Undercover Heat

by LaBue, Danielle

  “Where the hell was I?”

  “At the gym. And did you know she wears your clothes? I swear I saw her in one of your t-shirts.”

  Ty tossed a handful of peanuts in his mouth and chased them with a swig from his tumbler. The image of last week’s kiss floated through his mind. He took a long blink in effort to scatter it. “Yeah well, I guess she’s having a harder time with this divorce than I thought.”

  “Having a hard time living on a budget.”

  “No, really,” Ty said. “She completely lost it the other day. She told me she still loves me.”

  “So what if she does? She’s making your life a living hell.”

  “Yeah, well maybe I deserve it.”

  Manny set his glass on the bar and spun around on his stool to face Ty. “Okay, I have to ask.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

  Ty almost fell off his barstool. “Are you fucking crazy? How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Chill out man. I was just asking.”

  Ty picked up his glass and emptied it. He hadn’t told Manny about the kiss, or the fact that it was possibly captured on film. It had been a week since it happened, and he figured if it hadn’t surfaced by now, it wasn’t going to. No paparazzi would hold on to a hot potato like that for this long. Either they scared the guy off in time, or the pictures didn’t develop through the glass.

  “Fish on the hook at ten o’clock,” Manny reported then nodded across the room. “She's heading over.”

  Reluctantly, Ty followed Manny’s nod. Bodies packed shoulder to shoulder moved to the music. Men on the make and girls in huddles drinking drinks as colorful as the lights spinning over them. Fake blondes with even faker tans, and tits the size of their heads.

  “See her?” Manny asked. “The one in the tube top.”

  “They’re all in tube tops.”

  “The one that is making fuck-me eyes at you. I bet she’d make you feel better.”

  Ty was not a braggart, but it was obvious that most of the woman were looking at him. All with the same sleepy, overmedicated stare that screamed one-night-stand. The one Manny was talking about wasn’t bad. Tall, dark hair, decent body. He reached around and grabbed his tumbler. Feel better? Hell, he came here to feel worse. “She’s all right.” Ty shrugged.

  “All right? Man did you see those legs?”

  “No.”

  “Well, here’s your chance.”

  The girl pushed her way through the crowd and slid between them at the bar. She wore a sequin black mini skirt, too much makeup and rhinestones inlayed in her acrylic nails. With her plump red lips, she dragged a matching colored cherry from a swizzle stick, and struck a pose like a model on a runway. “You’re Ty Hollister,” she purred.

  “That’s right.”

  She looked him up and down. “Man, you’re even hotter in person.”

  He looked the girl in her mud colored eyes and felt nothing. But she had a pulse, and was obviously willing, his two major criteria when choosing a casual companion. They could slip on over to the Roosevelt, crawl all over each other all night, and everything would be better in the morning. Hell, screw the hotel, the bathroom would do the trick. “What’s your name honey?”

  “Anything you want it to be.”

  “Well how about we decide in the VIP lounge.”

  She winked, weaving her fingers in his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He followed her through the crowd. People stared, mouths flapped, couples made out in darkened corners. All as pathetic as he was. And this was right where he belonged, a step away from hell and a million miles from Carrie, where all he could do was cause her harm.

  She led them past the velvet rope that hung across the VIP entrance. Biff the bouncer greeted her like an old friend, and Ty chuckled. She was a regular. What the guys in Alabama used to call A-Beer-on-the-Wall. One that had been taken down and passed around. He’d probably seen this woman a million times before, hell maybe even fucked her. God, is that what it had come to? He had been with every woman in Los Angeles, and now he was starting over? Just how low could he possibly sink?

  He set his empty glass on the table as his eyes blurred in the white candle light. The next thing he knew he was in a corner with her body pressed against his. His instinct was to push her away, but instead he dared himself to like it. With misguided purpose, he pushed his hands though her product-stiffened hair, and brought her lips to his.

  The sudden movement knocked her off balance, sending her silver pocket book to the floor. Ty bent down to pick it up and the money that had fallen out. “Sorry,” she breathed taking the cash from his hand. “I guess sexy men make me jumpy.”

