Cover Model

by Devon Hartford

  She’s trying to get a rise out of me. It’s not gonna work. “Not too worried about that,” I chuckle. “I’m a nobody from the neck up. But you’re right. A wanted poster would make a better story than the truth.”

  “So tell me the truth. I’m sure your fans want to know.” She says it like we’re best friends gossiping about whatever the fuck.

  You ask me, she smells blood. Time for me to deflect. “Once they see my face, they won’t care why I hid it.” I flash my cocky smile.

  “You’re kidding, right? Women will want to know all about a handsome mysterious guy like you. Believe me.”

  I smirk, “Do they want to know, Warmoth, or do you?”

  Frustrated, she frowns. “Yes, I’m curious. Even if I didn’t sort of know you, I’d still wonder why you’ve stayed out of the limelight for so long. There’s something romantic about a mysterious man with a mysterious past, don’t you think?”

  Man, when did she get so relentless? She needs an answer with some meat or she’s never gonna quit. I smear my palm across my mouth thoughtfully. “Here’s the deal. If I showed my face on every cover, they’d stop hiring me. By cutting off my face, every book publisher can use me. Put makeup on my tattoos as needed, Photoshop new tattoos as needed or leave them out. It allows me to keep working. It’s just a business strategy. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

  It’s the truth. Part of it, anyway. Nobody knows all of it. Except me. And I’ll take that shit with me to the grave…

  —screa—

  “But that’s not the only reason, is it, Connor?”

  —screamscrea—

  I shudder. “Sorry, what?”

  Her eyes narrow like a predator but her voice is all soothing songbird. “What were you thinking about just now?”

  “Nothing.” I pin her eyes with mine. “What was your question again?”

  “I was wondering if there was some other reason why you hid your face for so long?”

  —scream-scream-scream-scream—

  “Connor?”

  I clench one fist so hard the knuckles pop. I really want to punch something right now. Ted the photographer looks like a good option. That guy bugs the fuck out of me. But his back is to me and he’s busy doing whatever the fuck with his camera gear. I level my gaze at Electra. “I told you already,” I growl, losing more cool than I intended. “I hid my face for business reasons. That’s. It.”

  “Sore subject?” Her voice is all sugar and spice.

  “Next subject,” I snort.

  She’s digging way too close to the bone.

  There is something dangerous about this older and wiser (and hotter) Electra Warmoth. She’s not the same innocent little girl I last saw on grad night seven years ago. She’s a gorgeous siren trying to get me to crash my ship into the rocks.

  Good luck with that.

  “All done,” Bev says, finished with the makeup.

  All done is right. I’m ready for this interview to be over.

  Chapter 4

  ELECTRA

  We ride the elevator down to the lobby.

  It’s just me, Connor, and Romeo. Romeo is escorting us to the convention hall.

  Ted and Beverly are gone. After Ted finished with his photos, both of them left. Unfortunately, I didn’t get anything else out of Connor that I can use for my article. Once Ted started snapping photos, Connor ignored me completely. At the rate my interview is going, I won’t have anything substantial to upload before my deadline. Vince is going to skin me alive and hang me out to dry.

  And I won’t get paid.

  “Here are your badges,” Romeo says as the elevator descends, handing Rom Com Con 2015 plastic badges to Connor and I. Both hang from pink lanyards and both say STAFF. “These will grant you access anywhere in the convention halls. Don’t lose them. The security here is worse than the Olympics.” We both thank him and hang the badges around our necks. “Are you guys ready for the insanity?”

  Connor wears tight ripped jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. Incredibly, he’s even sexier dressed than when he was naked. His ass looks amazing in his jeans. He pulls a black L.A. Dodgers baseball cap out of his back pocket and screws it on his head. Then he slides on a pair of coffee-tinted aviator sunglasses. “I’m ready. You ready, Warmoth?”

  “Uh, yeah. Will you have time for more questions in the convention hall?”

