“I’ve heard of her,” Sugar said slowly. “Of course I have! She was in that huge trial about five years ago when that man who was managing her was caught after fleeing with all his clients’ money. She grew up with you? Whenever I saw pictures of her I thought she was French.”
Netty laughed. “Nope. She’s from right here on the south side. She just always had a tendre for that European sensibility.” She turned to Fiona. “How’d Daney know to take you out to that joint in the ‘burbs anyway? It’s not exactly a hot spot.”
“He asked a friend. Wanted to take me somewhere normal and quiet so we could talk.”
Netty watched her oldest friend glide back to her bedroom. “Talk,” she repeated. “Since when do you pick models up for the night and keep them to go out to breakfast and talk?”
Sugar had no answer. She did however have a question. “I know the French do, but do Algerian people think Americans are stupid?”
Belly sated with fresh juice and a piece of toast, Fiona had planned to slip back in bed beside the delectable Daney when he crept up behind her.
“Boo,” he whispered, sniffing her powder-scented neck.
He even did that with flair.
She closed her eyes and arched slightly to give him better access.
“I see you returned to your cage. Knew you couldn’t escape, huh?”
“From Daney-licious?” Fiona laughed and rubbed herself sinuously all over his front. “Don’t wanna escape.”
“I thought I was delectable Daney. How quickly you forget.”
“Are you kidding? The girls were just complaining that you’re still here. I told them you were a dream come true,” she repeated, assisting his swelling dick with a few well-timed hip thrusts. “A movie star trapped in my bedroom.” She offered a hot, deep kiss. “You hungry or thirsty? I got the juicer out.”
Daney shook his head and rumbled low against her ear, a sexy, snuffly little noise he knew Fiona loved. One that never failed to set her pussy awash, he discovered, rubbing long fingers over her clit.
“Princess,” he said, ignoring her food question. He would play with her before he gave in to them both. “Since it is I who’ve been trapped, in a honey pot, let’s take these freedom negotiations to the next level.” He pushed her down on the bed so hard she bounced, and her long brown legs fell open like a gift.
Fiona smiled. The same smile that helped her last movie bring in $48 million on opening weekend. The smile People magazine had dubbed the sexiest grin last year. She laughed softly when his green eyes narrowed. She turned onto her belly and looked at him over her shoulder as she slowly crawled to the head of the bed. He watched intently as her spine curved and the tight muscles in her thighs flexed. A flush built on his cheeks. He advanced, and her heart kicked up its beat. Yum. They were gonna play the little girl lost game.
“What should I do?” she asked breathlessly and bit her bottom lip. She lowered long lashes then raised them worriedly. “You’re not gonna hurt me are you?”
“No, Daney won’t hurt you.” He walked to her dresser and removed a pair of black silk scarves from the top drawer. “Not so much you won’t like it,” he said, smiling wolfishly, and Fiona giggled.
******
“Is he still here?”
“He’s still here,” Netty confirmed. “He was supposed to go back to New York yesterday.”
“Serious?”
Netty snorted. “Don’t count on it.”
“Dane Craig is one of the top male models in the game. He was VH1’s male model of the year a few years back,” Andrea snapped.
She was Fiona’s hard-ass New York publicist. Since Fiona was currently the media’s new darling, Andrea was in Chicago regulating and fueling the fires, and griping about it every chance she got. She wanted Fiona to accept a New York part she was up for just so she could go home.
“If you’re gonna have a steady fuck buddy, I don’t think she could have picked much better. This coupling is like liquid gold, are you kidding me?”
“How? Your thirsty ass can’t hardly get no good photos since she barely gets out of bed. All they do is fuck.”
“Well, all that sex had her skin glowing the few times she did show her face, and she’s getting some great scripts. After the next franchise installment she’s gonna have to make a decision about a project. I can’t believe she’s not trying to work now, while she’s hot. Maybe Daney is bad for her,” Andrea said, suddenly looking worried.
She’d had hot clients cool off quick ‘on vacation’, and six months later when the job offers dry up wonder what the hell had happened.
