Fool for Love

by Mel Curtis

  He had no comeback for that.

  “I’m not asking you for a commitment. I’m focused on my career, not happily-ever-afters, remember?” Her track record with guys was pathetic. The message she wanted him to receive bore repeating. “It’s just that the next time I go to bed with someone, I’d like it to be with the expectation that it’ll last more than one night or a few weeks.”

  “You know I don’t do l-l-long term.”

  “Nice recovery.” She knew he’d stuttered over the word love. Maddy sighed, the sexual energy draining out of her as if she was a leaky, blow-up, love toy. “But I’m not sleeping with you.”

  Chapter 20

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  Just a note of warning for a woman we’ve seen with our Playboy. It’s best you stay away from him. Collateral damage and all.

  Blue didn’t want to admit Maddy’s words had struck a chord. But they had. And the chord was truthfully off-key. He only had sex without emotion. He was an ass. Just like his father.

  The part about sex without love wasn’t new information. Blue was used to the idea. The link he’d made about behaving like his dad with women slid under his defenses like bamboo shoots beneath his fingernails. Sheer torture. He’d wanted to avoid his father’s mistakes.

  He liked women. They were each so diverse that starting a relationship was like unwrapping a present at Christmas. He didn’t know what he’d find, but he knew whatever it was, it would be awesome.

  And so he allowed himself to be led by the deviants, the sweethearts, the selfish ones, because it was the discovery he enjoyed. And then, after a few weeks the novelty wore off. And probably because he was so willing to go along with whatever they wanted, to please them the way they wanted to be pleased, they started treating him like the dog he was.

  Come here. Sit. Perform the way I like it. For the rest of your life.

  And that’s when Blue turned resentful. That’s when Blue lost interest. That’s when Blue played his man-card and broke things off. He thought he’d been considerate by not telling them they didn’t own him and he resented being treated that way. Ha!

  Maddy didn’t treat him like a possession. Oh, she was bossy enough. But bossy when it came to her filming. She listened to him. She looked at him as if she saw who he was inside. She laughed when she noticed something about him other than the brand of watch he was wearing.

  Maddy saw him.

  It was simultaneously thrilling and disturbing.

  Thrilling because he wanted her, despite the complications it presented. Disturbing because he didn’t mind helping her career as long as she didn’t ruin his. It was why he’d set up the bogus pitch meeting for her tomorrow. He was paying Plump Bird Studios to green-light her pilot, but Ivan had assured him it wouldn’t go farther than pilot-production. She’d gain a valuable contact in the industry – one she could pitch another idea to at a later date. A fair trade to cover his ass.

  But to have a woman see him for who he was, not who she wanted him to be…it turned him on. And it made him think about who he was and who he wanted to be.

  Blue pulled into the driveway of his rented house, knowing that Maddy would never believe him, but sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight. He was going to dream about Maddy and every way he wanted to have her.

  What a hell of a surprise.

  “Maddy Polk. What are you doing here?”

  Dave’s superior tone grated across Maddy’s nerves. She turned from the reception desk at Plump Bird Studios to see her ex-producing partner, ex-writing partner, ex-lover, and full-time not-to-be-trusted scumbag standing inside the doorway.

  “Dave, I might ask you the same question.” She hoped to heaven that he wasn’t pitching a Blue Rule documentary.

  “I’m pitching a reality show to Ivan Usherman at three ten,” Dave preened.

  Great. She was pitching to Ivan at three.

  “What are you pitching?” The way Dave asked made her feel as if he thought anything she pitched was crap compared to what he could do. “Blue Rule? He’s a dud.”

  “This and that,” Maddy said evasively, checking to make sure the seams of her skirt were in the proper place. Blue was far from a dud. He was layer after layer of intriguing man. “What have you got?”

  “Rich Korean lesbians in Utah. Jealous?”

  “Not in the least.” Maddy took a seat and mentally reviewed her pitch outline. She’d thought she’d feel sick, but she didn’t. She felt powerful, as if she’d won all the marbles on the playground and Dave was about to run home crying to Mama. It was just the boost she needed before her presentation.

