“Burn!” That outburst comes courtesy of Lyle, followed by raucous laughter all around.
The DJ keeps with the upbeat tone, and the four of us take turns spinning our girl around the dance floor. Shots are flying and bodies are bouncing in every direction. The rest of the night is one big haze of flashing lights and thumping bass. Of sweat-soaked skin and racing hearts. Just a bunch of childhood friends reveling in realized dreams.
Times like this with Anika are few and far between. For a girl who grew up with barely a pot to piss in, she’s living a good life. But it sure is nice to see a little of the hood rat we grew up with come out to play.
“This better be good, boss,” I groan as I stumble across the house to her office at five in the morning. “Pretty sure I’m still a little drunk.”
“Have a look for yourself,” she says, turning her computer monitor around to face me. “I knew this was a terrible idea.” And Annie has left the building.
“This isn’t even close to the biggest scandal we’ve dealt with, Anika. You need to calm down.”
Wound so tight she’s visibly about to explode, she scowls at my blasé attitude from her chair behind the desk. “The issue here is that she has no publicist, or manager, or experience dealing with paparazzi. This kind of thing is going to happen over and over again.”
“Then you’ll handle it when trouble arises, because that’s what I pay you to do. Swear to God, if you make her feel bad over this, it will not end well.”
My lifelong friend’s face falls, making me feel like a complete asshole. Weren’t we just celebrating mere hours ago? “Like I’d ever do such a thing, Rhett. Glad to see you think so highly of me.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” I plant my palms on the desktop, leaning in close. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone. It’s just been a long day and night. I’m drunk, grumpy, and half asleep. We’ll deal with this shit in the morning together, okay? Actual morning.”
With some reluctance she nods, swallowing hard. “Sure…in the morning then.”
Chapter 26
Korie
“Wake up!”
“Ugh,” I groan, pulling the comforter over my head to shield my eyes from the sudden influx of light. “I’m sleeping. Get the hell out of my room.”
My full bladder threatens to burst when Raven jumps on top of me in the bed. “You’re Britney two-thousand-seven famous, bitch. Wake up!”
“I’m serious, Raven. Get out!”
Dammit.
Now I have to pee. Annoyed as hell, I glare at her as I shove the blankets off and trudge to the bathroom, where she follows…
“Ever heard of privacy?” I grump while doing my business. If she wants to watch, that’s on her.
Rave shrugs before shoving her phone screen in front of my face, not the least deterred by me being on the toilet. “Sure. But this David Wills sure hasn’t.”
“Oh, God, no.” My gut churns as I read the caption beneath a photo of myself flipping Raven off at the restaurant last night. Guess I forgot to check for paparazzi outside of the glaring window my table is positioned against. Fuck!
Korie Potter caught going diva on unsuspecting waitress. Looks like someone’s already getting a little too big for her britches. Rhett Taylor better rein this one in before she becomes a publicity nightmare.
“Oh, this is bad.”
“Nicholas thinks it’s hilarious, actually,” Raven supplies, following me over to the sink where I wash my hands and brush my teeth, all the while trying not to regurgitate last night’s dinner. “Anika is going a little crazy, though. You probably should call her back.”
I spit and rinse and rush back to the bed to retrieve my phone from its usual spot beneath my pillow. Seventeen missed calls and texts from just about every person I know and even a few I don’t.
Bile rises in my throat as I scroll through the list, reading the ones that matter.
Mom: Did you see TMZ? They have a photo of you giving Raven the finger with a nasty caption. I hate to say I told you so…but this is only the beginning if you go ahead with this insanity.
Gee. Thanks, ma.
Rhett: Don’t freak out but check E-News. It’s not as bad as it looks. I promise. Call me when you wake up.
And one from my cousin, Abby Jane…
AJ: OMG! Korie!!!! Did you see TMZ? HAH! They think Raven is some poor unsuspecting waitress. What a fucking riot.
Unknown: Korie, this is Anika. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Give me a call as soon as you can, please. It’s important.
Ignoring all of the messages, including Rhett’s, I call Anika first. I know how much the guys respect her and want more than anything to win her approval.
“Korie?” she answers, barely halfway through the first ring. “Good morning,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.
“Is it?” I snort, trying for a little humor in this disastrous situation, but all I get in return is radio silence. “I’m so sorry, Anika. I didn’t think…”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, cutting me off. “Rhett and I have already discussed how best to proceed. We’ll run a post on both of your social media accounts explaining who Raven is and that the picture was taken out of context. No big deal.”
“Really?” My entire body sags with relief. “That’s all there is to it?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s what we usually do when this sort of thing happens.”
Oh, hell no.
“You mean it’s what you should have done when the picture of me and Rhett leaked?” I ask, not missing the meaning behind the well-placed inflection in her tone. I had a feeling she might not like me before, but now I’m convinced of it. I just have no idea why.
“That Stick?” The familiar timbre of his voice soothes my ire considerably. “Lemme talk to her.”
I can’t make out their muffled words as the exchange is made, but I don’t even care what was said once he’s the one on the other side of the line. “How’s my little troublemaker this morning?”
“Ugh,” I groan. “So not funny.”
“Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous, babe. This shit comes with the territory.”
“I guess. Really makes you question everything you read in the tabloids, that’s for sure.”
“You gonna be okay?” There he goes worrying about me again, when I’ve just dumped another shit storm into his lap.
“Yeah…I just don’t want to cause any issues for you and the guys. The comments are pretty bad.” I scroll through the list at the end of the article, wincing at all of the hate being spewed about me.
“Never read the comments, Stick. First rule of the trade. But if it really bugs you, you could let it slip who you are. If they know you’re the daughter of a washed-up, somewhat famous, former musician…, it’ll at least squash the idea that you’re just out for fame.”
“Nope. I’m sure they’ll eventually figure it out on their own, but I have no desire to publicly lay claim to that man.”
“I get it. Just send over a fun shot of you and Raven together. I’ll have Anika whip up a statement. We’ll post on our social media accounts, and in a day or two it’ll be like this never happened. You’ll see.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, hating the vulnerability in my tone. I can deal with people talking shit on me, that’s not what this is about. It’s knowing that my reputation could affect his career—his livelihood—that has me feeling sick to my stomach.
“No need to be,” he insists. “I’m sure Raven deserved it, anyway.”
It’s been a week since the middle finger incident, and I’m happy to report I’ve managed to keep myself out of the headlines. Go me! I’ve been trying to keep a low profile, practicing my tricks and focusing on developing a real presence on social media. That shit’s a full-time job in itself.
Rhett actually had me take an online class on how to Instagram. This shit is that hard core. There are all these rules I never knew about, like the best times to post and
choosing appropriate hashtags. I’m supposed to respond to every comment with at least four words to keep myself in the algorithms. I’ve also got to go comment on some of the commenters’ photos to keep my engagement up—which is what I’m currently in the middle of when his text finally comes through at almost midnight. Not that I’ve been waiting or anything. I’m not that desperate, y’all.
Rhett: We’re finally, home. Miss me?
Me: Don’t flatter yourself.
Yes. Dammit. I miss him, okay. And Ollie. Well, mostly just Ollie. What? Great sex is easy to get attached to. Surely it isn’t his stellar personality that has me counting down the days till I see him again.
Seven. More. Days.
Rhett: If I don’t, who will? I definitely can’t count on my fiancée to do it :p
Me: Oh, you poor baby. Go for a stroll down the magazine aisle at Target and you’ll find more flattery than you can stand.
“Hello,” I answer when Rhett responds with a Facetime call. It takes a minute for the video to connect, but once his face fills the screen, there’s no denying the sense of longing that falls over me.
“Just wanted to see your gorgeous face.” He’s lying in bed with one arm folded behind his head, looking sexier than any man has a right to. “I miss you like fucking crazy, Stick.”
“Have you been drinking?” I ask, behind a grin. I love the way his voice takes on a lazy Southern drawl when he’s had a few too many.
His head tips side to side and he squints his bloodshot eyes. “Maybe a little.”
“So, you probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning?”
“Definitely won’t remember a word.”
“In that case, I might miss you just a little.” I pinch my fingers together in front of the screen to demonstrate just how minute.
“Annnd you think I’m cute?” he asks, widening his eyes like a little boy looking for reassurance.
I sigh at his neediness. “Stupidly handsome, and you know it.”
His languid smile tugs on my heart. “I know. But I just wanted to make sure you knew. You seemed confused, so I had to call you to check.”
“I will deny every word of this in the morning.”
“What are you talkin’ ’bout?” he asks, looking around the dark room. “I came home and passed right out.”
Even drunk off his ass, the boy knows how to handle me. “How was your day?” I ask, trying to move the conversation from the mushy shit. “Y’all get a lot done?”
“Oh yeah.” He yawns really big. “Cleaned up a few tracks. What’d you do? Besides miss me?”
“Spent a few hours with the kids at the hospital this morning, then went to the skate park.”
He nods. “That’s so nice…”
“It was,” I agree in a whisper, sure he’s about to nod off.
“Stick,” he slurs, his eyes growing heavier by the second.
“Yeah?”
“Love me, yet?”
Jesus, he’s persistent. “No way, José.”
“You can tell me. This conversation isn’t even happening, remember.”
I shake my head. “Do you love me, Rhett Taylor?”
He lifts one brow. His blue eyes now nothing but slits. “I think it was love at first slight.”
Chapter 27
Rhett
“What are you doing the weekend of April 27?” Idly, I trail my fingertips along Korie’s spine, enjoying the warmth of her skin pressed so intimately to mine. It’s been a long couple of weeks without her. It’s crazy how quickly I’ve grown addicted to this body and that smart mouth of hers.
“Well, good morning to you too.” Yawning, she lifts her head and turns to prop her chin on top of her hands, which are folded across my chest. I still can’t believe she’s actually here. In my house. In my bed. Gloriously naked. And sporting some major bedhead. “Nothing that I know of…why? What’s up?”
“Besides Ollie?” I waggle my brows, and her eyes sink to the appendage in question. Being the proud showoff that I am, I flex my groin, making my erection move.
She clears her throat, ogling the swaying tent in the sheets while I bite back a smirk. Always so eager.
