by Harlow Cole
I stepped around him, staring at the three large black-and-white canvases hung side by side.
I instinctively moved toward them, my hand now covering my mouth. “How did you? Did you just have these hung up? Where did you . . .” I took another step forward.
“You know that one has always been my favorite,” he answered, tilting his head toward the one in the center. “I had it made from my print.”
The last time I’d seen that image, it had been lying on the floor of his bedroom, beneath a bed of broken glass.
There, highlighted by a single point of light shining down from the ceiling, were the two of us, tumbling midair off the end of the dock, laughing and clinging to one another.
* * *
Brayden
“Good Lord, kid. Why didn’t you tell me?” Micky slid his glasses down his nose and ran a hand over the artificially thick hair he’d paid a fortune to have plugged back into his head. “Does she need an agent? I could get her booked.”
His brow raised as he nodded his head with a smug confidence that had already calculated how much to demand.
“Damn. I get it now. I’d stay down in Bumfuckville, too, if I had a piece like that. Your father said she was hot, but he didn’t elaborate.”
He slugged me on the back as Ashley looked up at us from across the room. She was speaking to one of the production editors, pointing to something on a clipboard as she bit her bottom lip. She glanced up again, worry furrowing her brows. I willed my smile to give her some reassurance.
She’d been a nervous wreck from the moment she woke up. When she’d refused to share a bowl of cereal with me, I’d turned her into my breakfast, sliding under the covers so I could force her to relax. I adjusted the seam of my jeans as I replayed the image of her clutching on to fistfuls of black sheets as she came undone beneath my tongue.
Waking up with her in my bed had given me a renewed sense of determination. That was where she fucking belonged, and nothing was gonna stop me from getting her there. Permanently.
She suddenly bent over, picking out another lens from the black bag at her feet. My dick twitched like a crackhead with lines of coke already cut on the table.
“Seriously, are those things real?”
I wasn’t the only one enjoying the view.
“Mick,” I said with ample annoyance.
He slid his glasses back up his nose and buttoned his Armani suit jacket. “What, kid? I’m old. I’m not dead.” He motioned across the room with a bent knuckle. “Your chickadee ever decides to move in front of the camera, you let me know. Not kidding about that. Shit.” He slugged me again. “You two are gonna make fucking beautiful babies.”
I choked a little on my own saliva. “Aren’t you the one always warning me about carts and horses?”
“With tits like those? I’d shoot the damn horse and steal the cart,” he murmured under his breath. “You’d better lock that shit up. Pink diamonds and rose gold. That’s what the ladies want these days, buddy. Nothing platinum. That’s last year’s product.”
Mick went through women like most folks dispensed toilet paper. He was the best agent in the business. His bank account proved it. So did his penchant for buxom blondes with a short shelf life. None of them seemed to mind being disposable. He always gave Harry Winston baubles as parting gifts.
“Right now, it’s a struggle, getting her to let me buy dinner. You have no idea what it took to get her here.”
“Damn. She looks like the cover of Playboy and doesn’t want your money? I’m tellin’ ya, lock that up as soon as possible.”
He thrust his fist forward and turned it, a signature move he made whenever he closed a deal. I’d seen it for the first time the day he scored my rookie signing bonus.
His fist opened, and a finger turned to point at me. “You lock her down and then get her the hell out of that shit-ass town. I need you back here twenty-four seven.”
“Mick, if I don’t manage to fuck this up with her, I might not ever be back here again in the off-season.”
“God, don’t tell me that, kid. That makes my ulcer bleed.” He pulled an ever-present roll of strawberry Tums from his pants pocket and popped two in his mouth at once. “Just make sure she lets you buy her a pretty dress for tonight. The paps are gonna love her on the carpet.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Ash is nowhere near ready for that. And . . . we’re not exactly . . .”
“Not exactly what? You telling me you ain’t hitting that? You broke your arm, not your pecker.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “We’re not exactly together. Things are . . . complicated. In her eyes, I got high, cheated on her, crippled her brother, and abandoned her in the span of a night. That’s kind of a major speed bump in any relationship, Mick.”
He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and looked me straight in the eye. The guy had a skeevy fucking way of looking right into your soul. It was how he bought and sold a GM, bluffing he couldn’t go higher on a deal.
“Your daddy cheated, fathered and raised a child, and then spent over a dozen years running all over the world, fucking anything with a wet pussy. Now, he’s got his Shelly six months pregnant. You still got a lot you could learn from your father.” He poked me in the chest. “Anything is possible, kid. Fix it.”
“I’m trying.” I groaned.
This event tonight wasn’t part of my plan. I finally had Ashley here, and instead of doing what I wanted, showing her everything I wanted her to see, I had to work.
“What is this bullshit you have me sentenced to?”
“Aura. Newest scene in town.” He clapped his hands together. “A place for the pretty people. Owners are huge fans. Two brothers who took daddy’s hedge fund money and don’t want real jobs, so they opened a club. They love you. All you gotta do is show up. Smile those pretty white teeth, let some cougars press their tits against your arms, and make sure people think, if they frequent the joint, they might run into you.” A pointed finger waved at me in the air again. “And, before you bitch at me, they dropped six large to get you in the door.”
