by Becky Wicks
Travis is the picture of cowboy-country perfection right now in another tight black shirt and jeans. He hasn’t taken his hat off all night.
The sales guy is pulled away and Denzel sidles up to me, hands me another mojito. ‘How’s it going love, you’re very quiet.’
‘It’s loud in here,’ I tell him, fixing a smile to my face again. We’re in the basement at a place called the Cake Shop on Ludlow Street.
Travis is beside us a second. He loops an arm around me and kisses me on the cheek. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and hear it in his slur. ‘You’re looking sexy as hell, Alabama,’ he whispers in my ear before I can pull away. ‘I’ve been waiting for that dude to leave you alone. I lost the key to my room, by the way. I’m going to have to share yours tonight.’
‘Like hell you are,’ I say, reaching into his pocket quickly and pulling out the key. I hold it up. A camera goes off in our faces and I move away instantly as the photographer scurries off, back towards Chloe Campbell. What the hell?
Travis grins, takes the key back. ‘Bet they got another good shot right then,’ he says, nodding at Denzel and slugging his cocktail. Denzel laughs, doing the same.
They’re as bad as each other, getting all drunk and obnoxious. I haven't forgotten the state Travis was in when we first met; the way the booze cloud followed him out of The Nice Rack and hovered over me as he forced me up against the wall. I force it from my head. He's apologized. Plus he knows if he crosses the line he'll get my fist, as well as Conor's in his face. ‘Another good shot?’ I say, realizing what he said.
Denzel fishes for his BlackBerry, taps some buttons and holds it up at me. I take it. It’s a photo someone’s posted on Facebook of Noah and Chloe, but in the corner, there’s Travis kissing the side of my head. It was taken no more than an hour ago, right after we sang and the room was buzzing and I was grinning like a madwoman.
The horror takes over my entire body as I scroll down through the comments. People are talking, asking who we are. Someone else has posted a video of part of our Tarot performance – the best bit, when we were acting out the lines and holding hands and now people are hashtagging #TravisAndStephanie. Some people recognize me from Deserted. It’s spreading like wildfire.
I needed a new couple to ship, one commenter has posted.
OMG I <3 <3 <3 Stephanie and Travis!!! #Stavis #NoahLockton
‘Nine hundred and eighty shares in an hour,’ Denzel says, almost proudly as he takes the phone back from my hands. ‘Anything related to Peter Pan over there goes nuts. Everyone’s talking about the competition, this is bloody gold, folks, you’re already slated to win.’
Travis lets out a whistle and leans a polished cowboy boot against the wall next to me with his fingers through his belt loops. ‘‘Why?’ I ask, looking between them. ‘Aren’t there ten acts on the tour?’
‘People love a love story,’ Denzel says simply.
‘We don’t have a love story!’ I say as the horror just keeps on unfolding. ‘Denzel, that’s all been taken out of context.’
‘Yeah, but your chemistry up there says otherwise. They don’t have to know any different. Whatever gets ‘em talking, love, that’s the key. Don’t worry yourself.’
My heart is batting wildly in my ears and chest now and the drink on top is making me woozy. Travis wraps an arm around me again. I shrug him off. ‘Denzel, I don’t want them linking us together.’
Travis pouts like I’ve deeply offended him. ‘Come on, Alabama, it’s all just part of the game,’ he drawls.
‘Exactly,’ Denzel says, and his eyes glint at me like a crocodile’s. I step even further away, looking around me, paranoid now. You never know when a camera might be pointed at you. Everyone has a camera. Travis is led away by Courtney Lentini, who’s carrying her famous Siamese cat. Denzel watches him go, leans in close so I can hear him above the guitarists who’ve just started to play on the stage.
‘Listen love,’ he says, putting a hand to my arm. ‘I didn’t just fly Travis here ‘cause you wrote those songs together. I know a star when I see one and you, darling, can have it all, with or without him. Trust me.’
