by Ellie Hall
She didn’t tell him that Serena didn’t care for his personality and probably preferred he wasn’t there, but she could’ve used the support herself—someone to hold her after she’d left the hospital with a shaved head and filled with fear yet feeling an emptiness that she hadn’t known was possible.
The hot-Hollywood couple got along well enough. She’d even coined his DJ name DJ aXon. He’d started shortening it to just DJ X. However, during the long hours in the hospital, she’d started to realize he was a place holder boyfriend while she waited for the one to make her foot pop.
After she and Jaxon hung up, Lizzie lifted her downturned lips. She wasn’t on team Jaxon either. Then she stood back, surveyed her work, and said, “All done. You look perfect as always.”
Cece’s hand floated to her head.
“If you change your mind and want to get away, let me know. My cousin has a place in the islands. I think you’d like it there.”
Cece nodded and thanked her for everything then hurried to the awaiting car. The next several hours she spent at the skincare line event were grueling. Sure, her skin was glowing, but the spotlight seemed to be on her head itself, notably the top of it where there was no hair.
“What’s it like being known as The Hair and not having any?” a model with jet black locks asked while she mingled.
Cece was nicknamed The Hair and there were even rumors she’d had it insured, which wasn’t true.
An actress smiled at her and talked to her about everything except her missing hair even though her green eyes didn’t leave the fuzz above her forehead—only drawing more attention to its absence.
The guys steered clear of her and not only because she was attached to Jaxon.
She was relieved when it was finally time to leave and meet him for dinner. As the sun set on the early summer evening, the flashing bulbs and shouting paparazzi followed her to the waiting SUV. She was tall and strode passed them, keeping her chin lifted. Early on in her career, she’d felt like a model on a runway as she’d cruised past. Lately, she rushed against a gauntlet to safety. The paparazzi were relentless, some shoving the cameras in her face to get up close photos, intimidate her, or capture for themselves the fact that she really did shave her head.
“Are you going to meet DJ aXon?” one called.
Another said, “What does he think of your new look?”
Her manager reached for the handle to the door to open it for her when a paparazzo shouted, “Why’d you make yourself look like a cancer patient?”
Cece went still. Her muscles tensed. Her eyes brimmed. She gritted her teeth, turned, glared, and said, “Get. Over. It.” Emotion punctuated her every word. Get over losing Serena.
She’d never responded to their comments, calls, or questions. In the silence of the vehicle as it sped away, she realized that she wouldn’t get over it for a long time, possibly forever.
She took deep breaths, pulling herself together before entering the restaurant. On the way in, more members of the gossip-media-machine called to her, but she ignored them.
Cece waited five minutes, which turned into ten. Then twenty. Jaxon was often late, but like her, he was busy. She took the time to catch up on her social feeds and saw that her comment quickly made digital headlines. The Hair says to ‘get over it.’ There were already hundreds of comments and speculation from users, followers, and fans.
Her phone beeped with notifications then Jaxon’s text alert song came on. She silenced it quickly while reading his message. Can’t make it tonight. Can’t get over it.
Cece’s mouth dropped open with confusion and agitation. She quickly replied. What’s that mean?
Things between us have been off for a while now, like the last six months. You’ve been different. Or maybe it’s me. I need to figure some things out. If it means anything, I miss you and I already miss your hair.
The shrinking feeling inside that had taken over collapsed in on itself like a supernova. You’re breaking up with me?
He answered, Yes. Good luck, Cece. X
Where she expected to feel angry or sad over the sudden split, she just felt empty. Nothing could fill the vacancy of losing her sister. In a fog, she swept out of the restaurant past the waiting paparazzi. The flashbulbs burst and her eyes blurred.
Once in the SUV, the driver maneuvered into traffic as she stared at the text exchange. Sure, she had great hair, but it was just hair. It didn’t define her, but maybe she’d let it. Or perhaps Jaxon was a heartless jerk.
Her head flopped against the seat and she closed her eyes. What she found echoing, throbbing, flashing there, wasn’t only the upset from the sudden breakup or the hurtful question the paparazzo asked. It was her answer and all that it meant.
Get over it.
The SUV suddenly jerked to one side, swerving. The driver, nearly out of breath, said, “Sorry, Miss. A car veered into our vehicle.”
She gripped the armrest on the door as something smashed against the window, leaving a smear and a few seeds. A tomato? The vehicle was suddenly pelted with fruit. Were they trying to start a food fight or endanger her?
The driver sped up, making it through a yellow light before taking a few turns to lose whoever was following them. When he pulled through the gate of her driveway, he made his apologies.
“Thank you for bringing me home safely. Feel free to come inside and collect yourself,” she offered.
“I’m fine, Miss,” he said. “Seems a lot like what happened to L Ryder last month when he wouldn’t give the paparazzi the info they wanted about his wedding. Pummeled with fruit.” He shook his head.
Her phone rang and she assumed it was someone checking in to make sure she was okay. It was her manager. She thanked the driver again and took the call, kicking off her heels as she stood in the foyer of her Spanish Style Villa mansion.