“You remember how she was when she found out she was pregnant with Flora. She didn’t get out of bed for two weeks and barely ate.”
Netty snorted. “That didn’t bother you bitches one bit. Cleo’d go all the way to the fuckin’ north side to get her special soups. She lost like seven pounds. I had to have all kinds of shit altered.”
“I know, stunning side benefit, but what I was referring to was the fact that she didn’t work. She refused to take any calls at all. I had to bust my way in here, and I’m the one who should have known first since I’m the one who has to spin this shit to the media. And she’s been acting weird lately. Clients can go through changes after they attain a certain level of success. They make stupid decisions, then they come to me like, ‘I fucked up,’ but by then it’s too late for me to do my job effectively.”
Netty laughed. “It’s all about you, huh Andrea? I swear, if it doesn’t involve a gift bag or some other swag you’re fuckin’ clueless.”
The insult rolled off Andrea like water off a duck. “Where’s Sugar?”
“Shopping. Fiona let herself get out of everything. Sugar had to bust her way in there this morning to give her a facial. She ended up giving Daney one too.”
“He’s fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Sexy too. Netty’d caught him cooking earlier. Grilled cheese with a tomato salad. He hadn’t been wearing a shirt when she came upon him sliding the food onto plates. His back muscles had rippled, and he’d grinned like he was really glad to see her.
“Hey, Netty. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t make you any.”
Netty shrugged, eying the big bowl of green salad like a mouse would a snake. She blinked in surprise when he held a half a sandwich to her lips. She tried to take it from him. He shook his head and held it out of her reach only to bring it back and bump it against her mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked, laughing at his childish movements.
“Just bite, Netty,” he said, rolling his eyes like she was the recalcitrant toddler.
She bit. It was the best grilled cheese sandwich she could remember eating. Warm and buttery, the bread was perfectly toasted, and she was sure she could taste a little pepper. She reached for it, and her eyes got big when he held it out of reach.
He laughed at her and bit down where her lips had been. “I said bite,” he told her and walked away.
“He’s a lot like Fiona.”
“How so?”
“He’s very seductive. So is she. They instinctively exploit their looks to get what they want. They like to play games.”
Andrea nodded. “They’re both Scorpios.”
Netty rolled her eyes. But later she looked up Scorpio on the Internet and discovered that for once, the publicist actually had a good point.
“I hope he doesn’t cheat on her,” Andrea whispered.
I hope she doesn’t cheat on him, Netty thought.
Chapter three
“So, what about this part?” Netty asked.
Fiona was up to her neck in hot water and lather so thick globs of it hung suspended from her finger. She usually bathed in plain, warm water, but Sugar had found some all-natural shit on the Internet that smelled deliciously of figs and didn’t irritate her skin or nether regions so she was indulging.
Daney had finally gone home, and boo, everyone swooped down on her like a gaggle of screeching g
eese. Her boy Natty was bugging her to come into the studio to listen to something he was working on. He didn’t fool her. They hadn’t said more than Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas in almost two years. Suddenly he wanted her opinion about music? He wanted her to sing, and since her throat was fucked up, she felt like making him wait. Plus, Cleo, as bad as she was at doing what she was told, had ignored her cousin’s vacation edict and scheduled a bunch of meetings.
“I’m tryna earn me a commission,” she said when Fiona griped.
Annoying as she frequently was, making her cousin her manager had been one of the best things she’d ever done. Since Cleo had stepped into the role she’d made more money and enjoyed more success than ever before in her career. She even looked better – thanks to ceaseless nagging, waist watching, and endless on pampering – and she was busier than ever, regularly had her privacy made mockery of and had become a household name.
It all happened quick too. After years of working her ass off and just doing pretty good, of scrapping and taking shit left and right to get the breaks others were handed like candy, suddenly everyone wanted a piece. The still seductive rush of power that came with celebrity had her feeling ballsy enough to demand this time off. She’d even made some admittedly vague plans to do yoga, maybe plan a couple of in country trips – Savannah looked cool thanks to the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil – but apparently it was over. Everyone was insisting that she work on vacation.
