by Maryann Reid
To Blake’s surprise, Amanda flipped the top sheet of the pad back and wrote on the next page, as well. Wow, this is turning out to be a long autograph. Margot is going to be so thrilled! She’ll look like a kid at Christmas!
Amanda tugged the top two sheets loose from the pad and handed them to Blake, and surprised her again with another hug. “I wish I could sneak back out there and have a drink and talk, but we’ve got to get on the road to our next tour stop. Say hi to your friend from me next time you see her, though!”
“I will, and thank you again!” Blake waved, and Amanda waved back before retreating into the dressing room again to change clothes. With Matt behind her, Blake weaved her way through dancers back to the table they shared with Brett.
Brett was talking on what looked like an Android smartphone until Blake and Matt sat down at the table. Then, “Listen, Blake is back, I’ve gotta go,” Brett said, and clicked the End Call button. He grinned at Blake and asked, “So how is Ms. Brown?”
“She’s such a sweet woman!” Blake knew she was gushing, but she couldn’t help herself. “Margot is right to love her, she’s got a personality as beautiful as her voice.” About to fold the note Amanda Brown had written to Margot, Blake found herself reading it.
“To Margot Mills: One of my inspirations is a quote from Goethe, which says, ‘Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.’ I wish you the boldness to dream big and the power and magic to make your dreams come true. All my best, Amanda Brown.”
“All that fits easily on one page,” Blake murmured. “What in the world did she write on the second page?” She looked, and found an Amanda Brown autograph of her own.
“I’m glad we met, Blake Bertrand. I remember when you were one of the world’s top models. I thought if your father’s music had a body, it would look just like you. Keep changing the world one neighborhood at a time, and keep being beautiful. You’re an inspiration to all your sisters! Best always, Amanda Brown.”
Blake found herself trying not to cry. Carefully, she folded the two sheets of paper and slipped them into an inner pocket of her purse for safety.
“You okay?” Brett was leaning in close to see Blake’s eyes, his own gone soft with concern for her.
“Oh. Yes. She just wrote such a sweet note to me, that’s all.” Blake smiled, her cheeks feeling warm again under Brett’s intense gaze. “Do you want dessert?”
“I do, but not anything they serve here.” Brett grinned at her, and now his eyes were filled with mischief.
“Bad boy.” They laughed, while Matt briefly looked from one to the other before returning his attention to his smartphone.
She waved their waiter back to their table the next time she spotted him, and started to pay for dinner. Brett pushed a credit card of his own into Tim’s hands. “No, ma’am. I said this would be my treat, remember?”
After their meal was paid for, Blake finally thought to check the time. “It’s almost one in the morning!”
“Sorry about that. At least it’s the weekend.” Brett stood up and held Blake’s coat for her. “Let’s take you home. Why don’t we walk?”
“Long walk,” Matt muttered.
“Gives us more time to talk.” Brett said that to Blake, still acting as if Matt weren’t around.
“I’m exhausted. How about a compromise? We’ll call a cab, get out a few blocks away from my apartment, and walk the rest of the way.” Blake glanced at Matt, who nodded approval of her suggestion.
“Well, sometimes a guy has to take what a lady is willing to give.” Brett offered Blake his arm, and with arms linked they descended the stairs and stepped out onto the street.
And found that it was snowing, big fluffy flakes of the kind little children dream of seeing on Christmas Day. Like a little child, Brett turned his face up to the sky and caught a snowflake on his tongue.
That tongue, long and agile, made Blake feel warm all over.
Brett looked at her and grinned. He’d meant his gesture to speak to Blake’s hormones, and he’d succeeded, and he knew it.
Matt phoned for a taxi, while Brett caught more snowflakes and Blake laughingly joined him. She felt sorry when the taxi arrived for them, but the warmth and the sense of security of sitting between two big, well-muscled men was almost sinfully delicious. They got out of the cab five blocks away from Blake’s apartment, and Brett put an arm around her waist and held her close as they walked.
