by Paris Rose
I glanced over at him again. That was totally him! He had gorgeous, distinct, dark brown eyes that mesmerized me. His full dark hair framed his fine features and strong jaw line perfectly. But it wasn’t just his looks that caught my attention, there was a sensual energy radiating from him that made me feel light-headed and tingly inside.
I was trying to decide whether I should approach him, and if so, how. Ever since he became a billionaire, he didn’t do a lot of meet-and-greets or after parties anymore, so being able to talk to him right here and right now could quite possibly be a once in a lifetime opportunity. I tried to slow down my shallow and rapid breathing. I got the bartender’s attention and asked for a glass of water, as I tried to discreetly wander closer to Trevor’s barstool. He had such a strong presence. I’ve mingled with Hollywood and rock star royalty on several occasions, but I had never felt an energy like this before. I wanted to get closer to this god-like aura. I wanted to take in all of him instead of just stealing little mousy glances. I took a big sip of water, smoothed my hair down, and walked right up to Trevor. My breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t speak. He peered over his phone and made eye contact with me.
“Yes?” he raised his eyebrows.
“Hi, I’m Giavanna.” I extended my hand. He took it and his touch lingered.
“Do I know you? I feel like I should,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“No, probably not. I’m just a huge fan and I wanted to say hi. And I loved the Fall From Grace album, it was genius!” I stammered.
“Thanks.” He shrugged cavalierly.
We gazed at each other. I watched his eyes roam all over my body then back to my face. I was wearing a form-fitting sleeveless cream-colored dress, and he seemed to greatly approve. His eyes were dark pools that looked like they would suck me in and drown me if I wasn’t careful. There was an awkward silence. I was about to excuse myself and scurry away when he tilted his head and squinted at me.
“Wait, you look familiar. If you’re not on TV, you should be. Are you in the industry?”
“Well, sort of. I’ve done some television work and I have some experience covering the rock scene as a reporter.”
“That’s cool. I know I’ve seen your face somewhere. What else do you do? Do you model or something?”
“No, not really.”
“What do you mean not really? Do you or don’t you?” he prodded confidently.
“I’ve done some shoots with some no-name photographers when I was younger, but it never really got me anywhere.” I looked away, embarrassed.
He grabbed my chin and gently guided my gaze back to his. “Why’d you give up?”
“I didn’t give up. I just changed direction.”
“Did some guy steer you off your path?” He smirked.
“No, not at all.” I furrowed my brow. “Besides, I’m too short to model anyway.” I blushed.
“Hmmm…interesting.” His eyes penetrated mine. I could tell he was thinking. I wondered about what. Another silence came over us, but this time it wasn’t awkward; it was pensive.
I felt naked and vulnerable, even though I hadn’t revealed anything out of the ordinary. It just felt like he was looking into my soul with his god-like powers and drawing out all of my secrets. His strong masculine hands reached out on either side of me and caressed both of my exposed biceps without any prior warning.
I was shocked. Each time his hands ran up and down my arms, I felt an electric sensation jolt through my entire body. Trevor Dunaway was touching me. I didn’t even know how this was happening. For a moment I wondered if I was hallucinating. I was paralyzed and speechless. I felt my jaw drop slightly open, but my senses were so overloaded I couldn’t give my brain the command to close my mouth.
“It looked like you had a chill. I noticed goosebumps on your arms,” Trevor soothed.
“Oh,” I responded, still dazed.
“You’re not from L.A., are you?”
“I was born in Cleveland just like you were. But I’ve lived all over, including L.A., and now I’m based in Chicago.” At first I was excited to show off my knowledge of Trevor Dunaway trivia, but seconds later I wondered if he would think it was creepy that I knew where he was born. I also knew his father was the top surgeon at the world-renowned Cleveland Clinic, and his mother was a partner at a major international law firm. In addition, I recalled that he had turned thirty-three this year, and he celebrated his birthday in the Cayman Islands. I debated if knowing these facts made me a stalker, or just a good journalist. Trevor interrupted my racing thoughts.
