Gluttony

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “Because they’re imbeciles.” He came back to the bench and continued to clear.

  “She. Because she is an imbecile. The CCTV footage from the studio showed a blurry female. You didn’t read your emails, did you?”

  He waved her off, pretending not to care and to be enthralled with doing his dishes. Those croissants weren’t sitting well in his gut. If she didn’t want company, then he’d go down and use the gym. Perhaps finally try on the new Deadly Suit and make Parker happy. The two of them used to be close, but then he’d turned into a prideful prick, and Tony had become busy with his work. He missed the days they used to base jump from the tallest city skyscrapers.

  “You know,” she started, voice tight and getting louder. “You can’t keep pretending to be this person you’re not. I want to get to know the real Tony I met yesterday. If he decides to show up again, let him know I called.”

  Bailey left in silence.

  Damn it.

  His energy waned, so he took a seat on his balcony, dropped his head into his hands and listened to the sounds of the city. Traffic, horns blaring, a dog barking, a siren in the distance. Sour trash and something acrid like new bitumen floated up in a breeze. He looked down at his palms and called on his power, testing it. Hot blue light rose in his veins, lacing over his hand in a network of strength, or of potential devastation. This fire inside him was unavoidable. Pushing it down had done no one good, but despite knowing this, he still didn’t feel any closer to being at peace with himself.

  I want to get to know the real Tony I met yesterday.

  At the sobriety house? When he exploded like a blue sun? The pretty playboy actor?

  He only had one chance to make her like him, and so far, she’d not fallen for his old act. He had to admit; the act was getting tiresome. At the sobriety house, he’d felt no pressure. Hanging out with Akeef, talking music, helping the kid realize his potential. It was… fulfilling. And then Elena. The look of accomplishment on her face when she’d learned to defend herself. Those moments felt real.

  He scrubbed his face, confused, conflicted, and a little afraid. The only surety in his life right then was the constant need to be with the woman who’d calmed his soul, even if she didn’t feel the same way. And if she never did, that was going to hurt. Wanting something he knew would make him hurt, but wanting it anyway was just another addiction, wasn’t it?

  There was only one thing to do. Make it feel good. Make it easy. Make Bailey want him, and hope that she liked the real Tony. The man beneath the act.

  Seventeen

  Frustrated, Bailey vigorously scrubbed shampoo through her hair. Goddamn, that man. Since she’d come home to get some space, her mind had been crowded with thoughts of Tony Lazarus. Tony without a shirt on. Tony with his wicked smile. Tony offering to make her coffee. Tony with a sad face when she told him she needed some space. Sure. Whatever.

  She grimaced at the tiled wall of her shower. He had no right to make her feel bad about needing a moment to herself. After everything they went through the previous day, after all the secrets revealed, she needed to gather her thoughts. And he still held her at arm’s length. He needed to work out whether he could be authentic with her. What was the point in holding back anymore?

  “Don’t whatever me,” she mumbled, irritated, but when she dunked her head beneath the stream, and closed her eyes, she saw Tony’s sexy face as he came in to rub his nose along her cheek. She felt the tingle spear down to her stomach.

  I love your fire. I love your attitude. It makes me hard when I think of you.

  Why were his words so wickedly charming?

  I need more.

  Maybe she did too. She shut off the faucet and paused, listening. Had she heard a sound? Tony?

  Her heartbeat quickened. Getting out of the shower, she nabbed a towel and wrapped her body, and then used another to cover her hair. Holding her breath, she opened the bathroom door and rushed out into the kitchen. Was he here?

  There was no one there but an empty home, and no other sound but the beating of her thundering heart. Her recently poured Cosmo sat untouched on the counter, and the television was off. There was no one in the fridge, rummaging through her salad ingredients, no one eating croissants. A sharp twang of disappointment sliced through her and she shook her head. It was stupid. She was being stupid. With a deep breath, she forced herself to slow down and finish getting ready for the day. She needed this time alone. Right?

