The Wild One

by Taylor, Theodora

  “That’s not exactly a vacation,” Roxxy answered. “And I’ve told you like a million times already, I don’t want to act.”

  Her mother gave her a concerned look. “Then what are you going to do with yourself? You’re not going back into the studio until the fall, and the last time you had a break this long, I had to cut my vacation short in order to come back from St. Tropez and act as your monitor while you were under house arrest.”

  A small mine of regret went off in her chest. The first DUI she’d gotten had felt more like a rite of celebrity passage than a crime. She’d gotten pulled over soon after she’d left a club in the Hamptons. But then she’d gotten into another scuffle with the law less than a year later, and that hadn’t been cute at all. Roxxy thanked her lucky stars that she had only totaled her car and hadn’t actually hurt anyone in the accident that resulted in her DUI.

  “I know you think I’m whining, but I really need a vacation. A real one. You have no idea how much.” Roxxy said.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re nervous about meeting with agents because of your issues.” Her mother pulled out a baggie of white pills. “You can take one of these. It’ll calm your nerves, and if you really want to have a good time in California, just mix it with some alcohol, then you won’t have to worry about being on if the agent invites you out to dinner later.”

  Roxxy gave her mother a withering look. “Do you want me to get another DUI?”

  Her mother dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “You’re always coming back to that. It was just a little fender bender.”

  “They put me under house arrest!”

  “You got a bad judge. He was trying to make an example out of you because you’re famous. Even your lawyers said so.” Shirelle waved the bag of pills temptingly. “Give one of these a test drive tonight when you’re out at the clubs. My connect says dancing on this stuff is amazing.”

  She thrust the bag toward Roxxy again, but Roxxy pushed it away. “You know, I don’t mess with that stuff anymore. I don’t need it.”

  “Well, obviously you do if it’s keeping you from making our dreams come true in California.”

  A wave of tiredness washed over Roxxy and she rubbed her eyes. “Shirelle, just drop it. Please.”

  Her mother folded her arms and looked out the tinted window, letting her body language do the talking for her.

  Roxxy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from apologizing. For quite a while there, she and her mother had actually been close, going out to clubs, taking extravagant vacations, and enjoying the perks of Roxxy’s fame. But ever since the second DUI, their relationship had been strained. She could almost feel the disappointment coming off her sullen mother in the car. And heaven knew how Shirelle would react if she found out what Roxxy had really been doing with her nights or that she was planning to move to California, but not to pursue an acting career.

  They spent the rest of the car ride in silence. Shirelle didn’t even bother to say goodnight when she and Dex climbed out of the limo.

  And if the argument with her mother hadn’t made her feel bad enough, she once again had to ask Dex to go above and beyond the call of duty that night.

  “It’s two in the morning, Dex, and I hate to do this to you,” she said. “But I’ll probably be up all night again.”

  “It’s okay,” Dex said, shrugging. “How ‘bout I hit two clubs and call it quits in the morning?”

  “And definitely don’t bother to get here until I’m done with makeup. I’ve only got one last interview tomorrow on The View, then we’re booking tickets to some place nice where I won’t be pretending to party every night. I promise. I even invited Mabel along so she can think she’s keeping me out of trouble.”

  A rare smile lifted the side of Dex’s mouth. “She’ll probably like that.”

  “Mother-henning me for a whole month on full salary? Oh no, you know she will love it. See you tomorrow.”

  Back to his usual silent self, Dex just nodded before opening the door for her. He did one last perimeter sweep of her entire apartment before he left. And even then he made sure the door was secure behind him.

  Her heart swelled with appreciation as she listened to the familiar jangle of the door handle from the outside. She wished there was something more she could do for him other than give him a substantial bonus at the end of the summer. They had figured out that just his presence alone at a nightclub was enough to make people believe she’d been there whenever she needed to pull an all-nighter. And clubs being by their very nature greedy for any publicity they could get never refuted her presence when asked if it was true she’d spent all night on their dance floors. There had even been a few quotes from D-list celebrities, supposed “friends” of hers, who had “danced with her all night” and had seen her “locking lips” with a fellow celeb who just so happened to have a new movie or album out and needed the publicity.

  Roxxy was so keyed up with adrenaline from her last show, she actually wouldn’t have minded going to a club and dancing the night away, just like old times. But instead, she trudged up the winding stairs to the office loft where her laptop lived when she wasn’t on the road. She tapped a key to turn it on, and it lit up on page five of the ten-page term paper final for her Sociology 101 class, which was due the next day. With grim determination, she started pecking out sentences, occasionally stopping to refer to the textbook, before going back to the keyboard.

  This was the last paper of the semester and counted for a significant percent of her grade, so she couldn’t just blow it off, no matter how exhausted she was. Also, these last few credits would complete her transfer requirements, making it possible for her to attend the University of Southern California as a full-time student. After that, she’d be on track to get a progressive bachelor’s/master’s degree in public administration, which would allow her to leave music behind forever and concentrate on her non-profit and philanthropic efforts.

