Oh won’t you come running back to me?
Please say you’re coming back for me.
I’ve denied myself the right to hear his songs, his voice, for so many years. And now that I have … I just want to sit hidden in the dark corner I occupy and listen to his deepest thoughts as he puts them to chords. I shouldn’t want that, should go over and slap him again for clearly romanticizing what we no longer have.
But maybe, just for a few seconds, I want to romanticize too. I want to be transported back to a time where we existed, where my heart wasn’t a stone boulder that couldn’t be moved. Where I believed in first loves and putting each other before all else.
My eyes … they were always a symbol in his songs. This one seemed to be off the cuff by the way he kept pausing and looking out to the ocean. But “Violet Eyes” was one of his most well-known songs, I believe he’d even won a Grammy for it. The lyrics to that particular tune … I couldn’t listen to them without breaking down into sobs.
How could he do it? Sing about us, about me, so much? I could barely stand to think about our time together, it hurt too much to remember the breakdown of it all. Maybe we just coped differently, or maybe Dean had never really cared that much at all, and that was why he could express all of his emotions between the belly of a Gibson.
Either way, I stayed hidden in those shadows late into the night, listening to him pour his soul out to the empty beach below.
Chapter Twelve
Dean
Her eyes scan the page, those lashes licking at her cheeks in their thick fullness.
I can’t help but examine her face as she reads, the first view I’ve gotten of her without having to avert my eyes since I tracked her down at that wedding. Kara was always beautiful, but she’s lost that teenage it-girl look, and in its place, is a full-fledged woman. Curves replace the once stick thin body, but she wears them well. Tight in the exact right spots, full and supple in the others. She’s shorter than most of the Amazon rail thin girls who exist in Hollywood, and my cock hasn’t dismissed that. Kara is a real woman, a fit, athletic woman with tits and an ass that I’d like to put my hands on. There really was no way to poetically put that.
It strikes me that I haven’t been this infatuated with a woman’s looks in a very long time, but maybe it’s because I know what’s underneath ... maybe it’s because we have a history. Either way, I shove the feeling down, because she’s here doing this for me.
“I will not be on call for events, not if I am working or have a rotation at the hospital.” She takes the red pen in her hand and slices it across the page like a decisive knife to the throat.
I’d practically lost my jaw on the floor when she agreed to come out here and help save my image. Five days of being in Los Angeles and I still saw the complication in her eyes, but you could also see the excitement sparking there.
From the minute we’d arrived, Kara had not wanted to discuss anything else but when she could see the contract, and where she would be working with her graduate degree. For a girl who claimed independence and not wanting anything from me, she’d seemed all too thrilled to accept a residency position with Dr. Broderick Ottoman, one of the premier dermatologists in Los Angeles. I’d also managed to score her a rotating shift at Cedars-Sinai in their burn unit … in case she changed directions and wanted to do something with more trauma.
She’d thanked me after I told her about the positions, but it was her eyes that got me. The gratitude radiating from them, as if I was some sort of knight in shining Armani, hit me square between the chest. And ever since, I’d been trying to get her to see me like that again.
“You have to walk the carpet with me sometimes, it will solidify our status as a couple in people’s minds. And after parties and events are a must … although no, you don’t have to be at every one.” I was trying to find a compromise.
“I will be at as many events as I can sanely make it to, but I’m not sacrificing my work for them.” Her nose turns up in that defiant way, the privilege wreaking from her.
I have to remind myself that it’s something we’ve never had in common. She grew up an only child in a well off, middle class family. If she got a flat tire, her father took care of it. When a teacher gave her a bad grade, her parents were calling the school demanding to know why. Mine, on the other hand, were either not around, or didn’t give a shit.
Kara always had that ignorant privilege about her, the kind a person got when they never really had to struggle. No matter how much money I had now, I would never have that kind of naïve bliss.
“Understood. I’ll run them by you, and you make it to what you can.” I try to keep my voice friendly, because I need her to do this.
Patrick, and the lawyers around the table, readjust their positions, their faces annoyed. They’re used to these kind of contract relationships in this town, but they’re not used to the woman in the situation taking so long to read a contract. Usually they were more than willing to sign on the dotted line for money and fame. I had to smirk to myself thinking about just how different Kara was from them.
“PDA?” Her confused eyes glance at me.
“Public displays of affection,” I clarify.
She rolls her eyes. “I know what it stands for ... I’m not clear on exactly what that entails.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair, more than cocky and happy to fill her in. “It means that we have to go to dinners where the press ‘catches us’ in a make out. It means that, on the red carpet, I have to touch your ass and you caress my cheek. And plenty more of that in clubs, on dates, on set. It has to be convincing. The public has to believe that we are in love.”
Kara’s face goes pale, and I realize that she hasn’t thought about this before reading that clause in the contract.
My hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck, kissing her again … it was going to be impossible not to want to continue to do those things when we were out of the public eye. But her disgusted expression, the way the tension suffused the room, made me angry with her. And in turn, I was angry with myself … for letting this affect me so much.
