by Selena Kitt
The driver slid shut the glass panel that separated them, and the cab lurched out into the traffic.
Kelly smiled. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. I decided to get in touch with Tommy, but I had no contact number, I don't even know his last name."
The cab was warm, and she could smell that expensive cologne from backstage. Was it Jay's, or Clayton's? Maybe they both wore it. She noticed how Jay had his hand barely touching Clayton, as if his arm was just nonchalantly along the back of the seat, but he was secretly reassuring him. It had to be hard, hiding a secret like that, when all they wanted was to be together. They were living a lie.
"My only option was to come to you, to ask you."
"Pushy sort, aren't you?" Clayton said, clearly rattled by her presence in the cab.
"Yes, I am, I admit that. But you don't get anywhere in life otherwise...and it's not like I'm asking for a lot."
Clayton's shoulders were squared, his eyes bright. "I don't owe you anything at all. Most fans are reasonable, but people like you don't respect the fact that I need some space to myself. You seem to think you own a bit of me. You were creeping around backstage on Saturday, now you're in my fuckin' cab. I could call the police."
He wasn't listening to a word she said. Annoyance ratcheted up inside her. She counted to three while reminding herself of his point of view on the situation. His remarks were justified, and she tried to keep her head. "I agree, and you have a point. I shouldn't have been there, but I haven't told anyone I saw you two together."
As soon as the words were out, she knew it was the wrong thing to say, especially right then. Damn.
Jay's head sank back onto the seat, his eyes closing as he shook his head from side to side.
Clayton tensed visibly. He stared at her, his eyes flickering as he took in the implication, his lips tight. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"
Her heart sank, her body tensing. She put up her hand to calm him down. "I'm not trying to blackmail you, I was merely trying to make a point. I shouldn't have intruded on your space on Saturday. I'm sorry, and I'm not here to cause harm. I said that I haven't told anyone that I saw you two together to show you I have no bad intentions. Do you understand?"
Jay lifted his head, his eyes narrowed as he considered her statement.
She directed her words to him. "I could have gone to the press, but I'm not that sort of person. I'm asking you a favor, not trying to blackmail you. All I want is Tommy's contact details. That's it."
Clayton eased back in his seat, still edgy and nervous, but somewhat reassured. "How do I know I can trust you to stay silent about...us?" Even saying it was hard for him.
"I respect that you've got a private life, and it is private." She paused for a moment to let her point sink in. "Although, I have to say...life would be a lot easier on you if you came out."
Jay smiled at her comment and immediately covered his mouth with his hand, as if he didn't want Clayton to see.
Clayton seemed to develop a nervous twitch at that point, but was apparently unable to come up with a response.
"Clayton has his reasons," Jay explained. "His PR person has advised against it, reckons it might injure the career."
Kelly shook her head. "Sounds as if you should get a new PR person."
"Maybe," Clayton said, grudgingly.
The atmosphere was relaxing, thankfully.
Kelly shook her head. "People come out all the time in the media. In fact, it's likely to get you more attention, not necessarily ruin your career. You know that old saying about there being no such thing as bad publicity."
She had his full attention now. In fact, he was riveted. "Your PR person is showing their prejudice, if you ask me. There will be broken hearts," she smiled, "but it's human interest more than scandal, nowadays. Especially if it's handled right."
Jay's eyes were gleaming. He obviously wanted their relationship out in the open, but was leaving it up to Clayton.
She had their attention, and she was on a roll. "I was reading just the other day that there are a bunch of gay Premier League football players, and they are going to come out together, later this year. The public's gagging for news like this. The press has started to anticipate, rather than denigrate."
Clayton had flopped back on his seat and looked suddenly exhausted. "I don't know if we're ready to face it."
"It would be better coming from you," she added, cautiously. "The next person who inadvertently sees you two together might not be as respectful as me."
"You're not wrong there," Jay said.
Clayton glanced at him, clearly disturbed by that notion.
"Anyway," Kelly continued, trying to guide the conversation back onto steady ground. "I promised Tommy I wouldn't ever tell anyone, not even my mad-for-you housemates. They'd be heartbroken, but they'd learn to live with it, and they'd still buy your music. They love that above all, so even if they think their chances with you are dashed, they'd be there at the next gig, and the one after."
Jay was really struggling to control his smile. "You really like Tommy," he said with a wistful look. "You've gone to a lot of trouble to get in touch with him."
She pursed her lips, unable to deny it, but unwilling to agree. Her motivation was to get one more night of pleasure, and payback. She couldn't let herself forget that. "Let's just say we have unfinished business."
"His name is Tommy Sampson," Clayton said, surprising her and capturing her attention. "He works for me through an agent. We can give you the contact details of the agent, that's your best bet."
