by RH Tucker
“Then what do you need help with?”
I start laughing again, waving my hands at myself. “What do you mean? Look who you’re talking to! Vodka and Red Bull or Jell-O shots are about as far as I’ve gone in recent memory to being on a date. I don’t want that with her. Well, no, I do want that, but not yet. I …” My shoulders slump. “I want this to be real.”
Reaching over, she puts a hand on my knee, forcing me to look at her. “Then you don’t need help, Maddox. You just need to be you. The real you.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Be the guy you are when it’s just us. When you’re playing video games with Derrik, or when we go home and visit Mom and Dad. And if you think of a clever line you’d normally say to some girl at a show, push it away. Don’t be the King of Bad. Be Maddox.”
Adam: Yo! I just got in town. Where you at?
I stare at Adam’s text message while I’m on my way to meet Cece. He’s been out of town with his reshoots on his latest movie, and this entire time I haven’t told him about the date. I’ve been freaking out enough about it, and I know he’d make me more nervous. Texting back, I tell him I’m out tonight and don’t wait up. I might as well play it like I usually would. At least, until after this thing with Cece.
Talking with Jade helped a little, but I’m still nervous. I took Jade’s words to heart, and though I didn’t dress in the suit I told Cece I would if it meant she’d go out with me, I am dressed up more conservative than usual. Boots with dark wash jeans, without holes or rips in them. I wasn’t sure what shirt to wear, so I went out and bought some button-up black shirts. And I styled my hair. Nothing crazy, it looks more bedhead than anything else, but … yeah. I haven’t styled my hair in I don’t know how long.
Cece wanted to meet up at Armando’s, a posh Mexican food restaurant. When I walk in, soft music that sounds like a mariachi band is playing in the background. Low hanging lights brighten the place enough to give the guests light around their table, but keep it dim so everyone has their own private space. The walls are brick laid, which you might think would be a turnoff to some of the upper-class patrons, but the contrast of the elegant tables and lights matches the walls, giving the place a refined balance.
The hostess eyes me, and though she looks like she wants to mention who I am, or react, I already see two singers across the room I know are celebrities. This place is known for its customer base to be the rich and famous. As such, waiters and hosts aren’t supposed to act all starstruck.
“How many?” the hostess asks, but I see Cece sitting at a table, inspecting her phone.
“That’s all right. I see her,” I tell the hostess, giving her a smile.
Approaching the table, Cece looks up from her phone and her eyes widen, along with a smile. Taking a seat in front of her, I suddenly feel nervous.
“Look at you.” Her eyes roam over my chest and shoulders, then come back up to meet my gaze. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Thank you very much. You look incredible.”
She does. A light blue blouse that hangs off of her shoulders, revealing her tanned skin. Her brown hair is brushed off to the side, slight curls hanging over her left shoulder. And like the meeting, her lipstick isn’t overly bright, but a soft pink that keeps drawing my eyes.
“Can I get you something to drink?” a waiter asks, walking over to us.
“I’ll just take a glass of water for now,” I reply.
He nods and leaves. When I look back at Cece, she has a suspicious smirk on her face. “The King of Bad not drinking? Stop the presses.”
I laugh, shrugging. “You’re not on a date with the King of Bad,” I tell her. It earns me a curious look from her. “I’m just Maddox.”
“Interesting,” she replies, still holding her smirk in place. “Well, then, Maddox. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a musician,” I answer with a chuckle, playing along. “How about you?”
“I run a high-end nightclub in Malibu called Luxe. Ever hear of it?”
“Yeah, I think I have. I’ve heard good things about their management team.”
My comment gets another giggle out of her, and before I know it, we order, and our conversation evolves as the night goes on. I talk about forming the band with my sister and the guys, our tours, and everything that comes with our life. She tells me about being the stuck-up brat everyone assumed she was, being a wild teenager, and finally realizing that she wanted to be taken seriously by her father.
I tell her a little more about Jade and me growing up, which is a bit unnerving. Other than Derrik and EJ, no one gets this much private information out of me about my family. But I want to be real with her, and my nerves die off while I speak. She listens and tells me about her brother, who she loves, and helps out more than her parents since they’re busy with their own careers.
“He seems like a good kid,” I add once she tells me about the good grades he gets.
Her eyes brighten as she grins. “He’s the best.”
“Maybe I can take him up on his offer and play Fortnite sometime with him. And you.”
She lets out a laugh, wiping her lips with her napkin after just taking a bite of her enchilada. “This has been … eye opening.”
“What?”
“You, that’s what. This entire night I’ve been waiting for the King of Bad to make his return. To jump out at me, hitting me with a line so lame I’d be tempted to throw my drink in your face. And here you are, telling me about the nights you protected your sister from boneheads at concerts. Then, you offer to play video games with my little brother. Who is this Maddox?”
She has a point. I’ve given not only her but the world no reason to believe I’m anything other than a party boy rock star. A guy who wants nothing but a good time with any girl I can find and the nearest bottle of alcohol.
