The Jameson Brothers Bundle

by M. Robinson

  I kissed her, softly pecking her lips, taking my time with each stroke of my tongue as it tangled with hers.

  I tasted her tears.

  And she tasted mine.

  Once I opened my eyes, I saw every goddamn sentiment I felt through her gaze. She was allowing me to see her again, her walls were down, her flag was up.

  She surrendered.

  To me.

  To us.

  “I’m sorry, Noah… please know that. Please know that I never meant to hurt you.” More tears slid down her tortured face, and I kissed those away as well. “I wish I could be the girl you want me to be… the one I am when I’m with you, but I can’t.”

  We locked eyes.

  “I thought she died with my mom in that river. And for years, I searched for that girl in there, but I never found her. You did... instead.”

  I jerked back, never expecting her to share that with me. Learning right then and there that Skyler Bell was my beginning… And now the time had come for our end. I just didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that this was our ending. Or the fact that she hadn’t been…

  A virgin.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  SKYLER

  “Happy twenty-second birthday, Skyler Bell!” my friend and fellow actress Melania exclaimed, blowing into her obnoxious party horn. Standing out in front of me, provocatively dancing to the beat blasting from the speakers. Springing up like she had just jumped out of a damn cake. Shaking her ass, singing, “Happy birthday to you,” in a seductive voice.

  I laughed, smiling as she continued her performance. Peering around her, taking in the suite full of people who were there only for me.

  “Motherfucking Vegas, baby!” Eli shouted, kissing the side of my face. Taking a seat beside me on the couch, he pulled me into his side and kissed my forehead. Letting his lips linger for a second.

  Eli was my on-again/off-again… whatever for the last few years. Someone I had fun with. Case in point, it was why he was in Vegas with me tonight.

  Leaning forward, I grabbed the rolled-up hundred-dollar bill off the coffee table and brought it up to my nose. Snorting a line of cocaine up each nostril. Instantly jerking my head back, sniffing harder. Handing the bill over to Melania next, while I wiped away the residue with my index finger. The last thing I needed was the press snapping a photo of me with white powder on the tip of my nose.

  Oh, the scandal.

  I giggled at the thought, immediately feeling the drug drip flow down the back of my throat. Just another thing to add to the endless list of bad choices I’d made since leaving Southport. Since leaving… him.

  The second it hit my bloodstream, I was alive and thriving. My heart rate accelerated, my face felt numb, and I was ready for a good fucking time, celebrating my twenty-second birthday at the hottest nightclub on the strip. Getting paid a shitload of money to party at their club with my entourage of celebrity friends. I couldn’t ask for a better birthday.

  Spending it with my fans meant everything to me.

  “Baby, you should see your eyes right now. They’re so fucking stunning,” Eli rasped against my lips, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the couch to stand in front of him. Gripping onto my ass. “You look hot as fuck. You’re not even wearing a bra or panties, are you, you dirty little girl?”

  I cheekily smirked, “The sacrifices I make in the name of fashion.”

  “Fashion?” He started rubbing his goatee against the side of my neck, making me giggle. I tried breaking free, but he made it nearly impossible. Squeezing my ass harder, locking me firmly in place against his chest. His cock jutted to break free from his slacks, digging into my core. Causing my stomach to flutter and my pussy to throb.

  Cocaine and sex always went hand-in-hand.

  “You’re wearing a jeweled piece of fabric that leaves very little to the imagination, Skyler Bell. I’d hardly call that fashion, more like a fucking cock tease.”

  “Tell that to Valentino then,” I chuckled as he continued his shenanigans. “Eli, stop! You’re going to ruin my makeup! And my glam squad already went down to the club!”

  Biting the tender flesh at my neckline, he grinned up at me with mischievous dilated eyes. “Then you should have worn a different dress.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Melania chimed in. “Are you guys going to do this all night?”

  “Yes!”

  “No!” we answered at the same time. “Eli, stop! Please!”

  “Baby, I love it when you beg.”

  “You’re relentless!”

  He bit me again. “Only when it comes to you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I jerked my head back. “What about every other model that’s been seen on your arm in the last month while I’ve been overseas finishing up my album, huh?”

  I’d spent the last few weeks in Europe, working alongside renowned composer Xander Brideau. Finishing up the last song on my debut album releasing next week. It was a dream come true to not only work with some of the biggest names in the music industry, but also have the chance to release an album on my own as a solo artist. Contrary to the movie soundtracks I was featured on in the past.

  It had been years in the making. I spent hours upon hours in the studio, coming up with sounds, lyrics, vocals. Narrowing down the complete vibe I was aiming for. Recording each song over and over again, until it was absolutely perfect and felt just right. There was nothing that compared to the feeling of putting on a pair of headphones, stepping up to the mic in the sound booth, and belting out every word that came from my heart and soul. Purging my feelings in an almost therapeutic way. Most of the songs on the album were personal to me, in one way or another. From life, to growing up, to falling in love, to heartbreak. Writing became an outlet for me from…

  Everything.

  It was how I survived over the last four years, specifically the last two and a half. The way I coped after leaving a huge part of me behind. Music saved my soul after I destroyed it. I even titled my album Safe Haven for the refuge it provided, in place of the guy I hadn’t seen or talked to in a very long time.

