by L. D. Davis
I wanted to open it alone. I had no idea what to expect in the package, but I had a feeling it would be something very personal.
“What did he get you?” I asked, looking steadily at the box.
She fell silent, and I sensed the change in her. I looked up, but Emmy was looking down at the bedspread.
“What?” I asked. Did he not give her anything?
“A bracelet,” she said quietly. “But I lost it while I was fucked up one night. It’s gone.”
I frowned too and reached over to rub her arm. There was nothing I could say. I couldn’t tell her it was okay because really it wasn’t. She had fucked up and losing the bracelet her brother had given her was only one of the consequences.
“Open your present,” she said, trying to rally. “I’m thinking you got the same as me.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
I pulled at one end of the ribbon until it unraveled and fell away from the box. Carefully I peeled away the wrapping paper. I was going to save every bit of it and the ribbon too. When the paper was gone, I held a velvet black box in my hands.
“For the love of all that’s good in this world,” Emmy sighed in exasperation. “Can you just open it already?”
“My gift, my speed,” I said curtly.
“Slow speed,” she muttered.
“Says the girl who gave me the gift months later!”
“Open the damn box, Donya!”
I scowled at her but flipped the box open anyway. Immediately my scowl disappeared. My mouth fell open, and my eyes widened once again.
“Oh, it’s…gorgeous,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Emmy said sadly. “Mine was similar.”
Lying on the satin lining inside the box was a charm bracelet made of white gold. There were two charms already linked to it, and I touched them gingerly. I fought really hard to not show Emmy how deeply affected I was.
“My charms were an E and a little girl with ‘sister’ printed across her dress,” she said quietly. I glanced up at her and knew that she was struggling not to cry.
“Maybe we’ll find it someday, Em,” I said, though I seriously doubted it.
“Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly,” she snorted and shook her head. “Don’t mind me. Let me put your bracelet on you.”
I allowed her to take the bracelet from the box, and I extended my right arm. Emmy carefully put the bracelet on my wrist and smiled, but she looked at the jewelry with obvious confusion.
“I don’t get it,” she said, fingering the charms.
I shrugged like I didn’t know either, but I did know, and the knowledge made my heart both joyful and sorrowful at the same time. I had the strong urge to run into Emmet’s room and cocoon myself in his bed or his closet of clothes and wrap myself in his scent.
When I went in there earlier and found a single Hershey Kiss on his bureau, I knew it was left there for me. I felt it deep inside. Emmet had not only found my jars but taken them with him. There was a chance he had since trashed them, but maybe not.
I smiled at the charms on my wrist and lied to Emmy once again. “I have no idea what they mean.”
“Oh, who cares,” she said. “It’s a nice bracelet.”
“Yes, it is,” I said.
The white gold Hershey Kiss and diamond heart glittered in the light of the room, and for the first time in months, my heart sighed.
Chapter Nineteen
Felix Hunter was the man of the hour. He was young, sexy, talented, and a bit of a bad boy. He even looked like a bad boy with his wild, dark hair, deep gray eyes, and his crooked smile that drove women across the world wild with desire. Felix often found himself in situations that made him look like the bad boy too: caught in bed with the wife of a senator, bar fights, and driving recklessly on his Harley or in one of his fast, fast cars.
Felix first broke onto the acting scene as a preteen, doing bit parts in various television shows before landing a major role in a teenage prime-time soap opera that ran for five seasons. Critics didn’t think Felix’s career would go much farther, that he would bounce around from one failed show to another until he eventually disappeared into obscurity, but he surprised everyone. He was cast in one of the hottest action movies of the decade and proved his kickboxing skills and his acting skills. If that wasn’t enough to quell the critics, he next starred in a blockbuster drama that won him an Academy Award. The critics shut up after that.
I, along with fifteen other girls, was chosen to be in a photo shoot with Felix for the cover of Rolling Stone. The other girls were giddy at the prospect of meeting Felix, but I was more worried about standing out amongst them. I didn’t care about getting Felix’s attention as they all had seemed desperate to do. My goal was to make sure that the photographer didn’t forget my face. I didn’t want to blend in. I needed to make an impression, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that.
The girls went into a tizzy when Felix came out for the shoot, dressed in an open button down shirt and white linen pants that hung low on his hips. He had a well-defined chest with a smattering of hair, ripped abs, and a trail of hair that disappeared into the pants that barely covered his genital area. I couldn’t deny that he was good looking, but I wasn’t going to trip over myself trying to get his attention.
He smiled tightly at the other girls and allowed himself to be positioned for the shoot. I was the only girl who hadn’t run up to him squealing like a stuck pig. I stood off to the side, listening for direction, watching everything very carefully until I was told to find my place. Felix was supposed to sit on a stool, looking relaxed and unbothered by us, his adoring, horny fans. The vision was that we were expected to reach for him, pulling at his clothing, touching his chest, his arms, and make him look like a wanted man. Most of the girls positioned themselves at his feet or beside him. The photographer insisted I stand beside him too. I did as I was told and we began.