  Bailey watched the sea of press part to make way for Tony Lazarus as he walked through the simple banquet room in the Ritz Hotel. His waiting cast members occupied a long bench at the top of a makeshift stage. He was a gravitational force that dragged every bit of attention his way.

  And he seemed to love it. A grin here, a wink there. He even mentioned one of the paparazzi by name. If you didn’t know him better, you’d have missed the twitch of tension in his casual posture. Despite his easy smile for the crowd, Bailey sensed the man would pounce like a wild cat, attack his prey and grin salaciously as he devoured his meal. She was coming to see that he wasn’t a man, but a wild, beautiful thing contained in skin. Some kind of inferno made flesh.

  Then again, maybe she imagined all these things because she now knew what he was capable of. He could level the entire room if he lost control of his power. Go nuclear was Parker’s exact term.

  Everything had happened so quickly yesterday. She’d gone from wanting to date Tony, to being slapped in the face by his devastating secret, to learning how integral she was to his wellbeing. Not just integral, but intrinsic, biological... inescapable.

  And Bailey Haze decided long ago never to be pushed into a decision she wasn’t ready to make. Peer pressure had a lot to answer for, and it had taken a beat-up car, and a dead drunk friend to realize that. It took her years of scraping her life back together to become one of the top students in her school to know that she made her own choices.

  The problem was, the moment she’d finished getting dressed that morning, she’d found herself rushing to pick up Tony. Not because of her job, but because the emptiness of her home had been too loud, and the memory of his presence had been magnetic, drawing her back to him with inescapable power.

  Looking at the rest of the room, she wasn’t the only one who felt this way around him. The charismatic lady’s man and everyone’s friend was dressed in a sports coat rolled up at the forearms. The baseball cap he’d worn in the car to hide his identity must have been stowed in his back pocket. When he climbed the stage, the bulge at his left ass confirmed her suspicion. And it was a fine ass indeed. One she felt perfectly wicked perving from behind the safety of her mirrored Aviators. Oh wait. She was indoors and wasn’t wearing any.

  She snapped her gaze to the tall brunette assistant who called for attention at the stage and proceeded to filter questions to the cast. Bailey recognized her as the woman Tony spoke with outside Hell last night. Being here, she must be more than a mere set assistant. She might have more access to places around set than Bailey thought.

  She could be a potential suspect.

  Except, the suspect on the CCTV footage could be anyone. She’d had dark hair, but that didn’t mean it was the set assistant. The studio had wigs by the truckload in the wardrobe department. Anyone could have pilfered one and used it as they broke into Tony’s trailer to set up the dolls. All this left Bailey no closer than she was the first day she’d started. If it were up to her, she’d have interviewed the entire cast and staff.

  But it wasn’t up to her, and Max had already reminded her this morning to stick to her job. No investigating. No drawing attention. Leave it to the normal police. And since the studio didn’t want them involved, frustratingly, she was left guarding Tony’s body, which was ridiculous in itself. He didn’t need guarding, and she was a trained CIA operative. She could do more.

  Her mind wandered back to which of Tony’s peers or acquaintances could be stalking him. There was only one other female she’d noticed; the buxom redheaded costa
r sitting next to him, Maggie O. More than once she leaned in close to Tony, brushed her bulging chest on his arm, and then whispered into his ear. Every time, Tony tried to avoid her touch by moving to pick up his water bottle, but then she did the same.

  Then Bailey looked harder and noticed more. Tony’s flinching was in direct correlation to when someone took a guzzle of water, or when the snack cart came out and people dove in. A surge of empathy shot through her. That man would never be able to feel normal around people doing anything in excess.

  Unless you help him.

  He glanced over at her, and their eyes met. She smiled tentatively. He didn’t smile back, but she saw the relief in his posture. His shoulders lowered. His eyes turned soft. Then he went back to answering questions.

  After a while, all the questions blended into white noise until Bailey’s ears pricked up when someone said, “Tony, is there someone special in your life?”

