by kj lewis
“‘Sex with You’ was written before you were friends. We can’t wait to see what comes now that you are. When does your tour start?”
After Blaine answers the rest of Jason’s questions, we are relieved to exit reporters’ row.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“I thought we understood each other?” I pull to a stop to make eye contact. “This is a friendship only.”
“We understand each other, Emme. I understand you want only a friendship.”
“I don’t want to be unfair to you, Blaine. If I have led you to believe otherwise, please forgive me.”
“You haven’t. Now dance with me.”
He pulls me to the dance floor while Frank Sinatra coons in the background. I assume the DJ spots us on the dance floor, because Blaine’s “Sex with You” starts to thump through the speakers. He moves like his songs feel: like sex. The guy can dance. He looks down into my face and starts to sing his lyrics to me. More flashes and a camera crew insert themselves on the side of the dance floor.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll dance with my date,” Jackson taps in.
“By all means.” Blaine hands me off with a dramatic bow.
“Sorry, I was detained by Heather. A PR crisis.”
“Do you need me to do anything?”
“Just dance with me. And forgive me,” he says with that signature sexy smile that has all the girls and boys swooning.
He turns serious. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard in the car. It wasn’t fair of me.”
“You’re forgiven. I can’t stay mad at you.”
“Gonna roll back a little with this one,” the DJ announces as Next’s “Too Close” begins.
He sings the guy’s part, and I chime in on the girl’s part. It’s clear to everyone that we are enjoying each other. Jackson performs a few old-school moves that have me laughing and trying some of my own. Movement comes naturally to Jackson, which makes him an expert dancer. He has removed his suit jacket and is in his vest with his sleeves rolled up. His fitted pants showcase his strong body. If someone didn’t know him, they would think he has sex like he dances, charming with a bit of down-and-dirty mixed in.
When the song is over, Jackson moves toward the bar.
“Grab me a Diet Coke. I’m gonna stay and dance.”
I move into the crowd and start moving my hips with the beat. I’m a couple of songs in when a hand runs over my back side, making me smile and my heart race. Graham pulls me into his arms, and we move like two people who know each other intimately.
“I ought to punish that sweet behind,” he says seductively in my ear. “I should’ve known you were causing the stares. Out here in these pants, shaking that ass, all by yourself.”
“If you play your cards right, you might get lucky.”
I lightly grind against him. His eyes are a dark blue when I turn to face him, his hand rests on me in a way that tells others I am his. He runs a finger down my cheek and turns me again, my back to him. I raise my arm behind his head, he lightly runs his finger down the inside of my arm curled around his neck. His hand splays out on my stomach pulling me to him as I move against him. I’m completely unaware that there are people around us. I begin to dance around him and from behind I echo the words of the song in his ear. When the song wraps, he looks at me like he wants to fuck me on the floor. Suddenly, I can see the shutters come back down and he pulls me off the dance floor. Why?
We move to the bar and Jackson hands me my Diet Coke, I ignore Graham’s disapproving look.
“You want to dance or hit the tables?” I ask Jackson.
“Patrick just called. He’s back early. I’m going to walk out and meet him then hit some tables.” He turns to address Graham, “If you don’t mind looking out for her?”
The question holds much more meaning than the eight words convey. I know its Jackson’s way of trying to make amends. Otherwise he wouldn’t be leaving me for Patrick.
“No. I’ll take it from here.”
Graham still looks like he thinks of Jackson as an adversary. I am sure he’s not used to being called on his shit. Despite that, he offers a conciliatory handshake to Jackson. Jackson kisses me on the cheek and leaves us at the bar.
“Water and a scotch please,” Graham orders from the bar.
“I see you made an entrance with Mr. Moore,” he says, displeased.
“We walked the carpet together. It wasn’t planned. It just happened.”
“He wants to fuck you.”
The bartender brings his drinks. Graham takes the Diet Coke from my hand and replaces it with water. For some reason, I get the feeling he is daring me to say something, clearly not in the mood to be pushed. Is he mad? He didn’t seem that way on the dance floor.
“I have some business to attend to. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
“Of course. I’m going to find Jules and Adam, see how they are doing.”
“They’re in the casino. At the craps table.” He holds his look at me, like he has something else to say.
“Yes?”
“Behave.” It’s a command and a warning rolled into one. No humor injected.
“Don’t I always?”
“Emelia.”
“Graham,” I say as sweetly southern as I possibly can.
His hand flexes, and I arch a brow at him. Lightly kissing my forehead, he places a chip in my hand.
“No back talk. It’s for charity, and I plan on donating whether you play or not, so you might as well try your hand.”
He leaves me with twenty-five thousand dollars. What the hell? Do they not have any hundred-dollar chips? I go in search of the craps table. It doesn’t escape me that it’s mostly men playing and women standing behind them.
“So, you’re the new Carrie?” a tall brunette says to me. She’s beautiful. She has bright blue eyes. Her dress fits her like a glove, despite the fact she’s too thin for me. But something in her eyes has me on alert.
“I’m sorry, we’re you speaking to me?” I ask politely.