  Noah Jameson.

  With every year that passed, the more I thought about him. Particularly on our birthday. Turning into the second hardest day of the year for me, the first being the day my mom died. The third was every day after that.

  Daily, I resisted the urge to call Noah. Though on our birthdays, the desire to hear his voice and know how he was doing intensified tenfold. Knowing in my heart and gut, down to the depths of my being, there was no future left for us. I lost any chance of reconciliation with him the day I chose a different path in life. The wrong one.

  Without him.

  Eli murmured in my ear, making me jump out of skin. Bringing me back to the now, “They don’t count, because you’re my favorite,” tugging me away from the ghosts of my past.

  “I’m not a model.”

  “You should be. Especially in this fucking dress.”

  I laughed again, I couldn’t help it. He was adorable.

  Eli and I met randomly at a Vanity Fair party about two years ago in Paris. I was standing by the bar, talking with some friends, when a man in his late twenties strutted up to me all James Bond like, cocky as hell. Signaling to the bartender for a straight bourbon, eye-fucking the shit out of me.

  My breathing picked up when he suddenly stepped toward me, closing the gap between us. Using the back of his fingers to brush the hair away from my face as he took a sip of his drink. Before he seamlessly leaned forward, holding my hair behind my ear and whispered, “Would you like to come?” His intoxicating bourbon scent mixed with his musky cologne, lingered in the air.

  Making me lock eyes with the first man that held my attention since Noah. Who no matter what, would always hold me captive. I was stuck in the past, with him.

  With us.

  “Where?” I’d breathed out, trying to stay in the moment with Eli.

  He grinned, slowly licking his lips and simply stated, “In my mouth.”

 
; I had to give him props for originality. He made me laugh, and it was what I needed. Although, he wasn’t the man I wanted, it still felt good to laugh, to smile, to feel lust in place of the pain. I knew it wouldn’t last, but for the time being, it had been a distraction from the lonely world I’d created. Eli and I had a mutual understanding—no strings attached, no jealousy, no bullshit drama, and to only have fun together.

  It worked.

  We worked.

  However, the press loved making us out to be something we weren’t. It probably didn’t help that anytime we were seen together, we appeared to be Hollywood’s It couple. All the tabloid magazines claimed we already were.

  “Eternal playboy and self-made millionaire Eli Ward, was seen vacationing with Hollywood’s highest paid actress, Skyler Bell. Has she finally tamed the infamous player?”

  “Is Hollywood’s It Girl, Skyler Bell, just another notch on notorious bachelor, Eli Ward’s belt? He can’t seem to keep his hands to himself when she isn’t around.”

  “Will Forbes most eligible bachelor, Eli Ward, ever settle down with Hollywood’s shining star, Skyler Bell?”

  Our relationship status was always the first question the paparazzi harassed and hounded me about. Reporters, on the other hand, didn’t breach the subject due to my management team screening their questions prior to accepting interviews. I kept my life as private as I could, given the fact I was an A-list celebrity and soon to be double platinum artist. At least that’s what Keith kept telling me.

  “You ready, birthday girl?”

  “For what?”

  “To sit on my face.”

  “Eli!” I slapped his arm.

  He laughed, “Alright later, yeah?”

  I froze from that one word alone. Dragging me back to another place and time, where I was in the arms of the boy who stole my heart and never gave it back.

  Not that I wanted it back either.

  It was his.

  I was his.

  “Eli, let me go.” I abruptly pushed off his chest, unable to breathe again.

  “Skyler—”

  “I mean it, let me go!”

  He did, grabbing my face instead. “Hey… hey… hey… what just happened?”

  Tearing my face out of his grasp, I grabbed the hundred-dollar bill off the coffee table and sat on the couch again. Snorting two more lines of blow up each nostril. Immediately finding the air I needed to breathe.

  “Promise me… please, baby… that no matter what happens or who comes along. You’ll always remember that you’re mine, yeah?”

  I did another line, and then another.

  “Whoa, birthday girl.” Eli snatched the money out of my hand. “I’m all for having a good fucking time, but that shits barely cut, Sky. Take it easy. You still have to walk the red carpet and deal with the press. You’re the belle of the ball tonight, babe. Pace yourself, yeah?”

  “Stop saying that! Where did you even hear that?”

  “Hear what, baby?” He genuinely looked confused, and I immediately felt bad, but he’d never used the word yeah before.

  How was I supposed to know it would trigger something inside of me to respond this way?

  “Never mind.” I shook it off. “I’m just overwhelmed. You ready to go?”

  He crouched down in front of me, setting his hands on my bare thighs. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Sky.”

  “No drama, remember? I’m fine.”

  “For the last two years I’ve known you, your birthday always seems to be a hard day for you. Did something happen? You can talk to me. We’re still friends, baby. I care about you. You know that, right?”

  I nodded.

  But did I?

  That was the thing about this industry, what fucked with your mind more than anything else. I never truly knew who wanted to be seen with me because of what I could offer, with notoriety, with money, with fame.

  Everything in life came with a price.