  Her armpits prickled and her heartbeat accelerated. They’d not had a chance to discuss where they stood. She wasn’t ready for this.

  Tony’s lips hovered near his microphone. “Yes.”

  “Is she here?” A woman with a bow in her hair asked.

  He paused, looked a little uncomfortable, then his lips stretched into a winning smile. His spine straightened. “How about I tell you about this great group of kids I’ve been helping at a sobriety house?”

  “Tell us more about your lady!”

  “What do you mean by special?”

  “Why has it taken you so long to date?”

  A barrage of responding quick-fire questions came at him from multiple sources, but he refused to comment further, or give Bailey away by looking in her direction. His jaw clenched and she could tell he was pissed off at the direction of topic. Her heart went out to him. The people only wanted one side of Tony Lazarus, and it wasn’t the philanthropic man.

  Something eased in Bailey’s chest. He could have singled her out, pointed the cameras in her face, but he’d not hesitated to hold that secret close to his heart. It would get out eventually, but for now, Tony had demonstrated he wasn’t just thinking of himself. The man respected her privacy. And he’d tried to use his celebrity to promote the Hudson House. She watched him with a new light feeling floating through her body, and this time, she didn’t try to block the emotion rising, she accepted it. She enjoyed it.

  It was close to five p.m. when Bailey was finally able to get Tony to herself. After the group Q and A, he’d spent another few hours being interviewed one-on-one by a succession of entertainment journalists. Like a piece of meat, he’d been paraded before them, asked stupid questions repeatedly, and then stood up and did it again with the next journalist.

  The man never sighed or rolled his eyes. He smiled, nodded and politely answered questions.

  When it was all done, and Tony was eying the food cart with longing, she went up to him and touched his wrist gently. He’d mentioned that morning that the action would reset some sort of internal sin gauge in his body. She could help his discomfort. It was hard enough to sit through this thing for hours without sustenance, but wondering how many bites it would take to affect his sin was a burden he didn’t need.

  “You done?” she asked.

  “I am. Shall we go?”

  “You don’t want to nab a bite first?” She’d had a few herself.

  “I’d rather take you out to dinner,” he said, voice low and conspiratorial. “Or we can eat at my place. I can call Heaven and have something sent up.”

  “I’d like that. Dinner, I mean.”

  He mustn’t have expected her to agree, because his head snapped up, his eyes locked onto hers and he blinked. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

  “Car’s out the front.” She ushered him out of the room and took him down to the lobby. A tingle of anticipation traveled up her spine.

  I’m going to have dinner with him.

  Hiding her smile, she slipped her sunglasses on to help her eyes adjust to the glare of the sunset shining through the foyer windows. When they stepped outside and onto the driveway, Bailey’s instincts went on high alert. There were too many people. The paparazzi hadn’t left and there seemed to be more than the usual hotel patrons and staff milling about. General public. She couldn’t get eyes on her car.

  Anything could happen in a crowd like this.

  She nabbed a valet walking past. “I called for my car, but I can’t see it. It’s a Ford Explorer.”

  “Sorry ma’am. There’s been a hold up. If you wait over there, I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  Over there was a growing line of put out looking businessmen and posh women in pantsuits.

  Bailey took Tony’s elbow. “I don’t like this crowd. Let’s find another way out.”

  But it was too late. A shout from the paparazzi alerted everyone to Tony’s arrival, and every camera, flash and person was turned their way.

  Lights popped in their face, and voices bombarded them with questions.

  “Tony, care to comment on the rumor that your agent is going to dump you?”

  Tony stiffened beneath Bailey’s touch. The journalist must have hit a nerve.

  She whispered in his ear, “I can shoot them if you like. Got my Taser and my firearm.”

  He smirked then shook his head, dipping close to say, “Thanks for the offer, but it’s cool. Best to not engage with the animals.”

  “Tony, is that your bodyguard?” a short man wearing a brown suit asked.

  “Why do you need a bodyguard?” someone else chimed in.