The shoot was boring. Felix yawned boringly a few times, and the photographer was frustrated. He kicked a couple of the girls out of the shoot because, in his words, “You suck at life. Go suck somewhere else.”
I didn’t want to suck at life, and I surely didn’t want to do it anywhere else. While those girls were moping away and the rest of the girls vied for the perfect position, I decided to go against the grain. I stood directly behind Felix while lights were readjusted and the crew geared up to restart the shoot. Like the other girls, I was wearing a white tank top, hip-hugging blue jeans, and no shoes. I took a deep, fortifying breath, just as the photographer started yelling out instructions again.
“What the hell is the black girl doing behind Felix? I can’t see you, black girl!”
Moving at lightning speed, I pulled off my tank top, tossed it offset, and stepped onto the back rungs of the stool, elevating myself both above Felix and the other girls. Before Felix could look back to figure out what the hell I was doing, I wrapped one arm around his waist and positioned my hand on his hard stomach with my fingertips just touching the waistband of his pants. I dug my knees into his sides for leverage, splayed my fingers across his strong jaw and gently bit down on his ear as I stared ferociously at the photographer who, fortunately, stopped asking questions and started taking pictures.
Felix wasted no time resting his arms on my legs and following my lead with poses as the other girls continued to reach for him. There were pictures with my hands twisted in his hair, my lips on his jawline, his head turned towards me as if we were about to kiss—and then he did slip me the tongue— and pictures of my hands all over his body. When I say all over, I mean all over. No matter what the pose was, I made sure my face was seen.
At the end of the shoot, I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly embarrassed about my nakedness. I hadn’t felt any embarrassment while working; I only felt the adrenaline as I did what I felt I needed to do—and exhilaration. I wasn’t Donya, Sixteen Year Old Model Wanna-Be. I was Donya, Super Model at Work. The sounds of the camera whirring as the photographer took shot after sho
t was like music to my ears, and his exclamations about how “fucking wonderful this black girl is,” made me feel bolder and empowered. I knew my mother, Fred and Sam would probably all have coronaries together once they found out what I had done, but my life changed that day.
“Here,” Felix Hunter said, literally handing me the shirt off of his back. He grinned at me and ignored the other whiny girls as they were ushered away from the star.
I managed to ignore their glares and mutterings of “bitch” and “whore” and racist words I don’t care to repeat. When Inga glared at me, I smirked at her. She would have given her left arm to be where I was at that moment.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the shirt from Felix.
Even though I had my boobs pressed to his back for forty minutes, I wasn’t really up for giving him a full show. I turned my back and slipped the shirt on. After I had buttoned enough buttons to hide my bare breasts, I turned back around.
“What did you say your name was?” he asked, offering me his hand.
“I didn’t,” I said, and placed my hand in his. “Donya Stewart.”
“Felix Hunter,” he said proudly as he shook my hand.
“Yeah, what’re you an actor or something?” I asked innocently.
He laughed and said, “Yeah, or something.”
“Thanks for the shirt, Felix,” I said as I looked around the set for my tank. “As soon as I figure out where mine went to, I’ll return it.”
“Keep it,” he said, though I knew it wasn’t necessarily his to give. He had been dressed by a stylist moments before coming on set.
“Thanks,” I said with a small smile. “Have a good day.”
I started to walk away in the footsteps of the whiny girls that had exited the space, but the photographer stopped me. He bitched about me not following directions and then raved about my creativity. I smiled gently the entire time, listening carefully to everything he said, even if some of it sounded like nonsense. I must have behaved appropriately because he was already discussing my next gig with him.
By the time I left the room, I could barely contain my excitement. As soon as I saw my mom I grinned. I was about to tell her everything that happened, when a strong hand closed on my shoulder. I turned around, startled, and found myself face to face with Felix.
“You’re the only girl in there that wasn’t fawning over me,” he said, his cute face curled into confusion. “I put my tongue in your mouth, and you walked away from me afterward like it was nothing.”
“What do you want?” I asked, crossing my arms. “An apology or something?”
“Do you not like my work?”
“I like your work,” I shrugged.
“But you don’t like me,” he said, frowning.
“I don’t know you.”
“Huh,” he said and looked at me thoughtfully. “You may not have an opinion about me, Donya, but I think I like you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Are you?”
“Kinda,” I said with another shrug.
To my surprise he grinned. “I like you.”
He motioned to a man I didn’t immediately see and then I wondered, as the man approached, how I had missed him. He was huge. Muscles were bulging out of every part of his nice suit. Felix asked the man for paper and a pen. He reached into his suit and produced both pen and paper.
“I’m giving you my phone number,” Felix said and motioned for me to turn around. When I didn’t comply, he insisted that I turn around. I turned. Seconds later I felt pressure on my back and realized he was using my back as a writing surface.
“You call me whenever you want. This is my mobile number, so I can be reached almost anywhere.”
“I’m not going to call you,” I said, shaking my head.
“Sure, you will,” he said. “What’s your number?”
“You’re not going to call me either,” I laughed, despite myself.
“Sure, I will. Number.”
