by RH Tucker
“No, those are benefits.” His reply, though something he’d say as his rock star self, still elicits a smile from me.
“Fine,” I grumble.
After he gets his credit card back, we head to the exit. He and Winston fall behind as we make our way toward the valet area. “What do you think?” I whisper to Stephanie, glancing back to see Maddox talking to Winston.
“About what?”
“Maddox?” I ask. “I want to believe him. He’s saying all the right things, but do you think he’s being sincere?”
She laughs, waving me off. “Cece, if I didn’t know you two were barely on a second date in there, I would’ve thought you two had been dating for months. I don’t think you can fake however he’s acting.” I smile at her response. It’s what I’ve wanted to believe, but still a little afraid to do so. “Me, on the other hand—”
“Would you stop with that. You’re not even giving him a chance.”
“A chance? First of all, he was set up for you, not me. Secondly, we have nothing in common.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t even tried talking to him.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Arguing over reality shows is not trying to talk. Winston’s a little serious, but so what, Steph? I really think if you gave him a chance—”
“Shh!” She quiets me as Winston and Maddox walk up behind us. Maddox grins at him, and Winston nods, which confuses me.
“Hey, so Adam just sent me a text message. There’s a party going down in West Hollywood, want to go?” Maddox asks.
Stephanie’s eyes widen with excitement. “Totally.”
“I would, but my mom just got back in town. I told her I wouldn’t be out too late, and catch her up on everything that Sebastian’s been working on in school.”
“Oh, come on,” Stephanie pleads.
“I can’t. She’s leaving tomorrow morning. Plus, I want to catch up with her myself.”
“I’ll go,” Winston chimes in.
“You guys go,” I tell them. Stephanie eyes Winston carefully, and I think she’s going to protest when Maddox speaks up.
“It’s supposed to be bangin’,” he says. “Plus, I think a few other celebrities are going to be there.” He looks over at Winston, smirking, then glances at Stephanie. “You two should ride together. You came with Cece, right?”
Steph pinches her lips together. “Yeah.”
The valet hurries back, and Winston’s titanium-colored BMW M2 drives up. Winston lifts his shoulders, which was his go-to move for the night, but his apprehensive and defensive expression I got used to seeing on him at the table is gone. Instead, he glances at Maddox, then heads toward his car door. “Text me the address, Maddox.” Sitting in the car, he glances back at Stephanie, rolling down the passenger window. “You want to go or not?”
Her suspicious mien stays in place, and her eyes shoot over to me. I shrug because it’s the only thing I can think of to do. Winston’s indifference is definitely a shift from earlier tonight.
“Sure,” she finally responds and walks over, getting into his car.
For a moment, a surprised expression falls over Winston’s face, and he looks back at Maddox. I glance over and see Maddox wink, letting out a low clicking sound of approval. My head snaps back to Winston as he glances at Stephanie, then looks ahead and the car pulls away.
“Okay, what in the world was that?”
Maddox chuckles. “I just gave him some advice.”
“Oh, I see. King advice?”
“Guy advice.”
“Here you go, Ms. Mavin,” the valet says, getting out of my Lexus LS.
“Thank you,” I tell him before turning back to Maddox. “You think it’ll help? Steph seems determined to belittle him.”
“You never know for certain, but I gave him some pointers. Most importantly, confidence. EJ used to have a problem with that.”
“I see. Yeah, you certainly don’t lack that.”
“Glad you think so, because I was almost losing it before finally getting you to go out with me.” He wraps his arms around me, and I almost melt against him. “You make me question everything sometimes.”
A small giggle slips out. “You are good with those lines.”
“It’s not a line,” he replies. “Lines don’t work on you, remember? It’s the truth.”
“Let me clear up any questions you might have, then.”
Laying my arms over his shoulders, I pull him closer and do what I wanted to earlier: kiss him. His arms tighten around me, and I feel like there’s no one around us. No valets running for cars, or the faint sound of traffic in the background. I don’t even feel the small drift of night air. His lips press against mine, his hands hold my face, and that’s all there is. Only us.