  Bailey frowned, at first rejecting the notion they’d somehow learned of her role, but then realizing it was obvious. She wore black slacks, a Nightingale Securities bomber jacket, and had her long dark hair tied back at her nape in a ponytail slicked down to stop the stray curls. With her Aviators and don’t-fuck-with-me face, it was pretty clear she was his bodyguard.

  True to his advice, Tony didn’t answer the journalists. He ignored them until a man shouted, “Or is she your date?”

  Bailey winced as more bulbs flashed and more voices shouted at Tony. The mob of attention closed in, literally getting so close they were inches from Tony. They had to get out of there.

  “Is she the special one in your life?”

  “Have you finally taken the leap?”

  “Who is she?”

  “Tony!”

  “Tony!”

  A flash of red pushed into the group, and Maggie O came between Bailey and Tony. She broke the hold Bailey had on his elbow and latched onto his arm, pouting at the cameras with pillowy lips. Shoved behind, Bailey was left out of the circle wondering what the hell had happened.

  “It’s me, isn’t it darling?” Maggie cuddled into his side. “I’m the special someone.”

  Tony’s brows winged up and he looked over his shoulder to Bailey, stunned.

  “We didn’t want to say anything in there to overshadow the film, did we, honey?” Maggie addressed the paparazzi. “But since you’re all here, you may as well know. We’re together, and I for one think it’s nobody’s business what his agent is or isn’t doing.”

  “No.” Tony shook his head, aghast.

  “No what?” The man in the brown suit asked. “No to the question about the agent?”

  “No to Maggie.”

  But Maggie didn’t hear him, nor seem to care. “Yes we are. After working so closely for months, I know you Tony.”

  Oh no, she didn’t. Nasty bitch.

  Heat flared up Bailey’s neck to cloud her mind. She ground her teeth. Maggie wasn’t the one. Bailey was. She pushed between them, took hold of Tony’s jaw between her finger and thumb, and smashed her lips onto his in a swoon-worthy close-mouthed kiss. The shock move sent Maggie careening to the side, and a chorus of gasps and flashes exploding into the atmosphere. But it wasn’t until Tony placed one palm behind her head, one on her lower back and tipped her, that the energy became effervescent. It bubbled up and spilled over. Chaos erupted around them, but it al
l seemed to fade away under the scent of Tony’s soft lips, his musk and familiarity.

  She heard nothing but her heartbeat pounding in her ears, could see nothing but the way he adored her. And then her Aviators fell off and reality hit.

  They had to get out of there.

  She took his hand, and yanked him away, rushing down the driveway and out of the hotel complex. Pursued, but together and in agreement, they jogged along the sidewalk. The paparazzi were hard to shake, and damn, they could run fast with those big cameras.

  “Where are we going?” Tony flashed his teeth, clearly having the time of his life.

  “We’re giving them the slip. There. The night markets have opened.” She pointed down the sidewalk to the end of the street. Beyond the city buildings was the entrance to the Quadrant Central Park where people filed through an enormous wrought iron arched gate covered in ivy. Cyprus trees loomed on either side, gilt leaves coming alive in the dying sun. The dense park and market stalls beyond were the perfect place to get lost.

  Darting in and out of the crowd, they continued into the markets. The smell of cooked pretzels and garlic filled the air. Immediately inside the park, lined on either side of the double width walkway were food trucks, street vendors, and amusement games. Parents with children and prams, businesspeople finished work for the day and the public idled along, enjoying the last street festival of the season before the weather cooled down too much.

  It didn’t take much to duck and weave into the crowd, losing themselves in the activity.

  Bailey checked over her shoulder and saw a group of unapologetic photographers chasing them, heads swiveling to see where they’d gone. She pulled Tony close to her, behind a stand of sunglasses, then handed him a random pair before putting on her own and hiding behind the turnstile. The makeshift stall was a repurposed open caravan with an annex for wares. The next stall was another caravan selling Jamaican jerk chicken, its mouthwatering aroma of spices invading the space.