When, exactly, that revelation had started to hurt… I had no idea.
I spun out of my chair and headed downstairs for a drink. As I passed the cheerful revelers, I had to wonder if they could see the dread and sadness in my eyes like Caz did. Did they all know? Had they always known? Did they smile to my face and pat me on my head because they knew what kind of heartache lay ahead?
I grabbed a drink, drained it, and ordered another. Then I did something I never did. I made my way towards the stage.
I wasn’t a groupie for Eli Blake. Never had been. It wasn’t that the music wasn’t good. He made damned sure of that. But the music wasn’t authentic, and that had always stuck in my craw for one reason and one reason only.
Eli Blake was a jackass.
Okay, so… he wasn’t always a jackass. There were times when he was really sweet. He took care of me when my ankle busted. He was gentle and affectionate with Beau Jangles. He was the best big brother any girl could have. He was romantic when he wanted to be. He was a good guy when he wanted to be. He was funny. He was driven. He made life happen.
Yeah, he was arrogant. But he had worked really hard for the right to be that way. He was talented and worked overtime to develop the skill to take that talent somewhere. He literally was a self-made man, who created his career from the ground up. Gatekeepers had erected walls in his path and he was clever enough to find a way around them and get shit done.
There was a lot about Eli Blake that I respected.
There was a lot about Eli Blake that I loved.
I loved Eli Blake.
That couldn’t be right. I couldn’t love that douche canoe, the one who had dismissed me out of hand until I could be of use to him.
And maybe that was the way it started, but there was a gentleness to his touch now. These kisses lingered. When he made love to me, he kept his eyes open, watching my face, like he didn’t want to miss a minute.
Was he counting down the months too?
Again, I shook my head. I most certainly was not in love with Eli Blake. I was in love with the character he portrayed. That was it.
Yet I found myself inching my way towards the stage, to get closer to him, to watch him in action—again, because I still could.
The curtain opened right as I reached the front. I stood back a few rows from the stage, simply because a dedicated crowd had already gathered there, and they protected their coveted spots. Eli came out with his most popular dance hits, which got the crowd moving. Big girls, little girls and all girls in between danced for him, and he rewarded every single one of them with that devastating smile that was both that of a gentle romantic and a cocksure ladies’ man. He knew what he could offer.
I knew what he could offer. That smirk was well deserved.
With new eyes I watched him sing his hits and woo the crowd. He was quickly becoming a master of his craft. His songs were good, solid pop songs. The lyrics of his dance tunes didn’t rely on the beat to get people moving. He used inventive phrasing to make them pop, and gave a little more substance to the lyrics.
I took note of every nuance, finding new things to admire as I did so. I paid attention to everything. Nothing escaped my notice, including the glance he sent up to my office window, which you could clearly see inside. His smile vanished in an instant, settling into a scowl.
What the hell did that mean?
He grabbed his bottle of water to rehydrate before he addressed the crowd. “Got a new album dropping in January,” he announced, and everyone went wild. I was stunned silent; I already knew the album wasn’t ready yet. But if he said it would be complete, I knew he’d do everything to complete it. “Gonna try out a new song on you guys if you don’t mind.”
Everyone roared in response. They clearly didn’t mind at all. When he started to play, I expected the opening notes of the song that had been vexing him so. Instead it was another song, a sexy, slow song, with a pulsating beat that set an almost ominous tone in the background.
“I never had to look for love
The ladies fell at my feet
I collected hearts like diamonds
Short, simple, and sweet
Now the game has changed
And I'm no longer winning
There's no way to fight
This beautiful web she's spinning”
I gasped a little as I heard him sing. If I had to wonder if I, indeed, inspired the song, he confirmed it with the chorus.
“Glitter on the web
Fire in her eyes
Didn't want to want her
What a big surprise
Now I hear her in my heartbeat
She's burning in my blood
I didn't want to want her
Now I just can't get enough”
My own words rang in my ears. “There’s glitter on your web, Eli, but it’s a trap all the same. I’ve seen it. I’ve always seen it. When you see it for what it is then you can’t get caught up in all it’s not.”
What was he saying?
I shouldn’t have asked.
“I wanted to be her hero
To prove I was good enough
She said we couldn't have forever
I wanted to call her bluff
She convinced me I was the one
Constructing the trap she was laying
Little did I know all this time
She was the one that was playing”
My brow creased as I watched him sing. He played the part of an angry, brokenhearted man. He repeated the chorus before he drove the final nails in the coffin with the third verse.
“Can't turn back time
Can't unring this bell
Her kiss promised me heaven
Her lies put me through hell
Didn't want to want her
Chase a girl I couldn't claim
Gonna lay the trap with her web
Two can play this game”
The song was a huge success. Everyone wanted to be the girl who tied Eli Blake up in knots, especially since he was so overcome with emotion by the song that he had to leave the stage. The dance floor filled as the DJ resumed her duties. I headed straight for my office to wait for him, so we could leave together like we always did.
I needed to know what the hell was behind that song. For a guy who sold bullshit for a living, that sounded disturbingly honest.