“Ah ha! I knew it. I get a Midwest vibe from you. You seem different, kind of innocent.”
“I’m really not all that innocent, but I can pretend to be if you like the Lolita type,” I teased, proud of my own wit.
“Uh, cute.” Trevor raised his eyebrows and looked away sarcastically.
I felt blood rush to my cheeks. I don’t know what he was doing to me. I’m typically really confident and completely in control but Trevor was doing something to disarm me. The guy in front of me was even more divine than the god-like rock star on the Alpha Deity records I listened to. Just like most creative artists, I could sense that Trevor had a complex darkness lurking deep within. But that’s not what was throwing me off my game. He had a super-human warmth and charisma that I did not know how to react to. I wanted to jump into his arms and have him carry me off into the sunset. My mind was racing with girlish fantasies, but my body was pulsing with womanly desires.
“Don’t blush. No need to get flustered. I’ll go easy on you, because I can tell you’re different. You haven’t been jaded and hardened by the industry. But that being said, you’re a total firecracker, and you aren’t going to let anything or anybody get in your way.”
I was stunned by his insight. He read my personality like a book. I wondered what else he could see. Could he sense that I totally wanted him to kiss me even though we had just met? I wondered if he could feel that my knees were weak with desire. Not the purely carnal desire that I’ve felt for other irresistible men in high places, but a warm, bubbly, and giddy desire that made me feel like the leading lady in a romantic comedy.
“Who are you, Freud? Do you always run around psycho-analyzing people?” I smiled, astonished at my own ability to articulate a response.
“Look at you with the one-liners. No, I’m not Freud honey, but I probably need to lie down on the couch and talk to someone like him.”
I could sense more honesty than humor in his comment. There was so much to him. I wanted to peel away all of his layers and get lost in them. He leaned in close to me as if he was studying me. I was involuntarily pulled by his magnetic energy. My feet took a couple of steps forward without my permission. He looked me up and down. His eyes seemed to look though my clothes. I nervously licked my lips. I felt my cheeks flush with anticipation. We were so close to each other I could feel his breath. My head started to spin as I ached for him to kiss me. He leaned back on his barstool and put some space between us.
“Giavanna, you don’t want to get mixed up with someone like me. Trust me on that one.”
Before I could respond, one of his bandmates approached us. It was Vin Casey, the lead guitarist. He was huge. He stood about six feet five inches, and he had to be close to three hundred pounds. He had an eyebrow piercing, a nose ring and a dark Mohawk. He was just as intimidating up close as he was when he was on stage destroying equipment.
“Hey man! Why are you talking to that TMZ-MTV bitch?” Vin glared at me. My face was hot with emotion, and I felt the tips of my ears turn red. I was stunned by his unprovoked aggression.
“Do you two know each other?” Trevor got up from his bar stool and stood between us.
“That’s Giavanna Johnson. She’s one of those shallow, worthless so-called reporters. She’s a part of the media machine that helps all those no-talent pop stars sell records.”
There was a war between the hard rock artists, who considered themselves to b
e real artists, and the popular commercial artists. The darker, heavier rock artists thought that the pop musicians put out garbage just to make money, and that they were ruining the industry because they didn’t know what real music was. In the hard rock world, real art came from pain. In the pop world, your art was whatever your producers and handlers thought would sell. I thought both sides made great music and I always went wherever the story was.
Lately, I had been trying to get my foot in the door on the hard rock and metal scene, but I was facing some resistance because I originally made my name covering mainstream pop stars. When I did my story on Christoff and his German industrial rock band, Aus Deutschland, a lot of people said I was a poser and that I shouldn’t have even gotten that story, because I wasn’t hardcore enough, whatever that means. But what did they know? Just because I wore pink and didn’t have dyed jet black hair, didn’t mean I wasn’t deep enough to understand heavier music. And just because I had brown skin didn’t mean that hard rock wasn’t for me.
