Pisces - Mr. Imagination: The 12 Signs of Love (The Zodiac Lovers Series Book 3)

by Tiana Laveen

  Her phone rang, shaking her out of her daydreams. She answered it.

  “Ivy?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, Eric. I was supposed to call you back. I forgot… just a little tired.” Her boss grunted on the other end. “He should be back soon. Look, Eric, I’ll call you back tomorrow, okay? I’m going to take my computer out and get some work done and then conduct a bit more of the interview tonight. After that, he and I should resume in the morning.”

  “All right… be careful,” Eric warned. What did the man mean by that? Not wishing to delve into that, she simply said she would and disconnected the call.

  An hour passed and there was still no Paxton. She tried contacting him twice, but the call went straight to voicemail. Tired of the waiting game, she resolved that he was probably passed out drunk somewhere. She stood, packed up her belongings, and headed out of the condo. Tugging on the door to ensure it was locked behind her, she made her way out of the building. It was rather cool that evening and a slight drizzle had begun. She made her way to her parked car in the large garage.

  The space was rather unnerving, but at least it was well lit. Several minutes later, she found herself driving slowly past the Venetian casino. And then… she couldn’t believe her eyes. A large crowd was hollering and screaming and in the midst of them, she saw bits and pieces of Paxton as he did various acrobatics and what appeared to be card game tricks.

  This son of a bitch…

  Pulling over into a parking space, she got out of her car and marched over, merging into the crowd. She was ready to give him a piece of her mind but paused when he began to speak to someone.

  “Now what was your card?” Paxton questioned, a big cheesy grin spread across his face. She hated how attractive she found him in that moment, regardless of her blood boiling from his complete lack of consideration regarding her time and schedule.

  “The Queen of Hearts.”

  Paxton pulled a card out of the man’s jacket and showed the two of spades, which resulted in exaggerated booing from the crowd and a wave of hilarity. Paxton burst out laughing and bowed, saying, “What a shame… I was wrong. But before I go, buddy, do me a favor.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Reach into your pants pocket and see what you have in there.”

  All eyes turned to the man as he dug in his left pants pocket and pulled out a tri-folded playing card. He unfolded the thing and burst out laughing.

  “No way! It’s the Queen of Hearts!” The crowd burst into applause as Paxton began to do a jerky moonwalk type motion, forwards then backwards like some odd, yet enchanting, robot. Before Ivy could get closer, people were thrusting their napkins, arms, and anything that could be written on in his face. Paxton started to frantically sign autographs with a black marker.

  As she wiggled even closer, the man didn’t even look up, but as he signed a young woman’s forearm, he simply said, “Sorry I kept you waiting, beautiful. I had to take care of something but then these wonderful people saw me. They hadn’t seen me perform live, so I thought I’d give them a little show. It’s over now. Let’s go.”

  He placed the cap on the marker and shoved it into his jacket pocket, then ignored the fans calling his name for more. He stood so close to her that his chest pressed against hers. Instead of moving back, she stood her ground. Her nipples hardened instantaneously as she smelled the booze on his breath, mixing in with the delicious scent of his cologne. He stared down at her, his expression serious, intense. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he crushed her lips in a kiss. Ivy wiggled against him and snatched herself away, shocked by his actions, the spell broken.

  “Are you crazy?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t ever do that again! You’re drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Well, that’s even worse! What makes you think you can do that?” The man rolled his eyes and shrugged.

  “I take it you drove, right?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you parked? Can you drop me off at least since it is apparent you don’t want to stay?” The son of a bitch had the audacity to sound as if his damn feelings were hurt. What nerve.

  “I’ll take you home only because I don’t want you killing anyone tonight, but I’m not staying. We can reconvene in the morning.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He chuckled, grating her nerves.