“So…” I continue, as if I’m not lying here with a raging boner. “A guy who’s friends with our stage manager is really good friends with one of the organizers of the Chicks with Tricks skate event going down that weekend in Mississippi. Pretty sure I can get you in as a wildcard.”
“Shut up!” She slaps her palm on my chest, and her entire face glows with excitement. “Are you serious? Rhett, this is huge.”
“That’s what she said,” I jest, joining my hands behind her back and rolling us over so I’m on top and nudging my cock between her legs.
“That too.” Staring back at me through hooded lids, she takes a hard swallow. I can feel the pounding of her racing heart against my own. Her thighs part, and she shifts beneath me, lining up our centers. I’m a thrust away, seated right at her slick entrance, and it’s sheer torture not to move.
“So, yes?” I ask, brushing my nose over hers, trying not to laugh at her irritated sigh and the blank look on her face as I needlessly draw this out, all for the sake of watching her squirm. She’s completely lost sight of our conversation. “To the skate thing?” I remind her.
“Hell, yes,” she growls, lacing her fingers behind my neck and lowering my mouth to hers. “To everything,” she adds, her lips brushing over mine earnestly. Then she curls her legs around my waist and elevates her hips, forcing me inside.
“Goddamn, girl, I love the way you manhandle me…”
“This is amazing.” Korie gazes around in awe as she follows me out to my private balcony overlooking the Malibu coast. Her bare feet make a light padding sound, keeping with the steady rhythm of the thumping of my heart, as she floats across the tile. “I didn’t realize how spectacular the view was from your room when I got in last night. It was so late.” She takes a deep inhale of the salty air, shutting her eyes and really letting it soak in.
“It’s never looked quite this beautiful before.” My eyes fix on hers, making no mistake of my meaning. She’s leaning against the rail, my white button down hanging to her knees, with nothing underneath. The orange glow of the early morning sun highlights the silhouette of her naked form, and I find myself searching for breath. The way her long blonde hair looks whipping in the breeze against the turquoise backdrop of the waves is nothing short of majestic. So natural. Like she belongs in this scenery. In my life. If I could freeze this moment, it’d fuel a million love songs. “Now, this is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning, that’s for sure.”
Coming up behind her, I snake my arms around her waist, burying my lips in the crown of her hair. I’m a little taken back by how right this feels. All at once it hits me—I’m falling hard, and I’m falling fast. It’s no longer about the challenge or wanting her for all of the things she isn’t. I realize that, little by little, I’ve begun to fall in love with this woman for exactly who she is.
That she might never feel the same for me is fucking terrifying.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister.”
“Can’t help it,” I say, tickling her side, to lighten the mood. “I’ve grown rather accustomed to getting what I want.”
She giggles, wiggling in my hold. “So spoiled.”
“Maybe,” I admit with an unapologetic shrug. “But I think the bigger reason is that I’m not afraid to go after whatever my heart desires. Hard work and determination usually pay off.”
“Well,” she says, slinking out of my arms. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you may be overreaching this time, Hollywood.”
Having her speak my fear aloud is a huge jolt to my ego. “Guess time will tell.”
She moves to sit in a lounger. I get the feeling she’s trying to put a little distance between us. Any talk beyond here and now makes her uncomfortable, but she motions for me to take the one beside it, so I do. When she ge
ts like this, I’m learning not to push. There’s a delicate balance between gently coaxing her out of her cocoon and sending her soaring right out of my life forever.
We sit in companionable silence for a long while, listening to the waves crash on the shoreline. “So, you all live here? The guys? Anika?”
“Yeah. This house was our first big purchase. We bought it together. Eventually when we start marrying off, we’ll get our own places, and this’ll become a vacation home.”
She presses her lips together. “So, this isn’t where you plan on settling down then?”
“Nah.” I lay back, kicking my feet up, since it seems she’s in no hurry to go back inside. “I’ll be a gentleman and let you decide where we plant our roots.”
“Rhett,” she warns. Her cute little voice coming out all growly.
Throwing my hands out in submission, I let the subject die with a chuckle.
“Can I ask a question?” She rolls on her side, tucking an arm beneath her cheek to face me.
“Shoot.”
“Will you tell me about your favorite memory with your mother?” She must recognize the look of surprise on my face because immediately she starts backpedaling. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want—”
“It’s fine,” I say, staring up at the clouds. “People just don’t ever ask about her. I guess I don’t get the opportunity to talk about Mom much.” I flash her a wink to ease her nerves. “No passing, remember?”
“Sorry.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it. Ummm…” I drum my hands on my cargo shorts. “Favorite memory…” My chest grows taut. “When I think of my mom, the first thing that always comes to mind is music.”
“So, she’s where you inherited your insane talent?”
“Yeah, I guess so. God, Stick, she was incredible. Better than I could ever dream to be. She used to sing at our church. I remember being just a little boy, not more than three or maybe four. I’d watch her up there on the altar from the first pew every Saturday and Sunday. Just my mother and her guitar, surrounded by the colorful rays of light that filtered in through the stained glass windows. I truly believed that woman was an angel.”
Pour Judgment Page 11