“I cover the hard rock scene too,” I said indignantly.
“I think it’s best you get going. Aren’t you missing some Miley Cyrus concert or something?” Vin slurred his words.
“Hey Vin, cool it.” Trevor placed his hand on Vin’s chest to prevent him from getting any closer to me.
I was humiliated by Vin’s comments. I hoped Trevor didn’t share Vin’s negative thoughts about me. I tried not to show any emotion on my face. As if to save me, at that moment Amber stormed in looking for me. Once she made eye contact, instead of walking up to me she hung back and yelled over the crowd. I’m glad she didn’t come over to us. I didn’t want her to have to face Vin’s wrath, considering she is one of the top pop artists in the industry. I’m certain he hates her even though he probably doesn’t know her personally.
“Hey, Gia! We’re headed to the Justin Timberlake and Jay-Z after party. Peyton got us on the list. Let’s go!” Amber waved her arms wildly, gesturing toward the door.
“Point proven,” Vin scoffed.
I rolled my eyes at Vin before turning to Trevor. “Trevor, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to run. I love your work. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”
“Maybe.” He smirked seductively. I could feel him stare after me as I turned to meet Amber.
I was so attracted to Trevor. Not only was he sexy, but his warm, laid-back energy complimented my fiery intense energy perfectly. I felt drawn to him. I was completely starstruck. I wish Vin hadn’t interrupted us. I could tell that Trevor was attracted to me too. I could see it in the way his gaze lingered. But I could also tell that he was holding something back. For some reason he wasn’t going after me full force. Maybe he was like most billionaires, and he was used to women throwing themselves at him and he had become accustomed to not having to pursue.
I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, considering we only spoke for less than ten minutes. I guess I’m just used to guys making bold moves immediately. Trevor seemed like a different breed; a gentleman. I wondered what he meant by his comment when he said I shouldn’t get mixed up with someone like him. I wanted to know more. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when, but I knew that I would see him again. Man, I love L.A. It truly is the city of dreams. My head was cloudy as I was plotting and planning how I would see Trevor again. When I got to where Amber was standing by the door, she grabbed my hand and dragged me out to where the rest of our friends were waiting.
“You don’t seem very excited Gia. Did you hear me? We’re going to the Justin Timberlake after party, whooo!” Amber shrieked.
“Sorry, I’m just a little distracted.” I shook my head back and forth to clear my thoughts. “Whoo! Let’s do it!” I bounced up and down and clapped my hands.
We piled into Amber’s Lincoln Navigator. Amber and Peyton sat in the front, and Clarissa, Brandon, Andre and I sat in the back. The Navigator was white and gold, with a tan leather interior. Amber insisted on not having a driver when she went out, she liked her independence. But there were two of her security guards tailing us in a black town car. Not many of the people I knew in Chicago had all of the bells and whistles that came with living in L.A. I liked the glitz and glam. I was happy to be back, if only for a couple of weeks.
“Hey, who were you talking to in there?” Amber glanced at me in the rear view mirror as she navigated through traffic.
“You literally wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I was on my way to the ladies’ room when I stopped at the bar to get some water, and you would not believe who was at the bar?”
“Who? Who was it?” Clarissa piped in.
It was kind of funny, even celebrities got excited about celebrity sightings. Andre and Brandon leaned in to hear what I was about to say.
“It was Trevor Dunaway, the billionaire music mogul, from Alpha Deity,” I revealed.
“Trevor Dunaway is a brilliant producer. I really respect his work. That guy’s a genius,” Peyton interjected.
“I’m not into that kind of music but he is pretty sexy…and rich too!” Clarissa gushed.
“I actually like Alpha Deity’s music, but I’ve heard around that the guys from that band are messed up,” Brandon added.
“Isn’t everyone in L.A. kind of messed up?” Andre quipped.
“True story.” Clarissa and I laughed in unison.
“Well yeah, but those Alpha Deity guys are really bad news. I’m glad I came in there and saved you,” Amber said protectively.