  She couldn’t believe it; the entire time with this man had been a strange dream with no end in sight. And there she ended up again after the drive, inside his condo, but this time, he’d unlocked his bedroom door and left it wide open. She’d definitely tried to take a peek when he wasn’t there earlier, but he’d made sure her access was denied. She gasped when she saw the room now, a bed shaped like a diamond and beneath it, a blue and green glow. The curtains were open and the city sparkled like jewels.

  “Ask me some questions,” he said gruffly as he worked his feet out of his socks and shoes.

  She wasn’t sure she should resist such a proposal. After all, alcohol loosened tongues and the truth had a tendency to roll out. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.

  “Ask me some questions,” he repeated, his back turned towards her now. He removed his shirt and cast it on the ground. She jumped at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. Before she could breathe again, his pants were around his ankles, and he stood in a pair of white boxer shorts. He tossed the pants aside, then tossed himself on the bed, arms linked behind his head. He closed his eyes, looking as though he were sleeping. “I thought a journalist asked questions.” He smirked.

  “Fine. What’s the story between you and Major?” Why not shoot from the hip, get all the juice while the lush of a bastard was impaired?

  “He’s my brother.”

  “I know, but why is he your manager? Out of obligation?”

  “No. I needed someone I could trust. I’m not good with money.”

  She sucked her teeth and chewed on that tidbit for a spell. “What happens to your money if no one is there to monitor you?”

  “I gamble it. I love to gamble. Usually I win. Sometimes I don’t. I give it away… Someone asks me for some money, I just give it to them.” He waved his hand lazily in her direction. “I work hard so I can give my fuckin’ money away. That’s not good business sense. That’s why I need Major. To negotiate my contracts, square shit away, get me my money, make sure I keep some fuckin’ money.” He laughed, but there was deep sorrow in his eyes as he slowly opened them and then, they glossed over with mirth. Or perhaps it wasn’t mirth but was something else altogether. “Come here, sit by me.” He patted the bed. She hesitated, then shook her head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Come on, bring your ass over here.” He rolled his eyes. “You think I’m gonna try to force myself on ya or somethin’?”

  She stood frozen, unable to answer.

  Even in his drunken state, she knew she’d be no match for him should he try anything. The way he’d picked up that heavy chair off the floor with her sitting in it to scoot her in during their first visit told her everything. His physical strength was downright scary. “We both know that you’ve looked into all my court records, Poison Ivy. You admitted it. No damn stone was left unturned. I’ve never done any shit like that to any damn body and you know it. Guys who do shit like that don’t begin at fuckin’ age thirty-four. You know this, so why would I start tryna assault women now? Besides, I like for my prey to come to me. I don’t force anything or anyone to do a damn thing.”

  “It’s not always about sex. Sometimes it’s about control, or anger. I’ve made you angry several times.”

  “You fuck me over, accuse me of somethin’ I didn’t do when the shit I actually do is bad enough, well, you’ll get the horns; otherwise, I leave people alone and none of my acts of revenge, as you’d like to believe, involve me taking anything against someone’s will. Now come ’ere.” She swallowed, then made her way over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Good grief. Thank you.”

  “You�
��re welcome.”

  “I’m not drunk. This is how I am when I’m tired. Ya still not convinced, I see. If I were drunk, I’d tell you. Now, what else do you want to ask me?”

  “What type of life did you have in Boston before you moved here?”

  “Home was fine.” He stretched and turned his body a bit more to face her. “We were poor though. Not like digging out the trash cans poor, but times were tough. I’ve got four older brothers. I’m the youngest. I figured getting into a good school would get me outta there and I’d have a chance, but then my career really blew up and I didn’t finish college.”

  “Oh, you went to a university? Where did you attend college?”

  “Harvard.” Her eyes grew big. What a surprising morsel.

  “Paxton, you’re kidding me.”

  “No, I’m serious. I got into Harvard. Look it up. My grades were always good. School was easy for me. Aced my tests and entrance exams. I remember shit well I guess… only gotta tell me once. I didn’t like school though. I was unhappy. There was nothing wrong with Harvard; it was a great place, but school isn’t for everybody. Anyway, it wasn’t my passion.”

