by Misti Murphy
“Oh no, Love.” He looks me up and down with a sympathetic frown. “Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t.”
“Fine.” I sigh. He’s right of course. I would never have the guts nor the balls to talk to Rogue Maddox. The one time I tried I got so flustered that I walked into a wall and broke my nose. I had black eyes for weeks. And I didn’t even come face to face with him. My stomach sinks and the butterflies I feel when I think about him make me want to puke. “I was in my Elsa costume. I’d just finished working at that fifth birthday party. He ran out in front of my car.”
“But you actually talked to him?” His jaw drops so far I can almost see his tonsils as he leans in. “That’s huge.”
“I told him my name was Uma Cookie.” The honorary drag queen name Adira and the other queens came up with for me. I turn down one side of my mouth. “Eek.”
“You talked to him,” he repeats, his smile growing with excitement. “That’s…progress.”
“It wasn’t me. It was Uma.” Apparently my alter ego has more confidence than I do in an emergency. “And I was in shock. It’s not going to happen again. It was a once in a lifetime moment. And now it’s back to our regularly scheduled programming.”
“That’s still huge.” He grins from ear to ear. “You talked to your celebrity crush. Used actual words.”
I nod.
“We should practice on real men,” he says. “Maybe you should go to class dressed as Elsa and try it on one of those co-ed hotties.”
“Hang on. Rogue Maddox is a real man,” I say. He’s tall and taut and has the most delicious ink on his body. And he smells like something that makes me want to act like a ho. Well, the coppery smell of blood kind of ruined it for me when I was driving him to the hospital, but the first time I met him his cologne made my mouth so wet spittle flew from my lips and landed on the shirt of the person I was talking to.
“Oh, I know.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling. “And you’re totally crushing on him. Good for you.”
“But the chances I’ll see him again, let alone tell him that I want him to bang my brains out are none.” I resign myself to the facts.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, a sparkle in his eye. “I have a feeling you’ll see him again. Who knows? Maybe the third time is the charm, hmm?”
The doorbell chimes.
“Client is here.” Adira leaps off the desk and dusts his hands on the black denim covering his thighs as he sashays toward the doors of the shop that’s so exclusive the client has to be vetted by phone before they can make an appointment to shop with us. “You’re going to love this one.”
“What are they looking for?” I call after him.
“I’m not sure, but it’ll be fabulous.” Everything about Adira is dramatic and I love it. Some idiot once tried to insult him by calling him a queer coded Disney villain and Adira retorted with the perfect villainous laugh before referring him to his agent.
I wish I could be as cool as Adira. Have his confidence.
He takes hold of both handles on the double doors and pulls them open with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome to Hunt Luxuries. Your one stop shop for all things wickedly wonderful.”
I turn my attention back to my laptop. Unless Adira needs me to assist I try not to gawp at the people that come through the door. They’re always wealthy and often famous and part of what they appreciate about coming here is that their privacy is maintained in every way possible.
I scroll down the page of news articles about Rogue. There are various stories about what led to him catching two bullets. The first one is that he was caught in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong while buying cocaine. It’s completely fabricated crap. Everyone knows Rogue drinks and hoes around, but he doesn’t do drugs. Ever. It was Rebel Maddox that went down that path for a while.
I click out of that article and move on to the next. This one suggests that he mistakenly shot himself. I have no clue how they came to that conclusion, considering where he was shot, but okay.
I switch over to my favorite news site. Hollywood Juice. Marty Kendall is the voice of celebrity truth. But over the last few weeks her offerings have been a little disappointing. I thought she would have more to say on the kerfuffle between Rogue’s twin and Alec Hawthorne the night of the Bilsons’ party.
I skim the headlines, but she hasn’t even touched on how Rogue ended up catching two bullets. He was definitely running from someone…
I move over to Insta to check out his feed. Maybe he made a statement.
“I need you to find a girl for me.” The masculine voice of Adira’s client has my ears pricking.