Worse, though it didn’t specify he was singing for a “big girl,” I knew that he finally was. And it wasn’t pretty.
He didn’t make it to my office until close to eleven o’clock, and by then he was unusually drunk. He was also mad, though I didn’t know why. He flopped down in the chair opposite my desk. “Did you catch the set?”
It almost sounded like an accusation. “Yes,” I answered. “It was great as always.”
He nodded, but his eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “Introduced a new song tonight.”
“I heard,” I replied. “A little different than some of the other things you’ve done.”
He shrugged. “Thought I’d branch out. I can’t really stay in the same ol’ boxes anymore.” His bloodshot eyes were hard as steel. I’d never seen him this drunk or this angry.
I sat back in the chair. “Where’s this coming from, Eli?”
“Gotta stay in character,” he replied. “According to my calendar, you’re due to break up with me in an epic and public way in four months. We have to start snipping the stitches in our Happily Ever After, right?”
I gulped. So he was thinking about that too. It hurt to hear. “Right,” I managed, though my throat closed up in an instant.
“The way I see it,” he said as he stood, “we have to sell this breakup with the same conviction as we sold the romance. Otherwise it was a pointless exercise. Everyone will know it was all bullshit.” He sat on the corner of my desk. “This whole year would be a huge waste of time.”
Every single word he said was a dynamite blast to my ego. I scrambled to find my footing. “You’re the master of sell
ing bullshit. I guess I have to trust you.”
I stood. We were practically face to face. “You get to trust me as much as I have to trust you,” he said softly. His tone was menacing.
“So what do we do now?”
He stood, looming over me. “We get to have an epic fight, where I drag you out of here to fix things back home.” His fingers curled around my wrist. “Where we can have angry makeup sex.” He pulled me close. “Eventually we’ll get around to hate fucking, like all couples nearing the end of their run.” He planted a hard kiss on my mouth, pushing my lips into my teeth, leaving my face swollen and red as he yanked me from the office and dragged me downstairs. Neither of us smiled or spoke the entire way through the crowd, which parted for us as if they felt the tension.
He didn’t talk to me the whole ride home. He blasted angry music, loud, abrasive metal that he sang along to as we sped through the streets of Los Angeles towards Malibu.
When we got to the house, he opened the door before he swept me into his arms, kicking the door shut behind us. I was too surprised to speak as he marched us directly towards the bedroom, where he planted me on the bed without ceremony. His eyes flashed as he tore off his shirt, then came down on me for another punishing kiss.
His own lips were red and swollen as he lifted away. “What’s wrong with you, Eli?” I asked softly.
“Just playing a part. After all these months, we’re both experts at that by now.”
“Eli,” I started but he kissed me again, urging my response.
Finally he growled against my lips. “Kiss me, Carly. Kiss me like you fucking mean it.”
I wanted to remind him that no one could see us, so it didn’t matter. But I also wanted to kiss him. I wanted this angry, drunk Eli to go away, so my happy, go-lucky, smartass, jackass, douche bag boyfriend could return.
Since this was a fairy tale anyway, I tried to bring him back with a kiss. The minute I opened my mouth, Eli groaned and held me close. Our union that night was explosive. He tossed me around that bed like a rag doll, until we were both braced against the headboard, with him behind me. He wrapped his arm around my body until his large palm claimed one breast. He captured my earlobe between his teeth, his breath hot in my ear. “Tell me you want me.”
I shuddered. I was powerless at the tips of his fingers and I knew it. “I want you.”
His body worked its magic on mine, angling to hit the spot that made my legs give out. “Tell me you need me.”
I gulped. That was a little harder. “Eli,” I started, but he wasn’t having it. He slipped his hand down my body until it disappeared between my legs. He didn’t stop until I gasped.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
That firm fingertip circled around my clit until I teetered on the verge of an orgasm. “I need you,” I eked out in a breathless whisper.
He rewarded me by speeding up his finger until I was coming hard. He flipped me around to my back, crawling between my legs as he held each of my hands overhead. Our eyes met briefly before his gaze drifted towards my lips. He bent for the gentlest of kisses. “Tell me you love me.”
I shuddered again. I felt like I was out on that Las Vegas platform, 108 floors in the air, ready to take a step with nothing solid under my feet to support me. I couldn’t say anything, so he kissed me again. His body undulated as he ground against me, filling me, teasing me, fucking me… claiming me. His eyes locked with mine as he pressed all of the buttons he’d discovered after months of making love. I fought screaming as I clutched the sheets in two clenched fists. “Eli,” I gasped. He kissed me again, slower, as if he wanted to savor every single second.
“Tell me, Carly. Tell me no one has ever made you feel this way.” He underscored his point with another kiss. “Tell me how much you love feeling me inside you.” He thrust into me until my eyes widened. “Tell me you dream about me when I’m gone.” Yet another kiss, and another, and another as he kept talking in that same hypnotic whisper. “Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me. Tell me you love me.”
“Eli,” I started again. Our eyes met.
“Can’t you tell me? After all these months and all we’ve been through?”