  “What’s your passion?” She cocked her head to the side, falling in love with his story.

  “Magic is my passion, baby. I didn’t want to be working in a factory like my dad. That’s honest work, but he was miserable, Ivy. It’s too structured and too predictable for my taste. Some people need a routine. I run from one. See, even with my shows, each one has small differences and then, before long, I change it up altogether.”

  “Routine and schedules are usually taught to us by our parents, teachers, authority figures if you will. You seem to buck authority. How did your mother feel about you leaving a prestigious school such as Harvard?”

  “My mother was pretty disappointed. She didn’t want me to become a magician. That’s something a little kid says, ya know? At least in her eyes. I can understand it, I guess. I mean, the odds were against me. But I beat ’em… I took a gamble and won.”

  “And what did your father think?”

  “He and I stopped getting along right after I graduated high school. A lot of shit had happened.” The man sighed. Reaching for a joint on the nightstand, he looked at it then placed it back down, as if he thought better of it. “One thing that caused the rift was when I had got my girlfriend at the time pregnant.”

  “Mmmm, I didn’t know you had children.”

  “I don’t. Here’s the rundown of what happened. See, he and my mom are both religious, even though my dad never went to church. Anyway, they lost their shit when she and I decided we didn’t want to keep the baby and they felt like I had thrown my future away ’cause I was supposed to be goin’ to Harvard. I didn’t have any money; I got a scholarship. She didn’t either and I didn’t want my kid to be living in poverty till I finished at least four years. My child wouldn’t end up stealing from the packie like me and my brothers did just—”

  “Packie?”

  “Oh, that’s somethin’ exclusive to Boston, I guess. It’s corner spots, liquor stores, places you go to get ya cigarettes, things like that.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “But we had to, ya know? To get the stuff we wanted. Hold up, I gotta piss.” She was startled when he suddenly got up from the bed, causing her to fall over on her side. And that’s when she saw it.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Cassidy was right!

  As Paxton made his way around the bed and headed towards his bathroom, she caught a glimpse of one of the largest dicks she’d ever laid eyes on, swinging in his boxers like a thick vine—at least the imprint suggested such. He didn’t even bother to close the damn door all the way, and she begged herself to look away; she wanted to, well, a little bit, but she simply couldn’t. He whipped his cock out, flipped up the lid of the toilet, and she covered her mouth with both hands, trying to silence her scream.

  Her pussy pulsed in response, and the moisture in her panties flooded like a broken dam. She looked at his profile as he stood there, holding his cock with one hand and looking up at the ceiling when the stream of piss finally came to a trickle. He wasn’t even hard…

  Her imagination raced with her wondering what it would be like totally erect. He shook his dick and when he flushed the toilet, he turned quickly in her direction. Startled, she quickly turned away, fiddling with her fingers. She heard the sink water come on, and then listened as he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Finally, she heard the bathroom light turn off and he got back in the bed, as if nothing had happened.

  “So, um, where were we?”

  “Your religious parents and stealing from the packie.”

  “Right.” He yawned before fluffing his pillow. “So, anyway, my relationship with my father wasn’t that great after that. The girl, my ex-girlfriend, miscarried, so nothin’ needed to be done anymore but they were just mad that I had gotten into that jam in the first place. What really pissed me off, Ivy, is they acted like it was just me. My brothers were out there wild and crazy. Where’d they think I’d learned it from?! Shit, all of us were fucking, not just me. Wasn’t shit else to do in Lowell. You fucked, you drank, you smoked, you skipped school, you fought, you stole. They just should have been happy it was just weed, wine, and pussy for me.”

