by Rowe, Lauren
I purse my lips for a beat. “I can live with that.”
“Fabulous. So can I. What did you make me for dinner when you came to my place?”
I flash her a flirtatious smile. “Do you like seafood?”
“I love it.”
“Then I made you my specialty. My grandma’s recipe for cioppino.”
“Oooh. That’s sounds fancy. What’s that?”
“Italian fish stew in a spicy tomato broth. Growing up, my grandma made it for me on my birthday every year. It was a big deal because money was tight and the ingredients are expensive.”
“Is your grandma Italian?”
I nod. “Her parents came here from Sicily.”
Her eyes darken with heat. “I should have known you’ve got Italian blood in you. Italian men are always the most gorgeous—and passionate.”
My body jolts with arousal at her sexual tone. “My family’s name in Italy was Salvaggio, but my great-grandparents changed it to Savage after coming here to sound more American.”
“Ha! This whole time I thought Savage was a stage name.”
I wink. “Nope. I was born Savage, baby.”
She giggles.
“So, it’s settled,” I say. “I made you my specialty. And the look on your face while you ate it was so hot, I didn’t let you finish your meal. Midway through, I pulled you out of your chair, laid your back on the table, and ate your pussy like I’d been dying to do since the tour.” I smile wickedly. “I ate your sweet pussy, greedily, like it was a goddamned bowl of cioppino.”
A long, involuntary exhale escapes her. “Okay. I can get behind that.”
“After that,” I say, “I dragged you off the table, bent you over it, and fucked you from behind while fingering your clit, until you came so hard, you squirted all over my cock and balls.”
Her chest heaves. “Whoa. That sounds . . . good.”
I’m on the cusp of leaning in and kissing her, but before I do, a commotion on the other side of the patio draws our attention. A big group has entered Reed’s patio—this season’s cast of Sing Your Heart Out: our fellow judges, Aloha and legendary rocker, Jon Stapleton. Kendrick and another mentor, the one assigned to Jon. And last but not least, there’s the drummer of 22 Goats, Colin Beretta. The guy who hates me for having a short fling with his ex when they were on a break. Damn. When I saw Dax and Fish here, and not Colin, I thought I’d magically dodged a bullet tonight and wouldn’t have to feel the discomfort of Colin shooting me death glares. I guess not. Is Colin here to party with his two bandmates . . . or is he a cast member?
“Look, it’s Colin!” Laila chirps, getting up excitedly. “I wonder if he’s here to hang out, or if he’s a mentor this season.” She gasps. “If he’s a mentor, I wonder if he’s assigned to Aloha . . . or me?”
I bristle at the hopeful way she says me. But I shrug and say nothing.
“Come on, Savage!” she says brightly. “Let’s go say hi to everyone.” She squeals. “This is gonna be so much fun!” And off she goes, traipsing across Reed’s patio like a happy gazelle.
“Fuck,” I mutter, shuffling behind her, suddenly consumed by a sense of dread.
Laila swore on Sylvia that she and Colin have never hooked up, right before swearing the same about me. And I can’t help thinking, If she lied about me in that interview, did she lie about Colin, too? Which then leads logically to my very next thought: Did the clever producers of Sing Your Heart Out hire Colin to be Laila’s mentor this season, specifically hoping his presence would stir up a little trouble in paradise for the happy couple? My gut tells me the answer to that one is almost certainly going to be . . . yes.
Twenty-Seven
Savage
The promo shoot is done. We got a whole bunch of stuff—video spots and still photos—with the four judges and each of their assigned mentors. Also, with each judge/mentor pair. As it turns out, my hunch about Colin was spot-on. He’s Laila’s mentor this season, fuck my life, while Fish is Aloha’s. And now, we’re back out on Reed’s patio, having a legit party with the entire cast and their dates, some producers and crew, and some of Reed’s friends. We’re all letting it rip in recognition that tomorrow the grind will officially begin. Kicking off with tomorrow’s press conference, followed the next day, on Monday, by our first official day of shooting.