However, that’s not the real Maddox. That’s not to say I don’t love that guy, because I do. I love having a good time, slamming my drumsticks, or making the walls rumble with the bass from my speakers. But that’s only a small part of who I really am. I blast the King of Bad’s volume to one hundred, while the real Maddox stays in the background. Not because I don’t want people to know the real me, but because I value the ones who do. The family and friends that know the real me are who matter the most, everyone else can get the King.
“This is the real Maddox, Cece,” I tell her. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but it is. And I don’t offer this guy to just anyone.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “The real Maddox talks in third person?”
I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “On occasion. But seriously, the King of Bad is just a role. A role I’m good at and love, I’ll give you that, but a role, nonetheless. I’d like to go out again. Show you I’m more than just a twenty-four-seven partying rock star.”
“Why should I say yes, Maddox?” she asks. It’s not a challenge, though. It’s an honest question. “Why should I believe that this isn’t you simply trying to get what you can’t have?”
Jade’s words return. Remembering to not be the rock star, but to be me. And then I remember why I told her I liked Cece. That’s as real as I can get.
“Because you don’t put up with my crap. Because you go toe-to-toe with me verbally, and as crazy as it seems, I like that. Because you’re amazing, incredibly gorgeous, and you shot me down time and time again when I was the rock star. But when I’m real, you’re real. I like that. You might not believe this, but … I like you. I want you to know the real Maddox.”
For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes stay locked on mine, and I feel like I bared my soul to her only for her to shut down. Then, my confidence is truly shot when she pulls out her phone. “It’s getting late. I should be getting back home.” All I can do is swallow and nod. I shot my shot. I guess that’s the best I can do. “Walk me to my car?”
“Sure.”
After paying the bill, we leave the restaurant and head to t
he small parking lot out front. She takes out her keys and hits the fob button, unlocking the doors on her pearl white Lexus coupe. Before entering, she turns around.
“I don’t know what this is, Maddox,” she tells me. I’ve already resolved myself to knowing this date is a one and done. I told her the truth, and she didn’t believe it. “I don’t know if this really is the real Maddox, but I’d like to find out.”
My brows lift in surprise. “Really?”
She gives me a brief nod, a piece of her hair falling forward. Tucking it behind her ear, she replies, “Really. I’ll see you this weekend at Luxe, and we’ll figure something out.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Smiling, our gazes stay on one another, and I think we’re going to kiss. If I was my usual King self, I’d lean in knowing she wants to make out. But I don’t know if she wants to and I don’t want to be a King around her. She moves slightly toward me, but as quickly as she does, she steps back and opens her car door. Taking a seat inside, I hold the door for her and then close it, without trying to lean down to her to force anything. Then I offer a simple wave, and she smiles back, starting the car and driving away.
14
Cece
I can’t keep the smile from my lips while I drive home. It shouldn’t be there. I should be on guard or trying to figure out what Maddox is playing at, but I’m not. I’m grinning because that was an actual date I just had with Maddox Barkley, and he was unlike everything I’ve ever known about him since meeting him.
I was expecting him to strut into the restaurant, his hat probably on backward, in the same torn jeans and sleeveless shirt I’ve grown accustomed to him being in. Then I assumed he’d try to lay line after line on me, hoping one of them finally got me to act all gaga over him like he’s probably used to. Sure, he seemed sincere asking me out, but growing up around people with money, I’ve seen that before. They act nice one day, only to hopefully get what they want the next.
So, imagine my surprise when he showed up dressed in regular clothes instead of a rock star outfit. Not only that, but holding a genuine conversation with me. All while paying attention to everything I said. And he never even tried to hit on me. No prodding to leave early and head back to his place or telling me I should be thankful that he made time for me. Oh yeah, I’ve seen people act like that after getting so high on their own power and fame they think that anyone spending even a minute around them should be grateful.
But Maddox was, for lack of a better term, a complete gentleman. Not a glimpse of the King of Bad anywhere to be seen.
“Hello, Miss Mavin,” Esme calls out to me.
I put my clutch down on the counter, entering the ample sitting area that sits opposite of our kitchen in our large, top-story home above one of my father’s hotels. “Hi, Mama Esme.”
Esme has been our live-in housekeeper for as long as I can remember. She’s so much more than a typical maid or caretaker around our home, though. I think I started calling her Mama Esme when I was five because she’s been there for me as much, if not more, than my actual parents. A slender French lady in her fifties, there are some slight crow’s feet around her eyes. She’s always dressed in her neatly pressed dark gray or black pants—dark gray today—along with her matching top. They almost resemble nursing scrubs but are a little more fashionable.
I’ve only seen her with her black hair down a few times that I can recall. The rest of the time, she keeps it tightly braided and hanging down her back.
“Your papa called to say he’ll be coming in this weekend,” she tells me in her accent. You can still hear that she’s French, but it’s subdued over the years. “Your mama will be back next week. How are you tonight? Is everything good?”
“Yes, it’s …” I scroll to Stephanie’s number, about to text her about my night, when the smile returns. “Everything’s fine.”
“What is that look?” she asks. “Oh, did you and your papa’s chosen go out? He seems nice.”
I let out an unbelieving chuckle, shaking my head. She knows about the whole setup my father’s trying to instill between my family and the Thornhursts, but I find it humors she calls him my father’s chosen. I guess he is. “No, I did not go out with Winston. I actually went out with this boy who plays at Luxe. It was … good.”