By the time the doorman welcomed Blake home, there was no question to be asked. She waited for Brett to come in, and he did.
Standing between her bed and the window that filled most of the wall overlooking the street, Brett helped Blake out of her clothing, one garment at a time. Blake unbuttoned his shirt with her teeth, making sure he knew that she, too, had skills. Her hand moved as if it had a mind of its own to his hot, hard crotch, but he gently brushed her away.
“No, let me.” He slid down his pants first, standing framed against the city lights. His best friend was trying to escape from his briefs, and Brett slipped those off too, his dick high and…mighty. Blake’s lower lips thrilled with anticipation.
He made her wait for it, kissing her breathless and nibbling her ears and nipples. She dug her fingernails into his ass cheeks, making him gasp and slide himself between her legs. Blake moaned, feeling sudden wetness down below and a need so strong it hurt.
“Please,” she begged him, and he lifted her in his arms and stretched her out on top of the bed covers. Without preamble he spread her legs and brushed his tongue over her mound, once, twice, then wiggled it between the folds around her clit and licked that once before suddenly sucking her hard.
“CHRIST,” she groaned, her hips thrusting with a will of their own. He seized her hips and pressed them still, then rose and kissed her quiet as he slid his buddy inside her.
If he hadn’t been kissing her, she would have awakened the whole apartment building.
Chapter Seven
March 26
New York, New York
Suki peeked into Blake’s bedroom and announced, “We’ve got a taxi on the way, Boss. Are you about ready to roll?”
Blake stood looking at her black leather Gucci carry-on, consulting a list she’d made in a file on her phone. “Got everything,” she answered. She zipped the carry-on shut, locked it, and started rolling it through the living room.
That was when her BlackBerry played Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” to announce a phone call from Vickie Sharp, Blake’s new publicist. “Go watch for the cab,” Blake told Suki. “I’ll keep this short, I promise.”
“Blake, I’ve got such good news for you!” Vickie piped in Blake’s ear as soon as she pressed the Talk button.
“Well, no matter how good it is, make it quick. I’ve got a taxi coming to take me to the airport.”
“You’re leaving New York? But I need you tomorrow. I just talked to some television producers looking for a host for a new reality show, and you’re exactly what they need.”
“That does sound interesting, and I’ll be glad to talk to them anytime after this weekend, but I’ve got to go now.”
“I’ve already scheduled a meeting for tomorrow morning!”
“Reschedule it. You should have checked with me first, anyway. I often have appointments with lawyers, brokers, other business contacts. Talk to you when I get back.”
“But that might be too late! They want to hire someone immediately!”
“I’ve got to go,” Blake reminded Vickie, and clicked End Call.
She found Brett standing between her and the door. “You still haven’t explained why you’ve got to go back to Miami for the weekend,” he said, well-muscled arms folded across his bare chest.
Antonio, relaxing on the sofa and watching Criminal Minds on the large flat-screen TV, arched an eyebrow. By now Blake knew him well enough to know that meant he was listening to the conversation a few steps away from him, though his gaze stayed fixed on the show
.
“I’ve got something personal to take care of back home.” She rolled the carry-on in her trail, out the open door.
Brett followed her. “Is something wrong with your mom?”
“No.”
“Then what’s happening?”
“I seem to remember saying it’s personal, Brett.” She turned around to face him. He didn’t seem aware of the fact, but Antonio stood behind Brett, monitoring the situation.
I’m relieved to see Antonio watching over me. What does that say about my relationship with Brett? She bowed her head, torn and reluctant to think about any of this, especially now.
“I get it. You don’t trust me.” Brett’s eyes narrowed. Even though Antonio couldn’t possibly see that, he reacted to Brett’s tone of voice by moving a step closer, ready for action.
“We’ve only known each other a few days, Brett. You don’t know everything about me, and I don’t know everything about you. Give it time.” She turned around again and pulled her carry-on toward the elevator.