“I saw you with Graham Taylor. He gets a new flavor every few weeks. You must be this week’s special.” She pauses and sizes me up. “I see he’s going through a heavy-cream phase.”
“I think you’ve had one too many. It’s time for you to move on,” Adam says, moving in between me and the woman. He’s tall enough that I can’t see around him.
“You boys sure are trading down these days.”
She looks from Jules to me, and I swear I see Adam’s stance gain inches right in front of me. He leans his head down and says something to her. I can’t make out the words, but I can hear the venom in his tone. Her eyes widen as she grows angry and leaves in the other direction.
“You look incredible,” Jules says to me in an attempt to right the wrong.
“You know I don’t care what she or anyone thinks. I love my body. I don’t need her approval. Where are you guys headed?”
Adam is still pissed and quiet.
“Don’t worry about it,” I place my hand on his arm. “I don’t have some naïve notion that I’m the first person Graham has been with. Don’t let it steal any of your night. It’s not worth it.”
He relaxes a little. “We’re going to the poker tables. Want to come?”
“No, thanks. I’m headed to blackjack. Matt should be here soon. If you see him or Graham, let them know where I’m headed.”
There’s a seat at a blackjack table. The minimum bid is a thousand dollars. I place my chip on the table and ask for change. If I win, I don’t plan on keeping it. It doesn’t seem right to win from a charity, but it will be fun to play.
I win the first two hands, when a man sits next to me. He looks to be in his early thirties. I notice he isn’t wearing a ring. He’s handsome in a Chanel tux. He has dark hair with some silver sprinkled throughout, adding to his good looks. I can’t quite place his heritage.
“Is this seat taken?”
“No,” I smirk at him. He’s already sea
ted. Does it really matter now?
“Alex Russo.”
“Emme James.” I extend my hand to shake his. He kisses it instead.
“Miss James.” He lays several ten-thousand-dollar chips down. He glances at my chips. “Are you enjoying yourself? You seem to be having some luck?”
“I’m only on my third hand. I’m really just here for fun.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Where are you from?”
“I live in New York.”
“And before that.”
“Memphis.”
Like always, a light turns on, indicating people have placed the accent. He’s Italian, he should understand. I roll my eyes and glance at my cards. I stay at twenty.
It moves to him; he splits and stays one at eighteen and one at seventeen. The dealer finishes with everyone and then starts turning his cards. He has to take one, he busts and everyone cheers. Alex makes a quick profit.
We play several more hands, drawing a bit of a crowd. There are five of us playing. Alex orders drinks for the table. We are on a roll. No one is losing. I bet a few more hands. I’ve grown my chips close to 45,000. I decide to go all in. I get a queen of hearts and a six of spades. This is the most difficult hand in blackjack to play. I try to remember what cards I have seen over the last several hands. I know the odds of it being a low card are in my favor. The dealer patiently waits for me to decide.
“Hit me,” I tell him.
“Are you sure?” Alex asks with a combination of intrigue and disbelief.
“Yes, sir, I am.”
I notice his breath catches and he looks at the dealer. He turns my card over and it’s a five of diamonds. Twenty-one. The table around me lights up with excitement. We continue around and the dealer is out with nineteen.
I hand the dealer a five-hundred-dollar chip, the smallest I have. Pushing the rest of my winnings to him, I ask, “Can you make sure this is donated to tonight’s charity please?”
“Certainly, ma’am,” he nods his appreciation to me.
“It was nice meeting you,” I direct to Alex as I slide off my stool and make my way to the restroom.
“May I buy you a drink?” Alex halts me as I make my way across the room.
“Thank you, but I’m in need of the ladies’ room,” I smile politely at him.
“I could come with you.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask as my smile fades.
He moves closer into me. I take a step back, and a sphinx-like smile draws across his face.
“Don’t be coy, Miss James. I’ve watched you tonight. You’ve given attention to three separate men since you’ve been here, one of which is Graham Taylor. I noticed he doesn’t have a collar on you, so that means you’re available. I can care for your needs and make it financially worth your efforts.” He steps closer to me and runs a long finger down my jawline, looking at me with anticipation. “Why don’t you let me show you a preview?” He leans in and places a soft kiss in front of my ear.
I’m shocked into place. My brain has frozen and it’s lacking the ability to tell my body to move. He mistakes this for acquiescing, and places his hand softly around my arm to move me in the direction of his choosing, pausing when my feet don’t move.
“You’re mistaken, Alex. She doesn’t belong to me.”
My mind finally kicks into gear, and I turn to see Colleen standing there, looking like the business mogul she is. She easily reads the confusion on my face.
“Now, if you’d kindly remove your hands from her. I’d like to remind you of your contractual agreement. You do not proposition my girls individually. You want something specific, you go through me. Do we have an understanding?”
This is CEO Colleen. It’s intriguing to watch her in action.
“Of course.” He looks put out. Angry. “My sincere apologies, Miss James. Since you were with Mr. Taylor, I misunderstood.”
“I don’t expect this to be an issue again,” she reprimands, holding his gaze.
“No, of course not, Colleen.” He bows his head to her and leaves.
