by Vera Roberts
Sydney was painting naked.
Her toned body swayed to the hypnotizing beat as her hands carefully finger painted the blank canvas. She was meticulous about her art, trailing her fingers above the work and around it. She pressed her body against it, creating a silhouette.
There was something just so wonderful about his Sydney – the sensuality, naiveté, and sexiness about her. She was a girly girl in many ways, spending an incredibly long time (in his mind) to get ready. When she did exit the bathroom, she embodied Old Hollywood.
She wasn’t afraid to get dirty and sweaty, often challenging Dean to keep up with her workouts. Even when her hair frizzed and she was covered in sweat, she was still his queen.
Seeing Sydney in the bask afterglow of the night, Dean envisioned their future – she would be teaching their children how to art, while he fired up some burgers on the grill. Friends and family would often spend time at their home during the summer weekends, where it would be a non-stop party.
The holidays would be full of music and knowing Sydney, she would start playing Christmas music on the dot of November 1st. They would go on a big vacation once during the year and their families would be regular attendees at the Kings games.
Now Dean just needed to be honest with her.
In the soft glow from the stars and moon above, Sydney took a sip of her Bailey’s and mouthed along the lyrics until she caught Dean’s eyes.
“Come here, bae.” She mouthed.
Dean shed his clothing and walked towards her. The cool air of Manhattan Beach greeted his muscular body as he stepped outside once again. He was thankful he decided to shower at the gym before he headed home so he could focus all of his attention on her.
He saw why Sydney loved to paint naked. It was freeing and she was simply one with God. Her soul was at ease and her face was relaxed. Her free spirit transcended above everything and all she cared was what was going to be on the canvas.
It was how he could relate to her in some form. When Dean was on the ice, all he thought about was scoring and blocking, getting into his opponents’ heads before they made one shot. They were two artists in different mediums and somehow understood each other.
Sydney held up her wine glass and Dean took a sip of the too-sweet beverage as he held onto her waist. She smelled like jasmine and peonies and her skin was lightly oiled. Incense burned from a small distance and filled the air with patchouli. “What’s this?” He motioned to the canvas.
“It’s for SydNASTY,” she mentioned, “I’m trying to show my raw sexual side.”
“That’s one of my favorite sides of you,” he kissed her neck and smoothed his hands along her body.
“Mmm,” Sydney moaned as she leaned back against her boyfriend. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” Dean murmured. “And what have you thought about me?”
“How much I want to taste you,” she nodded as he cupped her breasts. They were covered in paint and it made her sexier to him.
“Ohhhh,” Dean moaned in her ear, “I love it when you taste me.”
“I love the smell, the feel of you.” Sydney nodded. “How velvety hard you are as you grow into my hands and mouth.” She turned around and stared into her lover’s eyes. They were full of heat and want. “I love how you dribble down my chin and out of the sides of my mouth. I always love to swallow you whole.”
Dean loved it when Sydney dirty talked him. It went beyond the typical porn banter. It sounded like poetry as it flowed out of her mouth. “Damn, baby.”
She slowly kneeled down and kissed Dean’s inner thighs as she held steady with them. He was lightly-shaven with a smooth patch of hair leading down to his shaft. “So beautiful, babe,” she licked the underside like it was a long lollipop and kissed the tip before inserting him whole into her inviting mouth.
Sydney relaxed her throat before taking him in more and slowly pleased him as Dean looked on. She took him so beautifully and watching her was like an art form. She actually cared about pleasing him and not like some groupie from the past who just did for bragging rights.
No, Sydney was a woman who loved sex and wasted no opportunity to get it when she could.
Dean stopped her before he was about to release and backed her up against the wet canvas, covered in multicolored paint. “Did I just ruin your art?” He asked.
“No,” her eyes softened to a light brown, “you’re about to create one with me.”
Dean felt the small churn of fire rise inside his stomach and hoisted Sydney up so she could wrap her legs around his waist as he entered her. They gasped and her heat softly convulsed around his length as they moved as one.
Against the backdrop of Manhattan Beach and paint covered their bodies, they made love – freely, without barriers or restraints. Their tongues tangled as they moaned into each other’s ears, declaring their love once again, and forever.
They raced to a hurried finish and slowly came down from their highs, heavily breathing against each other, and letting the moment pass. Dean pressed his forehead against Sydney’s and softly kissed it. All that mattered in the world was right there with him. No multimillion-dollar contracts could ever suffice the love Sydney had given him.
“Babe, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Dean opened his eyes and eased Sydney down. “What is it?”
“I spoke to Ian earlier and he suggested I talk to you about it.”
The calm and serene mood Dean was in quickly evaporated upon hearing Ian’s name. While Sydney told Ian to stay out of her personal life, it wouldn’t make a difference to him if he hated Dean and had evidence to finally push him out for good.
Dean was finally in a tough position and thoroughly hated Ian at the moment. He was again impeded on his life and forced him to explain to Sydney about what happened before she flew off the handle. “Syd, I can explain.”
“Hear me out,” she interrupted, “I think it’s a great idea.”
Dean’s eyes crinkled. “What?”