  “Anything for you, Lex,” he grins.

  Lex? Did he just call me Lex? Nobody has ever called me Lex, not even my parents. What’s that about?

  Before I can say anything, we reach the ground floor and commotion explodes through the elevator doors.

  The lobby is mobbed. There must be hundreds, if not thousands, of people crammed shoulder to shoulder inside. The crowd is 99% women. No surprise there. Many wear pink Rom Com Con T-shirts. Most carry identical Rom Com Con swag bags at their sides. The chaos of conversation is so loud, I can barely hear myself think.

  This is way crazier than I imagined.

  “Where we going?” Connor hollers in Romeo’s ear.

  “There’s a side exit in the spa. This way.” Romeo leads us around the perimeter of the crowd and down a long corridor. At the end of it is a spa waiting room with a Zen vibe.

  A girl behind the desk dressed in white sees us. “I’m sorry, the spa is only open to hotel guests. Not convention attendees.” She looks disgusted at the mention of the convention.

  “We’re staff,” Romeo says.

  When the woman gets a good look at Connor, she stands up from behind the desk. “I’m Jocelyn.” She holds out her hand to shake, her eyes all over Connor. He shakes her hand, but seems distracted. He keeps glancing back up the corridor toward the commotion in the lobby.

  “We should go,” I mutter.

  Romeo leads Connor and I out a side door.

  Outside, we pass by a huge luxurious pool, tennis courts, and a golf course off in the distance.

  “Anyone for tennis?” Romeo quips.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as we walk.

  “We can get into the convention hall from the back entrance. If we go that way, there’s a bunch of meeting rooms where you and Connor can wait until his reveal.”

  “Are they private?” I ask.

  “What,” Connor says, “you wanna get me alone and have your way with me, Warmoth?”

  I frown, “You wish.” Then I smirk, “But if I can get you to finish your interview before the reveal, maybe I’ll blow you.”

  Connor stops in his tracks on the cement walkway. “Really?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

  “No!” I laugh. I hope he didn’t think I was serious. I slow to a stop and turn to lock eyes with him. A moment passes between us that feels different. For once, it’s not the same old minefield that has existed between Connor and I since day one. Part of me wants to reach out to him with an open heart. The other part of me wishes I’d never mentioned the blow job.

  “I’ll blow him if you won’t,” Romeo offers, breaking the tension.

  Connor chuckles and steps in front of Romeo. He places his huge palms on Romeo’s shoulders and grins down at him. Compared to Romeo, Connor looks like a giant.

  Romeo gulps nervously. In a tiny voice he says, “Daddy?”

  I wince, “Why does that sound so wrong coming from you?”

  “And yet so right,” Romeo titters.

  “Look, Romeo,” Connor says. “I like you.”

  Romeo brightens hopefully.

  “But I don’t like you like you.”

  Romeo slumps, heartbroken.

  Connor pats him on the shoulder. “But the second I go gay, I’ll let you know.”

  “Will you?” Romeo gasps.

  Connor chuckles. “Yeah.”

  “Can we go?” I plead.

  “Hush,” Romeo mutters. “We’re having a moment.”

  Connor breaks into laughter.

  <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

  ELECTRA

  After showing our badges to se
curity, which in this case is a half-asleep middle-aged woman in a red Rom Com Con STAFF polo shirt, Romeo takes us up to a meeting room in the back of the convention hall on the second floor. He opens the door to the empty room.

  “Here we are!” Romeo’s smart phone rings and he pulls it from one of his many pockets. “Romeo Fabiano’s office, how may I direct your call? Yes… Who may I say is calling? Yes… One moment, please…” He mutes his phone and says to Connor and I, “It’s always good for people to think you have your own personal assistant. People take you more seriously.”

  I don’t know how Romeo could possibly think anyone would take him seriously.