“You guys are assholes,” Fiona said. “I haven’t decided yet. It’s a hot little part, but there’s not too much to it. I’m mostly arm fluff until the end, then I have two back-to-back great scenes.”
“Kiss?” Netty asked.
“Of course. I’m a vamp. A supporting vamp, but a vamp.”
“Bells and whistles?”
“Trainer and trailer. Not the big one I had last rip, though.”
“Still won’t be bad.”
“Nope. It’ll be catered, special diet a la nutritionist.”
“Yeah?” Netty laughed.
“A month in New York. You know how neurotic they are. Everyone’s Woody fuckin’ Allen. But they’re putting me up in a Manhattan apartment. A big one. Right, Cleo?”
“Huge,” Cleo agreed, and Netty turned to find the tiny, kimono-covered beauty lounging in the doorway. “Apparently it’s on the Upper East Side, and we are just going to absolutely love it,” she said slipping into a deadly accurate New Yawk imitation of a woman from the production company. “But you two share a bathroom.”
“Oh, man,” Netty said, thinking of Sugar’s zillion beauty bottles with disgust.
“And a bedroom,” Cleo added.
“Bull shit,” Netty said.
“I haven’t accepted yet,” Fiona soothed. As the water ran out of the tub she motioned for Netty to hand her the bright pink pot she used to bathe with. She ran more hot water and squatted to test it before she gave herself a last rinse.
“But you’re going to,” Cleo said. “This director is not to be missed, and I have a feeling this script is gonna do a sweep at the festivals next year.” She laughed at Netty’s expression. “Come on, girl! Take one for the team! It’s a huge airy white loft space. You’ll love it.”
“New York, huh? We could probably pick up some interesting stuff for the house, and there are a few shops I’d like to check out,” Netty said.
“It’s not a lot of money.” Fiona put in, patting her skin dry.
Cleo snorted. “Small, independent film. That’s why they’re doing all that other shit for you. The producer’s called in every favor he owns in three burroughs. I’m gonna call and give ‘em the good word.”
Someone came in the front door. Everyone but Fiona padded from the bath to investigate and found Sugar struggling with stuffed brown paper bags from her monthly pilgrimage to the apothecary. She managed to dump everything on the counter and chuff dramatically.
“Peace,” she lisped.
“Peace.”
“What’s all this shit?” Andrea wanted to know.
Sugar eyed her and turned to Netty. “They finally got the right cocoa butter sticks.”
“What?” Andrea said.
“Look at this,” Sugar said to distract her. She wasn’t about to launch into yet another discussion of black hair or skin care. What Andrea didn’t know could fill an encyclopedia. She spread out People magazine and held up a picture of her new boss. “She’s wearing faded, raggedy ass blue jeans and a wife beater, yet every eye is on her walking down, what is this? Oak Street?”
“Yeah, that was a couple days ago. We got facials at Claudia’s. And that’s not a wife beater. It’s a cashmere tank top that I ordered off the Internet,” Netty said.
“Where was I?” Sugar wanted to know. Facials were part of her job.
“Last-minute decision,” Cleo told her, appearing briefly to show Netty a slip of paper. Netty nodded at whatever she saw, and Cleo told Sugar, “Don’t trip,” as she left the room.
“Nice. She looks like she doesn’t even notice the paparazzi.” Andrea said approvingly, though she’d seen the piece the minute it came out.
Sugar shook her head. “It’s that star quality some people have.”
“You are such a fuckin’ fan. It’s not star quality. She seduces people.”
“Even women?” Sugar looked at Netty skeptically.
“Especially women. Look at her and Cleo work it together sometime. It’ll scare you. Shit. Look at her and Cleo period.”
Sugar looked shocked. “Cleo’s her cousin.”
Netty snorted. “She’s also her co-dependent, can’t live without a constant cycle of manipulation manager. If Cleo had been born a man? Fiona would have fucked him. Cousin or not.”