  “Is that all I make you. Jumpy?”

  “Come closer, and we’ll see.”

  Again he brought his mouth to hers. She tasted stale and sour, like the cheap liquor she’d been drinking all night. There was nothing. No passion, no desire, just a physical arousal on the most basic level, where Ty had become used to operating.

  “The rooms upstairs,” the girl hissed in his ear. “Let’s go, right now.”

  With his eyes sealed shut, he buried his face in her neck. The tangy scent of cheap perfume stung his nose and slipped over his tongue like an elixir more poisonous than intoxicating. He was trying like hell to want her. Acting was his profession after all, and lying to himself, was what he did best, but there was no part of him buying it. His insides churned, and his head swam. Like his body rejected something foreign. She didn’t belong. She didn’t fit.

  She wasn’t Carrie Ann.

  With a decisive shove, he stepped away from her, and wiped the kiss from his lips. He mumbled something like, “I’m sorry,” but it sounded unintelligible even to his own ears. The next thing he knew he was back out on the main floor, the strobe lights stinging his eyes. Manny was still at the bar with a leggy Asian woman who looked like better company than Ty had been earlier.

  “Early night?” Manny asked with a smirk. “You sure tired her out fast.”

  “I’m out of here.” Ty grabbed the drink Mick brought without asking and finished it in one gulp. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Jesus man, this self loathing thing is getting old. I’m sick of your moping. I liked you better when you were a horny drunk.”

  “I second that emotion.”

  Two arms slithered under his and clamped down on his chest. He turned his head into Layla’s waiting lips, and she kissed him hard before he could pull away. “Hey Hubby, I thought this was where you’d be.”

  “Layla,” Ty groaned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, of course.” She shoved the man off the stool beside Ty and sat down. “You’d think you’d be happier to see someone who was doing you a favor.” She reached into her Louis Vinton clutch and pulled out Ty’s cell phone. “You left it by the bed, darling. I thought you’d be looking for it.”

  Her voice had risen, and Ty noticed that even in a star-studded place known for its discretion, most heads turned in their direction. He also didn’t miss the mumbling lips angled to eager ears, and the wry smiles painted on people’s faces.

  “Keep it down, Layla. People are getting the wrong impression.”

  She giggled and looked around the bar. “What impression is that?”

  “That you gave up your seat at the Lesbian convention,” Manny said. “Isn’t Marcy looking for you by the way?”

  “Shut up,” she spat. “I was talking to your boss, if you don’t mind.”

  Ty painted on a painful smile and eased the phone from her hand. “Okay, so you did your good deed today. Thanks for bringing this to me, but in the future, I’d rather you not snoop around my bedroom.”

  “Our bedroom, Ty.”

  “No. Mine, according to the state of California. And how about I have someone bring you the rest of those boxes, so you don’t keep dropping in unannounced?”

  “I’m not giving up on us ye
t. I don’t care what the papers say.” She kissed him on the cheek, before heading into the crowd beyond.

  “She’s up to something isn’t she?” Manny said in his ear.

  Ty looked at the glazed eyes surrounding him. “God, I fucking hope not.”

  “Well, all you have to do is keep on her good side. You have forty eight hours until The Olivia Show, and we don’t want her to cause us problems. There are already enough rumors out there for you to shoot down.”

  He groaned in agreement and rubbed his forehead at the thought. His plans were to walk out of the “Olivia” soundstage and jump on a plane. He’d hide out in New York until the launch gala Saturday night.

  “So what about Carrie?”

  Ty startled, when he heard his own thoughts from Manny’s mouth. “What about her?” he stammered.

  “Look man, I hate to see you this way. Why don’t you just give the woman a call? It’s been over a week since you’ve seen her, and it would be damn nice of you to see how her opening went. You could game plan a little before the big “Olivia” interview.”

  “Game plan what? It’s just an interview.”

  “Just call the woman!” Manny blurted. “You know you want to.”