A tear raced from the corner of my eye along my cheek. I wanted to tell him. Hell, I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. But he was leaving in four months. If I gave him my heart, I’d never get it back. I had only given my heart away once before, and ended up in therapy for years to recover. I didn’t have the strength to go through all of that again. Even for Eli. “No,” I finally managed, though my breath gave out and it came out as a breath, like the last breath of a dying woman.
His body fell still on top of me. He scanned my face with those cloudy blue eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered finally. “Me either.” His mouth landed on mine as he slammed into me. His eyes closed as he rode me, expertly, towards another massive set of orgasms. Finally he came with a grunt and collapsed against me, unconscious and snoring within seconds.
My arms curled around him as I held him close.
In four months I’d have to leave him and never see him again. So I loved him the only way I knew how.
Like I was going to say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day I crawled out from under Eli by four o’clock in the morning, so I could get ready to head to the airport for my six o’clock flight. I was going to be in New York for a week, which I figured came at the best time. I didn’t know what to make of Eli’s behavior, and I needed time to sort out how I felt about it. It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be love. It was madness.
I employed the floppy hat and the sunglasses to hide the bags under my eyes, lest they try to charge me for carrying them on. After I passed through security and made it to the gate, I passed the time by perusing social media.
Miles O’Rourke was on top of the latest, breaking gossip.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE FOR ELI BLAKE AND HIS BIG GIRL?
Sources tell your favorite gossip columnist that things got a bit heated at FFF last night. Eli Blake was there, as he usually is every other Friday, helping his lady love draw new customers to her club with mini-concerts. There he unveiled his latest song, “Glitter on the Web,” which was taken down from YouTube the second someone uploaded it. This one may be a little too close to the crooner’s heart, y’all. People tell me the lyrics paint a pretty dark picture for what might be happening behind closed doors. That Eli was seen dragging Carly out of the club practically by the hair suggests he finally wrote a song he means. Stay tuned…
I sighed as I exited out of the page.
Things didn’t get any better when I got to New York. East Coast PING-ers were ready and waiting for me to step off the plane, alone. That I was frustrated and irritated only fueled the speculation. It cast a pall over my whole NYC experience.
Tempestuous did their best to make up for it. They gave me a penthouse suite at one of the swankiest hotels in the city, sitting adjacent to Central Park. They also provided a full wardrobe of new clothes to wear. Champagne and flowers waited for me, though it seemed wrong somehow to enjoy that alone in one of the most romantic rooms I’d ever stayed in. The design was inspired by a 20th century author, and felt a bit like stepping back in time, from the curated library to the artwork on the wall.
I didn’t have much time to explore it all. My schedule was packed tight with our schedule for the week. There were even parties to attend at night. It was part of my job to show up, model the clothes, schmooze and cruise.
Since I had been modeling for Tempestuous for months, I was finally comfortable with the process. I knew what to do and what was expected of me, and now I could do all that with the exciting backdrop of NYC. The winter line had aimed for chic sophistication, done mostly in monochrome colors like black, white and gray. We were going to get shots from all over the city, from my hotel room to Central Park, various clubs around town, a sailboat on the River and the Empire State Building.
They had even set up a Christmas shoot, to prepa
re for the holidays.
I was running from the time I landed in New York. I fell into bed that first night completely exhausted. The benefit of that, of course, was that I didn’t have to think about Eli. I had a new job this particular week, and I gave it one hundred percent.
By Wednesday, I felt like a New Yorker. I walked the city a lot, following my nose to find the best pizza parlor, or window shopping on Fifth Avenue. Central Park became my own personal gym. I got up early to go for a walk, completely amazed each and every day how the bustle of the city faded the further into the park one traveled. I wanted more time to visit the museums and galleries around the park, but like any other New Yorker, I was a woman on the go. I learned to fit a lot of activity into my day, which—by all outward appearances anyway—made it look like I was having the time of my life.
Miles O’Rourke was all over that, too.
CARLY REYNOLDS TAKES A BIG BITE OUT OF THE BIG APPLE
Proving that she is no longer just arm candy for one of the biggest pop stars on the planet, Carly Reynolds traveled to New York City this week to fulfill some of her duties as Tempestuous’s new “It” girl. This hot new model has been seen all over the city flying solo, but that hasn’t stopped her from enjoying her east coast experience to the fullest. No matter what happens on the home front, Carly appears poised to toss her hat up into the air and declare she’s going to make it after all.
I supposed the good news about his little tidbit is that he no longer called me a Big Girl or plus-sized. Progress?
Once again Eli was as right as rain. We had set the groundwork for our ultimate breakup, and now folks like Miles O’Rourke were following the crumbs, filling in the pieces and shaping the story for us. We didn’t have to confirm or deny anything. Speculation would keep tongues wagging for months.
Four, to be precise.
For some reason this left me in a funk. I didn’t even want to go to the party that night, but it was part of the job. I dressed in a sleek black blouse paired with a charcoal gray pencil skirt. The black leather belt matched my four-inch pumps, which I offset with a pair of black tights with butterflies climbing up the leg.
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