Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

by Prescott Lane

  “And whatever happens,” she whispers, “you’ll be beside me this time.”

  *

  Mae asked me to give her the “full Hollywood experience,” as she put it. She thought that meant paparazzi chasing us from here to there, being photographed eating our lunch. That is part of it, of course, but I plan on showing her the perks of my life, too. That means spoiling her rotten.

  When we left my house today, there were even more paparazzi outside than usual, thanks to my relationship with Mae being front page news. They’ve been following us since. We’ve actually had a steady stream of them all day. You’d think they’d get bored, but they never seem to. I guess there’s always a new picture to post.

  It’s strange. I usually don’t mind my fans approaching me, taking pictures with them, but these paparazzi assholes are a whole other story. There should be certain times when I’m allowed to just be a person. If I’m eating a meal or with my girlfriend or family, a decent person would know not to interrupt, but you’d be surprised how many people don’t care.

  “Can’t believe you still have this car,” Mae says, running her hands along the leather interior of my restored blue convertible. “It seemed like every cassette you sent me that summer talked about this car.”

  “Back then, I was too young to drive it,” I say, remembering how much Ryder ragged me about that. Even now, I don’t drive the convertible much, but I always take it for a spin on my dad’s birthday or other special occasions, like today. On those days, I usually have the top down, but not today.

  I pull the car in front of a high-end boutique in Beverly Hills. “Time to fill my closet with things for you when you’re here.”

  Mae turns to me. “You aren’t serious?”

  I stop the car, and a flood of cameras press against the windows of my car. This is exactly why the top is up. The cameras start to click away.

  “We can sit in the car and make out while they take pictures of us,” I say with a grin. “Or we can go inside and shop. Besides, I’m taking you to a party tonight. You need a new dress.”

  Her eyes bulge. “A party?”

  “The director of my new film is having a thing at his house.”

  “And you want me to go with you?”

  “Full Hollywood experience, remember?”

  “Right,” Mae says, putting on her wide brim sunglasses, reaching for the door handle.

  I place my hand on her knee, stopping her. This is just one of many lessons she needs to learn about my life. You can’t just open the car door.

  “I’m going to get out first,” I say. “Then I’ll get your door and escort you inside. No matter what questions they scream, just ignore them, keep walking.”

  “Okay,” she says, not sounding very confident.

  “One more thing,” I say, yanking the hem of her dress down a little. “Make sure you hold your dress down when you get out, so it doesn’t fly up or . . .”

  “They’ll get a panty shot,” she says, squeezing my hand. “I got it.”

  She releases a deep breath and nods, and then I open my door. I’ve done this enough times that I know it’s best to move quickly and with authority. Otherwise, they’ll eat you alive. I’m not someone who likes to travel with security. I know Mae would hate that, as well. Like me, she values her privacy too much. So I’m going to be her bodyguard for now, until we see how things go.

  It seems like an eternity before I get to her car door, the crowd bigger today than most days. Opening her door, I reach for her hand, pulling her up and out of the car, then I place one arm around her waist, using the other arm to part the crowd.

  “Come on, guys, give us a little room,” I say.

  Cameras flash in our faces. Questions fly at us. How’d you meet? How about a kiss? Mae, are you hoping to score a role in his next movie?

  We only have about ten feet between the car and the store, and I manage to get us in without incident. We’re met at the door by the store manager, who shoos the vultures away, then leads us to a private room in the back.

  As we make our way, I look over at Mae. She’s taking deep breaths, but no trembling this time. I’m not opposed to fucking her in the dressing room if she needs it, but it looks like she’s handling the craziness much better this time.

  The back room is set up specifically for high profile clients. It’s got a couple dressing rooms, a nice waiting area with a sofa and chairs, mirrors, and a bar with drinks and snacks. Mae looks up at me, a little crease between her eyes. “How are we supposed to shop from back here?”

  Usually shopping involves looking through racks and racks of clothing, which is just one of the many reasons I hate it. But we don’t have to go through the hassle of that. “The store’s personal shoppers will pick things out for you from the front of the store, and then they bring them back here to you.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” she asks. “I think half the fun of shopping is going through the racks, finding the incredible deal.”

  “You don’t need to find deals,” I say, and her eyes widen at me. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Knox, I don’t . . .”

  “I want to,” I say, not letting her object further. “I can have them close the store for us, if you’d prefer. Cover the windows. That way, you can roam around and look yourself.”

  “So I won’t ever be able to just walk into Target and browse again?”

  My heart breaks a little for her. She just wants “normal.” But my life is the farthest thing from normal you can get. This is supposed to be fun. I hadn’t considered that even shopping would be so different and overwhelming for her.

  “They have really cute clothes at Target,” she says, flipping over one of the price tags, her eyes going wide. “And their jeans don’t cost five hundred dollars.”

  This isn’t about the money, I know that. And this isn’t about the jeans or the store, or even about her wanting to browse or find a deal.

  This is about her freedom. She still wants to be her. I want that, too.

  “We’ll hit Target up after this,” I say.

  Her entire face lights up. “Deal.”

