by Lily Silver
She’d seen Lex on MTV in video at the tender age of fourteen and his raw masculine sensuality had captured her heart. Those erotic lyrics made her want him to come out of the speakers and charm her clothes right off of her. His haunting renegade soldier of fortune image seemed to set the stage for a long line of bad boys through her high school years. Since those turbulent years of teenage angst and misguided lust, she’d become famous. Jessie had male groupies following her now and the fan letters to prove it.
Watching Kyra’s heart get ground into so much hamburger in recent years by rival band members and male groupies alike, Jessie avoided the sexual component of the Rock and Roll lifestyle. Instead, she buried herself in the fantasy world of historical romance novels. The couple always had a happily ever after, just like in the fairytales--once they worked through the obstacles in their relationship. Jessie preferred to curl up every night with a good romance novel instead of a different lover, unlike Kyra, who played the male groupies during tours better than she played guitar.
Wouldn’t that little tidbit of well-guarded truth just knock ‘em dead at Rolling Stone magazine? What is it you dream about Ms. Kelly, your most private thoughts . . . honestly now? “Honestly, male model Jimmy Thomas in a pirate’s costume vaulting over my balcony some night to carry me away to paradise.”
Ah, Lex was just as sexy and virile up close as any model on the cover of her beloved romances. He could be a dangerous pirate sporting an eye patch, a marauding Norman Knight, or a powerful English Lord in a eighteenth century manor house, just waiting for the perfect woman to come along and tame his wild heart.
Damn, he was gorgeous, drop dead gorgeous. Jess thought as she gazed at the man himself between the openings in the lattice work separating their properties. Lex was everything a girl could want, even after high school. He was rich, famous--and as far above her as the stars in the sky.
Stop it Jessie, stop drooling. Might as well reach for the moon.
She’d met plenty of icons in the rock world and movie stars. One learned to get over the hero worship quickly when they barfed on your shoes at the galas or made lewd comments about your ass and expected you to feel flattered. Some were no better than the jerks in high school. In fact, Hollywood was an awful lot like high school with its share of jocks, stoners, cheerleaders and party animals.
Lex was gorgeous. He was like Johnny Depp, Elvis and Bradley Cooper all rolled into one exquisite package. The most she could hope for was peering at him through the grapevine leaves of her patio deck. He was worldly and cosmopolitan, exuding raw sensuality and masculine elegance, and she was, well . . . Jessie was practically a virgin.
“Earth to Jessie.” Steve called through his cupped hands. The magic spell was broken. Steve was right; she was trying to reach for the moon. “I’m going to grab a shower. Let’s leave for The Pier at noon. You can fill me in on all the gory details then.” He rose and ascended the steps to the house, passing an exuberant Kyra who was bouncing her way down the steps in her red silk robe.
“Oh, Jess.” Kyra crooned, adjusting her robe about her modestly before she sat down. “Sorry I was short with you earlier. I didn’t want anything to intrude on the magic.” Kyra tossed her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder and then rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin beneath her perfectly manicured fingernails, something Jess could never manage. As the lead guitarist, Jessie practiced daily. She had the calluses to prove it while Kyra played when the mood struck her.
“I have the most awesome news.” Her friend gushed. “Mike and I are moving in together.” She extended her left hand to display an oversized diamond ring.
“You’re engaged?” Jessie asked, hoping to clarify things for Kyra, who had a long history of being easily seduced and then hurt when things didn’t work out as she hoped.
“Of course, silly. That’s why we’re moving in together, to see if we’re suited to the marriage gig. Isn’t it just the coolest thing?” Kyra sighed, deeply moved by her lover’s sense of reason.
“Congratulations.” Jessie smiled, hoping that this time her friend’s heart would remain in one piece. “Have you set a date yet?”
“No . . .” Kyra hesitated. “But--it is official--we’re engaged.” She shot Jessie a defensive look to match her defensive tone.
And after just two weeks of dating, how about that? Jessie thought, but kept silent as she offered her friend a plastic smile.