I study his stubble, his pointy collar, the way his long hair looks so stylishly un-brushed. I don’t trust him. I don’t know what E-beth sees in this guy. He’s nice enough on the surface but like Conor says, he has dollar signs in his eyes. I can almost see them. ‘HotFlush aren’t stupid, they want your songs,’ he continues in a low voice now, ‘but if you sing them yourself you’re better value. A package. And with Travis you’re even more valuable. They want a new duo, remember? It makes more sense for you to win that competition, if you see what I’m saying.’
‘I don’t see what you’re saying,’ I tell him, but in a flash I do. ‘Wait, Denzel, they’re planning on rigging the competition?’ I feel sick.
He holds his hands up dramatically, eyes wide. The lime flies out of his mojito. ‘I never said that, did I?’
‘It’s what you meant. They want to use Noah’s tour for extra hype. I can’t believe they’d rig it, that’s… awful.’
He sniffs and leans against the wall, and I notice a touch of white powder around one nostril. ‘Once again, I never said that. But put it this way, if people had more of a reason to fall in love with you and Travis, you’d probably walk this thing anyway. Everyone loves a couple, look at Noah and Chloe.’ He gestures to where Noah now has an arm around her.
‘At first I thought it would never wash,’ Denzel says, ‘a megastar who’s not available to all those love-struck teens, it’s not marketable, right? But they bloody love them! They root for them. They love Chloe as much as him, and she doesn’t even sing! There are kids who spend Saturday nights Photoshopping them into wedding videos for YouTube - that's how much they want a wedding. Some have soundtracks.’
I stare at him. Is he serious? That sounds horrific. ‘I’m with Conor,’ I tell him firmly, scanning the room again for cameras.
‘Well, Conor can stay our little secret for now…’
‘He’s not a little secret, Denzel. He’s my boyfriend.’
Denzel lets out a long sigh, looks at me like I’m a petulant child. ‘Stephanie, sweetness. I told Lockton and I’m telling you, you’re only as good as the public say you are. You want to make it in this industry, you’d be wise to follow my advice off the bat. You're already a public figure thanks to your island stunts, this should be easy!’
I’m about to tell him to go shove it when I think better of it. I bite my tongue, take a deep breath. The bank called Sandi today needing more proof our finances are improving. I need the money for the Ryman show, if nothing else. The royalties won't be in for a while, maybe even months from now. Why is everything so complicated?
Travis wanders back over holding Courtney’s cat. A photographer starts snapping him instantly and I make my excuses and head for the exit. On the street I call Conor. I need to hear his voice suddenly, to tell him about this craziness, to find out if he’s found Micah yet. He think he’s tracked down his girlfriend, a woman called Jeanne, but she doesn’t work at the school she used to work at anymore, so he hit another dead end. It’s the reason he’s not here. I so wish he was here.
There’s no answer. I head back inside, wind my way to the bathroom, past five guys I recognize as a boy band, and Noah. He raises a hand to me, but he’s surrounded by girls now and they all look like supermodels.
Chloe’s in the bathroom, running ruby red lipstick over her lips. She looks up when I walk in. ‘Hey, are you OK?’ she says. Obviously I don’t look OK.
‘Denzel wants me to pretend I’m with Travis, for the cameras,’ I blurt at her reflection. I lean heavily leaning against the counter.
Chloe turns to me, eyes wide. ‘Screw Denzel, he never stops,’ she scowls, adjusting her strapless black dress. I stare at the Tinker-Bell necklace at her throat. She reaches for my arm. ‘Hey, Stephanie, listen to me. The label tried to get Noah to pretend he was with Courtney Lentini once, you heard about
that, right?’
‘Some,’ I say, looking at her ruby red manicure. ‘Denzel was behind all that?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘He’s a nightmare. All of it is, seriously. Be yourself, Stephanie. I can’t tell you what me and Noah had to go through to get where we are now. These people will suck you up like a freakin’ vacuum cleaner and spit you out with nothing if you don’t watch your back.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, meaning it. She snaps her lipstick back into her clutch purse and studies me as I pull my hairbrush from my purse and run it through my hair. It’s silkier and softer, and shinier without Nashville’s humidity.
‘Noah thinks you’re going to win the competition, get that record deal with HotFlush. They won’t have to rig anything.’