I know that voice. I’m sure of it. I fight the instinct to look up as I stumble across his statement, which basically says he’s alive and well and gives me no details whatsoever as to why he bled all over Jaffa’s passenger seat.
“Maybe I should try a private investigator. Only I don’t know where to start. That’s why I thought you might be able to help. You specialize in finding the obscure and unattainable. I don’t know. This is dumb.”
The effort to not take a quick glance is really tiring me out. I have to see if I’m right. What’s one little peek over the screen of my laptop? I can’t help myself. I lift my gaze while endeavoring to keep my head down. I have to see.
Rogue Maddox is standing in the middle of the room with Adira.
My heart starts to race. Oh shit. He’s here. And he’s looking for a…girl? Oh great, now Adira is going to help him find her and I’m going to have pretend like I don’t have a giant crush while I assist him. This is going to suck.
“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Adira takes a little cat walk, using the movement to put Rogue’s back to me so he can see whether I’m watching them.
I push my thin, silver framed glasses up my nose. They slide down sometimes when my focus is on my laptop screen. Which is where I should really put my attention instead of on Rogue Maddox’s wide and muscular back. His T-shirt appears to fit him better this time, but the cotton still stretches in all the right places and his baggy sweats—that are probably more comfortable over his wounds than real pants would be—drape gracefully from his hips.
I rest my chin on my knuckles and sigh. He’s just so pretty. I wish I were his sweats.
“So, tell me about this girl.” Adira folds one arm across his chest and puts two fingers to his jaw. “What’s her name? What’s she like?”
“Well.” Rogue pushes a hand through his hair. The dark, glossy strands stand up in a way that begs for my fingers to smooth them out.
Ungph, I clench my thighs when my clit pulses at the idea of touching him. The things I want to do…
“She was pretty.”
My heart sinks.
“White blonde hair and ice blue eyes. When I met her she was wearing a princess costume. She said she was dressed as Elsa.”
My gaze connects with Adira’s. His eyes flash with amusement.
I shake my head and flick my hand at him to not alert Rogue to my presence. Maybe he’s talking about me, but it’s equally as likely he met some other beauty who sometimes dresses up as a Disney princess, right? This is just a coincidence. That’s all. He’s not here…looking for…me.
The information overloads my synapses and tumbles out of my mouth in a squeak. I clamp my hand across my mouth. Oh my God, what if he is?
“What was th—” Rogue pivots at the waist to glance over his shoulder as I dive out of my chair and onto the floor.
“Tell me more,” Adira says.
My face is like a furnace and I’m already beginning to sweat. And I’m wearing a white blouse. I’m going to end up with yellow pits.
Oh no, this can’t be happening. It’s like a nightmare. What if he saw me? What if he recognized me? I cower while I wait for his footsteps to come closer. The carpet is itchy on my knees.
“This is stupid.” His voice is still as far away as it was before. “I should go. Sorry for wasting your time.”
I rest my head on my knees and peek out through the three inch gap at the base of the counter. They’re still in the middle of the room. This is good. It means he didn’t see me.
“Not so quick,” Adira says. “This girl, what did you say her name was?”
“You’re going to laugh,” he warns.
I hear what I can only imagine is cringe in his voice.
“Oh dear man, I promise I won’t,” Adira says. “I want to help you.”
“Oh great,” I mutter under my breath as I roll my gaze at the underside of the counter I use as a desk. Pulling in a deep breath, I let out a prayer that somehow I can turn invisible or just melt through the floor in the next minute before Adira offers me up on a platter to the man.
Not that he’s looking for me. He isn’t. He’s searching for some girl who won’t be embarrassed and weird about the man of her dreams tracking her down. Uma Cookie.
I would rather melt into a puddle and avoid the awkward situation Adira is more than likely about to unleash on me. It does seem like a real possibility, considering how much I’m sweating. There’s a box of tissues on my desk. They’re practically above my head. If I move quietly I can grab them without being noticed so I can mop up all these puddles before I’m voted worst in a wet T-shirt competition.