“Take me with you.”
“Not this time, Brett.”
“But why?”
“What about the word ‘personal’ don’t you understand, dude?” asked Antonio.
As Blake pressed the elevator button for the ground floor and the doors started to slide shut, Antonio and Brett faced each other in the hallway, looking on the verge of a fistfight. What have I got myself into? She contemplated that question as the elevator began its descent.
Chapter Eight
March 26
Miami, Florida
Lang climbed out of the steaming Jacuzzi and stretched himself from toes to uplifted fingers, free for the moment from aching joints. He motioned to Gabby to follow him, and she did, making sure to bring the shot glasses and half-empty vodka bottle with her. They dripped from the enclosed patio to the den and dropped themselves onto the sofa, unconcerned by the work the water stains would make for the maid team.
“Pour me another shot,” he grumbled, leaning over the coffee table. A mirror lay ready, where he’d left it earlier. He tapped a small quantity of cocaine out of a clear plastic baggie onto the mirror’s surface. He used his MasterCard to cut the powder into two smaller piles, which he shaped into two lines about the width of a drinking straw and the length of the credit card itself.
With one end of a tightly rolled hundred-dollar bill inserted in his right nostril and his left index finger pinching his left nostril shut, he sniffed his way up one line of coke. He paused when the line was gone to breathe gently out of his mouth, then snorted hard to draw the powder all the way up into his nose.
“Ahhhh.” He felt a mild sensation of lightness, as if a breeze could carry him away. “Fuck yeah, this is good stuff.”
“Hey, I want some!”
“Just wait your goddamn turn. I pay for this stuff, I decide when you get some.” He transferred the rolled hundred to his left nostril, pinched his right nostril shut, and repeated the process with the other line.
Now he felt like he was floating, and only two things could make him feel even better. He put out a hand for the vodka shot Gabby had poured for him and gulped it down in a single swallow. Then he lay back and spread his legs. “Suck me.”
“I want some coke first.”
“Well, you’re not getting any until you suck my dick.”
Gabby hesitated, and Lang knew she was thinking of grabbing the baggie and prepping a couple of lines for herself. He also knew she remembered what happened the last time she defied him. She finally cupped him in one hand and slid his hardening prick into her warm, wet mouth and suckled him.
“Oh yeah. Take me, cunt. Harder.”
She did as he told her, sucking him with more force. He reached down and grabbed fistfuls of her hair and pulled as she sucked, until finally he arched his back and shot his jism down her throat. She coughed a little, just once, but licked her lips and swallowed as he’d taught her.
“You’re getting pretty good at that now,” he said, when he was no longer panting for breath.
“Thanks.” After a few seconds, the blonde actress asked, careful not to whine, “Please, can I have some coke now?”
“I guess you earned a little reward.” He sat up and tipped a tiny bit more powder onto the mirror’s surface and shaped a single line, of the same dimensions as each of the two he’d snorted.
“Just one line?”
“I can dump it back in the bag, or snort it myself.”
“I’m sorry. Please. Thank you. Lang, please…”
As he handed her the hundred, his iPhone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and his heart raced. Snatching up the phone and the baggie, he said, “I’ll be back in a few,” and shut himself inside his study.
“What’s up, Sal?” Lang dropped into his favorite recliner, put up the footrest, and made himself comfortable.
“Blake just boarded a flight back to Miami.”
That made him sit straight up, the act making him wince from the strain in his abs. “When does her plane get in?”
“About ten tonight.”
“Well. I think we should welcome the bitch home.” He felt a tingling excitement shiver up his spine at the thought.
“That isn’t really the sort of thing Donato sent us here to do.”
“Fuck Donato,” Lang growled. “Listen, I want you and Lucio to follow her. You know what her car looks like. She has a chauffeur, so this will be tough to pull off. But the first chance you get, I want you to slash her tires.”
“Won’t the driver put up a fight?”
“I doubt it. He’s an old man. But if he gives you trouble, rough him up a little.”