“Come on, you can be an actress. I’ve seen it.” I raise my eyebrow at her, challenging her.
Because if she won’t do this to help me, she’ll definitely do it to spite and prove me wrong.
I see the determination set in her foxlike face. “I’ll be the best damn fake fiancée anyone has ever seen.”
And maybe, she’d be so damn good that I could actually enjoy some of these nights with a human that was worth spending time with.
After ironing out some more items in the contract, Kara is putting a pen to the dotted line.
The two parts inside of me war; the devil walking around with his chest puffed out, happy that someone is going to step in and save me from public litany.
And the angel, shaking its head at me, telling me I shouldn’t go down this path.
I ignore it.
Chapter Thirteen
Dean
The first time I ever saw Kara naked, I was sure that I’d glimpsed a piece of heaven on earth.
Typically, a poetic guy, shit I was a musician, her bare body inspired almost every song in my library for years to come.
She was an angel, so pure and smooth just lying there for me to touch. I remember how nervous we both were, but how the excitement flickered in the air like a live wire about to spark.
Knowing that she was just down the hall, sitting in bed in her underwear, or showering with that soapy, wet hot water sluicing down her body, was torture to my dick. She might be my ex, one who clearly wanted nothing to do with me when it came to anything romantic, but it didn’t stop me from having hot as fuck fantasies about her every second of the day. I’d dreamed of her thighs spread, glistening pussy open and ready for me on the lip of my bathtub way too many times to count.
I was half-hard one hundred percent of the time now, and I had to keep my wits not to burst into her room and fuck the sh
it out of her.
The production assistant pins a mic to my shirt, adjusting and checking the levels. “Can you say one, two, three for me?”
I say it, and add a wink. I watch as the blush creeps across the recent graduate’s face, her pale blond hair sweeping in front of her brow to disguise it. She’s still so young, without that unfazed set to her expression that more experienced Hollywood crew members have.
From the corner, Kara makes a snorting, annoyed sound. The PA scurries out, probably worried that she pissed off the girlfriend … little does she know our relationship is as real as the tooth fairy.
“Did you want to ask her to get on her knees, too? Because I’m not sure me being here would have stopped her.” She flips a page of the magazine she’s reading and then tosses it aside, picking up her phone to scroll through some social media app.
“Make the crew happy and you’ll be rewarded with an easier interview, and be asked back. It’s all about schmoozing in this town, baby.”
“I’m not your baby.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you get tired? Pretending all the time? What part of your life is actually real then?”
Her words strike deeper than she means them to, and my heart twinges. She still knows me, deep down, after all of these years. She has to know that this all secretly kills me, murders my soul little by little. All I’ve ever wanted to do is make music … but you can’t do that without all of this. It’s a catch twenty-two that I can’t escape.
“Well, clearly the rock I put on your finger will be the real deal. Carats and all, baby.”
She glares at me when I call her that nickname again. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t want to be discussed today.”
Patrick had insisted that Kara come with me to a TV interview I’d been scheduled for this morning. It was with one of the hottest morning shows in the country, and my agent wanted my fake girlfriend to see just what my life looked like. How one prepared for these, what questions were asked, how bitchy the anchors actually were when the cameras went dark.
“Too bad.” I shrug, looking at my hair in the dressing room mirror.
“Dean, I said no.” Her violet eyes flare with fire.
Jesus, she’s beautiful like this. And with barely any makeup on, sitting there in blue jeans and a plain white fitted T-shirt, she could still be on the pages of a magazine as some sexy girl-next-door type.
“Come on, you can’t be that naïve. Yes, I’m a star, but I have nothing dropping right now. My tour is upcoming, but they’re having me on this show to get dirt on my new girlfriend. Especially in the midst of the Hannah thing. It’s going to up my reputation if I look like a man in love. Like I’ve turned a new leaf.”
The expression on her face is unreadable. “Fine.”
She goes back to her phone instead of talking to me.
“What’re you looking at? Baby and puppy pictures of our hometown peers on Facebook?” I knew she still had to be social media friends with all of those people.
“Actually, I’m doing something other than being superficial. I’m reading a research paper on melanoma.” She all but flicks me the bird and goes back to reading.
“Are you excited for your first day of work?”
I thought she would have taken one or the other positions I had secured for her, but I should have known. She’s overloaded her schedule, probably so she isn’t home with me, but also because she never backs down from a challenge.
“Yes, actually.” Nothing further.
We sit in silence for five minutes until one of the crew members on the show comes to get me to bring me to set.
“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” I walk to Kara and plant a kiss on her cheek.
She’s so surprised, her body stiffens, so I leave my lips there longer. We have to appear as a couple, and although I really don’t have to convince this lowly assistant who is probably more worried about camera placement and sound checks, it’s a little revenge on my ex for not talking to me.
“Break a leg!” She gives me the sickliest sweet smile, and I think she actually wishes for me to shatter a limb.