  She still hadn’t figured out how to tell her mother that by this time next year, she’d have given up her career as Roxxy RoxX in order to attend school as simple Roxxanne Weathers. But she figured if she could handle taking classes while touring all over the world, she could handle telling Shirelle she was done with showbiz. Maybe. Possibly. She hoped.

  On second thought, perhaps she’d just enroll and send Shirelle an email after she was firmly ensconced in her new apartment near the USC campus.

  ROXXY WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, drooling all over her laptop keyboard. There were about fifteen pages of mumbo-jumbo from where various parts of her face had hit the keys. She’d have to ask one of her assistants to get her laptop cleaned since it was now covered in stage makeup. Again. But after deleting all the extra keystrokes, she found she was now only a paragraph or two away from finishing her paper.

  Roxxy checked her smart phone. She had the appearance on The View this morning but she wouldn’t be performing, just chatting with the show’s hosts, so all she needed to do was get in hair and makeup. She grimaced, torn between making Mabel wait so she could type the last couple of paragraphs and getting to her makeup session on time.

  In the end, she chose the term paper, figuring she’d be a better interview if she didn’t have the final hanging over her head. Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded her work to her online classroom, then ran down the stairs and through the closet’s door, calling out, “Sorry, I’m late! Really sorry!”

  However, she found Mabel sprawled out in the makeup chair with her back to her. Apparently, she was so tired from yesterday’s insane list of events, she’d fallen asleep waiting for her only client, who was late. Again.

  A none-too-small pang of guilt hit Roxxy. She was aware by not going through the simple step of removing her makeup the night before—the only thing Mabel ever asked of her, really—she made her hair and makeup routine that much longer for her friend. Not to mention she was only a few months away from letting the woman go for good.

  Roxxy vowed to do better during the rest
of their time together and find Mabel another gig before she started college.

  But meanwhile, she couldn’t resist joking with the older woman, who she’d never caught sleeping on the job before.

  “Hey, I thought I was the one who was supposed to come in here and fall asleep in the chair. You’re stealing my thunder.” Roxxy whipped the chair around playfully.

  But Mabel wasn’t sleeping. In fact, her eyes were wide open and there were thin streams of dried blood trickling from her mouth and nose, like a terrible Halloween special effect Mabel might have dreamt up for Roxxy.

  Mabel’s new look had nothing to do with Halloween, though. Roxxy knew this because it was July. And also because of the note she found written on the mirror in the same black makeup Mabel had used to achieve the raccoon prostitute look the day before.

  It read, “A GIFT TO YOU FROM ME. LOVE, YOUR BIGGEST FAN.”

  That’s when Roxxy screamed and screamed and screamed some more.

  CHAPTER 2

  THIS would be the case that made his career. Even as Steve Kass handed a tissue to the woman crying in his guest chair, he could think of little else. If he managed to not only keep Roxxy RoxX alive, but also catch her murderous stalker, goodbye assistant D.A., hello Attorney General of New York come the next election cycle. Maybe Roxxy would even sing at his inauguration. How cool would that be? A chart-topping music star, playing at his inauguration? He could almost see it now…

  “I’m sorry I’m crying all over your chair, Mr. Kass,” Roxxy said, interrupting his inauguration daydream. “I just can’t believe Mabel’s really gone. She’s been with me since I was sixteen. She was like a mother to me.”

  Her face, which was painted white with a rainbow of lightning bolts across it, crumpled as more tears fell from her eyes.

  Steve held out some more tissues. “No, don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot today between finding your employee like that and the hours of police questioning. I’m surprised your makeup held up all this time.”

  Roxxy, he noticed, hesitated a bit, before she plucked the proffered tissues from his hand, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. She’d also hesitated before shaking his hand earlier. He would have chalked it up to her being one of those germaphobe types, but she hadn’t availed herself of the hand sanitizer on his desk after he invited her to sit down. And she was still calling him Mr. Kass, though he’d told her she could call him Steve twice already.

  Overall, the real life version of Roxxy RoxX was a lot less sassy and confident than the girl he’d seen in the music videos, first as a jailbait teen at the beginning of her career, and then as a naughty seductress with an even naughtier singing voice.

  She sniffed into a tissue. “Mabel was very good at her job. She always said if she was doing my makeup, it wouldn’t come off until I wanted it off.”

  He eyed her get-up from the powder-blue mermaid wig that fell all the way down to her lush breasts, to the sequined green mini skirt that barely covered her ass, much less her shapely legs encased in glittery tights. “You know, your penchant for makeup might serve us well when it comes to protecting you.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, obviously, this is the work of an unstable fan. Luckily your bodyguard provided us with a list of people who have sent you unsettling emails and/or letters. However, it’s really long.”

  Roxxy dabbed at her eyes. “That’s why he never lets me check my own fan mail…he wants to keep me away from stuff like that.”

  “I don’t blame him. But unfortunately, it’s going to take a while for the NYPD to get through the list. Meanwhile, I think it would be best if you lay low, no makeup, no costumes, no—” he waved a hand toward the crazy wig, “—hair, except for your own.”

  Roxxy thought about that and nodded. “I was planning to take a vacation anyway. I could go to my condo in Atlanta. Or my flat in London. I’m also about to close on a new apartment in L.A. I could stay there.”