At present, I’m sitting on one end of the patio with Kendrick, who’s been talking me off the ledge about Laila and Colin, while Laila is sitting in a group by a large fire feature on the other end of the patio—a group that naturally includes Colin, since he’s close friends with all Laila’s closest friends. And I’m slowly losing my mind.
“Did you see the way Colin flirted with Laila during the entire photo shoot?” I say to Kendrick. It’s a running theme. I’ve been obsessing about Laila’s chemistry with Colin for the past hour. Ever since they looked at each other during their judge/mentor photo shoot like they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off.
“He wasn’t flirting with her,” Kendrick says, his annoyance with me plainly escalating. “He and Laila did what the photographer asked him to do. The guy said, ‘Smile at each other.’ And that’s what they did. It was the same thing we did in our photo shoot. Were you flirting with me, big boy?” He walks his fingertips up my arm, like a cartoon character would do when flirting, making me laugh, despite my foul mood.
I wink at him flirtatiously. “Maybe a little bit.”
Kendrick chuckles and drops his flirty flingers.
“Seriously, KC. I’m not imagining this. They have insane amounts of chemistry.”
“So what? All that proves is he’s not blind and neither is she. You’ve seen his underwear campaign, right? He’s a good looking dude.”
I take a sip of my drink. “That’s my point. He’s a good-looking dude and she mentioned him on Sylvia, right before mentioning me. So, I can’t help thinking this must be a set-up. Did the show hire Colin to set the stage for a love triangle plot twist midway through the season? Are they gonna pay him a little bonus if he breaks up the happy couple? Because I’m not doing that shit, Kendrick. Laila’s supposed to be my faithful girlfriend who’s totally in love with me. I’m not gonna look like the fool who turned down that Instagrammer, so she could drool over Colin Beretta on national TV.”
“Calm down, Tiger. She’s not gonna do that to you.”
“She’s already doing it to me, right this very second! Not to mention, she did it to me, repeatedly, during the tour!”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Laila didn’t do anything to you during the tour. Malik was her boyfriend during the tour, Savage. You weren’t. Have you forgotten what a prick you were to her?”
I exhale and guzzle my drink. He’s right, of course. But I can’t help the way I feel, even if it’s irrational. Throughout the tour, I felt the same way I do right now. Jealous. Like Malik, and then Charlie, were horning in on my woman. I realize I acted like a prick to her, unfortunately, but only because . . . I’m a flaming idiot. Why’d I do that again? Shit. I run my hand through my hair. “I can’t keep watching her do this to me, Kendrick. Every time I turn around, I’ve got to compete for her attention. It’s driving me fucking insane.”
“You’re your own worst enemy. Get out of your own way, man. Stop lashing out and chill.”
I take another sip of my drink. “The thing I’m worried about is Colin setting his sights on Laila, not because he genuinely likes her, but to get back at me for having that fling with his ex.”
Kendrick pulls a face that says, Quite possibly. But what he says is, “Laila’s not stupid. And she’s totally into you.”
“First off, Laila is stupid—she dated Malik Wallace for how long? Also, she’s emphatically not into me. She thinks I’m Satan’s spawn.”
“Yeah, and lucky you, her celebrity crush is Satan.”
I can’t help chuckling at that, despite how tightly wound I’m feeling in this moment.
Kendrick says, “Whatever you do tonight, do not l
et Laila know you’re jealous of Colin. Trust me on that, Savage. You let her know she’s got that power over you, then she’ll use it against you.”
“I’m not stupid,” I say.
“Oh, yes, you are.”
“Yeah, but not that kind of stupid.”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
“Hey, boys,” a woman says. And when we look up, it’s that British pop star, Penelope something, who’s going to be Jon’s mentor this season. She holds up an unlit cigarette and smiles flirtatiously at me. “A little birdie told me you might have a light?”
“Sorry, no,” I reply. “My girlfriend hates cigarettes, so I quit.”