“Actually, I was really hitting it off with Trevor, believe it or not, but his asshole guitarist Vin interrupted us,” I ranted.
“Who? Vin Casey? I hate that guy. We were at the same party once, and he was just destroying shit and picking fights with people. That guy is worthless,” Brandon chimed in.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of Vin, but meeting Trevor made me giddy. There is just something about him.” I sighed.
“Wait, hold on. Gia, I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going to be tonight. I think his band is doing an unannounced show at an underground club called The Catacombs, off of Hollywood Boulevard. Let me double check my information,” Brandon said, pulling out his cell phone.
My heart fluttered. I really wanted to see Trevor again tonight, sans Vin that is. I held my breath and crossed my fingers while Brandon was texting. It felt like time stood still while I was waiting for a response.
Brandon looked up. “Yep. My buddy says they are doing a show there tonight, and he says the band allegedly booked a few rooms in the hotel upstairs from the club. If you wanted to check out the show I would go with you. I have a few friends going.”
“Yeah! Let’s do it. Amber pull over, we’re going to get a cab.” I tapped Amber’s arm.
“Are you sure Gia? If you go with us you’ll get a chance to meet some really cool people. I don’t know what kind of weirdos you are going to find at The Catacombs,” Amber responded.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Okay. Make sure you text me if you need me.” Amber pulled over and let Brandon and me out of the SUV.
“Clarissa, Andre, I’ll see you guys back at the house.” Brandon saluted as he called back.
“Amber, I’ll try to catch up with you tomorrow night if you’re around. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck Gia. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She shook her head.
When Brandon and I arrived, there was no line. It was still pretty early. The bouncer recognized Brandon from his reality show, so he didn’t check our IDs. We were escorted behind a heavy velvet curtain and down a long corridor. It was obvious why this place was called The Catacombs. It didn’t look like a club or a concert venue at all, just a maze of dark, winding tunnels and a spiral staircase. It looked like we were on the main level. There was a level above us and a level below us. The bouncer informed us that the show would be upstairs.
I wondered, was Trevor already here setting up? If he had left The Standard right a
fter we did it was possible that he beat us there. I couldn’t wait to find him or maybe he would find me. My thoughts were interrupted by screams coming from down stairs. It was a male voice.
Brandon and I looked at each other silently. I saw the curiosity in his eyes, and it was clear he saw the same in mine. He nudged me and we quietly followed the sound down the stairs. We stopped when we got to the bottom of the staircase. There was a dimly lit tunnel in front of us. The screams echoed off of the low ceiling and narrow walls. We silently navigated our way down the corridor by following the sound of the screams. At the end of the tunnel there was a room to the left and a room to the right. Neither room had a door. The room to the left had an eerie red light spilling out of it. We crept stealthily to the left. Brandon stood on one side of the threshold and I on the other. We craned our necks to see what was going on inside without being seen.
There was a shirtless man chained to the wall, with a ball gag in his mouth. A woman with a short black wig cut into a bob, and a black leather cat suit, was beating the man with a leather whip. He moaned and grunted every time the whip came in contact with his flesh, but he seemed to be enjoying it. The woman drew her hand back as if she were about to strike him with the whip again but she hit the wall next to him instead. She removed the ball gag from his mouth. A devious smile spread across his face.
“Oh, you’re such a tease,” he chided.
“I’m not a tease, I just like to hear you beg.” She laughed. “But I think you’ve begged enough tonight.” She shut off the red light. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I heard the man let out a guttural scream followed by an intense moan. It sounded like he was in pain, but that he was also aroused.
I was both shocked and intrigued by what we had just witnessed. What kind of place was this? I’ve heard about underground BDSM clubs but I had never been to one. My mind wandered with naughty thoughts about Trevor’s sexual proclivities. Perhaps he could teach me some things. My thoughts were interrupted by Brandon’s touch. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the staircase. We climbed the stairs back up to where we entered.