Laughing at the absurdity of Felix freaking Hunter writing down our phone numbers on my back, I told him both my hotel number and the number to the mobile phone I recently acquired.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said a minute later as he handed me his phone number. “Don’t lose that.”
“I won’t.”
Felix and his beefy bodyguard went back through the door. My mother rushed over to me, grinning as she grasped my hands.
“That was Felix Hunter!” she said excitedly.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“What did you do to impress Felix Hunter?”
I shrugged, pulled my hands from hers and started for the exit. I looked over my shoulder at my hesitant mother and said, “Took off my shirt.”
Even with my back turned, I knew her mouth had dropped to the floor.
*~*~*
An hour later, after I had dropped my tired mother off at the hotel, I decided to take my school work to a coffee shop not far from the hotel to get some work done. As I was on my way there, the mobile phone rang in my bag. I wrestled it out without stopping and answered without looking. Very few people had the number. I expected my mom or one of the Grayne’s, or even Max. I did not expect to hear Felix Hunter’s voice so soon. Honestly, I didn’t expect to hear his voice at all.
“Donya, Felix Hunter.”
“Who?” I asked, biting back a grin.
“The guy who had his tongue down your throat not that long ago.”
“Which guy?”
I held back my laughter as he groaned and said, “You’re killing me here.”
“I just saw you, Felix. Do you miss me already?”
“In fact, I do,” he said playfully. “That’s why I’m calling to see if you want to come out and play with me tonight.”
I almost stumbled over my own two feet. I stopped in the middle of the busy New York sidewalk.
“You’re asking me out?” I asked, not hiding my surprise.
“I’m pretty sure that is what I am doing.”
“What if I decline?”
“I’d insist upon it. It is the least you can do considering how you violated me today.”
My anger flashed, and I almost stomped my foot. “Violated you!” I cried indignantly. “You’re the one that shoved your tongue in my mouth.”
“Babe, you had your hands all over me. Then you put your sweet lips near mine as you manhandled me. What was I supposed to do?”
I blushed when I considered where my hands had been on his body. I had only touched Emmet’s body like that in the past, and no other. I didn’t get all heated and slick touching Felix but standing on the city street thinking about how brazen I had been sent a warm tingle crawling up my spine.
“Donya,” Felix said my name softly, sensually.
“Yes?” I managed.
“Come out with me tonight.”
I wanted to say yes, because getting seen with Felix could be an asset to my career, but as I looked at the bracelet on my wrist, my mind began to fill up with Emmet. Plus, there was the obvious issue.
“I’m only sixteen,” I blurted.
“And I’m only twenty. Do you have a point?”
It was the lifestyle I wanted, right? I wanted to be seen and to rub elbows with the big guys, and from what I rubbed on Felix, he was a big guy.
I covered my face, mortified, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Donya,” he prodded less patiently than before.
“Okay, sure,” I said quickly, releasing a long breath. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about dinner and a movie?”
“Seriously?” I questioned with suspicion. Felix Hunter couldn’t just go out like a normal guy to dinner and a movie.
“Seriously. Wear something spicy.”
“Spicy?”
“Hot,” he said the word with emphasis on the H.
“Hot?”
“Sexy.”
“Sexy,” I said resolutely. “Okay.”
“I�
�ll send a car for you at six-thirty,” he said cheerfully.
“You don’t know where I’m staying.”
“Yes, I do. I asked your agent. I have to go. See you at six-thirty. Remember, wear something spicy.”
“Hot,” I added.
“Sexy,” he added in a voice that maybe made me melt just a little bit.
*~*~*
“Does this suffice?” I asked Felix after I climbed into his limo later that evening.
His driver had just walked me out of the hotel to the waiting car. Felix didn’t get out, and I didn’t blame him. As a star, he virtually had no privacy. If he got out of the car chances were he’d be bothered by some undying fan.
“It wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said to me, gazing at me from head to toe. “But this definitely, definitely suffices.”
There were so many different directions I could have gone in to be ‘spicy’. I could have been spicy-slutty, spicy-scary, spicy-bad girl, and so on and so forth. I chose a little bit of everything and squeezed into a pair of skin-tight dark blue jeans, a red halter top that made me appear to have more boobs than I actually had, and a pair of fire engine red stilettos. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a bit of a poof up front, and while I went easy on the red lipstick, I applied a more than generous amount of eyeliner, mascara, and eyeshadow. My hazel eyes looked so awesome with the make-up, it took me a good ten minutes to stop admiring myself in the mirror.
“So, what movie will we be seeing?” I asked, crossing one leg over the other.
“First thing is first,” he said. He moved from his seat to the space immediately next to me. His arm slipped over my shoulders. “That’s better,” he said with a sigh.
I looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he ignored it.
“We are going to see the new Bruce Willis movie.”
I nodded appreciatively. “I like Bruce Willis. He’s a native of New Jersey, like me.”
“That’s all very entertaining,” Felix said dismissively. “But what I’d really like to talk about is that kiss today.”
My eyebrows shot up impossibly higher. Beads of sweat formed on the back of my neck and I shifted beside him, accidentally rubbing my thigh with his. No other guy besides Emmet ever had that effect on me before.