I look up at her in shock. ‘Really? I mean, you knew they were planning to rig it?’
‘You wouldn’t believe the stuff that goes on,’ she says, watching me arrange my bangs. ‘But they’ll be after you guys as a package, whatever happens. I know how it works.’
‘That’s what Denzel just said,’ I tell her. ‘Is nothing in this business legit?’
‘Not a whole lot. Here…’ Chloe pauses, opens her purse again. ‘What’s your number?’
I tell her and she types it into her iPhone. Seconds later my cell rings with her call.
‘Now you have me, whenever you need me,’ she says. ‘I’ve been through this.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I say again. I’m overwhelmed by her kindness.
‘Any friend of Alyssa’s is a friend of mine,’ she smiles. ‘Now, how ‘bout we stay away from the asshats and go find some decent people to talk to? There’s a fun side to all this too, you know. Starting with more free mojitos.’
She loops her arm through mine and leads me back outside, straight past Travis, who tips his hat in amusement as I stroll past arm in arm with the most famous woman in the room. She doesn’t even know how amazing she is, but I’m starting to see why the world loves Noah Lockton’s girlfriend as much as he does.
A couple hours later I’m more than buzzed and I’m actually having a great time. Maybe it’s a reflection of the mojitos loosening me up, or the fact that Travis seems to have been side lined by the group of supermodel girls, but everyone Chloe introduces me to seems a million times nicer than anyone Denzel wanted me to schmooze with. I’ve even talked a little with Sebastian Moreno – Alyssa’s ex and Noah’s drummer. He came to the island when we were on Deserted, stirred things up, but he’s moved on now like Alyssa and we’ve managed to put it all behind us. It’s a small, weird, crazy world.
My phone buzzes in my purse. I fish it out and see a text message from Conor. I squint at it. Step outside and call me, it says.
I frown at the screen. For a second my heart flips as I picture him seeing any of the photos people have taken of me and Travis. I know he trusts me but it wouldn’t stop him being pissed. ‘I’ll be right back,’ I tell Chloe before squeezing back through the throng and climbing the stairs to the street. I dial Conor, not missing the security guy giving me the once-over in my skin-tight dress. New York is so different to Nashville. His phone rings and he picks up straight away.
‘Hey!’
‘Hey,’ I say, ‘is everything OK? I tried to call you earlier…’
‘Across the street,’ he says.
‘What?’ I spin around and my eyes bug out of my head. He’s here. He’s standing in the doorway of a closed store directly opposite. He hangs up and grins, holding up his phone.
‘Oh my God!’ I run quickly, wobbly in my heels. He runs for me, sweeping me up and spinning me round on the sidewalk. ‘Conor!’
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he says, putting me down and kissing me. Even his smell, so familiar makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. I put my hands to his face. Is this real? He’s wearing a black jacket and blue jeans and the red shirt that shows the contours of his chest and abs. It makes me feel like pouncing on him at the best of times. I kiss him again and again as relief and happiness flood over me.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to surprise you. Mmm, limes.’ He licks his lips. ‘Mojitos or margaritas?’
‘Mojitos,’ I say. ‘What about Micah?’
He kisses me again, takes my hands, runs his eyes purposefully up and down my body in the emerald dress and then makes me turn around on the spot like one of the models. ‘You look sensational, look at your hair all sexy and shiny.' He grins. 'Shiny girl... I’ve never seen you in heels. Can you walk in those?’
I smile as he starts leading me down the street. ‘I’m flying straight back to Memphis tomorrow afternoon, but I had to see you...’
‘You flew all this way for one night?’
‘It’s three hours! I missed you too much, Jackson.’
‘You’re a crazy person,’ I say, looping my arms around his waist as we walk. ‘I’m so glad you came, you have no idea, it’s so freakin' surreal…’
‘I’ll bet. The hotel’s a block away, right?’ Conor stops again, a wicked grin on his face. He urges me against a black wall covered in graffiti and kisses a trail up my throat and chin to my lips, locking me with his hands either side of my head, even as a guy and girl walk past, raising their eyebrows. A familiar ache winds its way from my heart down to the ever-growing moistness between my thighs as a breeze blows around me and I realize what he has in mind.
