by Zoey Derrick
“Goddammit, Bobby, this is not the way to go about this. There are other options.”
“Options like what? Hiding or wandering around wondering if I am going to get shot or killed?”
“Think about her, about your family, your friends, your life.”
“Shut up, Vinnie. This is the only way I can do this and you know it. If I die by their hands, they win and my daughter will never be safe. If I die by my hands and within my control, she remains safe, the business goes on, she takes over, and life goes on, just as it would go on if I died without all this bullshit.”
“I know, but...dammit, Robert, she’s not ready for this. She hates you; she won’t take over the business, and she will resent you for the rest of her life.”
“She won’t have a choice. My final will and testament will see to that. As far as resenting me goes, I’m pretty sure she already does that.”
“How did you even get mixed up in all this bullshit?”
“Tick.”
“What? How?”
“He neglected to tell me that he changed suppliers. When the new supplier forced the original one out of business and out of town, Tick had no one else to turn to. So he went with Mendoza. Tick failed to tell his clientele that they were dealing with the purest of drugs available.”
“You don’t think that’s what...” Vinnie doesn’t finish his sentence. He knows it. The whole reason Bobby had gotten involved in the supply business was to keep his clients’ names off police radar and give them a constant supply when they needed it from a reliable source. Tick, of course, was making bank on the markup, but neither Bobby nor Bold ever took a kickback from the drug sales. Leaving their hands clean, but them aware of what was going on.
“So, I figured it out, figured out who to blame for the change, and ended up walking into a drug deal between Mendoza and Aaron.” Vinnie can’t hide the surprise on his face. Aaron had never been on any of their lists. “Because of that, I have to either disappear or be killed for real.”
“There is so much I want to say to you.”
“Stop, it’s not necessary. We will see each other again one day. Once the world has forgotten about Robert Enders. Or this asshole’s bullshit ends.”
May 28th, 2011
******
Mick
******
“Mick, it’s Vincent.” Why on earth is he calling me?
“What’s up, Vinnie?”
“Are you still working with Cameron?”
“Yes,” I say rather slowly.
“Is she your friend?”
“What the fuck, Vinnie?”
“Look, I need to tell you something, and I need you to pass it on to her. It will be better if it comes from a friend.” Not good.
“Sure, what is it?”
I hear Vinnie take a deep breath on the other end of the phone, almost as though he is composing himself to say something serious, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it is. “Bobby’s dead.”
Well that is not what I was expecting. “When? How?”
“Last night. One of his security men found him this morning in his office, crumpled up on the floor.” Another deep breath.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying hard to figure out how best to tell Cami this. They are far from close, but dammit if this isn’t going to kill her.
“They believe it was a heart attack.”
“Christ, Vinnie, he’s only fifty-seven.” I’m trying to wrap my brain around this, trying to understand it, but I can’t. Bobby has always been healthy — exercising, eating healthy, everything.
“There is nothing to indicate foul play, though they will be doing an autopsy today to be sure. If it was a heart attack, we’ll know right away. If it was something more malicious, that will take time. I just thought Cameron should find out from you rather than from me. She doesn’t even know who I am,” Vinnie says. There is a sadness in his voice. Sadness for Cami, possibly. Maybe because he didn’t find out until this morning that Bobby had a daughter or just a general sadness for his own loss. I don’t know Vincent well, but I’ve never known him to be the emotional type.
“I’ll take care of it. Are there funeral arrangements yet?”
“If the medical examiner finishes today, we will have service on Tuesday. With Monday being the holiday, it’s easier on Tuesday. The estate attorney has scheduled the open reading of the will for Tuesday morning. Cameron should probably be there.”
Not likely. “All right. How can we contact you with questions?”
“Use this number.”
“All right, thanks Vinnie.”
He hangs up without another word.
I sit back in my chair, trying to figure out how best to tell Cami that her dad is dead. I wish I could do it in person — I should probably do it in person — but I...I’m not sure I can take the look on her face. This is going to destroy her.
I pick up my cell and pull up her contact information. After a minute or two of debate, I press the send button.
“Magic Mick.”
I smile, despite the circumstances, at her nickname for me.
“Hi, Cami girl. What are you doing?”
“I just pulled up in front of the Apple store, why?”
“Are you still driving?”
“No, what’s going on, Mick?”
“Is Beau with you?”
“No, she’s in Portland for a few weeks with her family. Mick, what is going on?” I can hear the rising panic in her voice.
“Do you know who Vincent is?”
“No, should I?”
“Not really, it’s not that important.” I don’t know how to tell her this but I have to. “Cami, I have some bad news.”
“Mick, the only bad news you could possibly have for me is that I’m broke, but I doubt that. So what’s up?” That hint of panic disappears momentarily and then returns. She doesn’t sound at all cheerful or like her usual joking self when it comes to money. But it doesn’t seem like she is on the same wavelength as to why I would have bad news for her, so this is going to either go really smoothly or she is going to go over the top.
“Cami, your father passed away last night.”
“Well, shit,” she says, but then I hear it: the sob I wasn’t expecting.