“She said…” He pauses as though he’s regretting the words that are about to come out of his mouth and is smart enough to realize that pre-the-moment.
On stealth mode, I stretch one hand up and around the edge of the counter. My fingers glide over the surface until they bump into my laptop.
Nope, that’s not what I wanted.
“Her name is…”
I visualize the contents above my head. Laptop in the middle. On the left is a jar of black pens and a large leather bound diary where we keep appointment information. The phone is beside that. On the right is open space other than the carton of tissues and the plate of cookies one of Adira’s clients sent us.
I wiggle my hand back.
“Uma Cookie,” he says.
I knock over a glass. Crap, I forgot about that. I scrunch up my eyes as the glass tips with a clatter and cool liquid drenches my fingertips. “Shit.”
“What was that?” Rogue asks.
I groan. I am so busted. There’s nothing to do now, but climb to my feet and pretend that everything is absolutely, perfectly fine. I pull one of the pens that somehow always end up in my bun by the end of a shift out of my haphazard hair and stand.
“Found it,” I tell Adira while trying not to look at the sexiest man alive standing beside him. Rogue, oh Rogue, don’t you know we belong together? Well, we would if I wasn’t ridiculously shy and you weren’t the guy who sleeps with everyone. Oh, and about a million other reasons. But in my head, we belong together. My eyes have a mind of their own; I swear, they gaze at him like he’s a cool glass of water and they’ve been wandering around in the desert. He is so hot.
Yeah, I shouldn’t have looked at him. When he smiles my brain malfunctions. I open my mouth and then close it again. Any words I had have all dried up. Water drips over the edge of the desk and onto my ankle. Oh shit, Adira is going to kill me if it damages the carpet that has real gold threaded through it. I grab a wad of tissues and start mopping the spill back from the edge.
Adira shakes his head, his brown eyes full of sympathy. “This is my assistant, Ivy.”
“Ivy. That’s a beautiful name. I’m Rogue Maddox.”
I glance up into his cerulean eyes. Blink. When did they get so close and so warm? I pick up the platter of cookies and thrust them at his chest.
His lips curve up on one side as he takes one. His smile is a little bit cocky, a little bit charming. Definitely crooked in a way that screams I know you want to take your panties off for me.
I do. I totally do. I dart my tongue over my bottom lip, pull it back between my teeth. Blink like a lizard with epilepsy. The butterflies are trying to make me sick again.
His brow furrows. Then his eyes crinkle in the corner. Finally his mouth purses and he strokes his stubble darkened jaw with his free hand. “You look familiar.”
I snort, but it’s so unladylike I immediately try to take it back and choke on it. Dropping the cookies on my desk, I clap my hands over my mouth. One of those round, palm-size morsels bounces off the tray and rolls off the desk while my eyes water and my shoulders shake and I heave. Until I gag and snot bubbles out of my nose.
I yank a tissue from the box—that was my original goal after all—and wipe my nose while ignoring the tears drying on my cheeks. At this point what does it matter?
“Do I know you?” he asks when I finally manage to appear human again. He tilts his head to the side.
God, I hope not. He’s trying to figure it out, but he never will. Not without all the makeup. Or a costume.
“You look familiar,” he repeats.
I take a breath. I talked to him the other day, surely I can tell him he’s mistaken. “N-n-n-n-n-n.”
His smile returns. His eyes brighten with mischief. “Batman?”
Oh my God, I up and die. Right there on Adira’s luxurious red carpet I, Ivy Rose Love, finally lose the will to live. The mortification is just too much.
“Ivy has one of those familiar faces.” Adira touches his arm and draws his attention away from me. Grateful, I sink down in my seat as they walk toward the shop doors. “I believe I can help you find your cookie.”
“Really?” Rogue looks surprised. “Hell, I don’t even think that’s her real name.”