  She’d slept fitfully, regretting her clench with Blue. She was lucky she’d caught herself before they had some serious finger foreplay in the car or somebody’s lips drifted where they didn’t belong.

  After checking in with the receptionist, Dave sat next to her and guffawed, that holier than thou sound that cinched her shoulder blades. “You’re so screwed, Maddy. You can’t pitch the Avenger thing. Maybe you can pitch sewing circles at the old folks’ home.”

  “That was a good idea and you know it.” Maddy blew. “And it was the retired actors’ home. We would have had built in viewership.”

  Dave laughed again, unwittingly fanning her anger. How could she have been so blind to have let him screw her in any capacity?

  She leaned closer to her ex. “Everyone can see those pants have a built in crotch pad. You come with such empty promises.” Someone had inhabited Maddy’s brain. She never talked to people like that, even if they deserved it.

  “Ms. Polk? Mr. Usherman will see you now.”

  Maddy leapt away from Dave guiltily, making Dave chuckle, but this time it lacked his usual bluster.

  She was still fuming about Dave when she shook Ivan Usherman’s hand. Her grip practically broke his bones. So unlike her.

  “Mr. Usherman. I have ten minutes to speak to you. Let me cut to the chase.” Usually Maddy would have opened with a bit about her experience and her interest in storytelling. Today she was busting balls. “I know who the Playboy Avengers are and who they’re after. I’ve prepared a sizzle reel to show you how I envision this series playing out.”

  An hour later Maddy walked out of Plump Bird Studios with a signed contract for a pilot, a modest check to fund the production for two weeks, and Ivan’s cell phone number.

  Dave was pacing in the waiting room. She ignored his questions as she left, her mind spinning with a list of things to do.

  First off, she had to hire another cameraman. Second, rent additional equipment. Third, set up time with Blue to make sure she was in on his matchmaking. Fourth, make sure Kaya Anika showed up. That bitch was Emmy material.

  But uppermost in her mind was meeting Ivan’s tight deadline for the pilot. If she delivered a killer, edited product to him in two weeks, she’d get a bonus and be able to reclaim Poppa Bert’s albums. She’d fought for every penny with Ivan, but in the end she couldn’t hide enough in her budget to pay off her pawn shop loan and fund the production. It would be horrible to achieve her dreams, only to lose the last link she had to her grandfather.

  “I thought you were fucking Maddy Polk,” Ivan Usherman said when Blue picked up the phone. “That kid’s got talent. This thing is going to be huge. You’ll be a star. They’ll write about you in the trades. They’ll interview you on Entertainment Tonight. The paparazzi will follow your every move. Fuck, you have the golden touch, just like always. Floating in under the radar and making shit happen.”

  “Ivan?” This was not supposed to be playing out this way. Blue felt like he was being sucked under quicksand. “Ivan, I agreed to pay you five thousand dollars to help fund her pilot. I wanted it to look like an investor was interested.”

  “An investor is interested. Me. I’ll give you a half share since I gave her ten thousand dollars.”

  “What if I don’t want it to air?” It was his dad’s life all over again. Put Blue in a monkey suit and rol
l the cameras.

  “Are you nuts? Your business will double. Maybe even triple. Shit, I knew you knew women, but this is abso-fuckin-lutely fantastic. I’ve got to go. I’ve got TLC on line one, the Discovery Channel on line two, and Oprah’s network on line three. Can you believe you might be produced by Oprah Winfrey?”

  Blue hung up and banged his forehead on the desktop. He thought he’d covered all bets. If the project aired, he’d have to convincingly bluff his way through relationship coaching. His principles demanded he do it in a way that didn’t involve accepting his father’s methods. Heaven only knew what that meant.

  He had to get a grip. Just because everyone was calling now didn’t mean that anything would see air time. An option and a contract didn’t mean shit until you were scheduled.

  His cell phone rang again.