“Listen, Cece, I have some bad news. You were taken off the dates for the summer festival tour. They had to rearrange some of the acts and I guess yours was bumped.”
She was supposed to leave for the tour in five days. Jaxon was billed as her opening act. It suddenly felt like her life was one big snowball and it was rolling down a hill and picking up speed. With the tour festival circuit off the calendar, she was left with a void for the entire summer. The snowball was sure to melt. She was sure to disappear.
She had nothing. No family. No sister. No boyfriend. No tour and no songs.
“The good news is now you can focus on your work at the studio,” Lauren said in forced-positivity.
“No,” she heard herself say. Her tone was flat. It was as though she was removed, outside looking in. “I need a break. Let them know I’ll be back in the fall with the full album.” She hung up.
Lizzie’s suggestion to get away sounded appealing right then. Without thinking, she tapped the screen on her phone to call her.
“Did you change your mind?” the makeup artist and friend asked when she answered.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. It’s understandable. You’re overwhelmed, stressed—”
“And possibly in danger.” Cece told her about the brush with the paparazzi and fruit. Then about Jaxon.
“I didn’t like him anyway. On its own, this business is tough. With everything that’s going on, you need a sanctuary, a place to recuperate.”
“Now, I have the entire summer.”
Lizzie went on to give her the information for her cousin’s place on a private Caribbean island, complete with a bodyguard. “When you get there ask for Blake.”
At the name, she winced as though one of the rotten tomatoes struck her. Hopefully, Island Blake was better than the last Blake she’d met.
Still in a daze, she packed then laid in bed, struggling to sleep. Her mind held onto the emptiness inside where she’d once felt full, rich, complete. She was in unfamiliar territory and it had nothing to do with her uncertain destination.
Despite her best efforts to sneak to the airport, as usual, she was harassed by the
paparazzi, still asking about her lack of hair, already inquiring about the break up with Jaxon, and speculating about the canceled tour.
As the plane lifted off, leaving her old life behind, she hoped she’d made the right decision.
Chapter 2
Blake
Blake never missed a sunset. As he settled in his usual beach chair in the sand, he sat in stillness as the golden hour slipped toward twilight.
By day, on the remote Caribbean island, the sun tended to be punishing as it beat down overhead. It was the fuel that kept him going and motivated him, because it held the promise that it would eventually set, leaving him in the darkness that he welcomed. It was then that he forced himself to face the pain and guilt of all the things he hadn’t done.
On the beach, he remained still as the seagulls cawed, the breeze rippled over the incoming waves, and the sun lowered another fraction. His mind was active, unpacking everything he didn’t want to think about by day. But he deserved it: he’d earned the heap of regret by doing everything wrong. However, even if he could make it right, it was too late.
A swell moved in from the southeast and the waves past the breakers were gradually growing. It was as though the bumps on the horizon reached up to splash the sun’s belly and splash the woman who waded into the water.
Blake sat up taller and leaned forward, watching the newcomer carefully. He was the caretaker of Hawkins Harbor, the island resort and an exclusive hideaway for celebrities and anyone with enough money to buy anonymity along with first class service, top-shelf amenities, and when necessary, a bodyguard.
She could certainly afford the resort rates, but his cousin Lizzie called with a special request and he’d honored it for one reason only: family. What had once been the central part of his life had fallen apart after he made one bad decision after another. Hearing her voice reminded him of all he’d lost. A tiny but hopeful part of him thought to do her that favor was a small way to make things better. However, the guilt and regret didn’t fade even as the newly arrived guest waded deeper into the water.
She wore a pair of leggings and a T-shirt along with a hat and sunglasses even though the purple-gray of twilight made them unnecessary. In his line of work, he’d encountered his share of divas and wasn’t looking forward to this particular one.
The incoming whitewater reached her thighs, but she continued on as though she wanted to submerge herself underwater. He knew the feeling. Even though there were only a handful of guests at the resort at any one time, it wasn’t unusual for them to want to wash away the stress and pressure of their lives—though usually they weren’t fully clothed. It was his job to camouflage into the background, hang back, and only intervene if necessary.
He’d watched the waves long enough—for years by then—to know how they’d break onshore based off what they looked like when still far out to sea. A monster set rolled in and if she wasn’t smart enough to duck under at the right moment, it’d close out over her head, possibly holding her down. There was no telling if she knew how to swim or had the sense not to fight against the current.
He grumbled under his breath as he leaped from the chair and raced across the sand.
The first wave sped toward her. He was too late. The powerful water crashed down. She disappeared. He dove in, opened his eyes, and searched for her amidst the churning sand and water.
There was no sign of her.
Blake burst through the surface, took a quick breath of air, and glanced around. Like above, there was no sign of her below as another wave in the swiftly paced set broke in a rush of foam. He went up for air and made it under in time and again, looked for her.
The water was murky as flecks of sand whirled around him along with the bubbling whitewater.
At last, his hand touched something solid, soft. An ankle. He gripped hard and then found her hand before pulling her close and surfacing.
Her head hung limply to the side. Her hat was still on but her sunglasses were lost to the sea.