“I have the details, if you want them...”
“How?”
“How what?”
“How did he die, Mick?” she asks, but her anger is coming through.
“Heart attack.”
“That son of a bitch.” The phone goes dead.
“Cami?...Hello?” Nothing.
ONE
July 2012 - Phoenix, Arizona
******
Cami
******
“How long until your flight?” Tristan and I are in my condo in Phoenix, a place we’ve only been for a few days, ever since returning from Tristan’s New York premiere. That was an experience that I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to do again. But he made it fun by making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, and that made it worth it. Regardless of what was going on around him, I was more important.
“About three hours.” He kisses me gently on the lips. The kiss quickly turns urgent and needy. I can’t help my body’s response to his lips on mine. My back arches and I feel his erection grow stronger and harder as he slowly moves in and out of me.
A soft breathy moan escapes my lips, and his kisses grow more urgent and his pace increases. I feel myself building toward that cliff we’ve been dancing on every day for over a month. My hand slides down his chest and I feel the dermal piercings that create the eyes of his dragon.
He’s propped himself up on his left elbow, and his right hand glides feather-soft over my hip to my stomach, tracing light patterns until his fingers gently graze my breast. Both my nipples harden in response to the involuntary shiver his touch has caused across my heated skin, and I feel his fingers graze one pierced nipple, then the other. They are hard as diamonds, straining against t
he stainless steel balls holding the barbells in place.
I moan again, and his pace increases as my body locks down and the climax I’ve been trying to avoid washes over me in a warm rush of fire. Tristan increases his pace to a fever pitch, pushing my orgasm to limits I’ve come to love. “I love you,” I hear him whisper in my ear as I come floating down. I feel the muscles of my sex spasm, and he thrusts hard, pouring himself into me.
I open my eyes to see the strained look of orgasm on his face and I whisper, “I love you.”
Once we finally settle again from our orgasms, Tristan doesn’t roll off me. Which is fine. I love having him so close to me, and it’s breaking my heart that he is leaving so soon. I can’t bear to look at the clock.
He is only going to be gone for a couple of days, but we haven’t spent more than a couple of hours apart since we met in Tarah a month ago.
Ever since that Friday night in the hotel bar, everything in my life has changed. I met the man of my dreams — literally — and I fell in love with him. Hard. Okay, I was probably already in love with him before I met him, but the emotions were superficial, as I didn’t actually know him for who he is. I know him better now, though I’m not convinced I know everything there is to know about Tristan Michaels. I’m determined to find out anything and everything about him.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say softly, and I feel him stiffen, as if I’ve woken him up, but I know he wasn’t sleeping because the hand playing with a stray strand of my hair hasn’t stopped moving.
“I told you to come with me,” he says. It’s the same argument we’ve been having for the last twenty-four hours.
“I know but I need to take care of some things here. We’ve only been home for a few days.” He slides off of me, but it’s not a rejection; he pulls me close to his side.
“I know, and I’ll only be gone until Friday. Then I’ll come back and we can pick up where we leave off.” He kisses my shoulder and his thumb begins to move circles across my stomach, something he tends to do when he is thinking about something.
After we left Tarah, we went to New York, where we spent a few days roaming around the city. It wasn’t as much fun as I’d hoped it would be.
After Tristan’s premiere, we were followed nearly everywhere we went. I was impressed that it only took the media eight hours to figure out exactly who I am. Then of course the speculations about he and I not really being together started to soar through the roof. It was a good publicity stunt, letting the girls swoon a little longer over the fact that their beloved Tristan might still be single.
The tabloids would read things like, She’s just his PR rep, etcetera. It didn’t bother me any, but Tristan was a little miffed that they were going down that path. It was clear to me that he really wanted them to run away with us being together.
I tried to tell him that it didn’t matter to me at all, even played the ‘It’s good publicity’ card, but he wasn’t buying it. I told him that I knew he was with me and I was with him, and that nothing like that should matter. Over the next day or two he calmed down dramatically about it. That was until we were walking of The Electric Room. Tristan pushed me up against the door of our limo, kissing me feverishly, right in front of no less than a dozen cameras. After that, the speculative headlines stopped and the love stories started. The only reason I knew about any of this going on was because Trinity - the PR manager for Bold, my company - demanded that I take over as his rep. I hadn’t seen a problem with it, except for the fact that I’m now responsible for all the things that are said about the man I love.
He nuzzles closer to me and I snuggle into him, content to lie here, but as I move, the insatiable man that he is, it doesn’t go unnoticed. We’ve been in bed all day — literally, as I know it’s nearly four in the afternoon — and Tristan has been giving me his undivided attention, from head to toe and back again.
I’m truly enjoying it. I’m sure he’s trying to wear himself out so that he can survive the next few days without me, and I am perfectly okay with that.
I use my free hand to bring his chin up. He immediately knows what I’m trying to do and he doesn’t disappoint me. Our lips meet once again, and he doesn’t stop kissing me over and over.