  “Actually, I was thinking someplace even less conspicuous than that. This guy broke into your high-security apartment and kept his face off all the cameras. I don’t think going to another known residence is the answer. I also don’t think you should stay with anyone you know, especially if they’re also famous. In celebrity cases like yours, it’s hard to keep locations contained. People want to give you safe harbor, but they also can’t resist telling a friend or two that they’ve got a music star staying with them.”

  “I could stay with my bodyguard. He lives in the Bronx. I doubt anyone would look for me there.”

  Steve shook his head. He’d had a hard enough time convincing the large man to remain outside the door while he had this private conversation with Roxxy. He could only imagine how hard he’d make Steve’s life if she were staying in his home.

  “Unfortunately, Dexter isn’t the kind of guy who blends in. And from what you’ve told us, the public has become used to associating him with you. Half of today’s gossip blogs are reporting you spent the night at two different clubs and then found Mabel dead, just because he was spotted at both places.”

  She lowered her tissue. “So you want me to stay with a stranger?”

  “It wouldn’t exactly be staying with a stranger. I have a friend named Andrew Sinclair from college who owns a guest ranch in Montana. I use him whenever I need a place to stash VIPs—usually people who witnessed big crimes.

  “I didn’t tell him who you were, but he’s agreed to give you one of his cabins for as long as you need it. I think between hiding you out in a flyover state, keeping your identity a secret even from him, and the fact so few people have ever seen you outside of your stage persona, we should be able to keep you hidden until we flush out your stalker.”

  He half-expected her to fight him on this. Heaven knew most of the high-profile stalking victims who came through here seemed more concerned with keeping their careers on track than protecting themselves against possible psychos.

  But Roxxy agreed with a quick nod of her head. “I’ll go. I’ll stay low wherever you want me to and however long you need. Only one thing,” She gave him a sheepish look. “Could you tell Dex for me? I don’t think he’s going to take it well.”

  ROXXY WAS RIGHT, Dexter didn’t take it well. After Mr. Kass told him, he all but pushed the smaller man aside to confront Roxxy.

  “How could you agree to this?” he asked. “We don’t know this guy. And how are you going keep yourself from freaking out when you’re alone with him if I’m not on the other side of that door?”

  “He’s a civil servant. I’ll just concentrate on that and I’ll probably be fine.”

  Dex clenched his jaw, “Probably isn’t good enough.”

  She rubbed his shoulder. “I know, Dex. But think of it as a trial run for when I go to college, okay? I mean, I’m going to have to learn to get along without you, anyway. Might as well start now.”

  “Can you call me when you get wherever he’s taking you?”

  She tilted her head to the side in apology. “I don’t think so. I trust you, but he’s not even letting me tell the guy I’m staying with who I really am. He also had me hand over my phone and wallet, so that I can’t be tracked down. But I promise to be in contact as soon as I get back.”

  Dexter let his ham-like fist curl and uncurl in frustration before finally saying, “Fine, I just worry about you all the time. You know that.”

  “I do.” She hugged Dexter. He was the only man she’d felt comfortable enough to embrace in almost fifteen years, not just because he wasn’t into girls that way, but also because he’d been so kind about putting up with all of her issues over the years. “I’m going miss you,” she said, meaning it.

  “Imma miss you, too,” he said, hugging her back.

  “You should do something for yourself while I’m gone,” she told him. “Maybe take a vacation, like we were talking about before. You totally deserve one.”

  Dexter gave a non-committal grunt before saying, “Let me go give this fool some instructi
ons before you leave.”

  She watched him walk away, back toward Mr. Kass. You can do this, you can do this, she chanted to herself, and she almost believed it.

  CHAPTER 3

  SHE couldn’t do this, Roxxy thought to herself an hour later. She and Steve Kass were on a private plane headed to Montana, and the only thing keeping her from having a full out panic attack in an enclosed space with a man she barely knew, was the bottle of vodka she was currently white knuckling between much needed swigs of Dutch courage.

  She silently thanked her mother for shoving the vodka into her purse when she’d come to say goodbye to her at Mr. Kass’s office. At the time, it had felt like her Shirelle being pushy again, but now the vodka was the only thing keeping her from jumping out of her skin.

  And it was certainly the only thing allowing her to pretend she was a normal woman who could sit across from a man without her bodyguard nearby and without feeling completely creeped out.

  “He’s a civil servant. He’s a civil servant,” she chanted in her mind. Then she forced herself to listen to what Steve Kass was saying.

  “After you take your makeup off, we’ll go over the cover story we’re going to give my friend, Andrew, and the second cover story we’re going to give anyone else you meet. The most important thing for you to remember is you’ve got to stick to both stories. Andrew’s a stand-up guy, and I trust him more than I trust most, but you never know how people will respond to star power, so you’ve got to memorize both your cover stories and stick to them no matter what, okay?”

  “Okay,” Roxxy agreed, taking another swig of vodka.

  “Your manager, Shirelle, said you were interested in breaking into acting next, so this might come in handy for you.”

  Roxxy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d have to be knee-deep in her degree before Shirelle gave up that dream.