If only she knew just how wild I could get. There are the tats she can’t see, also nipple piercings, and the fact that I love to date guys who play in a band.
Back to billionaire boy. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? He’s so not my type; he’s too prim and proper.
But today at the beach, well, fucking hell, he was everything I look for in a guy—well built, tattoos, carefree, and he held a conversation with me for well over an hour.
There is something about this guy that I just can’t put my finger on though.
~~~~
Friday night and it’s raging at The Wild Orchid, the totally amazing club in town at the moment. Lilly and I are dressed to kill, Lilly in her tiny white dress and me in my black mini skirt, boots, and a tank top.
We dance to the amazing music from DJ Sammy. He actually inspired one of my more dramatic paintings. People think just because it’s techno music that it has no meaning, but the words have every bit the same meaning as a classical piece, rock song, or gut-wrenching ballad.
Heartbreak is heartbreak no matter how you write or sing about it. Sex is sex.
“You look hot tonight, Ivy. You know you are gonna get picked up, right? Any guy in here would fall at your feet,” my best friend, Lilly, tells me as we dance to the beat.
Well, sure, that was my plan to forget Mr. Hudson, but after a few drinks, he is still all I can fucking think about. In the words of Usher, I think I’ve ‘Got it bad.’
“Thanks Lil, you are looking hot yourself. I don’t know if a guy is what I am looking for right now. Complications just make life more difficult and fuck that,” I reply to her while still dancing along.
“Are you sure that a sexy, muscle man at the beach today doesn’t have something to do with you not wanting to hook up with someone for a bit of fun?” she questions me smirking.
I should have realized that even though my friend is a blonde and acts that way at times that she knows me pretty damn well. I’m not admitting anything!
“Don’t be ridiculous, he is from another world. One that I don’t rate very highly, so no thanks,” I reply honestly. Yeah, I think he is drool worthy and sexy as hell, but that is not what she asked.
“Sure, sure, Ivy, but I’ve seen the way you are around him. Plus, he is totally smitten with you. I can guarantee that he looks at you like you are his already,” she tells me, and I can’t help but wonder what that means. I thought I was very composed around him, which brings me back to the picture in my mind of him half naked and dripping wet. Fuck me, that body… The man is sex on two legs.
“Whatever,” I answer back to her. I’m not in the mood to talk about this. I’m ready to go home to my battery operated boyfriend and think about Chase. Of course, thinking of the real thing is not helping matters one single bit.
Would he have a big one? What if we just had casual sex? I’ve done that before. As long as we keep our feelings out of it, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem. He seems like it's all work and no play with him.
I find myself fighting with what I think is right, as opposed to how I feel. Why can’t I look past Chase’s occupation? I mean he seemed kind, friendly, charismatic. Nothing but nice and humble.
But I’ve seen the papers and heard the rumors about how he is a womanizer. The latest gossip is he has a child somewhere he has never met. How do I get past that?
Another thought that I can’t shake is how a person can be one way during the day at work, and then away from work, at the beach today, his persona is the opposite. Is everything a lie? Maybe he is kidding himself; could he be fighting inside against what is right and what he wants?
What does he want?
I am straight forward. I am not a wolf in sheep’s clothing like Chase Hudson. What you see is what you get with me. With him, what you see is two different men. One who I want to be involved with and the other… reminds me of the fake world that I hate so much. The world of money, greed, and lies, the one I have avoided my whole life.
“Excuse me, Claire, I have to take this,” I say as I hang up on my assistant to answer my call waiting—I can see on the screen that it’s Talon.
“Hey, dude, what’s up?” I answer casually. It’s a better feeling being relaxed and casual after a day in and out of the office, meeting clients, and signing contracts.
“Chase, bro, I’m glad I caught you. I had a hot night last night, and I wanted to fill you in on the details,” he tells me in his cocky tone. I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before about his previous hook-ups.
“Which chick was it this time, Tal?” I inquire; it’s always entertaining to listen to his experiences.