  Romeo turns his attention back to his phone. “This is Romeo. How can I help you? … Yes … Yes, I’ve taken them to meeting room G … Yes… I’ll be right there…” Romeo gives me a sheepish grin. “Duty calls. You two are on your own. Or do you need me to stay and, um, help?” Hope shines from his eyes.

  Connor snickers to himself.

  I smile at Romeo. “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure…” his face darkens devilishly. “…and hopefully yours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two!” he coos.

  I snicker, “Something tells me there’s ten million things you would do that no one would ever do.”

  “So true,” he grins. “You have my number. Call me if you need me to rescue you. Or join the fun…” He winks and makes a tee-hee sound. “Gotta go! Toodles!” He waves over his shoulder as he hustles down the hallway.

  The modern meeting room contains a long wood table with a bunch of leather chairs around it. A package of unopened water bottles sits on the center of the table. Windows along one wall overlook the golf course.

  Connor closes the door.

  I jump ever so slightly. Or is that just my heart thudding in my chest? It’s not like Connor is naked this time, so there’s no reason for me to be nervous.

  “It’s just me and you, Lex. What’re we gonna do now?”

  “Not what you’re thinking, sleazeball,” I laugh and walk to the far end of the long table and sit down. “Pull up a chair. We can get through some more questions while we wait. How long do we have until your BIG reveal?” I ask sarcastically, then pull my notepad and mp3 recorder out of my purse.

  “At least an hour. Is that long enough for you?” He plops into a chair at the far end of the table and drops his boots on the tabletop like he owns the place.

  “Is everything about sex with you, Connor?”

  He peels his shades off his face and locks eyes with me. “Most of the time.”

  I groan, breaking eye contact. “Can we get back to the interview already?”

  “Why don’t I interview you?”

  “No, Connor. I don’t have time.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. For every question you ask me, you have to answer one of mine.”

  I grimace. “Why does this feel like Truth Or Dare?”

  “We can play it that way if you want. I always preferred the dares anyway. Way more fun.”

  I sigh. “I need information, Connor. I can’t print your dares in my article.”

  “Why not? Call the article something like Truth or Dare: How I got the dirt on Connor Hughes.

  I smile, “Hey, that’s pretty good.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Okay. We can play your way. But we need some ground rules.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing involving you and me doing anything physically intimate.”

  He shakes his head, “No dice. We go Y.O.L.O. or we don’t play at all.”

  “This isn’t a game, Connor. It’s my job.”

  “Don’t you live dangerously as a reporter?”

  “Sometimes,” I sigh.

  “What’s the most dangerous thing you ever did on a job?”

  “I don’t know,” I say thoughtfully. “Let me think… One time I was interviewing some Mexican gang bangers when their safe house got tear gassed by the cops.”

  “No shit?”

  I nod. “Tear gas is the worst. I stumbled out the back door of the house before it got really bad, but I could barely see, my eyes were burning so bad. And I was puking my guts out all afternoon while I tried to explain to the cops I was just there doing a story. I mean, what about me says chola? Anyway, after that, I couldn’t smell spicy food for a month without wanting to throw up.”

  “Damn, Lex. That shit happened?”

  There he goes calling me Lex again. I nod proudly. “It sure did.”

  Connor laughs, “And you’re worried about me? Fuck, Warmoth, you’re crazy.”

  “Maybe thiiiiis much,” I say in a high voice while holding my finger and thumb a half-inch apart.

  Connor stares at me for a long time, a mellow grin on his face.

  “What?” I ask bashfully.

  “What the hell have you been up to for the last seven years, Warmoth?”

  I shrug. “College. Working. Not much else. That was two questions, by the way. Now you have to answer two of mine.”

  “Two? What two?”

  “Living dangerously as a reporter and what I’ve been doing the last seven years.”

  “You always were good at keeping track of shit. I’m surprised you didn’t become an accountant.”

  “Thought about it. But an office job isn’t my speed. Back to my question.”

  “Go for it.”

