Four Reasons to Come

by Sarah J. Brooks

  The comfort and safety I felt wrapped up in Dean’s arms were an aphrodisiac to me, and I could hardly keep my hands to myself when we got into the cab. This man was everything I had hoped for in a lover, in a man. He was strong, honest, handsome, and he protected me gallantly as we faced the paparazzi. His first instinct was to make sure I was protected, even in a situation as silly as a herd of paparazzi; that was a sign that he was a man I wanted to keep around.

  “It’s probably a horrible time to talk about this,” Dean said between my kisses to him. “But should we just post something and take the wind out of their sails?”

  “Um, like on social media?” I asked as I climbed into his lap and straddled him.

  “I guess; I mean I don’t know. I just think we should say something since they have more pictures. It bugs me when they sell a story and spin things the way they want them. I’d rather have the story come from me. It’s just my preference, though, what do you think?”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “Here,” he said as he handed it to me.

  “You don’t have a password on here? Dean, oh my gosh. We need to work on your security,” I said as I pulled up his Instagram account.

  I leaned close to him and kissed his cheek as I snapped a selfie of the two of us. It was a bit of a relief that he had brought up posting online, and I knew my fans were going to love him. A lot of the girls who followed me probably weren’t that aware of who Dean was, and I was excited to introduce him to them. He was an old school Hollywood hunk, and the young women who followed my social media were going to fall in love with him.

  “I know; my friend Ren told me the same thing. Show me what you’re typing, so I know how this all works.”

  “I’ve met the most amazing girl, Angelina Kent,” I said as I typed. “See I put this sign before my name, so the photo will post on my account too; it’s called tagging someone. That way my fans will see it too. It’s like posting once but getting twice the people to see it.”

  “Okay, and do we add Instamatch? By the way, you have more than twice my fans.” Dean laughed.

  “Do you want to add them? We don’t have to, but it will increase the amount they have to pay us.”

  “One time. Let’s just post one time and then be done with all this. Is that okay with you?” Dean asked. “My contract says I only have to post a couple of times this month, and I actually posted a few days ago.”

  “Sure, that’s a deal. One time and then we will be done with them. What did you post a few days ago?”

  Dean looked embarrassed, but I didn’t see anything that seemed embarrassing on his Instagram page. I did see over a thousand notifications on his Twitter account, though, so I clicked on it. I stayed straddling him as I looked at his tweet and clicked through some of the responses.

  “I went on this crazy date with a girl my friend had matched me up with when I first downloaded the app. It was, well …”

  I stopped him from talking. I really didn’t care who he had dated before he met me. I wasn’t one of those girls who got jealous, and I certainly wasn’t going to get jealous of a woman he met before he knew me. That was just ridiculous to me.

  “Okay, so here is what I typed for our photo. ‘I’ve met the most amazing girl, Angelina Kent, thanks, Instamatch!’ Wow, they are going to make a shit ton of money off of us.” I laughed as I posted the photo.

  “Do you do a lot of these contracts? It’s my first one with social media.”

  “How about I tell you all about it tomorrow? Because right now, I’d really like to get back to kissing you,” I teased as my lips moved toward him.

  “Yes, I think that’s the smart plan here,” he said as the cab door opened and we kissed quickly before heading into my hotel.

  Luckily, the paparazzi weren’t at the hotel, and we were able to get inside without a photo being taken. Not that I would have cared all that much. I really didn’t mind being seen with Dean as long as he didn’t mind being seen with me. He was a great guy, and I was more than happy to take whatever we had going on into the public. I just didn’t want to do it if Dean wasn’t ready for it.

  My life in the public eye was different than what Dean could have been used to. As a reality star, my whole career hedged on the media getting the inside scoop on my life. Whereas Dean had built a career before the media had become interested in him. Even though there were stories about his personal life in the media, they didn’t know everything. I felt like for me, the media knew everything about me. I didn’t have even the slightest bit of privacy, and that was hard for people to understand.

  None of that mattered at that moment, though. It was just Dean and me as I opened my hotel room door, and we slid inside. At that moment, our agents didn’t matter, our careers, the media. None of it mattered at all because there was just the two of us.

  I reached for the ponytail that was holding my hair and pulled it out, so my long brown hair flowed down around my shoulders. Dean’s eyes were intently watching me. Slowly, I slipped my sweatshirt off and exposed my bare breasts to him with a shy smile.

  “I was in a hurry.” I shrugged.

  “You must have really wanted to get somewhere,” he said as his hands moved up my body and pulled me close to him.

  “I did. I was having a date with this really amazing guy.”

  “Must be a good guy if you forgot your undergarments.”

  “Yeah, he seems to be.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Dean whispered as his head moved toward one of my breasts and he pulled my nipple into his mouth.

  I moaned out in pleasure at the touch of his wet mouth on my skin. His warm hands pressed me toward him and then grabbed my hands and thrust them up over my head. He held my hands there with one hand as his other hand pulled on my pants to slip them down to the ground. I was his, one hundred percent his. I wanted to feel every touch he had to give me. I was there to feel the pleasure he could give me and was going to give him so much pleasure he wouldn’t want to leave my room ever.