‘What about the party,’ I start, pressing my hands to his torso, but the look in his eyes tells me the party is the last thing he flew here for. The alcohol buzzes through my veins, giving me running power suddenly as we move out of the shadows and head quickly for the Blue Moon Hotel. He has half my dress unzipped before we’ve made it out of the elevator. It takes us all of five minutes to reach the room and tear each other’s clothes off.
‘I couldn’t let you have this whole room to yourself,’ Conor says, leaning over me on the sheets and grinning as his fingers start running circles around my nipples, causing them to harden instantly. I sigh as I lean back on the cluster of auburn colored pillows that match the wide-open curtains, clutching fistfuls of his hair as he sucks and licks and teases his way across every inch of my flesh.
There’s an urgency to his actions. I shiver in spite of the heat – we’re hot and sweaty and I realize we forgot to turn the air-con on, but he’s pinning my hands above my head now, easing into me with a rock hard erection. I gasp and cry out before he covers my mouth with kisses, starts moving; gently, then with more force, making the sounds he makes that make me make the sounds I make – the noises we now know so well and use as guidelines for driving each other to the point of crazy.
I can’t keep the smile from my face as I rock and move with him. He’s hornier than I’ve ever seen him. His desire for me is the biggest thrill ever. ‘We should spend more time apart if the reunions are this hot,’ I breathe, arching up into him and clenching my thighs around his midriff for a moment. A look of pure animal desire crosses his face as he pulls my knees apart, thrusts deeper into me, clutching the pillow behind my head with one hand and gripping my inner thigh with the other.
‘Not a chance,’ he says, pulling me up onto his lap with ease and bunching up my hair. ‘I’ve been losing my mind without you.’
‘I can see that.’ I move on top of him, feeling the soft cool cotton of the sheets under my feet as I rise and fall. I’ve never been so turned on in my life; the surprise of him, being whisked away, having my clothes torn off all in the space of five minutes. It’s so hot.
‘God, I love you in New York,’ he groans against my breast and it strikes me that anyone in a neighboring building could see us if they looked through our window. The thought makes me wetter somehow, and badder, and more in love with this man than ever.
I love watching Conor’s face as he battles with falling over the edge into ecstasy, but he does a good job of controlling it, lying me down on my back and going down on me again. He won’t even let me return the favour. Orgasm rockets through me
within minutes and as the waves roll over me from my tingling toes to my nose I moan with a fist pressed to my mouth. He plunges into me again and comes with a shudder, falling to his elbows either side of me.
Conor breathes, hot and heavy into my shoulder and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him down flat. I love the weight of him on me, the sticky sheen of sweat between us, knowing there are people at a party on the next block, probably wondering where the hell I am.
‘You’re definitely a crazy person,’ I laugh and he grins, lifting himself back up, biting softly on my lower lip, teasing his hand over my hips and stomach lazily before wrapping a leg around me and pulling me against his chest.
‘You have no clue how much I needed that,’ he sighs, reaching for my hand and sucking on one finger. The gesture makes heart flutter. I could do this all night. It’s possible that our quickies are hotter than when Conor spends three hours worshipping my body. Maybe. I like the thought of having both options.
‘Tough week, huh?’ I lace my fingers in his hair, pull his face down to mine again. He hasn’t told me much about his search for Micah but I know being so close and yet so far must be killing him. ‘You’ll find him, Conor Judge,’ I say. ‘I know you will.’
‘I hope so.’ He kisses me softly, slowly, then moans as we both feel his hard-on reappear against my thigh.’ I reach for it but he grabs my hand, buries his face in my now messed up hair.
‘As much as it kills me, you can fix that later. We should probably get back to your party.’
22.
Conor
I can hear Travis singing a cover of some country song as we walk down the stairs to the Cake Shop basement. Stephanie has only been gone maybe a half hour but Denzel pounces like a lion. He’s drunk. ‘Bloody hell, where did you sod off to? He’s gone up on his own.’ He points at Travis, then twists his finger to me. ‘Nice to see you could make it after all, mate. I didn’t know you were coming.’