  “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever done as a model?”

  He nods, “Good question. Hmmm. Oh yeah. I was a human sushi platter at a gay banquet.”

  “What?!” I laugh. “Is that even true?”

  “Is that another question?”

  “No. But you know I’m going to print that,” I warn with a giggle.

  “Go ahead.” He smiles confidently.

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “Print it. I don’t care.”

  “So, wait. Were people like… eating sushi off of you? Were you naked?”

  “That’s two questions.”

  “Never mind.”

  “Fine. My turn. Are you single?”

  “Yes.” I’m about to ask him why he cares, but that would be another question. We both know he just wants sex anyway. That’s all Connor has ever wanted from any woman. “My turn. Why did you become a model?”

  “I told you. My agent discovered me at a club.”

  “No, that’s the how. I want to know the why.”

  He grits his teeth, his jaw muscles dancing.

  He’s hiding something. I lean forward in my seat. I can smell pay-dirt. This should be good.

  “I needed the money,” he grunts.

  I snort, “That’s no answer, Connor. Everybody needs to earn money. Why modeling?”

  “It was easy.”

  “You have to give me more than that, Connor.”

  “Why? Lots of people pick jobs that are easy. Look at me. Being a model is the obvious career path.” His smarmy smirk returns as he holds up his tattooed muscled arms.

  They are very muscley.

  I lean back in my chair. He’s obviously covering something up. I need to come at it from a different angle later on. There’s a story here. If I can find it, I might have something that will impress Vince.

  “My turn,” he says. “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?”

  My breath stops short. This is one question I don’t want to answer. “How do you know I had a boyfriend to break up with? Maybe I’ve never had one.”

  “I’m assuming someone as beautiful as you has had at least one boyfriend in the last seven years. Either way, I only want to know about the last one.”

  My hands start to shake so I fold them in my lap. “Um…”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Let’s just say there’s not much to say.”

  He snorts, “That’s not an answer.”

  “You didn’t give me one. Because modeling is easy?” I’m mimicking his earlier words. “That’s not an answer eit
her.”

  He waves his hand in the air impatiently. “So make something up for your article, Warmoth. I’m sure you’ll come up with something better than the truth.”

  What does that mean? His expression says he’s not going to say a thing. Hmm. I could make something up about why he got into modeling, something plausible and entertaining that won’t cause him to launch a libel lawsuit, but fabricating facts is unthinkable for a serious journalist like myself. I’ve never done it and I never will.

  “Back to my question about your breakup,” he prods. “Why did things end?”

  “Do you really want to know this?”

  “Yes.”

  I take a deep breath, considering. No, there’s no way I’m going into it. Even after four years, the topic of Dylan Montgomery is an open wound for me. And since he’s the only real boyfriend I’ve ever had, I don’t have anyone else I can talk about. And I’m not going to lie. “Do we have to do this, Connor?”

  “You want your interview, don’t you?”

  “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”

  His brows knit. “Modeling is my job, Warmoth. What you print in your story will have an impact on my brand. If I say the wrong thing, or you take my words out of context, it could come back to bite me in the ass. So you’ll excuse me if I’m careful with what I say to you.”

  “But I thought you said earlier I could make up anything I wanted about why you got into modeling?”

  “Forget I said that. Answer my question about your last boyfriend or we can be done here. Or… you can take a dare.”

  “Fine. Dare.”

  He slowly smiles. “You sure?”

  Exasperated, I sigh, “Yes, Connor. Dare.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No! I said no physical intimacy!”

  “Then answer the question.”

  I huff. “No, Connor.”

  “Then kiss me. How bad can it be?”

  “The words foul and terrible come to mind.”

  He chuckles, “What about me seems foul and terrible?”

  “Besides the obvious?” I giggle. “Let’s see…Have you brushed your teeth today? I don’t remember you scouring out your mouth or gargling with bleach since that girl left your room this morning. What was her name again?”