  As he moved his hands to pull on my panties, I took the opportunity to rid him of his shirt. My fingers moved quickly to unbutton the soft fabric. Then I got to feel the hard muscles of his chest as my hands pressed against him. It was everything I had dreamed about. His body was perfection, and before I knew what was going on, he grabbed me and pulled me toward him in a kiss. Our bodies were wrapped together with me naked and him close to naked as we walked slowly toward my bedroom.

  I desperately grabbed at the button on his pants, but I couldn’t get a good grip as we walked and kissed. Instead, he reached for his own button and pressed his pants to the ground exposing his naked body to me.

  I reached for him and let his throbbing body linger between my fingertips as our lips continued to play with each other. Dean was in charge, though; everything about this man made me want to let him be in charge too.

  When he pressed me toward the bed, I fell willingly to the cushioned fabric and looked up at him with desire as his eyes penetrated me. I wasn’t the wild and crazy girl I liked to pretend I was; at that moment, I was just Angelina Kent, a girl who really wanted to make love to this man.

  I swallowed hard as his eyes burned down my body, past my breasts, toward my middle. He looked like he could stare at me all night long, and I would have let him if that was what he wanted. Luckily, his body didn’t want to just look; he wanted to feel me just as badly as I wanted to feel him.

  I closed my eyes and took in the soft touch of his lips as they pressed against my ankle and then moved up the inner area of my thigh. He moaned sweetly with each kiss like he couldn’t get enough of me. I liked that. I liked everything about being there with Dean. He was there with me, not the reality star version of me; Dean was there with the real me, and I felt like I saw him as the real Dean.

  I longed to feel his lips on my center, but he teased me and skipped right over my middle as he kissed up the rest of my body and then steadied himself over the top of me.

  �
��Should we post a selfie now?” he teased as he raised one eyebrow.

  “Definitely not. How would you even take the picture? Your hands are busy holding you up.” I laughed.

  Dean quickly plopped his naked body on top of mine and proceeded to take a pretend selfie. I couldn’t stop laughing. It was ridiculous how much the public wanted to know about our personal lives, and I knew that if I posted a selfie in bed with Dean, it would be just part of the norm for my life, and that was sad.

  “Maybe you should hold the camera?” he teased as he handed me the make believe camera.

  I pushed him off of me and onto the bed and quickly straddled him as I held onto our pretend camera. I held my hands up to my eye and focused on Dean as he lay looking up at me. He had the biggest smile on his face.

  “Mr. Morrison, can we get a photo?” I said in my best paparazzi jargon.

  “Of course. I love letting complete strangers into my personal life. Would you like to film me making love to my girlfriend too?” he joked.

  The only thing I heard was that he had just called me his girlfriend. It was authentic, and I could tell it came from a good place; normally, I would have freaked out at any guy saying such a thing. But in this circumstance, with this man, I just threw my pretend camera away and leaned down and kissed Dean.

  The passion between us was intense, and we made love for hours and hours, finally falling asleep in each other’s arms around two in the morning. I would have loved to stay up all night long with him, but I was exhausted, and as I curled up in his arms, I slept better that night than I had in the eight months prior.

  My alarm started to blare on my phone at six the next morning; luckily, I had it set on there because I had totally forgotten to set a wake-up call with the hotel. Dean didn’t stir at all as I slipped out of bed and into the shower. I was tired, yet filled with energy all at the same time.

  The vibrant emotions I felt around Dean gave me something to look forward to. I couldn’t wait to get done with work for the day and sit and talk with Dean again. I wanted to know everything about him and wanted him to know about me. I wasn’t thinking about what the public wanted or how my relationship would be perceived, all I was thinking about was how Dean made me feel.

  When I was around Dean, I felt like a normal person again. No longer was I this robot reality star who was always thinking about the angel that was best for my brand. I was just me around him. It was a relief and something I felt excited about exploring more and more. Plus, it was an added bonus that both Dean and I had a contract with Instamatch.

  We could occasionally post something about our dates, and we would both be making money from the deal. It seemed like a win-win situation for me. I was pretty sure my agent was going to be excited about the picture Dean and I had posted the night before also. Nothing could get in our way now; we might even end up being the next big power couple.

  Power couples ruled Hollywood, and I’d be more than happy to set up such an arrangement with Dean.

  “I’ll call you later,” I whispered as I kissed Dean before heading out to my shoot for the day.

  “I’ve got a show tonight; come to the theater when you’re done?”

  “Sure,” I said as I kissed him one last time and then headed out for my day.

  I was on cloud nine as I stopped at the corner coffee shop and grabbed my drink and something to eat before heading out to the shoot. But as I looked at the tabloid paper, my heart sank, and then crumbled into a million pieces.

  ‘Hollywood Legend Dean Morrison is Slumming with Reality Star Angelina Kent,’ the headline read.

  It was just a headline; I had read hundreds of bad ones in my lifetime, but it still hurt.

  Chapter 9

  Dean

  “Hollywood legend Dean Morrison is slumming with reality star Angelina Kent,” Bella said as she read the latest tabloid headline to me over the phone.