“I have a huge favor to ask of you.” Kyra began, giving Jessie a grave look as she paused for effect. “Our engagement party is next week. Friday night, a celebration, a few close friends, business associates, you know, to share the news . . .”
“That was quick, where?”
“The Beverly Wilshire, where else?”
Jessie let out a low whistle. The Wilshire was exclusive, so exclusive that even the top movie stars had to go on a waiting list to get their events booked at the Wilshire Banquet Suites. “How could he get booked so quickly?”
“He is Mike Parks. Lex’s original drummer. Maybe his face isn’t on every CD cover, but he has clout in this town, too. Now, Mike has this friend and . . .”
“No.”
“No?” Kyra squeaked in surprise. “I haven’t even finished asking you the question. How can you say no?”
“No more blind dates.”
Kyra straightened her spine. Her bottom lip jutted out in an adorable pout, a ploy Jessie had no doubt had gotten the luscious blonde her own way with many a man.
“That is what you were about to ask me, isn’t it?” Jessie insisted, recognizing the question by the tone of Kyra’s voice.
“Just hear me out.” Kyra burst forth, waving her lovely manicured hands to emphasize her words. “Mike wants his best friend to be there, just like I want you to be there for me. But Lex doesn’t go out at all these days. He just sits home and mopes.”
“Lex?” Jessie breathed reverently. “You’re asking me to go out with Lex?”
“Yes, he’s Mike’s closest friend and Mike is really worried about him. He came out of a nasty breakup a year ago. Mike says the guy’s really depressed, and you did say when we first moved in that you thought he was--”
“No.” Jessie broke in. “Absolutely not. Lex was making records and touring when we were in eighth grade--”
“Yeah.” Kyra giggled with girlish delight. “Our parents wouldn’t let us go to the concert in La Crosse, but Steve got that sophomore girl to drive us there anyway. The one with the big bazookas he liked, what was her name?”
“Wendy. That is my point, Kyra.” Jessie paused, giving her friend an imploring gaze. Kyra returned her regard with a confused frown. “What on earth would Lex and I have to talk about? He’s way up there with Seal or Bryan Adams from when we were kids. You wouldn’t presume to set me up on a blind date with either of them, would you?”
Kyra shook her head, giving Jessie a look that said she clearly had missed something important in all of this. “You still don’t get it, do you? You still think we’re the kids from Wisconsin, just another high school band looking for our big break. Don’t you read what the critics say about you?”
“I try not to.” Jessie returned. It was mostly hype, anyway, designed to sell an image that was far from reality.
“They compare you to Nicole Kidman, a young version of Kidman, at least that’s what Cosmo said about your ‘glowing locks and china doll complexion.’ You’re famous now, too, honey, you’re not just an invisible shadow in the music world anymore.”
“You want me to go out with a legend whose very name is synonymous with sex, as a small favor to you?”
Kyra just smiled her classic cat that got the mouse smirk that she was known for. “Don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as a casual dinner with a business colleague, one who’s been around a bit longer than you, granted, but--”
Thunderous footsteps down the wooden staircase heralded the arrival of Jack, Jessie’s twin. His little dog, a pug, who had been basking contentedly i
n the warm sunshine beside Jessie’s Scottie, stood and began his pathetic whining while dancing a jig with nervous exuberance.
“Your little brat is shameless.” Jessie scoffed as Jack set the carafe of freshly brewed coffee on the table and then his mug. “Look, he’s groveling at your feet.”
“At least he’s faithful.” Jack quipped, sitting down and slapping his lap. The little dog flew into his lap and began licking his face and hands as if he were made of steak. “That’s my buddy.” Jack cooed, patiently allowing the pug to slurp him while the girls scrunched up their faces in disgust.
“Guess what he was licking before you came down.” Kyra teased.
It didn’t move Jack in the slightest. He soaked in the worship with a smile. Jack filled Jessie’s cup and then his own. He reached into his back Jean pocket to retrieve a small silver flask, adding Jack Daniels to his morning coffee. “What’s up?” Jack’s aqua eyes shifted from Jessie to Kyra, waiting for an explanation.
