by Xavier Neal
Pierce continues to nibble on his portion while our conversation takes a turn to lighter topics like the must see and must avoid tourists spots in Vegas. By the time he's finished what he placed on his plate, he motions his head towards mine. “Not hungry?”
“Not really. I had a big eel for lunch,” I tease.
He chortles again. “Don't like it?”
“Not really.”
“Not an octopus woman. More of a....”
“Hot dog.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Can't resist a good hot dog. Relish. Onions. And lots of mustard.”
Pierce wipes his mouth and tosses his napkin on the table. “There's actually this fantastic hot dog truck a few blocks over from my hotel. J.J. and I usually grab a bite from there before we head into VegaCon. Wanna grab one?”
I motion my finger at the disaster on the table. “What about all this? I mean, I feel bad. Shouldn't we...finish eating here? You're paying, probably out the ass for it, shouldn't we at least make it count?”
He gives me a warm smile. “I owe you dinner. The least I can do is feed you something you actually wanna eat.” Seeing the apprehension on my face, he whispers, “It's alright. I don't really love octopus either. I'd kill for a good dog or a burger right now. Oh! And some fries. What do you say?”
“Let's do it.” My eyes wander over his large chest as my brain gives double meaning to the sentence. Quickly I stutter out, “The-the hot dog thing. Let's get hot dogs.”
Pierce stands, oblivious to my double entendre, and Gunz's body instantly takes to the same position. He pulls out a few bills, tosses them on the table, and casually offers me his hand to take. The moment our hands are linked the nervousness seems to fizzle. In it's place an eudaemonic feeling starts to settle. On our way towards the elevators, he stops our waiter and politely gives him a creative excuse for our abrupt exit.
My date would rather have a hot dog isn't the greatest excuse to bail.
After another brief car ride and a quick ordering from the truck, we're sitting outside at a small table, with Gunz at the one beside us.
Carelessly, I douse the object in tons of mustard, make a ketchup hill for our curly fries, and have a huge bite of my hot dog.
Moaning through the amazingness of the flavors floating on my tongue, I say, “Best. Hot dog. Ever.”
He simply watches for a moment, eyes fixated on my mouth or dramatic facial actions.
Except I'm not exaggerated. I've eaten many hot dogs from many places and this...this tops the list. Chicago has one that's a close second.
Pierce clears his throat. “Good choice?”
“Best choice.” Between chews I moan again, “This is so much better than weird ocean food.”
Pierce licks mustard off his thumb before finally having a bite of his loaded Bratwurst. “Agreed.”
The sight of his tongue whirling around his finger, slows down my ability to move, my tightly pressed together thighs now forcing themselves together to fight the increasing ache.
I force myself to tame the thoughts. “You know that's not even a hot dog right?”
“It's close enough.”
“No,” I argue between bites. “That's a snooty hot dog. A snot dog.”
He breaks into a laugh, nearly choking on his food.
Is the penalty for killing a celebrity higher than killing the guy who bags my groceries?
Once he regains his composure, he wipes his hands, and questions, “So where are you from?”
“A suburb right outside Austlandia,” I answer and grab my Coke with my free hand.
“My brother has a house there.” Pierce mimics my action by reaching for his beer. “Been out there a few times. It's a great city.”
“You should visit it more often.” Surprised at my own remark, I try to add coolly, “Or...whatever.”
He has another sip of his beer with a smug smirk.
At least now I'm not insulting our meal.
“Is that where you grew up?”
“Yeah. Been there the majority of my life. Left for college, but moved back as soon as it was over.” Before I have another bite, I ask, “What about you?”
“I currently rent a house in San Hijo. It's normally empty. Between traveling the country for the show or promoting the show or conventions for the show and visiting my friends and family, I don't spend more than a few weeks there a year.”
Surprise unhinges my jaw. “Seriously? I couldn't imagine renting some place to only live in it like a month out of the whole year.”
“Gotta rent something.”
“That's true. What about where you grew up? I mean, I know you're,” my eyes glance around to make sure no one is close enough to hear the next word, “famous and I should probably know that, but I don't. I’m not a stalker fan or anything. I don't know where you grew up or your cat’s name or whether you wear boxers or briefs. I-” My mouth shuts as I shake my head.
Why do you let me ramble like that? Emerson would not approve!
“I grew up in a small town in Tennessee. I didn't really do the college thing. Skipped it.” Pierce finishes up the last of his food much faster than me. “Oh and I'm allergic to cats. Boxers or briefs depends on the day. Sometimes it's nothing.”
