, able to make love several times in the night, and able to arouse her to pleasure each time. Keith had never cared about her pleasure once they’d married. He’d just grunted, rolled over, and fallen asleep. Often, she’d felt like little more than a melatonin pill to him.
Wild Irish: Wild Image (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1) Page 9