He inflated his lungs as another wave crashed and he took them under. He prayed not to lose her too. As quickly as he could, he swam toward the shore. His feet sunk in the sand as he carried her to safety.
His voice was gruff, harsh as he yelled at her to wake up.
The flat of his palm pressed against her chest as he did compressions.
He performed rescue breaths, not even thinking about what it was like to have his lips on hers again.
All he thought about was bringing her back to life.
After another round, she finally jolted, sputtered, and spit out sea water. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
He rocked back on his heels, wiping the dripping water from his face. “That was stupid and dangerous. What were you thinking?” he asked, not holding back his anger.
Her gray eyes slowly focused. She blinked a few times. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I—Thank you.”
If it weren’t for the water on her face, he’d have thought she was crying.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, gazing around as though in a fog. “I just got here and am supposed to find someone named Blake.”
“But you decided to take a swim first?” He frowned.
“I don’t know how to swim.”
His eyes widened. “Then what were you doing? You could have died.”
She started to get to her feet. “I should go find Blake.”
“And you are?” He knew who she was and was surprised to feel disappointed she didn’t recognize him. Then again, it was better that way.
A faint line crossed her forehead, probably because she was used to people automatically knowing exactly who she was and catering to her every whim.
“Oh, um, I’m Cece.” She hesitated as though she’d forgotten.
Perhaps she was walloped by the wave harder than he thought.
As the moment swam between them, it was as though she pulled on a mask and fastened her smile in place. “I’m Cece Sparrow. Singer, songwriter. You may have heard the song Once wasn’t Enough.”
“Yeah, a real heart wrencher.” Before he’d left for the island, he’d heard it plenty.
“There was also the follow-up girl power anthem Never Again/Not You.” Her voice was brighter. If he hadn’t been through the near-drowning ordeal with her, he’d have been fooled into thinking she was fine.
He nodded. He’d had to listen to it for three weeks when an actress played it nonstop after her breakup with her husband a couple of years ago.
“More recently, I worked with DJ aXon on a remix and…” She trailed off.
He grunted. Clearly, she still didn’t know who he was. But he preferred it that way. In fact, he’d done everything he could to disappear and become unrecognizable. Mission accomplished.
He looked her over for bumps, bruises, or cuts. Then studied her eyes. Those stormy eyes. Eyes he’d never forgotten.
The incoming tide raced toward them as the waves continued to crash.
She cut her gaze away from him as though her foolishness in the sea caught up with her.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.
“Three.” She brushed her hands underneath her eyes to be sure her makeup hadn’t smeared. It had. However, she was still as beautiful as he remembered, but something was different. The storm in her eyes was bigger, deeper, as though she carried a burden that hadn’t been there before.
“Okay, follow my finger now,” he said, assessing for a concussion. It was nearly dark, but there was enough light for him to see that she was indeed okay, though perhaps a bit shook up.
Lizzie didn’t specify why the world-famous singer needed to escape to the resort and it wasn’t his business. Isolated from the rest of the world, news and gossip mostly passed him by. As far as guests were concerned, he operated on a need-to-know basis.
Cece’s eyes floated over him and out to sea. “Thanks again. Are you a lifeguard here?” she asked.
“Something like that,” he answered. Over the yea
rs, he’d been certified in all manner of life-saving techniques because he never wanted to feel helpless again.
As she shifted to get to her feet, her hat toppled off her head. The Hair was gone. In the chaos of the last minutes, he hadn’t registered that her once long and silky locks weren’t tucked under her hat.
He’d heard about starlets doing wild things for attention. She probably wasn’t selling enough records so opted to shave her head for more publicity.
Her hand flew to her hat and she tugged it back on. She cast him a glare as she staggered in the sand.
He automatically extended his arm to catch her, but she twisted away.
“Do you know where I can get something to eat here? I haven’t eaten all day.”
“That explains your poor decision-making skills,” he muttered.
Her eyes slid over to him. “Oh, you have an opinion too? Just when I thought I’d left it all behind, some stranger on a beach, in the middle of nowhere, wants to chime in. For your information, it’s my hair. My life. My decision.” The color returned to her cheeks.
“I was talking about your decision to wade into the water with a sizable incoming swell and then get pummeled by the waves. A decision of particular concern since it turns out that you don’t know how to swim. If I weren’t here, you would’ve drowned.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest then looked out to the sea. “Funny, it seems like I already did.”
She was a prima donna, a diva. He’d seen loads of women like her over the years. They were dramatic, full of themselves, and demanding when they didn’t realize how fortunate they were. They took every day for granted and believed they were entitled to the next. He harrumphed.
But there was something in her smoky tone, her posture, and the cast of her gray eyes that suggested otherwise. Maybe she’d changed. A soft concern rose up inside him. It was an emotion he knew all too well, but he chose to ignore it.
Blake Hawkins was very good at that.
In the dusky light, she cast a long gaze out to sea. He wondered what she saw. His eyes traveled from her head to her feet, tracing the lines of her beautiful figure. He hoped she didn’t wonder what he saw.