“That is so nasty,” Sugar laughed.
“But it’s true. Don’t sleep. Cleo’s like our in case of emergency Fiona fire blanket.”
“What are you talking about?” Fiona asked, appearing like a genie in an eye-catching robe of black, green and blue silk.
“That’s a pretty gown.”
“It’s a robe.”
“Oh.”
Fiona ate one of Sugar’s salt ‘n’ sour potato chips, chewing slowly. She ate another one. “Telling secrets about me?”
“No. Sugar, take those away from her. It’s not snack time yet,” Netty eyed Fiona narrowly.
Sugar obeyed and laughed when Fiona threw up her hands in disgust. “We were just discussing your philosophy as it pertains to Daney’s sudden appearance on the scene.”
“This is a small ass town,” Fiona grumped. It had been a long time since breakfast. “You bump into every fuckin’ person from the scene every five minutes. You can’t escape it. If you sleep around, you’ll see those people over and over. I don’t, and I can still remember one night I had three dudes I’d fucked over the span of like 12 years at the same party. And somehow, they all knew it! Thus, nowadays, you damn near have to be photographed in the paper holding my drawls before I even think about gettin’ down.”
Andrea laughed. “You fucked Daney the first night you met.”
Fiona nodded, unashamed. “Models are different. You know that. Everyone knows what that’s about.”
“What?” Netty asked, though she knew very well.
“Sex.” Fiona said, undulating her hips gently as she spun in a sultry, knee-dipping circle. “Did my lil’ creamsicle call?” she asked, poking her head into the fridge. She emerged with a bowl of potato salad.
“You can’t have that,” Cleo said, appearing just in time to take the bowl and replace it with a bag of salad. “Here. We’re on our way out to eat.” She said, when Fiona turned on her begging eyes.
“That’s hours away. I’m starving! Just a little.”
“No. You can have a nice dinner at the restaurant.”
“A little, come on. I read bagged salad gives you gas.”
“No. I hear they specialize in healthy food preparation.”
“A tablespoon.”
“A teaspoon?”
“No! Eat the fuckin’ salad.” She fetched a fancy bottle of flavored vinegar from a cabinet for the dressing and handed it to Netty.
“You’re such an ass.”
“Yeah. Probably. But I’m also the reason your fat ass isn’t bigger.”
Netty just laughed, but to appease a crabby Fiona when Cleo left she grated a little cheese over the romaine and stood guard while she snuck a tablespoon full of potato salad.
******
It started as soon as he walked in the door.
“Daney’s dating a little pop tart.”
“Buck,” Dane warned. “Fuck off.”
Buck laughed as he followed his stripping brother into his bedroom. “Sensitive? From the man who buried us alive in this town so he could stay close to his new chippy? You gonna date out of your race you better be prepared for a little teasing, kid.”
Dane looked up surprised. “You didn’t mention race. I was responding to the little pop tart remark. She’s not little; she’s 5’9,” and she’s perfect. And she’s not a pop singer. I looked it up. She’s considered soul and R&B with a little bit of rock and roll,” he laughed. “And you call her a chippy again, I’ma crack open your head. We’re goin’ back to New York tomorrow.”
“What’s your problem?” he asked his manager who had come in from New York, ostensibly to monitor the appointment Dane was currently rushing to get to.
“D, Fiona’s a Grammy-winning recording artist and a fairly accomplished actress,” Paul began.
“Could you stop co-signing his shit for like five minutes?” Buck asked Dane’s manager of nine years.
“Hey, I’m on your side,” Paul said. “We just don’t want you to get distracted, D.”
“Bull shit,” Dane laughed. “When has a woman ever kept me from making money? You’re just starting your perennial campaign to keep me single early because I spent the weekend out.”
Buck snorted, but Dane noticed his little brother didn’t deny it.
“Don’t fuck this up, Buck,” he warned, having laid out fresh clothes and shoes in preparation for his meeting in minutes thanks to years of quick changing. “I’m not kidding.”
Fiona Love Page 3