  “Ouch, why do they hate her so much? I thought they loved her?”

  “It’s about selling papers, not about love or hate. They love to hate her because it helps them make money.”

  “I should call her.” I winced as I thought about Angelina getting hurt feelings when she saw the story.

  It was great that I had met Angelina through the app, but I didn’t want what we had going between us to turn into a circus. It was fun until the media turned on you and made a relationship more difficult than they already were.

  “She’s the queen of reality television; I’m sure she understands none of it is real. But yes, you should give her a call and talk about it. I also think you should lay low with the social media posts with her in for a bit.”

  “Oh, now you don’t want me to post?”

  “Instamatch wanted you to sell the idea of online dating. I think it’s great that the two of you happened to meet, but I can see the public might think the relationship is contrived. There is a delicate balance to supporting a company through social media and just becoming their whore.”

  “You think that the public is going to say we are just dating for publicity?” I asked in total shock.

  “Yeah, I think they might.”

  “I can’t win with this damn public. I didn’t want to post anything at all; Angelina was the one who wanted to post. Well, I wanted to get ahead of the paparazzi and take the fizzle out of their pictures, but I’m fine with not giving any more publicity to Instamatch.”

  “She wanted to post?” Bella asked and then sat silent.

  “Yeah, we were in the car. But it was my idea first. Don’t try twisting this all around, Bella. I thought you liked her?”

  “She has really been trying to become a legitimate Hollywood celebrity. It wouldn’t be shocking if she attached herself to you in the hopes of getting a career boost.”

  “I’m done with this conversation, Bella,” I said and then hung up the phone.

  Angelina was certainly not using me to get famous; she was already more famous than I was, and it really pissed me off that my own agent would say such a thing. I saw the emotion in Angelina’s eyes and felt it in her touch; she wasn’t pretending. What was going on between the two of us was real. I’d felt what it was like when women pretend, and that wasn’t at all what it was like with Angelina.

  I wasn’t ready for the kind of scrutiny our little social media post was putting on me. In a matter of days, I had gone from a relatively quiet life of a Broadway actor to now having to worry if my new female friend was using me. I had to worry how everyone perceived our relationship, and I had to worry about what hashtags I was using, and when I was going to give out details about my social life. This was all a lot harder to manage than I had expected it would be.

  As much as I loved making movies, I hated the dirty side of Hollywood and fame. It seemed to be getting worse and worse each year. Angelina and I had met innocently enough over a dating app. It was a cute story and a genuine one, but I could already see what Bella was saying and how people were going to try and twist things around.

  When I arrived at the theater, it was clear that the news was out. The back entrance was swarming with media, and there were two security guards standing behind a set of metal gates to keep the media from pushing too close to the door. Typically, the security guards didn’t have to come out until after the show when all the fans wanted autographs from the actors.

  I smiled as I walked up to the entrance, and one of the guards noticed me and smiled back. He opened the gates and let me in near the back door while the other guard held off the paparazzi

  “Is it true that you and Angelina are thinking of starting a family?” one of the paparazzi yelled.

  “How do you feel about Angelina’s mother and the things she’s saying about you?” another yelled.

  “Did Angelina consult you before starting her new film here in New York?” a third yelled out.

  It was funny how predictable the paparazzi could be. They basically would say anything they could think of to try and get you to react so they could get th
at on photo or film. Truth didn’t matter to these people, only selling their tabloid magazines. The problem was, some mainstream organizations got hold of these stories and ran them sometimes; that was what I truly hated. Because a mainstream organization should actually check the facts of their stories before running them, and it was happening less and less in the celebrity business.

  “So, things are going well with you?” Cat said as she greeted me at the back door.

  “I bet Dale is really excited.” I laughed.

  “Oh, yeah, he has been on the phone with merchandise people all morning trying to get additional items that can be sold by the gift shop for all the people who can’t get tickets to the show. I think he’s also looking to get an extension on the end date for a few more months. Basically, you’ve made him the happiest Broadway director ever.”

  “An extension,” I groaned. “No offense, but I was looking forward to a vacation.”

  “Me too, but we can negotiate some seriously big contracts if an extension happens.” Cat smiled.

  I knew an extension in our show was ideal for her. Cat was a Broadway actress, and this might turn out to be her big hit show, but I just didn’t want to do the show any longer. All I wanted was to get booked for a decent film again and relax. I might mess with directing a film myself in the future, but I certainly didn’t want to be on Broadway much longer.

  “Those paparazzi were brutal this morning; I need to call Angelina and check in real quick. I’ll catch up with you later,” I said as I made an excuse to get away from her.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said when Angelina answered her phone right away.

  “I know silly, that’s why I answered.”

  “Sorry about the press. I’m sure they will turn on me next.” I laughed. “They have never really liked me all that much.”

  “Oh, no worries. I know how horrible they are. How’s your day going?”

  Angelina seemed very upbeat and not at all sad by the press from the day. It was a huge relief for me. It had really been bothering me to read what they were saying about her. Not once had I thought she was using me; it wasn’t at all the kind of woman she was. I already knew that.