Finally breaking away, he keeps his forehead pressed against mine. “I may need you to kiss me like that all the time,” I whisper.
“That I can promise. Just don’t get upset if that’s all I want to do.”
“No more clubs or parties?” I joke, giggling.
“Not if they don’t include you.”
17
Maddox
Cece takes off, and after my Chevy Tahoe gets brought around, I jump in, feeling amazing. The last thing I want to do is go home, but I do. Why? Because the other option would be going to the party I told everyone about, but what’s the point? Cece isn’t going to be there, so I don’t know what I’d be doing. I am entirely uninterested in checking out other girls, getting their numbers, or anything else that I’ve been doing for the last few years.
If you would’ve told me a couple of months ago that’d be my mindset today, I would’ve told you you’re crazy. That I’m Maddox freakin’ Barkley and I have no time for a serious relationship. Then again, a couple of months ago, I didn’t know Cece, and my entire world didn’t get flipped upside down with these feelings I’m having now.
It’s crazy.
Pulling into our parking garage, I expect to see Adam’s parking spot empty since he told me about the party, but his Porsche is parked in its place. Still slightly surprised at my frame of mind, I stare at his car and nod to myself. I need to tell him. We’ve been one another’s wingman for a while now, and I don’t mind doing that for him, but I have to tell him I don’t need one anymore.
Another chuckle escapes me. I can’t believe I even think that, but I do.
Getting up to our penthouse, I walk through the doorway, dropping my keys into a small bowl we have on an end table. The entryway opens into our wide-open living area, where our large flat-screen TV is on, and some guy is on the couch. From where he’s sitting, I can see he has blond hair that’s a little shaggy.
His head snaps around, and he stares at me with slight trepidation. “Oh, hey. You a friend of Adam’s?”
He goes to speak, opening his mouth, but no words come out. Walking out from the kitchen, Adam has his phone in his hand. “I guess we ran out, Jules. I’ll just order some take-out or something.”
For a second, Adam doesn’t see me. Then he does, and his eyes jump back and forth between the guy on the couch and me.
“Jules?” I ask, not understanding why he’s calling him the name of the girl he’s been seeing for months now. Then it hits me, and my gaze jumps back to him. “Hold up, you’re Jules?”
He gets to his feet, rubbing his fingers together nervously, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks over at Adam, whose brain seems to be running a mile a minute. He goes to say something but shuts his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he stares at the ground for a moment before meeting my eyes again with a somber look. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to that party?”
A flabbergasted chuckle escapes me. “I didn’t want to go. Um …” Now I’m struggling to try to find the words.
It’s not that I’m shocked to discover that Adam’s gay. I typically don’t give things like that a second thought. But for months now, I’ve heard tidbits about Jules, and I’ve always assumed that it wa
s a female’s name. So, to see a guy about my height, fit build with broad shoulders, standing in front of me who apparently Adam’s been secretly seeing … Yeah, it’s a little shocking.
Adam hurries over to him, and they exchange whispers. I feel like I should leave them alone for a minute, but my feet are still stuck to the ground, trying to figure out what’s happening. Adam nods, and Jules walks over to me.
“Hey, I’m Julian.”
A smirk crosses my lips, easing from the introduction. “Julian. Jules,” I chuckle again.
“I’ll see you later. Nice meeting you,” he says, and walks toward the door.
“Oh, sorry. You don’t have to leave. I can take off or hang out in my room, or … whatever.” The confusion is starting to fade, and now I feel uncomfortable. I feel like I ruined a date or something.
“No, it’s okay,” Adam says, then nods to him. “I’ll call you later.”
I hear the door open and close. Adam folds his arms, staring down at the beige carpet in the apartment. “Dude, seriously, he didn’t have to leave. It’s cool, Adam. It just would’ve been cooler if you had trusted to tell me, that’s all.”