  Ty looked up at the clock. “It’s three in the morning on the east coast. I’ll wake up all the guests.”

  “Call her cell.” Manny pulled him from the stool and nudged him toward the door. “Humor me and call her, if she doesn’t answer, leave a message.”

  Ty bit the inside of his lip. Missing Carrie was something he had gotten used to over the years, like a chronic illness he tolerated. How many times had he been hunched over on a bar stool in the wee hours in the morning, his double vision blurring the dial pad of his phone. He did want to talk to her, hear her voice. And it was the first time he had ever allowed himself to really consider the option.

  “You’d be doing me a favor,” Manny said. “If it will make you less miserable to be around-”

  “Okay, shut up. I’ll do it.” He took a gulp of liquid courage and set his glass down on the bar. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way out the front door while punching the numbers on his key pad.

  “Tyler?”

  “Carrie Ann?” He hadn’t realized how tense his body was, until he heard her voice. Soft but deepened with sleep, and for the first time in over a week, he felt like he could fill his lungs fully with breath. “Carrie, I know it’s the middle of the night. And I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Why are you screaming? Are you okay?”

  The bass spilling through the opened door drove him down the sidewalk. He covered the receiver and glanced around, before resuming the conversation in a normal voice. “I’m sorry. I’m at a club with Manny. I just wanted to call and ask how your opening was. Did everything go okay?”

  “Went fine,” she said. “I was a little worried about the Thanksgiving meal. I tried a new dressing but I think it tasted okay. And before you ask, yes I had some.”

  He closed his eyes, picturing her in bed, between the warm sheets, her red hair splayed across the pillows. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  There was a pause on her end. I tried calling you earlier but Layla answered.”

  “Layla?”

  She answered your cell phone. She said she’d give you the message when she met up with you. She made it sound like you two had some big plans.”

  His fingers twitched around the phone, as he headed back down the sidewalk. There was no accusation in her tone, but it wasn’t like her to do so in the first place. Why would he want to spend time with a woman he couldn’t stand? Although, maybe if she believed that, it would be for the best. Staying away from her would be easier if she hated him.

  He was back in front of the doors when a wave of people burst out to the street, each more obliterated than the next. A woman squealed with laughter then stumbled to the pavement. She staggered to her feet when her gaze locked on Ty’s. She was the woman from the VIP lounge.

  “Ty? Are you still there?”

  The tangy perfume surrounded him like a cloud, and he realized he could smell her on him. He gulped down a gag when she blew him a kiss, before scurrying away with the herd she came out with. “Yeah, Carrie. I’m here.”

  “So anyway, I called earlier and Layla had an earful for me, believe me. How did she get your phone anyway?”

  Man that voice of hers. The happy little lilt that came to his ears like a song. His chest tightened. “I left it at home, and she brought it to me,” he said, not bothering to elaborate.

  “Wow, what was she doing at your house?”

  Amazing. After everything that had happen, she still trusted him. He could hear it in her voice. Sense it in her words. More proof that he didn’t deserve her. He lifted his gaze heavenward and shook his head. He never should have called.

  “Ty, you seem weird. Did you just have too much to drink or is something wrong?”

  “There you are, sweetheart.”

  Ty nearly dropped the phone when he heard Layla’s voice from behind him. She hooked her fingers on the belt loops of his jeans and hauled him to her for a quick kiss. “Where have you been?” she asked. “I went to mingle, and the next thing I knew you were gone. I wanted to ask you if you had seen my watch. Did I leave it next to the bed? I just looked down to check the time, and I realized that was the last place I saw it.”

  Her gaze locked on his. Layla wasn’t looking for an answer. She was calling him to war. He lowered the phone from his ear and covered the mouth piece with his hand. “Do you mind,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m on the phone.”

  “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t think I was interrupting anything important.” She gave his cheek a pinch before turning on her stilettos. The valet was waiting with her Maserati. “Give my regards to Carrie.”