  *

  Mae’s in the dressing room. Frankly, I’m not sure what I’m doing here. She won’t even show me the clothes when she tries them on. The store’s stylist keeps bringing in and out various items of clothing. I’ve got my ass parked on a chair outside, but it seems my opinion isn’t important.

  “The black dress,” I whisper to the stylist as she heads back out to grab some more pieces.

  “Hey, I never agreed to letting you dress me!” Mae yells over the door, obviously having heard me.

  “Then let me undress you,” I tease.

  She peeks her head out the door. “The sizes in this store are wrong!”

  “I’m pretty sure sizes are universal.”

  “No, they’re not!” Mae says. “I’m like two sizes bigger here than I am at . . .”

  “I’m coming in there,” I say, reaching for the handle, but Mae quickly closes the door, leaning against it.

  “No, I’m not dressed.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Suddenly she’s shy. “You have five seconds to put something on.” I start to count. “One . . .Two . . .”

  I hear her shuffling around inside. She’s belting a dress when I get to five and open the door. My jaw drops to the floor. Damn, she looks beautiful, the silk of the dress clinging to her curves. I don’t care if she’s a size two, twelve, or twenty-two, she’s stunning.

  “We’re buying that dress.”

  “Really?” she says, turning and looking at herself in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric.

  I step up behind her, letting her feel the hard length of my dick. “Cock approved!”

  “Your penis is going to pick out my wardrobe?”

  “No better man for the job.”

  Mae laughs, pushing me out of the dressing room. I plant a quick kiss on her lips before leaving. I lean back against the wall as the stylist pass
es a few more items to her. Honestly, I’m not sure how we’re going to handle a Target run. We’ll be dealing with fans and paparazzi both, but for Mae, I’ll give it a try.

  Mae opens the door again, now dressed in a pink sundress. She does a little twirl before me, ready for my penis scorecard.

  “A semi,” I say, grinning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Knox

  “I hear you, Heath,” I say into my phone.

  Mae’s in my bedroom getting ready for the party, and I’m on my balcony trying not to fire my interfering agent. I like the guy, and he’s served me well, but he interferes. And we talked about all this in my office yesterday. I know there are some things I need to discuss with Mae, but we’ve had a lot thrown at us, and I’m looking for the right time.

  “I’ll talk to Mae.”

  “Knox,” he says, “the women you dated long-term before were in the business. They knew the drill. Had their own teams to advise them. Mae has you. That’s it. You can’t avoid these topics just because they might be unpleasant.”

  “I’m not avoiding them,” I say, looking out to the ocean. “The press literally just found out about us.”

  “And she should’ve already had security in place, so that shit at the airport never would’ve happened. She should’ve been on a private flight.”

  “She didn’t want a private plane.”

  “And the guard?” he asks.

  “I haven’t had a chance to bring it up to her,” I say. “She’s with me now. I can handle things.”

  “And when she goes home in a few days?”

  I look down at the cliffs below. I’m on a ledge. One shift in the ground below me, and this could all come tumbling down. “I’ll talk to her.”

  He exhales. “You have someone else to worry about now.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I bark.

  “Look, I don’t want to piss you off. That’s the last thing I want. I’m just trying to keep you informed, so you can make the best decisions possible,” he says. “We’ve actually gotten some more letters. Disturbing letters.”

  “Thank you notes again?” I ask.

  “Same M.O.,” Heath says. “Seems like the same person. They sound obsessed—like if they can’t have you, no one will.”

  “Did they say that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Christ,” I say and pull at my hair. “But haven’t we gotten this kind of stuff before? I don’t want to scare Mae for no reason. To have her think someone is after me, when this type of shit happens all the time.”

  “Yeah, here and there over the years, we’ve received these threats. You’ve seen them before,” he says. “But this just seems different, the tone, the frequency, the timing of it all. And it’s my job to take it seriously.”

  “Fuck,” I say, as several hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I don’t spook easily, but Heath is right. We need to take it seriously, and I do have Mae to think about now.

  “Let me look into it a little bit more,” Heath says.

  *

  “Raging boner,” I whisper in Mae’s ear as we step into the party. She lightly elbows me in the stomach. Thank God, she didn’t aim lower, but there’s no helping my current situation.

  She’s wearing this red dress. It’s not tight or incredibly short, hitting her right at the knee, but it’s the brightest color red, bringing out the natural highlights in her brown hair, which she has pulled up in a high ponytail. She looks gorgeous from the front, but it’s the back that’s got me panting. The straps cross in the back, leaving a peekaboo opening right at the small of her back, just the spot I like to run my fingers down as I take her from behind.

  She hasn’t said it, but I know she’s got to be nervous walking in here tonight, especially wearing that dress. It was her choice, but there’s no blending in looking like she does. She’s about to dive headfirst into the deep end, which is full of sharks. But I have no doubt that Mae can handle anything. She’s smart, beautiful, funny. This should be easy for her. My biggest concern is what she’ll say if someone asks what she does for a living. I guess she’s handled that question before, in Haven’s Point and beyond. Still, she’s just going to have to be careful not to give away too much information, or have a response that elicits too many follow up questions. If she does get into trouble, I’ll be there to rescue her.