"Cheers, that would be great."
Jay reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad. He scribbled on it, tore the page out, and handed it over to her
"Thanks, oh, one more thing." She reached into her backpack and pulled out the CD she had brought with her. "Could you please sign this for my friend, Jojo? I came to the gig on her ticket, she was having her leg pinned back together at the time. She broke it skiing."
Jay smiled. "You really were after an autograph?"
Clayton looked from one of them to the other, his expression growing sheepish. He reached out and took the CD. "Sorry," he said. "This business does strange things to your head." He took Jay's pen. "For Jojo, yes?"
Kelly nodded. "It's okay, I understand. You have to be careful. I went about it the wrong way, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing."
He handed back the signed CD.
Jay watched with a half smile. "What are you planning to do about Tommy? I'm curious. I noticed he never made it to the party that night" He lifted one eyebrow.
"That's true," Clayton commented, laughing softly and looking at her speculatively.
It was good to see him in better humor. For a while there he'd looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "We had a lot of fun together." She shrugged. "Life is short, so I thought I'd go for a repeat performance." She smiled.
Jay chuckled. "I like your style. In fact, I'll help you get in touch with him, if you like."
"I wanted it to be a surprise," she said, remembering the tentative plan she had put together.
"We can work with that, it will go more smoothly if I give you an intro to his agent. Call it an apology for throwing you out."
She didn't need an apology, throwing her out had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. Something she'd said had touched them, though, she could see that. She put out her hand. "Okay," she agreed.
He shook it.
The cab had drawn to a halt. The driver slid open the glass panel and was waiting for payment.
"I was going to grab a beer while Clayton does an interview. Why don't you join me, and we'll figure something out."
She beamed. "It's a deal."
* * *
Tommy glanced through the shop and out of the window at the busy street outside. He was working, in a public place, but he was getting a hard-on just thinking about Kelly. He had tried to empty his mind, staring out of the window to focus himself on an
ything other than filthy thoughts of what he'd like to do to her.
Cars flashed by, interspersed with double-decker red buses. The street was full, the lunchtime rush in full flow. Inside, soft ambient music made the shop feel more tranquil, and it was that that kept making his mind wander. Had to be. He gave in, letting her image drop back into his mind as he watched over the shop.
Being there was giving him a chance to think everything through rationally. By the middle of the week curiosity and regret had been slowly driving him insane, and he'd decided the only option was to try to track her down, impossible though that might be.
"How's it going?"
The voice pulled him back to the moment and Tommy took the selection of goods that the man, a regular customer, passed over to him—a hard drive, two cables and a CD stack. "Good, thanks. Carol and the baby are fine and Jim couldn't be happier. Parenthood suits him."
He flicked the mouse on the computer with one hand and put the purchases through the till with the other. He'd been doing Internet searches for women called Kelly all day, while he ran the South London computer parts and repair shop he part owned with Carol and Jim.
He chatted with the customer awhile and after the man had gone, he checked the email account for mail orders, before returning to his hunt through the references to Kellys in London. It was a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack, but he was compelled to try. He hadn't been able to get her out of his head since the moment he'd left her in the hotel room. His conscience kept pricking him, reminding him she was a groupie who hadn't even been interested in him, but he couldn't let it go.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the two customers browsing in the shop. Neither of them seemed to need assistance so he answered the call.
It was Daniel, his agent for security work.
"Hey Dan, how's it going?"
"Good, good. I've got a short contract you might be interested in. are you up for it?"
"Sure, a short contract would be good, but I'm watching over the shop for my brother-in-law through the rest of this week."
"Should be doable, it's a weekend job," Dan replied.
"In that case, yes. Who is it for? Someone I know?"
"Don't think so, it's an American actress who's flying in for a publicity event. She's got some special requests, a bit unusual, but it was Jay Leonard, Clayton's buddy, that sent her in your direction. She's a pal of his."
Tommy frowned. "What do you mean, special requests?"
"Just stuff I haven't seen before." He laughed dryly into the phone. "Believe me, I've seen some pretty weird requests from clients. It's a top-rate fee, though."
"Go on."
"Basically it looks like she wants the security to be alongside for the entire twenty-four hour shift. She must have some issues. You will be provided with accommodation at the hotel where she is staying. Looks like she wants a man nearby."
Tommy paused before replying. He had hoped to spend that time tracking Kelly down, but he couldn't afford to turn down a lucrative weekend contract. The extra funds would help Carol and Jim out. He wanted to get some part-time help in the shop, give Jim more time with the baby before coming back to work. "I suppose it makes sense."
"I've got another client to deal with right now, but why don't you come over when you shut up shop this evening, and we'll go over the details then?"