“Okay. But if Donato hears about this—”
“Don’t be a moron. Make sure he doesn’t.” Lang clicked the call off and sat back, grinning up at the ceiling.
“Maybe there’s a god in heaven after all. Here’s my chance to teach the bitch a lesson she’ll never forget.”
Chapter Nine
March 28
Tampa, Florida
Henry Walden, Blake’s chauffeur since a 9/11 back injury forced him to give up his career as a New York firefighter, parked the rental car in the Poe Garage with half hour to spare before the Florida All State Band concert would begin. Instead of his usual suit and tie, he was dressed in jeans, sweater, and a jaunty beret. Blake and Suki were likewise dressed to blend in: Suki in jeans and blouse, and Blake in slacks and sweater.
Suki didn’t wait for Henry to open the door for her. As soon as the car stopped moving, Suki popped out of the backseat and turned in a slow circle, inspecting every detail of their surroundings.
“I thought you were trained to blend in,” Henry teased. Chauffeur and bodyguard had taken an instant liking to each other, chattering like old friends throughout the drive from Miami to Tampa.
Who would have guessed Suki can be really friendly? Blake smiled as Henry opened the door for her.
“I think you should come inside with us,” Suki said to Henry, ignoring his little joke.
Here and there, cars were pulling into parking spaces. Thirty- and forty-something couples climbed out of most, usually with one or more teenagers or young children. Some cars yielded senior citizens, probably grandparents of children performing in the afternoon’s concert.
Blake found herself watching them all with a jealousy so intense it pained her heart. I should have kept Lionel, and never married Lang. My son and I should be a family…
Suki ceased examining the area, half-turning so that she could see Blake and Henry and yet still keep watch on activity in the garage. “I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right. Come inside the Straz, Henry.”
“I’ll be fine staying with the car. I do it all the time,” Henry replied, his voice mellow. “My grandkids got me this fancy phone. I sit in or near the car, goofing off on Facebook…”
“You shouldn’t do that this time,” Suki insisted.
“What’s wrong, Suki?” Blake sl
ung her purse strap over her shoulder, anxious to go inside the Straz and lay claim to a seat as close to the stage as possible.
“Like I said, I don’t know.” Suki frowned as a couple walked by, their toddler shrieking to enjoy the echoes in the garage.
“We only have two tickets,” Blake reminded Suki.
“Then take Henry in, and I’ll stay here.”
Henry shook his head. “No, you’ve got to stay with Miss Bertrand. She’s the one who needs protection. I don’t have an enemy in the world, thank God.”
“But—”
“Suki, we need to go in.” Blake glanced at the time on her BlackBerry: twenty minutes until the concert would start. All the best seats might already be taken. “Henry, keep your eyes open. If there’s any chance of trouble, run inside the Straz and text Suki, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Bertrand.” Henry shut the rear doors of the car as Blake hurried to the covered walkway leading from the Poe Garage to the Straz Center. Suki hesitated for a moment, looking at Henry with worry etched into her facial features. Then the bodyguard trotted to catch up with Blake and stayed by her side the rest of the way.
All the seats in the first five rows were occupied, but they managed to get seats near the center of the sixth row, and those weren’t bad. Blake’s tummy flip-flopped as if it were she, not her son, due on stage in fifteen minutes. Suki sat tapping text messages into her Android smartphone. Probably to Henry. She’s really very worried about him. I wonder if I made a mistake…
Then the lights dimmed, and the band moved onstage and took their seats. Blake couldn’t see Lionel’s face well, but she knew he was the taller and lankier of the three French horn players. A student conductor took the shadowed podium, and a spotlight flashed on to illuminate a balding man in a blue suit.
“Ladies and gentleman, the state of Florida has tens of thousands of talented young musicians. Only the best of the best, however, are selected for All State Band. Every young man and woman on this stage with me today was chosen from hundreds or even thousands who play the same instrument.”