She motions with her finger, and out of nowhere there is a man wearing an ear-piece standing next to her. She turns her head slightly and speaks low enough that I can’t hear what she is saying. The man nods and heads off in the same direction as Mr. Russo.
“I’m sorry, Emme.” Her eyes inspect me to make sure I am okay.
“Colleen. So nice to see you.” I start to hug her, but like I said, this is CEO Colleen, so I offer a kiss to each cheek, which she accepts.
“How are you getting along? I saw you dancing with Graham. I take it you have moved past all the confusion around your availability?” she smiles knowingly.
“We did,” I say too quietly, drawing concern on her face.
What did Alex mean Graham hasn’t collared me? I might not have a lot of experience, by choice, but it doesn’t mean I’ve been living under a rock.
“Do your girls wear collars?” I ask Colleen.
“That’s a question you need to ask Graham. Where is he?” she looks around. “He knows better than to leave you vulnerable. What was he thinking?”
She’s unhappy. I realize then that, on a certain level, I am one of Colleen’s girls. She has the same protective instincts for me that she does with her own. I just don’t work for her.
My mood plummets and exhaustion has set back in. “If you see him, would you let him know I left.”
She raises an eye-brow at me. “This will be interesting. I do enjoy what you bring to the table, Emme. Lunch next week? We need to finalize the fall closet.”
“Please. Thank you, Colleen.” I squeeze her hand despite her need to keep people at a distance. She softens after a moment and returns the affection.
I make my way to the exit, stepping outside onto the red carpet that still blankets the stairs. It’s cool now that the sun has gone down and most of the reporters have left. The only remaining photographers are paparazzi. I take a deep breath and start down, hoping to see one of the drivers I know. They can have me home and be back before they are needed. I make it down to the first landing, but I don’t locate anyone.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.” Blaine wraps his arm around me.
“Blaine.”
“Friends can drive each other home.”
“Okay,” I give in. I’m too tired to argue but am aware this is iffy ground. I want Graham to trust me, but I know Blaine is a sore spot for him.
We walk to a black Porsche and he opens the door for me, helping me climb in. This car is low considering I am wearing almost five inch heels. I give him the address and we ride in silence for several minutes. I text Jules, Jackson, and Graham that I have left and will see them at the house. Blaine’s listening to the radio. The Stones are playing.
“Do you mind if I roll down the window?”
“You aren’t afraid of messing up your hair?”
“You must date some really high-maintenance girls,” I observe.
“No, I don’t mind. I could use some air.” He hits a button on the console that lowers my window. I can feel him watching me.
“You need to watch where you’re going.”
“I’d rather watch you.”
“Take a right here,” I direct, ignoring the comment.
He pulls into the driveway, slowing to a stop.
“Why didn’t you have Graham bring you home?”
“He was seeing to some business, and Jackson’s fiancé was able to make it. I hated to ask either of them to leave this early. I was just going to have one of the drivers take me home.”
“So, to confirm, you are seeing Graham Taylor? I’ve been hearing mixed stories.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I say softly.
“So, you’re exclusive?”
“I am.”
“Does that mean Graham isn’t?”
“I’m not saying that.” I pause trying to define something for someone that I don’t yet know what it is.
“W
e are still in the definition stages. Until we come to some more definitive terms, for me, yes, it is exclusive. Plus, you’re my client.”
“Screw that. If that is playing any reason into this, I’ll fire your ass today.”
I laugh. “It wouldn’t change anything right now.”
“Ok. I just don’t want to have any regrets that maybe if I had asked the right questions, one of them would have produced the answer I wanted. Just covering all my bases.”
“You’re sweet. See you next week in the city?”
“Yep. We have an appointment.”
“I enjoyed meeting your mom this week. How’s Scout? I’ll be over to see him before I go back.”
“My mom loved meeting you. She had seen some of the pictures in the paper, so she was curious. She likes that you are a southern girl who knows horses. Scout is great, incidentally.”
“Your mom is fun. Maybe I’ll have time to see her when I swing by.”
He starts back up the drive and stops at the security house. Smith is standing there with the guard. His feet shoulder width apart, his hands in front of him.
“Miss James. Mr. Moore.” He’s all business. “I’ll escort you the remainder of the way. The grounds are closed to visitors tonight.”
I roll my eyes and say my good night to Blaine. Smith offers me a hand out of the car and steers me into the back of the SUV.
“I don’t need driven. I can ride in the front.”
“Miss James,” he starts to protest when I settle into the front seat. I think he wants to say something, but he wisely holds his tongue.
“Was that really necessary? He was just going to drop me at the door.”
“I’m afraid so.” He’s adamant and offers no apologies, but smirks at me when I give him my best irritated look.
“I’m tired, so you can have this match. Next time, I win.”
“Of course, Miss James,” he nods with a smirk.
He pulls up in front of the house and opens my door. I take my heels off and we head in. The lamps are on, but I don’t hear anyone. “Are Ruth and Ben here?”
“No ma’am.”
“Emme. I’m not a ma’am. At least not yours. So, just Emme.”
“Yes ma’am. Is that all?”