“So, I called the blonde from the beach, and how do you think things went down?” Talon’s voice blasts through the speaker on my cell as I drive home from work.
“My guess is, it went down the way it always does. So who went down first, you or her?” I reply now chuckling from my genius comment—that’s a pun if I’ve ever heard one.
“That was a good one. And to answer your question, we went down at the same time, sixty-nine, baby,” he answers and then laughs. “Boo-ya.”
“Too much information, dude, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from the king of porn,” I reply.
He may be my best friend, but I swear he is like the annoying brother I never had. I do have an annoying brother, but he’s a manipulative, egotistical, jackass that I wish didn’t share the same bloodline as me.
My friendship with Talon all started with a fight in middle school. Bullies stole his lunch and punched him in the gut. I went ninja on the group of them, kicking and punching them. One of the perks of having a rich family is I’ve done a lot of training in sports, self-defense, and karate. Anyway, they all took off, so I helped him up and shared my Swiss cheese and turkey sandwich with him. We’ve been best friends since that day.
We even had our hearts broken by the same girl. Audrey Rose was her name, and I’m sure he will never forget her from middle school. We got our driver’s permits only months apart and attended business school together.
He currently works for Goldman Investments, another large investment firm—after much encouragement on my behalf, they hired him. His history with employment hasn’t been great. He gets lazy especially when it comes to his assistants—they become his servants, usually going above and beyond the call of duty. Sleeping with co-workers is one of his many bad habits.
I’ve bailed the guy out of jail three times now, once for drunk and disorderly and once for driving under the influence of alcohol. The third time was a lot more serious—he refused to pay the DUI ticket and ended up in a cell. Of course, I helped him deal with the legal fees and helped him find another job. I had high hopes that he would actually show some initiative and act older than a sixteen-year-old.
Talon has made some stupid-ass decisions with money and women.
Mainly with women. He has a new one weekly, sometimes even nightly. One time, he bet me he could pick up a new chick every night of the week. I, of course, told him there was no way he could pull that off. He proved me wrong. I thought he just meant pick up, not actually have sex with. But the man-slut did it. He had sex with seven different women from Monday through to Sunday.
“Wasn’t your cock sore from too much action, bro?” I ask him humorously, though half serious.
“Thor is the God of Thunder, he never fails or relinquishes,” he replied confidently.
I literally spit my water out from laughing so fucking hard. “You named your cock Thor? Oh my God, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all year.”
“No stealing my thunder. What do you call yours?” Talon asks me seriously. “What about Hercules or The Rock?” he suggests.
“Stop, seriously, just stop,” I say between my hysterical laughter. “I’m not naming my dick, end of conversation,” I manage to tell him firmly before letting out another big laugh.
Talon is like a ticking time bomb, so I’ve got to help keep him in line. His wild side
needs a collar and a leash, and that’s what friends are for, right?
“Oh my God, Ivy, guess who called me today?” Lilly squeals excitedly as she runs like a kid in a candy store through my apartment building.
I bite my lip as I wrack my brain and think through her many conquests—guys who are either infatuated with her or she is infatuated with them—so her question is much harder than I first realized.
“Hmm, I don’t know. Can you give me a clue?” I respond, not expecting her next reply.
“You didn’t even try to guess, Ives. It was Talon! You know, Chase’s gorgeous friend from the beach,” she answers smiling a bright grin.
“Oh man, I’d forgotten about him. What did he say?” I question. Really, I care more about what he can tell me now about Chase than what the sleazebag Talon actually said to her.
“Just that he had fun with me at the beach and to ask me out. I kind of had dinner with him last night,” Lilly squeals excitedly.
“That’s awesome, Lil. So did you actually eat or was it just a booty call?” I ask her smiling. I know that she wanted in that man’s pants probably just as bad as he wanted inside hers.
“We ordered Chinese takeout after we worked up an appetite,” she jokes back.