“You have your own, which I totally respect and I’ll have mine. And then whatever we have together will be ours.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m totally confused.” He replied. “What are you talking about?”
“A prenup, silly!” Sydney laughed. “I’m willing to sign one. In fact, Ian was rather insistent that I did.” She studied his confused face and saw the blatant question marks. “What did you think I was talking about?”
Thirteen
Let me pick your Afro, Daddy. One side is flat.
Smell and smoke of patchouli filled the small space in Sydney’s loft while Erykah Badu’s soothing voice boomed from the stereo. Sydney began to sketch another piece for her art show, inspired by the singer. She drew a black couple with a man sitting between his woman’s legs as she carefully picked out his Afro.
She called it, “The Sun and the Moon.”
She remembered how she briefly had her hair in cornrows and Dean helped her take them down with a comb. It was the little things he did that showed her how much he loved and cared about her, despite it all.
While Sydney was being soothed by neo-soul and incense, it didn’t take away from the pressure of her first major art show with a world-renowned gallery. The Ferguson was considered one of the best art museums in the world, constantly pushing the buttons of profane, indecency, classic, and simplistic art.
Many artists who had been toiling at their work for years would often go unnoticed and unrecognized. Sydney was presented the opportunity of a lifetime just by being what she liked to deem as “InstaFamous.”
Now, she needed to put other people’s monies where her mouth was.
She finished working on her piece when she took a break to receive a phone call from Ian. “Hello, King Manager.”
“King Manager?” Ian repeated with a chuckle. “I like that. How are you doing, Sydney Rose?”
“Working away, t
rying to get these pieces ready for the show.” She mentioned. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. Just checking to see how my number one artist is doing. I spoke with Quinn the other day and he’s very impressed with the work you’re doing on the mural. He actually stated he might have underpaid you.” Ian replied.
“Yeah, speaking of which,” Sydney took a swig of water, “that’s a lot of money you negotiated on my behalf.”
“Was it too little?” Ian asked.
“Too little?” Sydney realized Ian’s brokering was a bit of a game to him, like how a normal person would haggle a price with a vendor. “The man is paying me six figures.”
“And that’s just the start,” Ian began, “Sydney, you have a lot of talent and people are willing to pay for it. The moment you sell your first painting for a million dollars is when you’re officially in a new game and different tax bracket.”
Her dream was coming true but Sydney wondered at what cost? She’d followed enough artists in different mediums to know once they had a little fame and more money, their art had changed and not necessarily for the better. Everyone wanted to be mainstream without realizing how much soul it took to get there. “I’m afraid with the more money I make, the more people will try to dictate what I should do next.” She worried. “I don’t make art to please the peanut gallery.”
“And you shouldn’t and you won’t,” Ian guaranteed. “I do have another interested buyer in purchasing your art. He wants to buy the one with the little girls that have halos over them.”
Sydney drew a picture of several multiethnic girls with halos over them, while each girl was wrapped in a different country flag. She titled the drawing, “America the Beautiful.” “Ah, that’s a popular one. I was going to put that one in the show, though.”
“It’ll go in the show but we’ll make sure no one else can buy it,” Ian stated. “The buyer is willing to pay sixty thousand to make sure no one buys it.”
Sydney spit out her water. “S-s-s-sixty th-th-th-thousand?”
“When I say you’re about to blow up, Sydney Rose, you’re about to.” Ian stated. “Let’s meet for lunch later this week to work out a few more details regarding your show. We’ll be in touch.” He then hung up.
Sydney stared at her phone for a long while. Sixty freaking thousand dollars??? She could remember the day when she didn’t even have sixty dollars in her bank account. Now she had so much money coming in, she truly didn’t know what to do with it.
Was she going to buy designer shoes? Maybe a pair or two. What about that Louis Vuitton? Maybe. She’d always wanted a particular one as well.
After paying off her bills and storing a nice chunk away for savings, Sydney already had an idea what she wanted to do with the money. Dean was about to get the surprise of his life.
~~~~~
“Now this,” Kyle Blake sat back in the VIP section of the Barely Legal nightclub and grill, “this is how you celebrate a marriage.”
Dean treated Jameson to an expensive dinner at one of the best steakhouses in town to celebrate his new marriage to Sarah, inviting their other teammates and friends to join. After the dinner, the men went to a strip club to continue the evening’s festivities.
“Just remember there’s no sex in the champagne room,” Dean mentioned as he became comfortable on the sofa. He briefly double-checked to see if there were any particular stains before he sat down. “And let’s keep it nice and clean tonight, fellas.”
“Bump that noise, bro.” Caleb Swagger sat in a lounge chair across from the men. A mammoth at over six feet tall and built like a linebacker, Caleb had the charm and suave of a thousand men; hence his last name. He was soon joined by a buxom blonde who made sure the carpet matched the drapes. “I don’t have a girlfriend and I’m ready to get as nasty as I wanna be tonight.”
Zach Clayton sat nearby in another chair and casually sipped on his scotch as he awaited a lap dance. He was a tall bearded man, with not a single ounce of body fat on him. He was easily recognizable with his half-blond/half-dark hair, which led to Dean nicknaming him, Two-Tone. “My wife knows I’m here and she’s cool with it.”