“Why do you hesitate?”
Laughing, I lift my shoulders. “I guess because I was expecting a catastrophe. I thought he’d be an arrogant jerk, but he wasn’t.”
“Tsk, tsk.” She smacks her lips at me, shaking a finger. “Ma minette, no more trouble. Do you hear me? You’ve been good for a long time now. Your club is doing well, yes?”
I nod, giggling at the French nickname she calls me still: little kitty. When I asked her once what she was calling me, she told me I was her little kitten. She said it was because I was too curious and always getting in trouble. She wasn’t far off back then.
“Yeah, Luxe has been great this month. And no, no more trouble. I promise, Mama Esme.”
Reaching over, she gives my hand a warm squeeze, then turns around. “I’m going to sleep. Mr. Sebastian is still awake, but he acts like he’s asleep. I hear him, though. He’s playing video games. Maybe you can get him to go to sleep. He has class tomorrow.”
“Okay, I will. Good night.”
“Bonne suit, Miss Mavin.”
Heading up to the second floor, I pass my door and quietly turn the handle to Sebastian’s. It’s dark except for a soft glow coming from under his sheets, which are teepeed up because he’s sitting under them.
Tiptoeing into his room, I approach the bed and grab one end of the sheet.
“Boo!” I call out, yanking the sheet off of him.
“Ah!” he screams, his eyes wide. He instantly morphs from fear to anger. “Don’t do that!”
“Then you should go to sleep when Mama Esme tells you to.” Taking a seat next to him, I reach for his Nintendo Switch and flip it over. “What are you playing?”
“Fortnite. I’m doing amazing right now.”
“You have school tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine,” he argues, reaching back for his game. Looking at the screen, it shows that his character has died. “You killed me.”
Giggling, I take it back from him and turn it off, setting it on the small nightstand next to his bed. “Because it’s time to sleep.” I tap his pillow, urging him to lie down. “Come on.”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
He pulls his blankets over him, and I smile at the mini-me, as Stephanie calls him. We have the same brown hair and light brown eyes. The shape of our face takes more after our mother than our father, enhancing the likeness even more.
“Did you do your reading homework?” I ask him. He nods. “Good job, Sebs. You’re much smarter than I was at your age.”
“Duh!” He starts giggling.
“Watch it there, buddy. Unless you want me to show up in your class tomorrow and let all your friends know I wiped the floor with you in Fortnite.”
“You wish.”
We both laugh, and I lean over, kissing his forehead. “Good night, Sebs.”
“G’night, Cece.”
Leaving the room, I pause for just a moment to make sure he doesn’t go back to playing video games. It’s been like this for a while now. Ever since he was old enough for my mom to go back to work. I don’t mind it, though. I love the relationship I have with him, doing the things my parents can’t since they’re providing this life for us to live. I remember being his age and feeling alone sometimes. Esme is fantastic, but I missed my parents. I wondered why they were always so busy, flying to different countries, meeting with different people, while I was stuck at home.
Being older now, I can see all of the work they’ve done, and everything we have is because of that drive and determination from both my mother and father. I appreciate it, but when I saw the same thing happening with Sebastian, I knew I didn’t want him feeling like he was alone. He misses my parents when they’re not here, bu
t I like to think I make up for it by making sure I attend school functions for him or help him with projects for his class. I want him to know he has someone at home who’ll always be there for him.
Once I’m in my room, I kick off my shoes and sit back on my bed. Pulling my phone out, I send a text message to Stephanie.
Me: U up?
She immediately calls my phone. “Girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call. I thought I wouldn’t hear from you all night. How was it?”
Her response earns a hearty laugh out of me. “It was …” I look around my room, and the off-white-painted walls. “Honestly, it was real.”
“Real? What does that mean?”
“He wasn’t Maddox. I mean, he was, but he wasn’t. He showed up, we talked and laughed, and … he was real. I don’t know how else to explain it. I was expecting an over-the-top rock star, and I got an appropriately dressed guy interested in talking to me.”
“We are talking about Maddox Barkley, right?”
I giggle again. “I know it’s crazy. And … I told him we could go out again.”
“When? Where?”
“I don’t know. I said we’d figure it out this weekend when I see him.”
“That’s it, I’m not leaving your side the entire weekend. I need to see this new Maddox you speak of.”
15
Maddox
From the second floor, Cece stands next to her friend, looking down. I’ve glanced up a couple of times, and I think I saw a smirk once. Ever since the date a couple of nights ago, I feel … weird.
No, weird might be the wrong word to use. Peculiar? Curious? I have no idea, but I like it. Which is all the stranger. I didn’t mind dressing up nicer to meet with her, I liked talking to her, and for the past couple of days, I’ve been trying to think how I can do everything in my power to not mess this up.
Like I said, weird.
I don’t get like this with girls. I haven’t lived up to my nickname for the past couple of years by merely partying and ignoring the girls I come across. The parties and girls go together like peanut butter and jelly. Coffee and cream. Salt and pepper. And I couldn’t care about either of those things anymore.