Kyra gave it to him, not sparing any of the details.
“My sister and Lex. Cool, can you fix me up with Scarlett Johansson?”
“In your dreams.” Kyra returned. “So, it’s a go?” She gave Jessie a searching look. “The guys are all invited, too, you know.”
“Not unless I get Scarlett.” Jack tipped his laced coffee and drank heavily.
“Bring your own date or go as a threesome. Put on a different spin for the press. Three gay guys from Wisconsin. Yeah . . .” Kyra broke out into a grin. “Three gay guys, three gay guys . . .” she sang to the tune of Three Blind Mice.
Jessie was laughing, but then stopped cold as her brother gave her a killing look. Jack was extremely sensitive about being mistaken for a gay man since an issue of SPIN magazine a few years past had mistakenly reported that the male members of Heartless were homosexuals. Kyra delighted in teasing Jack about it.
“If I do this,” Jessie cautioned. “You owe me; big time.”
Kyra nodded, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes grew mystical. “Name it and I’m there, Jess. But, hey?” She leaned back in the patio chair and lifted her face in worship to the glowing sunshine. “You just might end up owing me.”
Chapter Three
Three days later, Jessie and Kyra scuttled into the beach house, laughing and joking under their respective burdens from their shopping excursion on Rodeo Drive. Steve and Darrell were playing around with the synthesizer in the living room overlooking the beach.
“You won’t believe this guy we met.” Kyra began, giggling as she looked from the guys to Jessie. “A real loser, hey, Jess?” She stacked her purchases on the sofa.
“He had these disgusting dreadlocks and I doubt he bathed yet this year.” Jessie added.
“Ask you out?” Darrell winked at Jessie. “Just tell ‘em your private property, Babe.” He flashed Jessie those bedroom blue eyes.
“You and I are never going to happen, Darrell, so get over it.” Jessie returned, with genuine irritation. He always came off like she was his girl, at least, his favorite one in a long line of sluts and groupies. He’d even gone so far as to claim they were childhood sweethearts in an interview for Billboard Magazine a couple of years back, a blatant lie, but now that she was famous he seemed to think he should have exclusive rights to her as a lover.
“Jess, you forgot to add Hey.” Kyra dissolved to laughter. “You should have been there. He comes out with, ‘you talk like yoopers. Are you from the U.P.?’” A yooper was a self styled nickname for people who lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the U.P. as it was commonly called. Not exactly Wisconsin, although they were neighboring states.
“Why would some street cock think you were from the U.P.?” Steve asked.
“’Cause he’s a stoned out Yooper, looking’ for a home boy.” Darrell quirked with a chuckle. “And let me guess, he was looking for a handout?”
“Oh, yeah. He was panhandling,” Kyra answered. “You know, he said he could tell we were from the Midwest because we punctuate every sentence with like ‘you know’ and ‘hey’.”
“Hey, that’s not true.” Darrell scoffed, and then grimaced at his telltale speech.
“I hate it when people try to put labels on you. It’s so unfair, you know.” Kyra continued on, missing the humor of Darrell’s gaffe and her own blunder as the three of them continued to laugh at her. “What’s so funny?” Kyra placed her hands on her hips in a defensive pose as she glowered at the guys. “You guys always make fun of me. But hey--” she raised her hands in exasperation, “Have a good time, because come next week, I’m out of here.”
“Hey--” Steve quipped and they all succumbed to a round of laughter as Kyra stormed up the steps, oblivious to the humor. “You had a phone call, Jess.”
“Marty?” Jessie asked, expecting their manager to be getting back to her about the Fender guitar deal any day.
“Nope.” Steve shook his head. “Lex.”
“Oh.” Jessie’s stomach sank to her knees.
“Oh, yeah, hey, he wants you to call him back, you know.” Steve returned with a smirk. “Hey, what’s this I hear about you going out with him?”