“Uh, you don’t have a choice if she’s cool with it,” Kyle mentioned as a beautiful brunette sat on his lap. “If she wasn’t cool with it, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m my own man!” Two-Tone defended. “I can do whatever I want.”
The men looked at him and glanced at each other. “Sure,” they said in unison.
“What’s going on with you and Syd?” Jameson joined his best friend. “I haven’t seen you two since the wedding!”
“We wanted to give you two some privacy and enjoy being newlyweds,” Dean explained, “and Syd’s been super busy with her art show in a few weeks and she has this major contract with Quinn Riordan so she’s not around as much she would be.”
“Hey, that’s a good thing! It means she’s focused,” Jameson declined a dance and continued to sip on his beer, “everything’s finally good with you two?”
“As good as they can be,” Dean also declined a dance, “a few things have come up recently.”
“Oh?” Jameson scooted his chair closer. “Like what?”
“Sydney wants a prenup,” Dean began.
Kyle shrugged along with the other guys. “So? You mentioned you wanted to give her one but were afraid she was going to reject it.”
“That’s different. I was giving her a prenup on my terms.” Dean explained. “She has someone in her ear.”
“Ferguson?” Jameson asked and Dean nodded. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh?” Dean asked. “How?”
“He has her best interests in mind, which in turn, has your best interests as well. He wants to protect and preserve Sydney’s art at all costs. You’ll get to keep your millions while Sydney will keep hers.” Jameson added.
“Millions?” Kyle asked. “Sydney has millions of dollars of her own?”
“She’s on track,” Dean admitted, “she’ll have them soon enough. She just sold a piece for sixty thousand the other day.”
“Sixty thousand?” Kyle blinked. “Fuck, I’m in the wrong business.”
“I’m still not understanding the issue,” Caleb chimed in, “if you originally wanted her to sign a prenup, why does it matter Ian is encouraging her to do so?”
“Because of something I did,” Dean explained. He looked around and chewed his bottom lip. “I can’t say it now.”
“All of you, out!” Jameson ordered the dancers and they quickly left. “Now, talk.”
“Dude, I was in the middle of…” Two-Tone gesticulated. “…you know…”
“Bust your nut later,” Jameson replied. “This is more important.”
“Yo, there’s nothing more important than this.” Two-Tone explained.
“What’s going on, Dean?” Caleb asked.
“I was with Rebecca when Sydney and I broke up,” Dean began, “but that’s not the end of it. She hired paps to take pictures of us.”
“Pictures?” Kyle asked. “Pictures of what?” He read Dean’s eyes and Kyle gasped. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”
“You got a copy of those pics, bro?” Caleb asked.
“Anyway, Ian somehow got a copy of the pictures and he told me to tell Sydney. I haven’t told her yet and it’s been a couple of weeks already.” Dean sipped his beer. “I thought he told Sydney but he told her to get a prenup instead.”
“To which she agreed to because he’s protecting her financial interest in case this comes out and you’re fucked,” Jameson slowly nodded as he figured everything out, “Ian’s a smart man.”
“So, now I have to tell Sydney or she’ll find out through the paps and yeah,” Dean smacked his lips, “I’m royally fucked.”
“Uh, yeah you are,” Two-Tone looked around, “now can we get the bitches back in here?”
“You’re going have to tell her, dude,” Jameson advised, “she needs to find out from you. Not the paps, not Rebe
cca, and certainly not Ian. She needs to hear this from your mouth.”
“I don’t know how to tell her,” Dean blinked as if the suggestion was harder to enact, “do I just come out and say, ‘Hey baby, when we were on a break, I slept with my ex and she hired a camera crew to photograph it. I love you!’”
Kyle shrugged. “I don’t see the problem with that.”
“It’s better you’re honest with it than you beat around the bush. Yeah, she’s going to be really pissed but she’ll appreciate you were honest enough with her to do it.” Caleb suggested.
“I can’t just tell her like this, though. I need a buffer.” Dean leaned forward and thought about the next plan in action.
“Several dozen roses?” Caleb suggested.
“A romantic dinner?” Kyle chimed in.
“A shopping spree?” Two-Tone added.
“A new car?” Jameson suggested.
“All of that and more,” Dean’s eyes lit up as he came up with a plan. “Jameson, do you have the number to your jeweler?”
Fourteen
“And action!”
Rebecca began walking through the front door of her castmate’s home as instructed. She was already on her third take and was quite weary of walking through the same door again. She plastered her usual fake smile and made sure the camera angles captured her newly implanted veneers from her sponsor. She also made sure the lightning highlighted her new dye color from L’Oreal.
Now she was camera ready.
After going through a scene in which she pretended to be shocked by some of the gossip divulged, the director requested a break and she promptly went to her chair and waited for another scene to shoot.
The life of a reality darling.
Ever since she tried in spectacularly failing attempt to pass Sydney’s artwork as her own, Rebecca had seen her star rise. Sure, there were people who still snickered and sniped about her but it didn’t matter. She was officially a millionaire and her haters simply weren’t.