  Ty slipped his hand from the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry I woke you, Carrie Ann,” he said “Go back to sleep.”

  “But Ty-”

  “Look, I just called to let you know that the interview is definitely Thursday and will air that afternoon. I’ll be back to New York of course for the gala Saturday night.”

  “But Ty-”

  “Good night.” He flipped the phone closed and jammed it in his back pocket. He took another lap on the sidewalk, before heading back inside to rejoin Manny.

  ***

  “Slow the fuck down!” Harvey yelled, torn between grabbing the back seat “oh shit” handles and the hot, half-naked woman next to him. “You’re gonna kill somebody!”

  Layla replied with a scream and a heavy stomp on the gas pedal. “He’s been away from her for two weeks, and I can’t even get him to look my way,” she shrieked, over the roar of the s engine. “That’s it! I’ve had it! You people better have done what I paid you for.”

  “Jesus, you don’t have to drive like a fucking maniac!”

  “Shut up, Harvey.” She tapped her long fingernails on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. “Okay, so tell me the story again. And don’t leave anything out.”

  Harvey rolled down a window, letting the balmy LA air blow through. Jeni sat next to him with her long legs crossed, and her tube top dangerously low on her enormous chest. He licked his lips, and she winked back.

  “So you said you brought him to the VIP room, and you were seen by the bouncer.” Layla eyed them in the rearview mirror.

  “Ah yeah,” Jeni said and rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I did it exactly how we planned it. I took him in there, gave him a peek and a grope. I asked him to head upstairs, and he freaked out and bolted.” She snapped her bubble gum as if it were a period at the end of the sentence.

  “But the point is the bouncer saw you. So if anyone were to ask him to verify the story, he could. And if Harvey got the picture?”

  “I told you I was standing right there.” He slipped his arm around Jeni’s body-glittered shoulder and pulled out his mini camera from his breast pocket. “I couldn’t have gotten a better angle if they had said ‘cheese�
��.”

  “Good, at least something went right tonight,” Layla said. “No way am I getting screwed over again.”

  “Which reminds me.” Jeni leaned forward in the seat, giving Harvey a decent flash of her cleavage. “Look I’m not a back-alley prostitute that you two picked up off the strip. My job title is model-escort, and I was told this was an all night engagement.”

  “Oh it is,” Harvey breathed, sliding his hand up her sequenced skirt. “How about you and me head on over to the Roosevelt and check out the hot tub.”

  “God, Harvey!” Layla wailed. “Can you keep it in your pants for five minutes? I’ll drop you two off at the hotel, and you give me the camera memory card.”

  “What the hell is with you, tonight? The plan went just how you wanted it!”

  “He was on the phone with her!”

  “He was on the phone with who?”

  “Carrie!” She gunned the gas, and they surged through a yellow light. Horns blared, and people yelled. A man she narrowly missed on the crosswalk flipped them off.

  “Jesus, you don’t have to freak out about it.” Harvey rubbed the back of his neck from the snap.

  “This is it. I’m tired of biding my time. Its all-out war and I’m ready.” Layla glared back at them through the rearview mirror, anger flaring from the whites of her eyes. “Jeni, I’m going to make you the most famous Hollywood hooker the world has ever seen.”

  “Excuse me, Escort.”

  “Whatever. You fuck for money, and I’m the one paying you. I can call you whatever I want.”

  They pulled into the exit off the Roosevelt, and she skidded to a stop in front of the none-too-pleased valet. No one moved until Layla spun around in her seat. “Well, you two were horny, right?”

  Harvey didn’t argue the point. He slid out of the car and Jeni followed. Slipping his arms around her waist, he led her up the stairs.

  “Is that woman always that crazy?” Jeni asked.

  Harvey smiled and answered to her Grand Canyon of cleavage, “Like a fox, baby. Like a fox.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You fucking idiot!”

  Ty tumbled to his bedroom floor, bracing himself for the rapid-fire attack of pillows flying at him. Manny stood over him with his arms outstretched, as if he were torn between taking flight and kicking Ty’s ass.