******
Tristan
******
Leaving Cami here in Phoenix is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I completely understand why she wants to stay. She hasn’t been home in what feels like forever, and her new condo needs some attention. When she asked me to come stay with her in Phoenix, I didn’t hesitate. I want to be near her all the time, and I can’t get enough of this beautiful woman whose tongue is dancing with mine.
After our last go-round not twenty minutes ago, I thought for sure I was done, but that is not the case, not today. It kills me to have to leave her after we’ve spent all of this time together. But Vincent needs me in L.A. Both Cami and I did our best to convince Vinnie that my traveling there wasn’t necessary, that we could handle everything from here, but he wasn’t having it. Since that conversation, I’ve had it stuck in the back of my mind that there is a reason he’s trying to pull me away from here, but I can’t for the life of me begin to imagine why.
Regardless, I will be back on Friday, no matter what. But if I have anything to say about it, I will be back Thursday night to surprise her.
I’m mulling all this over when Cami pushes me onto my back and I feel the scalding-hot wetness of our all-day lovemaking brush across my erection, and he stirs awake once more. I watch Cami give me her all-knowing smile, knowing full well that she has this effect on me, no matter what the circumstances are.
She begins to flick her hips across my hardness and my eyes roll back in my head. I can feel her clit rubbing along each of the piercings along my cock, and it makes me shiver with excitement. The next thing I know, in one quick flick of her hips, I’m buried deep inside her. I watch as the sensations register on her, causing her eyes to roll up and her head to fall back. Her back arches, thrusting her beautiful tits in my face. I take that as my cue, cupping them in my hands, and my thumbs slowly glide over her nipples. She starts coming unglued in only a matter of seconds and I love to watch the transition.
Cami continues to glide her slick wetness up and down my shaft. I can feel when her muscles spasm, but she hasn’t come, not yet. One of the many things I love about being inside Cami is that, once she starts, there is no stopping her from achieving orgasm after orgasm, and it makes me hungry to make her come undone whenever possible.
Her hips increase their tempo and the muscles of her pussy begin clamping and releasing me. Her orgasm is crushing her ability to maintain her pace and she begins to slow, losing her rhythm. I know it’s time for me to help her out. She raises her hips, as if reading my mind, and I begin pounding up into her, hard and fast. Her fingers dig into my stomach as she starts to come. I squeeze her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, hard. She screams out my name.
Hearing my name across her lips is my undoing, and I explode once again inside her.
An hour and half later we’ve finally managed to untangle ourselves from the sheets and make it to the shower. Our only mistake is showering together; it’s counterproductive when I take her one more time, from behind, while we both watch in the vanity mirror.
We’ve finally managed to make it into her car, and she is driving me to the airport. In her R8, mind you. This is such a beautiful car, and very fitting for Cami.
This is the first time since coming here two days ago that we’ve even considered venturing out of the house and, ironically, it is to take me back to Los Angeles. Besides Cami, the other nice thing about Phoenix is that celebrities live here, but there are hardly enough paparazzi to really make a difference. Especially at the airport. But even knowing that, neither one of us has wanted to take the chance and venture out. So far, her condo is a secret, and it would be nice to keep it that way...for a little while longer, at least.
“Call me when you land?” she as
ks me as we pull off of Forty-fourth Street and into the airport.
“Of course,” I say as she squeezes my hand. We’ve both been quiet in the car — well, ever since we got dressed — neither one of us wanting to discuss the inevitable goodbyes we’re going to face in a few short minutes.
“I can come in with you...”
“No need, love. I’ll be fine.”
She is staring straight ahead, watching the traffic around us. It’s Tuesday, early evening, and traffic is rather light, but I can see that she won’t look at me. I look over at her. She knows that I’m watching, but she won’t turn her head. It doesn’t take but a moment for me to figure out why. I watch as a single, fat tear streaks down her cheek.
I release her hand and wipe it away. She tries to smile, but it doesn’t go like she hoped it would. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop.” I can hear the emotion in my own voice. I don’t want to leave, now or ever. But we both knew at some point it was going to have to happen. “I’ll be home on Friday and we will have nothing in our way for what, six weeks? Before Montana.” We haven’t talked about Montana, but I’m hoping she will be coming with me. I’m going to be there for three weeks, with little time for a break. If less than three days is like this, three weeks will surely kill me.
“I know, it’s just—”
I wipe another tear from her eye and we drive out of the setting sun and into the drop-off area for terminal four. It’s another few seconds and she is pulling over to the curb to let me out. I take a quick scan of the terminal; it doesn’t look like anyone is here to snap my photo this time. Thank stars.
She pulls the e-brake and we both reach hesitantly for the handles of our doors; eventually we open them and climb out. When I come around the front of the car, Cami is opening the trunk to pull out my bag. I’ve left nearly everything I own at her place, at her request. “So you’ll come back,” she said last night. There was never a doubt in my mind that I would come back, but I can understand her logic. We’ve spent so much time together; thinking rationally hasn’t been our strongest ally these last few weeks. She’s afraid that my getting away from her will clear my head. But I know that the exact opposite is what’s true. I know I am going to miss her like crazy, and I know that when I come back to her, it will be a sweet reunion.