Kendrick looks at me funny, probably thinking, I saw you smoking like a chimney last night at my brother’s birthday party.
I add, “I quit tonight, actually. For Laila.”
Penelope flashes a snarky look. “She’s your girlfriend, eh?”
“Mm-hmm. Yep.”
Penelope snickers, leans forward, and whispers, “The cameras aren’t rolling yet, love. That same little birdie told me your ‘relationship’ is starting tomorrow.” With a wink, she throws her unlit cigarette into a nearby bush. “I don’t smoke, anyway. I was looking for a reason to come over here.” She giggles, but I don’t join her. She’s blocking my view of Laila and Colin, which is causing me distress. If Colin is hitting on Laila, and I can’t see it and sprint over there to stop it, I’ll make this British chick rue the day.
Penelope makes a few more attempts at small talk, mostly directed at me, as I crane my neck to spy on Laila. Finally, Kendrick throws himself on his sword and enters into a full-blown conversation with her. Which is Kendrick for you, in a nutshell. The guy’s the best friend in the world.
Gratefully, I get up, muttering something about the bathroom, and then start walking toward Laila and Colin, who’ve drifted away from the group and are talking one-on-one. But on my way to my destination, I get stopped by Aloha, who’s tickled pink by today’s unexpected events. She’s with her husband, Zander, a cool dude I’ve met a couple times. We chat for a moment while my gaze continually drifts over Zander’s extremely broad shoulder at Laila and Colin. But when I notice Laila’s body language seems particularly flirty, particularly animated, I disengage from my conversation and barrel over to my fake girlfriend.
When I get close enough to overhear Laila and Colin’s conversation, Laila is in the middle of saying, “No, I swear! Savage told her he had to ‘lay low.’ He didn’t say Laila. But the producers ran with it. It’s all about ratings, baby.”
“Hilarious,” Colin says.
“Laila,” I bark out, lurching forward and invading their personal space. “I need to speak with you, my love. Right now.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is very, very wrong.” I pull her up, avoiding Colin’s glare, and yank her across the patio and into Reed’s house, down a hallway, and through a random door, which empties into a laundry room.
“What the hell?” Laila blurts, as I whirl around from shutting the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, my heart racing.
“What? When?”
“Your conversation with Colin!” I shout. “I heard every word, Laila.”
She wrinkles her forehead, apparently not understanding. “Every word about what?”
“You told him the truth about our ‘relationship’!”
“So?”
“You’re not supposed to tell anyone! It’s top secret!”
She’s flabbergasted. “But Colin’s my mentor. He’s part of the show! We agreed on the way over here we could tell anyone from the show, remember?”
“No, that’s not at all what we agreed. Not anyone. We agreed I could tell Kendrick because he’s my best friend and is also on the show. And you could tell Aloha for the same reason. We didn’t decide we could run around telling every single person in the entire cast and crew!”
“But Colin is my friend and assigned mentor. I trust him. Besides, he signed a contract today that surely contained a confidentiality—”
“We’re not telling anyone but Kendrick and Aloha!” I shout, sounding like a maniac, even to myself. “That’s what we agreed. As far as Colin or anyone else needs to know, we’re an actual couple, Laila. You’re my girlfriend. You’re in love with me. Head over heels and totally addicted.” Suddenly, I stop short, as the upside of what Laila said to Colin suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. “Wait. You admit I didn’t say Laila to that Instagrammer? You’ve been fucking with me this whole time, pretending you believed I said your name?”
“No. Of course not. I’m one hundred percent positive you said my name to her. I just told Colin your stupid fake story because he was needling me about the whole thing and I wanted to be nice and save you from embarrassment.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true.”
“Well, if it’s true, which I don’t believe, then you didn’t do it to be nice to me. You did it because you want Colin to think you’re available.”
“Absolutely not.”