  “You will not believe what just happened to me.” Maddy’s voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “I got a contract for a pilot!”

  “Are you dancing?” There was too much energy in her voice for her not to be. Despite teetering on the edge of ruin, Blue smiled. “You’re such a nerd, Maddy.” He wished she was dancing on him.

  “What’s your plan for the matchmaking? I need film on it.”

  He could imagine them filming something else entirely, which would so not help him.

  “Blue! Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan.”

  Okay, he wouldn’t tell her. He was in so deep, why enlighten her now? “I don’t have a clue where to find men.”

  “Craigslist. Facebook. Maybe you can put up a billboard like the Avengers did.”

  This project of hers was turning into something more serious than Blue was prepared to face. He’d thought she’d film her little pilot and he’d pull in some schmucks off the Santa Monica promenade. He’d thought Dave would come through with something other than him in tights. “Let’s discuss it over dinner.”

  The energy on the other end of the phone deflated. “No dinners. No drinks. Nothing after five.” She was drawing a clear line in the sand.

  “Okay, come to the office.” By the time Maddy battled her way through traffic, Gemma would have gone for the day. Cora hadn’t shown up for work since their argument. If he could just get Maddy alone…

  “I have to work tonight.”

  “More editing?”

  “No. I’m waitressing at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  “Mystery of how you met the Avengers solved.”

  “There are no mysteries where I’m concerned. You’re the mystery man. I’ve got to go.”

  Blue knew he shouldn’t stop by the Beverly Hills Hotel later. He knew it made him look desperate. He also knew that Maddy would find it endearing. He could use a woman who found him endearing to take the edge off and in return –

  His cell phone rang again.

  It was Senge Tenzing, speaking in his annoying Yoda-like voice. “Mr. Rule. We need to meet.” Blue was about to hang up when Senge said, “I have a business proposition for you. Can you come by before five?”

  For a man, showing up at Wicked Tantric was like announcing to the world your sex life could be improved.

  It was only marginally better that Blue wasn’t dating anyone at the moment. His being seen entering – to the soundtrack of rapid-fire paparazzi clicks – was like saying, “I need to up my game.”

  It was a toss-up how Lyle Lincoln would spin Blue’s appearance. Earlier in the week he’d been positioned as an orgy god.

  Hoisting Mr. J’s carrier higher on his shoulder, Blue sucked hard on his ego and walked through the front door of Senge’s sexual healing salon. It was like entering a Chinese shrine – soft golden lighting, deep brown walls with intricate tile inlays in bright blues, greens, yellows and reds, statues depicting lovers in unusual poses.

  He paused by one particularly intricate mating, imagining Maddy’s limbs wound tightly around him. At least the visit hadn’t been a total waste.

  Behind the front desk, a beautiful and beautifully stacked Asian woman smiled in welcome. “May I help you?”

  The old Blue would have been quite slick about approaching just how she could help him. The new, more Maddy-enlightened Blue, announced his appointment with Senge.

  “Upstairs.”

  On the second floor, the aroma of incense was more prominent. Music played softly. A class was in session – women doing naked yoga. Senge sat on a dais calling out poses like a bingo announcer calls out numbers. It was no big deal to Senge that Alyssa Atherton, the latest Bond girl, was doing a bare-skinned warrior pose, or that the woman next to her looked like a nude, pre-season contestant for the Biggest Loser. The confidence in their stances made them both beautiful. To Blue, the scene was jaw-dropping. To Senge, this was probably just another day at the office.

  Senge rose smoothly from his cross-legged sitting position and glided across the room in his orange and white swami outfit, and bare feet. He indicated Blue should follow him into a side room filled with overstuffed pillows on the floor, but no real furniture.

  Senge sat cross-legged on a pillow and indicated Blue should do the same.

  Blue tried, but his legs didn’t fit that way. He hooked his elbows on his knees instead.

  Mr. Jiggles stared at him through the mesh, growling softly before plopping down for a short nap.

  Senge’s smile was simultaneously repugnant and compelling. “Let me say that your chakras are much more relaxed. Your sex life must be progressing positively.”