  “Was drug and alcohol abuse something prevalent in your childhood?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “Just done outta boredom. It was an occasional thing, basically, just something to do. Nowadays, in Lowell, ya got opioids and heroin being the big deal, all types of shit. They lace it with Fentanyl. That made Lowell one of the biggest spots in the country for overdoses. Last time I went home, a bunch of fuckers needed to be revived with Narcan… some of ’em I went to school with. That’s nothin’ unusual, just a way of life. Druggies can die and come back to life now, feelin’ invincible. I drink and smoke to cool my jets… too much spastic energy in my shows, makes my nerves all crazy. Anyway, back to the sex—for all I know, my brothers went through the same stuff with their girlfriends, only our parents didn’t know. My dad was pretty pissed about this magician business, too. You’d think with everything going on back then, he’d be relieved that was my main focus.” He chuckled dismally.

  “That actually is a perfect segue into delving deeper into this magical passion of yours, Paxton. You told me about the Children’s Hospital, how you’ve done this since you were a kid and entertained your peers, but one question in this evolution remains unanswered. Who taught you how to do these things?”

  “I taught myself.” Her mouth literally dropped open. Her expression was met with a smile. “I’m serious. I wasn’t no apprentice, none of that. I would read a lot of the books on magic down at the library. I’d watch old VHS tapes and DVDs of entertainers and illusionists, over and over and over, and read and everything until I could do what those guys could do, only better. I loved it. I don’t know how I knew I loved it; I don’t remember that part, but I know that once I decided that’s what I wanted to do, I was all in.”

  “That’s incredible! I think it’s practically unheard of. No teacher?”

  “Nope. Not until I was in high school and this guy in town, Edward Short, who owned a trick shop, showed me some stuff too. He helped me, said I was a natural talent and felt like I was the best he’d ever seen, especially for my age. He told my Dad that I was damn good but my father didn’t want to hear of it. He thought it was a waste of time, accused me of just sittin’ in my room for hours playing with cards. He didn’t understand why I just couldn’t get me a job like him, get married to a nice girl, and make a buncha babies. It was fuckin’ ridiculous. My parents knew I didn’t believe in the same shit they did. I mean, I’m a spiritual person, that’s important to me. I believe in God, you know, but I just don’t think He cares as much as they think He does.” The man was going into deep territory that she wasn’t prepared for. How would the readers of the paper respond to such declarations? This was no s
urface level and scandalous celebrity gossip. Paxton had delved deep. “I don’t think God even likes me.” He shook his head as he gave one of his mirthless laughs. She was getting used to them now.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I barely went to the chapel. I stole shit… petty theft, nothing big, but that’s a sin, right? I got a young girl pregnant and then convinced her to put the kid up for adoption, but God took the baby before we even got that far. That was divine intervention if I’d ever seen it. I would’ve been a shitty dad.”

  They were quiet for a spell, as if both needed the reprieve.

  “Ask me somethin’ else,” he said after a while, breaking the silence like a branch.

  “Paxton, what do you think of your fans?”

  “My fans? I love them. God gave me these gifts, right? I’m an entertainer, but I need these fans more than they need me. I need the attention, Ivy.” He rolled onto his side. His eyes looked so beautiful, so sad. “If nobody needs me or wants to see what I can do,” he said with a shrug, “I feel like shit. Each show, I put my all into it. I never take that for granted, you know? I’m not guaranteed a standing ovation. I have to earn that like it never happened before. I’m the only one in my family to get outta Lowell, Boston Massachusetts and do somethin’ else. I drink, I swim. I gamble, I swim. I smoke my weed, I swim. I sell out shows every fuckin’ night that I perform, and I swim.”

  “What do you mean by you swim? Are you speaking literally or figuratively?”

  “I swim away inside of my mind, baby.” He smiled, and the sight of it broke her heart. “I don’t do interviews because I need to keep swimming. See, if I let people know what I really think, it comes out as harsh. Jaded, I guess you could say. I like people around me, but on my own terms, ya know?”

  “I get that.”

  “Nobody wants to be around someone who has dark moments. Bits and pieces of me are destroyed and I can’t fix it. Like broken hearts, I can’t fix that.”