It takes another five minutes to get set up in the chair, and suddenly I’m sitting across from Reagan and Kyle, the two powerhouse hosts of the morning show that garners about two million viewers a morning. The audience buzzes in front of the stage, but I don’t even notice them. Not really. When you’re used to performing for large crowds, they all just kind of become faceless. Now that I think about it, that’s sad. I used to be so happy that people even wanted to hear my songs, and now I’m so jaded that I can’t even care about a fan reaction.
“I’ve been so looking forward to this.” Reagan reaches across our chairs and pats my knee, her hand lingering a second too long.
A notorious cougar, the older woman isn’t half-bad looking but clearly doesn’t seem to care that my “girlfriend” is sitting just feet away. That’s the problem with this town and the people in it. It turns you greedy … what was once enough will never satisfy again. The need for more—money, love, sex, beauty—it corrupts everything and turns it to dust.
“Me too.” I flash her my trademark smile, flexing my arms so that my tattoo sleeves catch the light and her eye. I play right into her game, so that maybe she’ll go easy on me with her prying questions.
The cameramen speak to the hosts, and then they’re counting us down, the audience falling into a hushed excitement.
“Good morning everyone, and welcome to another day with Reagan and Kyle!” Kyle’s phony gameshow host voice fills my ears.
“We are so excited to be joined by one of the hottest, and hunkiest, music stars in world right now … Dean Jacobs!” Reagan claps and the audience follows her lead, throwing some whistles in there as well.
“Dean, buddy, how are ya?” Kyle tips his blond head at me, and I want to ruffle him a bit. He looks like a Ken doll come to life.
I relax my pose and act like this is the most natural thing in the world. “I’m great, glad to be here with you and this gorgeous woman right here.”
Reagan flutters her lashes at me, then turns to the audience. “You guys, I think I’m going to imagine that all of his songs are about me now.”
The crowd laughs, enamored with her celebrity status. I bite my tongue to keep from rolling my eyes.
“Speaking of the lyrics in your songs … I think we all found out that there is a very special girl who has been your muse all along.” Kyle takes no time jumping in.
The crowd makes an awwww noise. I pretend to be shy, shuttering my eyes and holding a hand over my heart. “Yes, it’s true … I’ve recently reconnected with someone very special in my life.”
“Can you tell us a little about Miss O’Connor? I hear you two have quite the past.” Reagan is practically salivating.
They paid a lot of money for this exclusive, since I haven’t blabbed to any other news outlet yet. So I’ll give them their story, but make it good for Kara and I as well.
“You just want all the gossip, huh?” I pretend to playfully hit her hand. “Well … Kara and I were high school sweethearts. She was my first love, and she inspired a lot of my song writing when I was just getting started. After spending a few years apart, we got back in touch a few months ago and all of those old feelings were still there.”
Controlling the narrative, that’s what I was trying to do. If I put a story out there, the media would have no choice but to use the quotes from this one and only interview I did on my relationship. Anything else would just be circumspect or lies … this was the real deal from the horse’s mouth.
“She is a beautiful girl.” Kyle raises his eyebrows at me, and I want to knock his veneers into his throat.
My fingernails dig into my fists, but my posture remains cool. “The most beautiful girl in the world. In fact, I was just telling her that before I came out here.”
The audience coos and gasps, and Reagan swoons. “You mean she’s here?!”
I nod. “Since getting back together, we ca
n’t seem to really spend any time apart. She’s the best thing in my life, and when you have someone like that, you want to be around them all the time.”
“I think my heart is melting.” Reagan leans her head against Kyle’s shoulder.
“Let’s bring her out! What do you say, folks?” Kyle tries to pump up the crowd.
The camera pans, I watch the men move them, and suddenly a light appears where Kara is standing off in the wings. She squints and goes completely still, obviously not expecting that they’d actually out her on national TV and put her on the spot like this. She tugs at her T-shirt, and then gives a meek little wave.
“There she is! Join us out here, Kara!” Kyle waves, his eyes leering on her chest from across the studio.
She shakes her head and holds her hand up as if to say, “no, really that’s okay.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” I wink at Kara, and she appears to blush. She can really act, if it’s any consolation. “She’s not big on public appearances, and I respect her choice. My girl is a doctor … she’s too good for all of us industry people.”
Reagan smiles, but I can see she gets my implication about her motives in my gushing about Kara. “Isn’t that amazing?”
They pan off of Kara and the rest of the interview goes smoothly, with questions directed around the upcoming tour and if I’m working on any music. Every so often, I try to catch Kara out of the corner of my eye and make sure she’s okay … since I know being on camera was not something she really signed up for today.
And then the devil inside strikes a pitchfork into my heart.
Too bad if she didn’t want to be on camera. When I moved out here on my own, I was thrust into everything, every piece of my life invaded. And she’d never understood that, instead choosing to believe misleading information over the one man who loved her.
Let her be thrown to the wolves.
Chapter Fourteen
As Long As You Hate Me Page 5