“Yeah, Hey.” Darrell joined the fun, punctuating every sentence with the same word as Steve. “Jack is right. We’re getting’ the shaft, hey. Kyra gets you a date, and the three of us have to fend for ourselves. I want Jessica Alba, hey. Or I won’t go--hey. We should make this into a song; ‘Ya Know, Hey.’ Could be the next Rapper hit.”
“You guys are sick.” Jessie picked up her packages and followed Kyra’s lead in retreating to her own room.
“Hey, don’t you even want his private number?” Steve called up after her.
“Later.” Jessie called, and closed the door to her sanctuary. Duncan lifted his head from her bed and wagged his tail in greeting. Ozzy, her brother’s lazy pug, continued to snore beside her Scottie.
“Oh, boys. You have no idea what a tangle I’ve gotten myself into.” Jessie confided as she began unwrapping the dress Kyra insisted she wear for Friday’s gala.
“Ooooowwhh.” Duncan, her Scottie, stretched lazily in response.
Jessie sank down next to him and scratched under his chin. “How do I let myself get talked into these things?”
Ozzy’s nasal snoring was her only answer as her brother’s pug continued to sleep away the afternoon. She opened her bags and started to sort through her purchases, momentarily forgetting about her ‘blind date’ with the legendary rock icon.
She was jerked back to reality with the bone chilling ring of the landline phone. Jess. Steve texted her on her cell phone. It’s for you.
Please, God, let it be Marty. Jessie thought as she picked up the cordless receiver in her room. “Hello.” She heard the distinctive click as Steve hung up the kitchen line.
“Hi, this is Lex. I wanted see if everything is set for next Friday?” His voice was strong and sensuous, just like in his songs.
Jessie didn’t say a word. She just hung on to cordless phone. God, was this how some poor girl felt when Elvis called her? Scared Speechless?
“Hello? Are you there?” Lex intoned when she didn’t respond.
Say something, you fool. Jessie stood up, paced to the window and summoned her courage. “Hi?” She said in a voice she immediately damned as girlish.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Ah . . . no . . . I mean, I-I’m just preoccupied, you know.” At those last words, Jessie cringed, all too aware of her Midwestern babbling now that a street bum brought it to her attention.
“I thought we should meet before the party. Dinner or something?”
“No . . . I mean, it’s--” Jessie sat down, feeling like the biggest idiot on the western coast. “Lex?” She started again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You caught me off guard, that’s all. Yes, I think we should meet each other first.”
“I was concerned that you’d believe my press releases. Meeting informally first might be better than meeting each other for the f
irst time at a gala event with all of Hollywood snapping photos at us.”
Silence hung between the lines. He was waiting.
“So . . . ?” The sensual voice prompted. “Where should we meet?”
“What did you have in mind?” Jessie managed. She felt like a gangly girl having Elvis call out of the blue, asking her to go out to dinner with him.
“Dinner tonight, at Beau Rivage up the road? Casual, just a get to know each other kind of thing?”
Jessie swallowed, and then took a deep cleansing breath. “Beau Rivage sounds great. I love Mediterranean food.” There, that wasn’t so hard. Now if she could just manage to be in the next county when he arrived to pick her up, all would be well again.
Tall, dark and devastating.
Jessie stiffened like a statue as Steve answered the door. Lex stood there in the foyer looking like he’d just walked off his album cover. She felt breathless, giddy and unable to move as she drank in his majestic presence. He was taller than Steve’s five foot eleven. His hair was liquid ebony, shimmering, full, swirling about his shoulders, begging to be touched. He was wicked-delicious, so sexy in black leather pants. He wore black boots, a crimson Tee and a leather blazer.
Lady Gaga, eat your heart out, Jessie mused, fearing for a moment she would either scream with emotion or faint like the elated girls in those old Beatles clips. She strangled the urge to giggle, just barely. Somehow, she managed to walk out to his 1971 Cadillac El Dorado, her insides quivering with forbidden delight and a very girlish fear.
What could she talk about with Lex?