“You slut! Ha-ha, I hope he was as good in the sack as he acted like he was, doll, for your sake,” I reply laughing at my insult to both Talon and my friend.
It makes me feel a little jealous that Talon called Lilly, especially after only two days. It’s surprising really; he seemed like such a player, and wouldn’t Lilly just be another notch on his belt? I’m sure he could get a woman in his apartment in ten minutes flat. I hope the guy isn’t a complete waste of space—Lilly doesn’t need any more of those.
I will never forget the day that Lilly and I met. It was a Monday, halfway through high school, and Lilly had just transferred to Keating because her mother had remarried.
As soon as she walked through the homeroom door, the mean girls whispered to each other and started giggling. Their cruelness would usually cause girls to cry or look pained, but Lilly’s confidence was astounding. She just smiled her dazzling smile. With her gorgeous blond hair, royal blue eyes, and flawless outfit, she looked stunning. Lilly has always worn a lot of makeup and her clothes are always snug on her body, but that was her and I loved her for it.
There was something magical about her; the way she was so confident and strong, and didn’t care about the mean girls or their hurtful giggles. The fact that she sat next to me and started chatting about the weather actually made me smile. She was like a warm ray of sunshine when the dreary sky was gray and dark.
“You have the most beautiful red hair,” she told me, while others used to tease and insult me, this new girl was completely complimentary.
I smiled larger that day than I had in years, and it felt amazing.
From that day on we bonded like sisters. The mean girls called us the Candy Stripers since my hair was red like a cherry and Lilly’s was a very white-blond. But with Lilly by my side, I felt unbreakable. She was my wingwoman and we smiled and showed Veronica and her group of mean girls that we didn’t care about their cattiness. It eventually all stopped.
Someone started a rumor on social media that Veronica had herpes, and for once in her life, she was the outcast and left school crying every day. A small piece of me felt bad for her. I knew how it felt to be teased, but the other part of me felt like karma had played its part and she got every ounce of it that she deserved.
I never did ask Lilly if she’d started the rumor, but I had my suspicions.
The one thing we don’t agree on is price tags. Lilly buys the expensive, brand name clothes, shoes, and overpriced makeup—every cent of her paycheck is spent on materialistic items.
I must admit I do love a good dress or pair of boots. As long as they fit well and I’m happy with the outfit, I don’t care in the slightest if it’s from Target or Walmart, when Lilly pays triple the price for Guess or Versace.
“Ivy, you are paying for quality,” she tried to tell me once so I put it to the test and bought two pairs of heels—one cheap pair from Target and a two hundred dollar pair from Cartier. I alternated the shoes every day for three months and no surprise the more expensive shoes started to wear down first, with the leather peeling away, and one of the straps even broke.
“See, I knew it, Lilly. I bet the same man makes both shoes and just stitches the brand name on one of them,” I announced to her in victory.
“What about comfort? You can’t tell me the cheap fake leather ones were better than the real leather?” Lilly tried to defend her precious brands.
“Honestly, they both felt equal. Now, pay up. You are on dish duty for two weeks straight, ho,” I smirk and declare to her.
“Whatever. I will keep my end of the bargain, but I will always believe you get what you pay for, Ivy,” Lilly tells me getting in her last word of the conversation.
Agreeing to disagree is what we do best. Lilly goes shopping with her mother or work colleagues and I enjoy shopping alone or with friends from work. Slight differences aside, our friendship has survived the last ten years, and I am positive there will be many more to come.
“Hello, this is Ivy,” I answer my cell phone as I multitask and close the door while leaving my apartment. It wasn’t a number I knew, but I thought it was best to answer. It could be an interested buyer for one of my paintings.
“Hello, Ivy, this is Chase Hudson,” I hear his deep and sexy voice say, and I swear I nearly drop the phone.
Shit, it’s him! I wasn’t sure whether he was really going to call like he said he would, or if it was another bullshit line.
“Oh, hey Chase,” I reply feeling my cheeks blush. I’m a little tongue-tied and lost for words.