“I know a lot of queens,” Adira says. “A princess with a name like that, drag or not, someone will know her. But is it too much if I ask what you want with this girl? I trust you’re aboveboard, it’s just—”
“I’m absolutely not part of any kind of sex trafficking ring,” he says. “I have no problem getting my own women.”
“Of course,” Adira says with a haughty twist to his eyebrow.
“I was shot,” he admits.
“Oh, that’s terrible.” Adira sounds truly horrified though he was well aware of that fact already. “But you’re alright now? No lasting damage?”
"A couple of scars and a great story where I come off looking like a badass,” Rogue says. “Uma actually… saved me. I want to thank her.”
“Of course you do.” Adira clasps a hand on his shoulder and glances back at me. “Think of me as your fairy god queen who is going to make that possible.”
I wave my hands in a cut it out motion. Whatever he’s scheming I want no part of. I just want to go back to swooning over Rogue Maddox from afar. From a nice respectable and safe distance with no familiarity at all.
“Thanks,” Rogue says, having no idea that he’s talking about me.
“Oh.” Adira’s eyes light up as he swings his attention back to Rogue. “I have a wonderful idea. You should come to my show on Saturday night. It’s at the Mojito Bar. It’ll be a blast and your Rapunzel might be there.”
“Elsa,” Rogue corrects him. “Do you think she could be?”
“Love, get your sweet buns over here with two tickets, please.” Adira claps his hands.
I dive into the top drawer and pull out the ticket book and an envelope. Ripping off two stubs I push them into the packet. Two tickets? What is Adira thinking? Doesn’t he know Rogue will bring a date? They’ll probably be photographed for People magazine while I disappear into the background. Okay, that’s how it should be, but that doesn’t mean I want to imagine it.
I scurry around the counter and across the room and try to hand Adira the envelope.
“Not me.” He crosses his arms and gives me full head tilt attitude. “Give them to our new friend.”
I sniff as I use all my power not to roll my gaze at my best friend. He’s doing this on purpose because he knows how hard it is for me. Turning, I offer the envelope to Rogue.
He studies my face while he takes it. I can feel his gaze on me though I don’t dare look at him directly.
“Thanks,�
�� he says. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Mmgjhg.”
Adira clasps Rogue’s elbow and guides him around me to the double doors. “I’ll be in touch when I have acquired what you require.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday.” He taps the corner of the envelope against the heel of his palm. “Looking forward to it.”
“Not half as much as I am, sweetie.” Adira winks at him as he encourages Rogue onto the pavement and shuts the doors behind him. His face morphs with excitement as he turns and leans against those gilded doors. “Well, didn’t you leave quite the impression?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m not doing it.” I back up behind the counter.
“He wants to see you again,” he teases.
My heart skips a beat. Stupid heart doesn’t know any better. She thinks we have a shot. That he will eventually see through my inability to talk to him and fall in love with me. But that is never going to happen. “He wants to thank me. For rescuing him. Which he just did even if he doesn’t know it. So we do not need to go down whatever yellow brick path you’re concocting in your head.”
“Love, you know I much prefer crimson over ochre.”
“Stop it.” I sink into my seat. “You saw me. I couldn’t even say one word to him. The other day was a fluke.”
“Or maybe you just need to be a little more Uma Cookie than Ivy Love.” He leans his elbows on the counter and balances his chin in his curled hands. “So the question isn’t whether you’ll come to my show, but who you’ll come as.”
“Can’t.” As much as I’d prefer to be at the show with Adira, responsibility calls. My mom has been harassing me to have dinner with her for a week now. And surprisingly, my brother has been calling too. It’s been a long time since he showed this much interest in me, and unfortunately, I think I know why. I wish we could go back to the part where he ignores me.
I drop my head on my hands on the desk with a groan. But I kind of knew this was coming. “I’m having dinner with Nicole. Apparently my brother is home and it’s only fitting that we dine as a family.”
“You poor thing,” Adira says. “That woman is a reptile. And your brother didn’t fall far enough away from that cold bitch of an apple tree. It’s a wonder you turned out as sweet as you did.”