I say it with a smirk, and a light laugh floats out, but he’s all business. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Maddox. I don’t trust anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
Letting out a low sigh, he turns and heads to the couch, taking a seat. He leans over his knees, fidgeting with his fingers. If confusion was circling the room before, a new heaviness wraps around us.
“You can’t say anything, Maddox,” he tells me but doesn’t make eye contact. Instead, he stares down at his feet.
I walk over to the couch, grabbing the remote to turn off the television and take a seat next to him. “Adam, it’s all good, bro. You know I won’t—”
“I’m serious.” His eyes finally find mine. As much as we’ve hung out, he’s always come off as calm, cool, and collect. A Hollywood hotshot that loves to party and have fun. It’s what connected us in the beginning. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him as grave as he looks now unless it was in one of his dramatic roles for a movie. “No one can know.”
“Dude, people are cool. It’s not like it was when—”
“You don’t get it!” he snaps. “It’ll ruin my career. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but it does. My manager tells me all the time. If it ever got out, my career could be over.” I don’t know how to respond, so all I can do is nod. “Years ago, I was going to come out. This was right when my career started taking off, and I was getting bigger roles on TV. My manager told me it’s better to stay in the closet. Producers and directors, the people who run this industry, if they didn’t like it, my career would’ve been over. So … no one can know.”
“Damn.”
I’ve never given it much thought like he has. Maybe it was because I didn’t care who was with who, or perhaps it’s the privilege of never having to deal with the weight of people being offended who I’m spending my time with. But I meant what I said, it changes absolutely nothing between us.
“Okay, man. You don’t have to worry about it. I won’t say anything.” A new thought hits me, and I lean back on the couch. “That must suck for him. Who is he, anyway?”
He lets out what seems like a sigh of relief. “I told you Jules was an actor, and he is. We met while filming my last movie. He’s …” Finally, all the tension and apprehension seem to leave him, and he cracks a small smile. “He’s amazing. He’s out and gets annoyed with me sometimes. We’ve gotten in a couple arguments over it, but he’s still here.”
His grin grows wider, and I quirk an eyebrow. “Hold on a minute,” I say, chuckling. “Is someone crushing over there?”
He laughs, lifting his shoulders. “Yeah. Actually, I’m a little more than crushing. I …” He eyes me, nervously biting his lip. “I think I’m in love with him.”
“Get the hell out of here!” I shout, pushing him over. “Dude, that’s amazing!”
He looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me, laughing along. “What?”
“This is crazy. I was actually gonna tell you that I don’t need you as a wingman anymore.”
“Whoa, what? Why? Are you serious? Who are you—” His words cut off, and a sneaky smirk crosses his lips. He shakes a finger at me. “Ohhh, you and Baby Mavin? I seriously did not see that coming.”
“You and me both. Wait, how does Julian feel? Have you told him?”
His joyful demeanor evaporates a touch, and he crosses his arms. “No. How can I when I still can’t go public with it?”
“Do you really think it’ll hurt your career? Adam, you’re one of the top stars out there right now.”
He lifts his shoulders, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know. My manager’s been telling me for years to keep quiet about it. He’s sure if studio heads find out I’ll barely be able to find work as a background actor, much less a leading man.”
I release a long breath of my own, commiserating and trying to put myself in his shoes, but I don’t know how. I guess if our manager told me I had to act a certain way, or only be seen out in public with certain people, I’d put up a fight. Our manager is my uncle, but even then, I might tell him to go to hell. But what if everyone else depended on it? What if there were no Kings, no music, and everything I’ve ever gotten in life through living my dream was taken away because of one thing? Then how would I act?
“Sorry,” I tell him again, unable to decide if I’d do anything other than what he’s forced to do. “That sucks, man.”
“Yeah,” he grumbles.
“Hey, but at least you don’t have to worry about it while you’re home now.” I grin, hoping to lighten the mood.