“Get you in what door?”
I’d missed Ashley crossing the room toward us. My anxiety weakened as she drew closer to me.
“Ash, I’d like you to meet—” I glared at Micky.
He smirked as he retrained his eyes above her neck. “I’m Michelangelo Moscovitz, madam. My mother gave me a mouthful of a name, so my enemies call me Moscow Micky. My friends call me close to the same. But you, my dear, may call me anything you wish.”
She held her hand out in greeting.
Instead of shaking, he took it and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet such a lovely creature.”
“Okay, Romeo. Don’t get your slime all over her.” I snickered.
Ashley laughed, obviously amused.
“I was just telling the boy wonder here about the event I have you kids booked at tonight. You’re gonna love it.” His hands flashed in front of him. “Glitzy new club. Hottest place in town.”
Ash looked at me with silent question as I rolled my eyes.
Micky’s hands dropped as he tugged smugly on the bottom hem of his suit jacket. “Whatever, ace. The money they’re paying you is going to that kids’ charity you love so much. Suck it up. I just want your face out there.”
I pursed my lips and nodded my head, giving in.
He looked at Ashley and smiled. “Your fella here’s a real softy. Anytime I need to get his ass somewhere, I pull out the midget card. Asshole loves the little squeaky snotballs. I roll out a sick eight-year-old, and this guy’ll do anything I ask.” He snapped his fingers. “I’d love to stay and play, but I’ve gotta get across town to bleed some more dough outta the Giants for Elksworth. If the bastard could complete a few more passes, I wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
Ashley beamed at him. It beat the hell out of me, but clearly all women found Micky’s shtick charming.
“Good luck today, doll
face. Tough work, making this ugly mug look good.” He pinched my cheek.
She shrugged and grinned. “I’m used to it. I’ve been suffering through taking pictures of him since before his voice changed, and he decided to grow muscles. He’s why I taught myself Photoshop.”
Micky snorted. “Jesus H. Christ, I really do like her,” he said, grinning at me.
Ashley wasn’t the only one charmed.
He turned back to her and pointed. “You ever need an agent, you’d better call me.” As he started to walk away, he shouted back at me without bothering to turn around, “Remember what I said, kid. Rose gold. I’ve never steered you wrong.”
“He’s pretty much exactly like I always pictured him,” Ashley said as we watched him kiss another woman’s hand before he made his exit.
“He’s a disaster and an institution all at once.”
I started to lace my fingers through hers, but she stiffened, reminding me of our deal.
I leaned forward to whisper against her hair, “Sorry. I forgot.”
On the ride here, she’d forced me to promise we’d act professional. She didn’t want anyone to know we were . . . whatever the fuck category we fit into. Somewhere around 54th Street, I’d promised her, no touching, just as I’d slid my palm up under her shirt and cupped her right breast on top of her lacy bra.
“Brayden.”
I hated when she used my name to admonish me. She rolled her eyes at me, too. That shit made me want to spank her. Naked. Bent over my couch, like I’d had her last night.
“I’ll try to behave.” I reached out and adjusted the strap of the camera around her neck, gently brushing my hand across her nipples as I pulled away.
She rolled her eyes again.
“How are you holding up? Nerves hanging in?”
“I’m seconds away from hurling into the closest trash can. I have no idea what I’m doing, and all these people are watching me,” she whispered.
“They’re watching because you’re beautiful.”
“They’re watching ’cause they’re trying to figure out how the hell I got here, which is funny because I’m pretty much thinking the same.” She sighed. “That Henry guy already hates me. I just nixed one of his plans for the second location. His editorial team wanted shots for the inside spread of you throwing. They had some alley blocked off. He had this vision of you in full release with a brick wall and graffiti in the background. It was really fucking dumb.”
I sucked in a breath and started counting backward in my head.
“Relax.” Her fingers laced through mine, violating her own rules.
My eyes pled silently with hers.
“I told them no. I figured you didn’t want to test out your new elbow for the first time in front of an audience.”
Squeezing her fingers, I stole Micky’s move, bringing the back of her hand to my lips.
“I really do feel like I need to get sick,” she murmured.
“Shh. Stop with that. This shoot is no different than Toni’s studio back home. Let’s just pretend it’s you and me, baby girl. You and me and nothing but this lens between us.”
I willed her to believe my words.
If I had any hope of seeing this plan through to the end, this had to go well.
22
Jaywalking
Brayden
“I have something I want to show you.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen everything you have to show me.”
Ashley’s hooded eyes smiled at me from across the back seat. Her legs stretched out across the leather, feet propped up in my lap. I’d plucked her little sneakers off as soon as we climbed into the back of the SUV. The pads of my thumbs dug into her arch until she sighed and let her shoulders finally relax.
“Not that I’d mind seeing it again,” she added, laying her head back and closing her eyes.