“Hi. How has your week been? Hopefully not as dull as mine. I’ve been stuck in my office all week,” he says to me casually, definitely breaking the ice a little.
“Oh, you know, just another week of work. Nothing special.” I shake my head realizing how lame I sound. Couldn’t I have said something more exciting or made something up that sounds cool?
“Well, I thought I might try and brighten up our week with dinner this weekend if you are free?” he asks me, and for a minute I forget the fancy and uptight guy at the charity dinner in the tux. All I can picture is the Chase from the beach—casual, relaxed, and someone I could relate to.
He just asked me out to dinner! Shit, I wasn’t prepared for that. Do I want to go out for dinner with this guy? Should I even be talking to him so casually?
“Ivy, are you still there? I hope you are pausing to think of a way to say yes and not something like ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’” Chase jokes, and I laugh out loud. That was a good one. I feel so confused. What to do, what to do?
“Oh no, sorry, I was just checking the date for the weekend. I am free Saturday night if that works?”
I say much to my own dismay. Do I have verbal diarrhea? My brain hadn’t agreed to go out with him, and yet apparently my voice thought that I had.
“Awesome, Saturday works for me,” Chase answers sounding cheerful. “Any preferences Miss Maisen?” He sounds so formal using my last name. Why does it sound so hot?
“I’m not one to be fussy, Mr. Hudson. I am a vegetarian, but I eat seafood, so anywhere that has a variety will be cool with me,” I tell him, using his last name sarcastically. I know what some women are like, but just because Chase has money doesn’t mean I am expecting him to take me to the best restaurant in the city and pay top dollar for everything. I’m not that rude. Maybe I am the exception to the rule.
“Do you like sushi, Chase?” I ask thinking about some place casual; it’s not about the five-star service, or how much we spend, but just about us getting to know each other and enjoying a meal together.
“Yeah, sure, I enjoy sushi. Do you know a good restaurant?”
“Yes, there is a great one in town. It’s pretty casual there; does that sound oka
y?” I ask him a little unsure of how he will respond. Can billionaires do casual?
“Sure, I can do casual, but are you sure just sushi for dinner? I can take you somewhere a little fancier if you’d like. I know a place that cooks a mean smoked salmon, melts in your mouth and the sauce is to die for,” Chase tells me. Obviously, his fancy restaurants have impressed the other women.
“Why spend so much when I’m happy with a simple sushi wrap?” I ask him trying to make him see my logic. Money isn’t everything. Having seen my family eaten up by the rich, I despise it.
“Okay. I will pick you up at six thirty Saturday, and I will dress casually. Can you make our reservation for seven or let me know the restaurant’s name and I’ll take care of it?” Chase asks.
“I will make the reservation; it’ll be easy. I will see you on Saturday, Mr. Hudson. Oh, and I will text you my address,” I reply smirking, still totally unsure what the hell I am doing, even if I am kind of looking forward to it.
I hang up the phone and squeal just a little. The Chase I know from the beach was smoking hot and the conversation was easy. That is the Chase I want to get to know better.
My mind wanders back to my hurtful past—this will be my first real date since Leon cheated on me three years ago. I’ve hooked up with other guys for fun, done a bit of speed dating, but not an actual dinner date. I definitely want things to be as casual as possible.
Jumping into something serious, especially with such a complicated person, is not a good idea. Go easy, Ivy, you don’t really know the guy. Who is to say he is complicated? Maybe he is just a little indecisive and has a split personality from what I’ve seen so far…
One thing that I do know is that we all have demons from our past and keeping them buried is a daily struggle.
Why the hell do I feel nervous? I arrive at Ivy’s apartment building at six twenty-five. Being punctual is just who Chase Hudson is; it’s not until I am in Chaser’s persona does that change.
However being nervous is not a trait that I am used to. Why does this woman have me on edge? How can one person have this effect on me and I’ve only been in contact with her twice? I am intrigued and perhaps smitten already. What the actual fuck?
Tainted Deception Page 5