The image of Pierce undoing his dress pants to reveal he's got on nothing underneath flashes through my mind. A chunk of my hot dog threatens to clog my throat resulting in a harsh cough and a couple hard chest pats.
Proudly, he steals one of the curly fries from my plate. “You liked that didn't you?”
“Because you wouldn't have choked from picturing me naked?”
He wiggles his eyebrows and my cheeks burn. “You were picturing me naked?”
I wipe my fingers. “So, what was that on your snot dog?”
“Sauerkraut.”
“Too good for the relish?”
“You don't put relish on a bratwurst,” he shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face. “That's...wrong.”
“Kinda like taking the nerdy chick to the fancy restaurant?”
My joke gets a short smile. “Who's nerdy?”
“This girl.” I wave a finger over my body. “I know it's hard to tell with Emerson's handiwork here, but I totally am. You saw me earlier. Nerd. It's okay you can say it. It's not a dirty word.”
“I saw a hottie then and see a hottie now,” Pierce states with heat and force in his tone.
“A nerdy hottie. Like a nottie,” the jocular in my tone makes us both snicker.
“A nottie.” He nods. “I like it.” After a brief pause he asks, “Do you think I could see the nottie again?”
Quietly I confess, “I'd like that.”
Relief seems to wash over him. “I'd like that too.”
Wait. Stop the typing! Did I really just agree to go on another date with a T.V. star? Am I really going to go out with him again? I barely survived this one, how the hell could I possibly survive a second?! Maybe he's just being polite. You know the whole say 'I'll call you' rather than just tell her it was awful. Part of me prays he's just being polite. The other part though....well, let's just say this is the part in the book where I wouldn't mind being pleasantly surprised.
Minka
Emerson stretches her legs out in the pool side lounge chair. “Tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't actually gag at the wine.”
“It was an uncontrollable reflex,” I plead, rolling my attention away from the barely dressed bikini bunnies bouncing in the pool. “You know I don't like alcohol.”
This little quiz and answer session should've taken place when I got to the hotel room last night, but she refused to leave the hot streak she was on. Believe it or not, I'm actually talking about Black Jack and not an attractive guy she picked up.
She shakes her head and pulls her cocktail to her lips. “Continue....”
Cautiously, I continue to tell the tale, trying to hide as many of my flubs as possible. It's useless. She's probably the only pers
on who knows me as well as I know myself.
Not sure whether to classify that as good or bad.
“So let me get this straight,” Emerson sighs, placing her empty glass between her thighs. “You ditched a five star restaurant for food truck hot dogs, talked about his underwear, and made up a word?”
“If you're gonna be short about it.” My head hits the back of the chair. “How badly did I fail?”
As I divert my attention back to the women who are only seconds from losing their tops, she asks, “That depends. Did he kiss you?”
My mind rushes back to our final moments where he didn't get out to walk me to the doors because Gunz silently disapproved even though his hotel is directly across the street.
I swear I gave him the green light! I pushed the hair out of my face so it wouldn't tickle him. Leaned in and lingered a little longer than I probably should've. Even used my tongue like chapstick to make sure his kissing canvas wouldn't be too dry. Maybe it was the onions on my breath? Ugh. Never get onions on a date!
In a defeated voice I admit, “He didn't even try.”
She reaches over and places a sympathetic hand on my leg. “Maybe he didn't wanna lead you on.”
“Or maybe he was trying to be the southern gentleman his mother raised him to be,” the familiar male voice shoots our eyes up to Pierce who is standing on the other side of my chair.
A little head's up wouldn't have killed you!
Slightly confused, I comment, “Um...hi?”
“Hi,” he says as he sits on the edge of my chair. He gives his baseball cap an adjustment before clarifying, “For the record, it was the gentleman thing. I wanted to kiss you.”
“Oh...”
“Hell, I spent most of the night after you got out of the car trying to convince myself it was the right thing not to do.”
My bottom lip slips between my teeth.
“If it makes you feel any better my best friend disagreed. He thinks I should’ve kissed you.” He scoots a little bit closer to whisper. “He's right. I just hate admitting that.”
“You must be Pierce,” Emerson says sharply though there's a hint of mirth in her tone.
He extends his hand for her to shake. “You must be Emerson. Her best friend.”
After they drop hands, she questions, “I was mentioned?”
“She gave you credit for the outfit last night. Called it your handiwork.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Em,” I whisper.
“Every bit of it.” Pierce turns his head at me. “But I love this look too.”