  Not hardly.

  Although he wasn’t about to engage in a conversation with Senge about his sex life, he couldn’t still his thoughts of Maddy – her legs wrapped around him in the statue-inspired pose he’d seen below.

  Senge smiled a knowing smile, an I-am-at-peace-with-your-fantasies smile.

  The willies – that full-body shiver of repugnance – threatened Blue’s composure.

  “Whoever this woman is, you must strive to keep this one. Erotic energy is life energy, but only when expended with a partner who is worthy. This one you are having intercourse with will help you connect to your heart, integrate your body, your soul, and the divine. You will achieve true happiness.”

  “That sounds like a fortune cookie.”

  “It is something to strive for – a mutual pleasure that goes beyond the bedroom.”

  Blue doubted that existed. He cleared his throat. “About the business opportunity…”

  “You doubt my proposition will be worthy of the Dooley Foundation.” Senge giggled. “Do you know how many people are alone by choice or circumstance? Theirs is a sad state of affairs – much like yours has been prior to this woman in your life. People who repress their erotic energy repress other things. A release – such as a Freedom Transformation – reconnects the spirit with what’s important, the sense of worth is revitalized. How can this not be a good thing?”

  “Your proposition?”

  “I am getting there. Some see what I do as pornographic.” He spread his scrawny arms. “They don’t see this as a place of love and joy.”

  It was a place to sit and stare at naked women – whether beautiful within or beautiful without.

  “I want to open a Wicked Tantric branch in New York.” Senge smiled, inviting him to share a smile, too. “As well as Chicago, Atlanta, and Dallas. But to expand I need two things – another expert in aligning chakras, and respectability.”

  “I’m not sure what respect the Foundation will bring you. Besides, Amber is out of town. I can’t make this decision without her.”

  “I want not only the Foundation’s respectability, but your expertise. Not everyone can talk a woman into achieving fulfillment without personal touch.” Senge flexed his fingers as if they’d been busy giving personal paid fulfillment.

  All those naked women…

  Blue scrambled his short-term memory. Had he shaken Senge’s hand upon arrival? He thought not. Just in case, he rubbed his right hand on his thigh.

  “I’m not going to put on your MC Hammer pants and sp
end all day giving women orgasms.” The only woman he was interested in giving an orgasm to was Maddy. The more time he spent with her, the more his desire for her became clear. He didn’t dwell on the why. That wasn’t his way.

  “We don’t always know the path to success when we step outside the door. We only know that we crave success. I will give you half my billings if you partner with me. In six months, you could earn more than a million dollars. Quite a profit for the Dooley Foundation.”

  Blue rocketed to his feet. “I won’t be a gigolo! I refuse to sit in your studio and get paid to have women touch themselves.” Forget that he’d meet his sales quota. He was barely over the trauma of bringing four women to climax at one time.

  “You won’t need to sit in my studio. This is Hollywood. Pools and spas are everywhere.” Senge smiled. “What have you got to lose?”

  Blue clenched his fists. “Only my reputation, my pride, and my moral compass.”

  Senge’s laughter followed him out the door.

  Chapter 21

  “What are you doing here?” Maddy demanded. Her cheeks flared with color, the same way they did when she got excited – about filming, about him. “It’s after five.”

  Blue couldn’t help himself. He drank her in like a smooth red wine. Her legs were sleekly curved beneath her short skirt, but the plain black flats were obviously too cheap to provide her any cushioning. Shoes like that created feet that needed a rub down. Blue stroked his gaze up her body as leisurely as the beat of the love song piped in the background. “Is that any way to greet your reality star?”

  That stopped her. She put a paper napkin on the table in front of him. “What are you drinking tonight?”

  “I’ll have whatever beer’s on tap.” He double-checked that Mr. J’s carrier wouldn’t tip over before returning his attention to her.

  She was looking away. “Why not ask me what kind of beer I like?”

  “You must feel very threatened if you’re bringing that up,” he said carefully, gauging her mood.