  This place sits on a few miles of precious real estate in the Holmby Hills area of Los Angeles, and it’s massive. I guess that’s why it has three kitchens. You could get hungry trekking from one side of the house to the other. This area has been home to some of the greats. Aaron Spelling, Walt Disney, and Frank Sinatra, just to name a few.

  “You’re poor!” Mae jokes as she takes in this monstrosity of a house.

  I guess compared to this, I am. It’s all relative. There are houses, there are even mansions, and then there are estates. This is an estate—an expansive compound of pools, tennis courts, the main house, and the guest houses.

  “Knox!” someone calls out, and I wave to a person I don’t know.

  Mae squeezes my hand, and I whisper, “I won’t leave you.”

  She doesn’t know a soul here, so it’s my job to make sure she’s comfortable and having as good a time as possible. We spend a few minutes making the rounds, working our way deeper inside the party, which is being held in the den of the main house, extending outside under the patio. This is a small get-together by Hollywood standards—about one hundred people or so, mostly from the movie set to premiere soon.

  A group of four women descend upon me, and suddenly, I’m lost in a sea of tits and ass, each one’s dress shorter and tighter than the next. It’s not uncommon for women to throw their arms around me, or even sit on my lap unsolicited. I doubt any of these women actually want the real me, but are more interested in what I can do to advance their careers.

  I see Mae rolling her eyes. She knows me—all my flaws. Being an actor doesn’t make you a god. Mae wants to be with me for me, despite the fact I’m in the public eye, not because of it. That’s the key.

  Time to shut this shit down! I don’t want to give Mae any reason to be jealous or have doubts. Pulling Mae to my hip, I coil my arm around her waist. The four women stare daggers at Mae. With a grin, I introduce her as my girlfriend, and that causes them all to scatter. Thank God.

  “Sorry,” I say to Mae.

  She leans up, planting a sweet kiss on my lips, letting me know she understands it’s just a side effect of my work. “I hate these circles,” Mae whispers, looking around. “You know how everyone is always huddled in these circles.”

  “Me, too,” I whisper back.

  “You’re not in the circle,” she says. “You’re the sun everyone is orbiting around.”

  Smiling, I roll my eyes. What she fails to realize is this is just a moment in time. It just happens to be my moment. But tomorrow it could be someone else’s turn. I always remember that.

  A new group approaches and strikes up a conversation, and Mae gives me an I told you so look. She makes small talk when she can, and I do my best to include her. I know this can’t be easy, walking into a room of people who know one other and feeling like the odd man out.

  That’s the thing about Hollywood, it’s a pretty small town. When I go to a big awards show, like the Oscars, I often wonder how many people have slept with each other in the room. I mean, you’ve got divorced people, ex-lovers, random one-night stands. It can get pretty awkward, which is why I should’ve been prepared for the woman walking toward me.

  Mae and I haven’t delved too deeply into each other’s sexual pasts. Perhaps it was just easier that way, because neither one of us wanted to think about it. But if I’d known Mae was going to come face-to-face with someone I used to share my bed with, I would’ve warned her, or avoided the party all together.

  “Knox, so good to see you.”

  Shit, crap, fuck! Things happen on movie sets, and not all of it is in front of the cameras. My t
railers have seen just as much action, and well, this woman had a bit part in a film of mine two years ago. She’s hot, but not a very talented actress. But hot can take you a long way in this town, and in my trailer. She wasn’t the first. Maybe the third? Or fourth? Just to be safe, let’s call her Trailer Woman Number Five.

  Trailer Woman Number Five leans in to kiss me, but I turn my face, forcing us into an awkward, weird side hug.

  I’m not sure why she’s here. She’s not in this movie. She’s not attached to anyone in the movie that I can think of. Trailer Woman Number Five’s eyes go to Mae, waiting for an introduction, which I regrettably have to make. The best I can hope for here is that Mae doesn’t pick up on anything. I know she never really followed my career. That still bothers me, but at this moment, I’m thankful. If I’m lucky, she missed this rumor, which certainly had some truth to it.

  Seeing her and Mae next to each other, I’m not sure what I ever saw in her. They are complete opposites. Mae is brunette, blue eyed. Trailer Woman Number Five is blonde with brown eyes. Mae is smart and funny, and this other woman is . . . well, you get the idea.

  The women exchange a polite hello, and Trailer Woman Number Five starts talking to me about some upcoming project she thinks will be good for my production company. Ugh! Sometimes it seems everyone is always looking for a piece of me. Still, there is a familiarity that exists between ex-lovers. It’s hard to hide. It’s small—the way she looks at me, touches my arm, how she leans into me when she laughs. I’m doing my best to hide it, to move away, but that’s telling, too.

  “I think I’m going to go outside and get some fresh air,” Mae says.

  “I’ll come with you,” I say, giving my ex-trailer companion a small smile before walking off.

  I see Mae is already stepping out onto the patio. I try to catch up, but keep getting pulled into a handshake or hello.

  By the time I get outside, Mae’s a good twenty feet from the house, staring up at the moon. She’s beautiful, but the look on her face makes my stomach churn. I know that look. She’s thinking. Correction, she’s overthinking. An overthinking woman is a dangerous thing.