For the first time since he's been outside with us, it sinks in I'm wearing a slightly revealing swimsuit top in an attempt to minimize tan lines. I drop the paperback novel I had been nursing on top of my chest in hopes it'll help.
It's not...at all.
With a wicked grin, he shrugs. “Now reading just looks even sexier.”
Blushing I stumble to ask, “H-h-how'd you know we were by the pool?”
“You mentioned you would be lying out this morning when I texted you, remember?”
Emerson pops me in the arm. “You didn't tell me he texted you this morning!”
“You were sleeping,” I snip.
“Did she mention I texted her last night until she fell asleep?”
Emerson hits me again. “No!”
“Ou,” my whine is met with a harsh scowl. “I'm gonna start to bruise.”
“Doubtful,” she grunts.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“It didn't come up?”
Or maybe because I wanted to keep a little, tiny part of the magic between us hidden.
After collecting his own laughs he says, “Anyway, I was coming back from lunch and figured I would swing by and check.”
“Where's Gunz?”
Emerson stiffens up. “He's got what?”
“His bodyguard,” I quietly inform as the liveliness at the pool starts to get louder.
“He's around,” Pierce mumbles. “I actually was swinging by to see if you had plans this evening. One of my friends is opening a nightclub, which is actually the reason I'm in town, and was wondering if you wanted to go with me as my date.”
With a bright smile I question, “Your date? You...you really wanna go out with me again?”
“How could I not?” His hand reaches for mine. “I had fun last night. Beer fun not wine fun.”
The reference causes me to snicker before sighing, “We actually have a concert tonight. It's the reason we're in Vegas.”
“One of the reasons.” Emerson switches out of correction gear and straight into gushing. “Friday is going to be amazing.”
“Yeah, he's a helluva good performer.” Pierce casually nods. “Nice guy too. Will never understand his love of dreads or shots of buttery nipples, but still. Nice guy. He'll be there after the show.”
My best friend lowers her sunglasses as if we're in a scene from a movie. “You're serious?”
“Yeah.”
“We're going,” she agrees for us.
He smiles at her before turning to me. “Emerson wants to go. What about you?”
“Once Emerson makes up her mind, my opinion is null and void.”
“Not to me.” His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “Your opinion will always matter.”
I try to ignore the gag noise from the other chair. “Will I be forced to eat weird creations from the land or the water?”
Pierce gives me another one of his raw, unrehearsed beautiful laughs. “Not that I'm aware of, but if so, we can grab a burger afterward. I know a great 24 hr diner.”
“Can we do that anyway?”
With a wide smile, he nods. “I don't see why not. Hang out at the club opening for just a bit then grab a burger afterward?”
“I like that idea.”
“You're fucking perfect for each other,” Emerson whispers before ordering a drink from an approaching waitress.
Doubtful. The only thing I'm perfect for is my profession. Professional book nerd.
Pierce opens his mouth to say something else when a buzzing sound cuts him of. Pulling out his phone, he gives it a glance, and sighs. “I have to go. Got some work to do before the opening. I'll send a car to pick you up from the concert around midnight.”
I stifle my excitement. “Okay.”
He starts the action of getting up yet stops mid motion. Without warning, he leans over and gently presses our mouths together. My bottom lip slides between his two to receive a soft suck. The seductive action causes a moan to slip out. A light feathering from his fingertip appears under my chin at the same time he pulls away.
“I don't make the same mistakes twice.”
Unsure I can say anything without making a complete idiot of myself, I grin widely and agree, “Good.”
He stands, adjusts his t-shirt, and sighs, “See you later, nottie...”
The nickname has me melting from more than just the Nevada sun.
My body is so overheated, pretty sure the sun is jealous it didn't get me this way first.
Enthralled with watching him walk away, I almost don't hear Emerson say, “Oh Minka...He's got it bad.”
In disbelief, I lift my book back up, shake my head and divert my attention to it. “Doubt it.”
“You know at first I was thinking he was probably looking for an easy weekend lay but now....Now that I've seen it for myself, I gotta say Minka, I think Pierce actually might want a whole lot more.”
“Not possible.”
This isn't one of my books where fun, wacky things can happen. No. This is real life where I can bullshit through one date but most likely will sink faster than a two year old without floaties learning to swim on the second one. At least by the end of this trip I will have a once in a life time story and that's something to smile about.
Pierce
Holding two ties out at Caroline, I question, “Which one?”
She doesn't stop clicking away on her phone. “Neither.”
“You're not even looking.”
“I don't have to look to know that the bright blue tie is too loud and the dark purple one clashes.”
“Then why'd you let me pack it?”