He agreed, put the phone down and told himself again the cash would help, trying to shrug off the odd feeling he had about the job.
5
Tommy was still feeling that there was something odd about the job on Saturday afternoon, when he stepped out of the elevator and glanced up and down the carpeted corridor of the hotel.
It was a cushy place, with solid wood doors and dark walls—a top-class, expensive hotel. He was more familiar with hurrying stars out of back doors and into speeding cars to avoid the press than this sort of number. He'd never had a job quite like it and, while he wasn't in the mood for it, he nodded and smiled at the luxury of the surroundings.
Room 323 stood at the end of the corridor, beckoning to him. He approached slowly, still racking his brains trying to place Jennifer Sandringham, the client. He wasn't a big movie buff because he'd rather listen to a good rock band play. Even so, he pretty much recognized most A-List celebrities. At least, the sort of international stars who could afford to pay for a place like this. He should have looked her up on the ‘net, but he'd been much more interested in trying to track down Kelly instead. Kelly was the only woman on his mind right now, had been from the moment he met her.
He rapped on the door. No answer, so he rapped again. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and checked the address. The scrap of paper Daniel had scribbled the instructions down on definitely stated Room 323. He tried the handle and the door opened.
"Hello, is anybody home?"
No response. He stood in the open doorway scanning the room, a reception area to a full suite of rooms by the looks of it. There was a window at the far end and doors to the left and right, both closed. In the center of the space stood a fancy table, dominated by an explosion of flowers in a vase. A small envelope was propped against the display, and his name was scrawled across it. Apparently, he was in the right place.
He shut the door and walked over to the table, dumping his backpack on the floor. He picked up the envelope, turned it in his hands and lifted it to his nose. Beneath the smell of flowers from the display, he smelled a more exclusive scent. "The lady has expensive tastes."
He tried again to place the woman's name. Where was she anyway? He opened the envelope and pulled out a small white card.
When you're ready, come into the bedroom. Whatever happens, remember that you have signed a contract to be at my beck and call, all night long…and Tommy Sampson has a reputation to keep. Tommy Sampson never lets a client down…
Tommy stared at the card, rereading it with a frown. He'd felt uncomfortable about that clause in the contract, and now it was being emphasized. What the hell was this about? He flipped the card over. There was nothing on the back. Dropping the card on the table, he glanced at the two doors facing each other on either side of him.
As he contemplated them, he heard a key turning in the door behind him.
He turned, expecting someone to walk in. But no. He heard the faint sound of footsteps and laughter disappearing away down the corridor. "What the fuck?"
He crossed the room and tried the handle. The door that he had come through was now locked, with no sign of a key anywhere inside the reception area. He glared at it. Someone was having a joke at his expense, and he didn't like it.
He walked over to the door on the left, knocked and entered. It opened onto a sitting room with low-slung leather sofas arranged around a marble coffee table. The room also had a wet bar, entertainment center, and a selection of faux-fur cushions and rugs draped across the chairs and floor. The décor instantly made him think of sex, and that did not lie easily with his current confusion about the set-up. He ran a finger inside his collar, which felt tight and restrictive.
At my beck and call.
That suggestive phrase in the contract and the note kept echoing around his brain, unnerving him. Why the hell had he signed something so out of the ordinary? Because you were too busy thinking about Kelly, that's why.
"The bedroom," he murmured to himself. The note had read: "when you're ready, come into the bedroom." Shit. Some mad woman wanted him in her bedroom and had him locked in, both physically and contractually. This was a big mistake. Daniel must have misunderstood what the woman was after. He really did not need this hassle now. He had enough of a woman issue to deal with, trying to track Kelly down, without adding some deluded celebrity into the mix.
Come into the bedroom.
She obviously thought...he swallowed. She obviously thought she'd hired a man for all her whims, and satisfying her in the bedroom department was a whim he had no intention of fulfilling. "I'll give Daniel hell."
> Once he explained the mistake and got the hell out of here, his agent was in big trouble. Not to mention Jay. It was his so-called friend who'd got the wrong end of the stick here. But first he had to find the client and explain. He was tempted to call reception—or, better still—just kick the door down and walk out, but he was a professional. This Jennifer woman needed to understand he was a trained security man, a bodyguard and a roadie, not a fuckin' gigolo. The very thought of it made his hackles rise.
Dreading what he might find, he braced himself, stormed back through the reception area and opened the second door without knocking. The room was in darkness apart from the bed area, which was lit by fancy red lamps that seemed to be built into the headboard. They cast what was supposedly a seductive glow over black and red bed coverings. Tommy broke into a cold sweat. It looked like something from a Valentine's Day card, a heart-shaped bed with some sort of tentlike fabric hanging over it, like a harem. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone in the damn bed. He steeled himself and stepped into the room.