He eyes me suspiciously. “You’re seriously okay with it?”
“Of course I am. You’re my boy!” I start laughing. “Well, okay, I guess technically you’re not my boy anymore since you’ve got your own boy now.”
“Shut up.” He chuckles.
“But you know what I mean. You’re one of my best friends, Adam. It’s all good.”
“Thanks, man. And I guess congratulations are in order for you. Mr. King of Bad has finally found a girl who has him whipped.”
“Whoa, watch it there, buddy. She may be my boss, but she ain’t got me whipped.” He quirks a skeptical eyebrow. “Damn it, fine,” I acquiesce. “That girl … I don’t know what it is. She’s amazing, and the more I get close to her, the more I want to stay close to her.”
“Wow, you do got it bad.”
“Says the guy who’s always going to ‘hang out’ with ‘Jules.’” I make air quotes.
“Touché.”
18
Cece
The public likes to think of the Veritas Gala as something as prestigious and beneficial as events like the Met Gala, but it’s not. There’s no money raised to benefit any institutes or causes. There is a silent auction where bids venture into the millions, but the money doesn’t go to anything altruistic. The auctioned-off items are properties and locations for future sites. Everyone gets dressed up to attend the event in their most formal tuxedoes and gowns, and the media pays attention because of the attendees, but this isn’t an event held out of the kindness of celebrities. The gala is a corporate social event where CEOs, studio heads, and the most well-known stars in the celebrity world gather, trying to show how important they are.
Of course, I’m here because my father insisted—as he does every year—I attend and rub elbows with the higher-ups of different companies.
Despite all of my prior indifferences with this thing, it is an immaculate setting. The tuxedoes, though as expensive as they look, are typical with pressed white shirts, black bow ties, and shiny black shoes. The gowns some of the women are wearing are absolutely breathtaking. Long, flowing tails, sparkling with gold crystals or rose glitter, reflecting the spotlights that circle around us.
The main area focused on is an immense ballroom, where a soft melody floats throu
gh the air, but no band is present. I think it’s violins, but it’s so low, I can’t tell. They keep the volume down so everyone can talk, no doubt probably trying to get their deals agreed upon. I’m wearing a strapless, fuchsia dress that shimmers in the light. Going down to my calves, it’s not as elegant as some of the other dresses I’ve seen tonight, but still formal enough that I look like I belong in this setting.
After speaking to a board member of Johnson and Lewis about a possible location, I turn around, searching for my father, when I see someone who looks absolutely out of place. Maddox, along with the rest of his band.
Seeing me, he gives me a playful nod and smirk. Derrik and EJ stand next to him, both in proper and formal black and white tuxedoes. His sister stands next to him, in a beautiful, long, silver dress. Compared to them, and everyone else, Maddox is dressed down, though still formal, in a navy blue suit, with a light gray button-down, without a tie.
Walking over to me, he eyes me up and down and smiles in approval.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when he gets close enough.
“Our record label asked us to attend this thing a few weeks back. We said no at first, but Peter said it was a big deal and would make the execs happy to see their biggest act show up to …” A chuckle floats out, and he scans the glowing yellow lights and the hanging chandeliers attached to the pristine room. “Whatever this is.”
“What? You’ve never been to a corporate billionaire party, where they celebrate how rich they are and compare who has the biggest bankrolls? Not to mention, announcing how many more properties they’re forecasted to open in the next sixteen months.”
A line forms over his brow, and he looks around, confused. “Is that what this is? Peter said it’s a gala event.”
“Yeah, pretty much. You just called it by the politically correct term.”
He lifts his shoulders, then puts his hands at my waist. “Huh. Well, at least it has you.”
I lean against him, and as he inches toward my lips, I catch sight of my father standing behind him. His eyes are watching us with a suspicious glare. It’s enough that I pull back from Maddox, earning an eyebrow raise. “Everything okay?”