I reached over her legs to unzip the duffel bag at my feet. “I meant something else, you perv. But I’ll be happy to oblige with whatever you were just dreaming about.” I smirked as I rifled through the bag for the item I’d tucked in there this morning. “I want you to do something for me. And I promise, it will feel really good.” My voice dipped suggestively.
Green eyes fluttered open, intrigued. I held the book out to her in one hand, a black pen in the other. Her eyes widened, suddenly alert. She sat up a little against the seat. Her expression changed to some mix of shock, dashed in with happiness and fear.
Not exactly what I’d been hoping for.
She didn’t reach out to take it. She just kept staring at the cover. The word History still lay scrawled across the cover. Ironic, since it held our future and our past.
I held the pen between my teeth as I flipped through the pages, bending it open to the right one. She sat forward, moving away from me a little as she tucked her legs beneath herself on the seat.
I held the book and pen out toward her. “You need to cross one off.”
Her eyes met mine, brows furrowed, before she glanced back down at the page. “You still have this?” she asked, stunned.
I pursed my lips, fighting off a smile, as I nodded. Ashley took the book from me, tracing the tip of her index finger across her own handwriting and the light-blue lines of the composition paper.
“You could cross all of yours off,” she said softly as her finger trailed up the page to my own messier letters.
“Not all of them,” I murmured to myself. I held out the pen again. “Today is about you. It’s your turn. Cross it off.”
“I don’t know if I . . .” She didn’t finish her thought, but she took the pen.
“You just finished your first photo shoot for a major magazine. You rocked that shit today, Soot. Check the damn box. Mark it off your list, so we can move to the next one.”
She glanced up at me with uncertain eyes that frustrated the living hell out of me.
“We’re not gonna stop until we’ve crossed them all off. Today was just the start.” My voice grew more forceful, willing her to comply.
Her fingers held the ink down to the page, hovering without making a stroke. “It sort of feels like cheating. I don’t know if I earned it.” A black dot pressed harshly, bleeding down onto the paper.
“Stop the bullshit in your head right now. Whatever you’re telling yourself.”
Slowly, she drew the pen all the way across the letters, striking through them.
I took the book and pen from her, stuffing them back in my bag. My finger reached out, tipping her chin up toward me with a little more aggression than I’d intended.
“All I did was get your foot in the door. You did the work. And everyone there thought you were fucking brilliant.”
Her face finally softened. Both her hands reached up to frame my cheeks. Relief washed over me on contact. Our lips met with greed pressed between them. I groaned a little too loudly as her tongue flicked across my bottom lip. She pulled back with a timid glance toward Gino in the front seat. I sighed and pulled her in close to me, kissing the top of her head before drawing her to nestle against my chest.
“Dallas,” she murmured.
Every time she said that, every time she used that name, knots untied inside of me.
Her fingers toyed with the buttons on my shirt as she continued, “I had fun today. After I stopped acting like a major pussy.”
I choked a little on my laughter. But the sound died completely as she pulled back to look up at me with glassy eyes that nearly broke me in half. I cupped her cheek in my palm.
“It was sort of like playing the very best game of make-believe,” she added. “I’ll never forget it.”
I bent my head to brush my lips across hers. “Baby girl, I wasn’t kidding. This could be just the start.”
The only thing make-believe about the entire day was the indulgent smile she gave me. The kind that doesn’t argue but will never agree. The kind that says, You’re fucking nuts, but, hey, that’s okay. I’ll play along for a while. I desperately wanted t
o replace it with the real thing.
Micky’s earlier words haunted me.
“Fix it.”
Why did that have to be so much easier said than done?
We sat in silence for a while. Gino had moody jazz music playing that made the chaotic traffic jam outside the car unfold in even slower motion. I wanted to get her home. I wanted to strip down everything between us and lay skin-to-skin without any bullshit between us.
When it was just the two of us, nothing felt made up.
My phone vibrated inside my pocket, breaking me from the stupor I’d quickly been sinking toward.
“Ross,” I answered without bothering to check the caller ID.
“Brayden, it’s Keith.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, tracing my fingers up the side of Ashley’s arm.
“There’s been some movement on that one you had me watching.”
“What kind of movement?” I scooted up against the back seat more.
“Someone else is sniffing around. I did a little digging. Looks like deep pockets.”
“How deep?”
“Riggs Development.”
“Shit.” My expletive fell out with too much venom.
Ashley stirred in my arms, gazing up at me with a wrinkled brow. I smirked down at her. Rubbing my fingers across her skin to smooth back the worry.
It’s okay, I mouthed.
My fake reassurance worked. She settled back against my chest.
“I take it, you’ve heard of them.”
“Unfortunately,” I replied.
Fucking cement-box-building motherfuckers.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
Keith Jacobs had been my financial advisor since the day I inked my first contract. The son of one of Wall Street’s most notorious brokers, the guy had grown up watching the Closing Bell instead of Sesame Street. He believed in buy low, sell high, and invest without emotion.