  And I found out what mine was two and a half years ago…

  “Come on, we’re good.” I stood, pulling him up with me. The cocaine finally doing its job, numbing my emotions exactly how it always did. “Who’s ready to fucking party?!” I shouted to the room full of people.

  They screamed in response.

  I winked at Eli and grabbed his hand. Not giving him a chance to continue searching for answers to questions I didn’t want to discuss.

  By the time we arrived, the entry line was around the building. Along with swarms of people standing out in the street in front of the club, waiting for my arrival. A two-block radius stacked with fans behind barricades, chanting my name as I walked up to the entrance with my arsenal of bodyguards surrounding us. There were people in every direction I turned, waving to all of them around me. Showing my appreciation to each and every one of them for coming out tonight.

  Before someone on my team could stop me, I hurried toward the fans who were behind the waist-high gates. Signing autographs and taking pictures with as many fans as I could in a short amount of time.

  “Come on, Skyler,” my publicist Lisa coaxed, grabbing my arm.

  I hated when my management team did this, pulling me away from my fans when they were the only reason each of them had a job to begin with.

  “I’m sorry! Thank you so much for being here! I love you all so much!” I hollered, blowing kisses to the crowd.

  “Sky, you can’t keep running off like that. It’s not safe for you or your guards,” she chastised, shifting my attention over to her. “How many times has Keith told you to stop doing that? You’re putting everyone’s life at risk, especially yours.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Keith isn’t here. Relax.”

  She shook her head, sighing in defeat. Quickly leading me toward the press junkets as the paparazzi unceasingly snapped photo after photo of me. Making it extremely hard to see with all the blinding, flashing lights coming from all directions. It was almost impossible to hear anything with the jumbled voices of photogs and fans, yelling over each other to get my attention.

  “Skyler, are you and Eli back on?!”

  “Skyler, Eli was cheating on you while you were in Europe! How do you feel about that?”

  “Skyler! How does it feel to be twenty-two?!”

  “Skyler, you look amazing! You ready for your album to drop?!”

  “Skyler! Eli is using you! Can we get an exclusive?!”

  I smiled, regardless of the persistent badgering from the paparazzi that I was used to by now. Everywhere and anywhere I went, they followed. Shopping, eating, the movies, the gym… it was endless and the fuckers had no boundaries. Everything was fair game to them, including causing car accidents just to get close to me when I was driving. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without it being turned into some headline news. They were borderline stalkers, with no laws in L.A. to stop them or protect us from them.

  So, I just put on my happy face and waved to the crazed sons of bitches like a good girl, playing the role of Skyler Bell. Besides, if I showed my true colors and told them to mind their own fucking business like I always wanted to, they would just get the reaction they feen for. Like the bloodhounds they were. Selling the footage and pictures of my outburst to tabloids, media gossip sites, and so on. I’d end up making them thousands and thousands of dollars for the “money shot” of my meltdown.

  “Alright, the only reporters you’ll be answering questions for—” Lisa interjected, reading off the agenda in her hands “—are Access Hollywood, Entertainment Tonight, E News, the Insider, and Extra.”

  I nodded, and walked the red carpet. Stopping for more photos, more questions…

  More.

  More.

  More.

  Nothing was ever enough.

  “How does it feel to be at the height of your career?” An E News reporter asked at my last interview of the night.

  “I feel beyond blessed to be living out my dreams. I’m a very lucky girl.”

  “You’re so young and you’
ve accomplished so much already. What’s next after your world tour for the album?”

  “I actually have some scripts I’m reading over right now so I can jump back into film.”

  “Your tour is scheduled for over twelve months and you’ve been working nonstop for years now. You won’t be taking a break? Some down time for yourself maybe?”

  “No break for now.” I smiled. “But it’s better for me this way. I’m at my best when I’m with my fans. They’re my home.”

  The female reporter beamed. “You’re so lovely, Skyler Bell. Don’t ever change. It’s why you’re Hollywood’s shining star.”

  “Awe, thank you so much. I love what I do, it doesn’t feel like work to me. It’s what I was born to do.”

  “Can you give us some insight on your personal life? Your family stays behind closed doors. Any reason for that?”

  “My dad’s just a good ol’ southern boy at heart. I see him often, but he doesn’t attend events with me. He watches them if they air on television though,” I lied, playing it off. It was easier that way.

  The truth was I saw my father less now than ever. Phone calls were few and far between, and forget about emails, they were non-existent. I sent him money every month to help him get by without so much as a thank you. Sometimes the checks were cashed, other times they weren’t.

  It didn’t matter how many plane tickets I’d send him on a whim, for birthdays, holidays, award shows, anything and everything. They’d never get used, and I hadn’t flown back to my home since the last time I witnessed firsthand the consequences for my actions.

  He wasn’t even in the audience when I won my first Academy Award or my Golden Globe. On the rare occasions we did talk on the phone, it was mostly short, one-sided conversations. But at least I had peace of mind and could say I was checking up on him, not the other way around.

  As the years gathered, collecting one by one, so did my resentment for him. Growing more and more each day. Every time I needed him and he wasn’t there for me, and I wasn’t just talking about the monumental moments.