I throw up my hands. “You can’t do that, Laila! I just got finished telling that Penelope chick you’re my girlfriend! And that’s how I expect you to play this, too—to remain in character at all times, with everyone, including Colin.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I sure as hell do. I paid two million bucks to get to decide that and anything else having to do with this ridiculous arrangement.”
Uh oh. She’s no longer amused. She’s downright pissed now. “And ‘anything else’?” she parrots. “What am I—a mail order bride? A blowup doll?” She scoffs. “News flash, Savage. You paid two million bucks to save your own ass. Not to purchase me.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Yeah, I do,” she says. “And that’s the problem. Regardless, even if I were going to agree that you’re my lord and master and omnipotent in all ways, we still can’t put the genie back in the bottle regarding Colin. He knows we’re not really a couple, and that’s that, unless you want me to run out there and scream, ‘Just kidding! I’m actually desperately in love with Savage!’”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Go on now, baby. Chop chop.”
She rolls her eyes.
“At a bare minimum,” I say, “I demand you to stop flirting your ass off with Colin.”
She gasps. “I wasn’t flirting with Colin!”
“Well, he was sure as hell flirting with you.”
“We’re friends.”
“Have you ever fucked him?”
“No, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Kissed him?”
She shakes her head. “We’re friends.”
I narrow my eyes. “Friends don’t smile at each other like that, Laila. And they don’t lean in like that.” I scoff. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know what I saw.”
“You’re insane.”
“Not everyone here is associated with the show. The photographer is still here. Same with the caterer. And what about Reed’s friends and housekeeper? What’s to keep any of them from hearing the news about our ‘relationship’ at tomorrow’s press conference and then realizing, ‘Huh. That’s weird. I saw Laila flirting with some other guy all night long. Hey, I think I got some video of her flirting with him in the background. Why don’t I post that now on Twitter!’”
“You belong in an insane asylum.”
“No, I’d be insane if I didn’t learn from my past experiences. I’m once bitten, twice shy.” I take a few steps to my right, lean against the washing machine, and sigh. “You’ve never experienced my level of fame before, Laila. I’m not saying that to be a jerk. I’m trying to explain you can never be too careful. You never know who might leap at the chance to get their fifteen minutes, on your back. I’m saying we can’t take any chances. I don’t want this job to get fucked up, because you forgot this isn’t actually a romcom we’re starring in together, it�
��s a spy thriller.”
Well, she can’t help grinning at that, no matter how annoyed she’s felt up to this point. Her shoulders visibly soften. Her eyes sparkle. “I understand. I’ll be much more careful, going forward.”
“Thank you.”
“And don’t worry. If Colin seemed to be flirting with me a tiny bit, I promise it was harmless. He and his girlfriend recently broke up, and this is the first time we’ve both been single at the same time, so I think—”
I throw up my hands again. “You’re not single, Laila!”
She jolts at my sudden shift in tone.
I can’t help myself. I shout, “You’re in a relationship with me. What have we been talking about this whole time? Jesus Christ, Laila!” When she looks at me like I’m crazy again, I see myself through her eyes and realize I might really and truly be devolving into madness. Quickly, I add, “That’s what you need to be thinking. That’s what I mean. Like you said in the car, we need to stay in character. Like, you know, method actors.”
“When we’re in front of the cameras.”
“No, at all times, or nobody will buy our performance. Haven’t you heard about method actors who won’t let anyone call them by their real name on-set? Ever seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, we gotta watch that one together. Sean Penn played this stoner surfer dude. And he stayed in character throughout the entire shoot of the movie, both on and off camera. Wouldn’t let anyone call him by his real name. Only the character’s name—Spicoli. Because that’s the kind of commitment it takes to make a performance truly believable.”
She pauses for a very long moment. “Which actor is Sean Penn? What else has he been in?”
“Sean Penn’s illustrious career doesn’t matter! All I’m saying is that from this point on, unless you’re sure we’re alone, behind closed doors, and nobody else is around, then we need to agree we’re always going to remain in character.”
She twists her mouth adorably, no longer looking pissed. But she says nothing.
