by Grey, Priya
I click off the television and sigh. “No, you don’t have a right to know,” I groan. I start wondering whether signing Kade to a contract was a bad idea. The last thing I want to deal with are paparazzi swarming my house again. After the accident, they were camped outside my home every day for months. Only the last three months or so have been relatively civil.
I glance at the floor. “What do you think, Mingus? Should I stop seeing him?”
I’m surprised Mingus isn’t in his usual spot, near my feet. Then I hear him barking in the distance. I get up and make my way to the kitchen. Mingus is scratching the backdoor and jumping up and down. He needs to go outside.
I shake my head, disappointed with myself. I’ve been so obsessed with my music the last couple of hours that I’ve completely forgotten to take him out. I’m grateful he hasn’t made a mess on my floor. I run back to my bedroom and slip on my mask. Then I grab Mingus’s leash. When he sees me, he starts yapping excitedly.
“You really have to go, huh buddy?”
Mingus barks a reply. I snap the leash around his collar and open the door. Mingus immediately yanks me out with him. I’m relieved high bushes surround my backyard, providing much needed privacy.
Mingus drags me all over the yard, looking for the perfect spot to do his business. As he sniffs one place after another, I think about Kade again. Should I stop what I was planning with him? What if the media finds out he’s an escort? It would ruin my reputation. But then again, my reputation has already been ruined. That car accident killed off the old Melody. She’s never coming back. Nobody is going to want to see my new face on television, much less pay to see me on tour. From this moment forward, what should matter is what I want, what I need. And right now, I need him. I need to see him again.
Suddenly, I hear a noise coming from one of the bushes. Someone is shuffling around behind them. I pull on Mingus’s leash. “Mingus, come.” But he’s too busy sniffing the ground around him to obey me. The rustling behind the bushes grows louder.
“Damn it,” I hear a man curse.
Someone’s on my property! He’s hiding in my bushes!
I freak out. I drop Mingus’s leash and run inside. I head straight to my bedroom and grab the gun from my nightstand. Flashbacks to that crazy guy, James, that I found in my kitchen years ago race through my mind. I can’t take any chances. Holding the gun, my hands tremble with fright. I run back through my kitchen. I’ve never fired it. But there’s always a first time for everything.
When I rush outside, I see him. He’s in the middle of my backyard and Mingus is snapping at his legs.
My heart catches in my chest. I can’t believe it.
It’s him: Charlie, that paparazzi motherfucker.
The guy who followed me during the night of the accident is standing in my backyard; the son-of-a-bitch who took pictures of me while I was burning up in flames; the asshole, who rather than help me out of my car and save my life, was more interested in taking pictures of my impending death.
With his camera slung over his shoulder, he’s trying to calm Mingus down. Mingus must sense Charlie’s an asshole because he won’t leave him alone. He’s growling and trying to bite him.
“Easy fella,” Charlie hisses.
“Get the fuck away from my dog!” I shout as I point my gun at him.
Charlie looks up. He’s about to snap a picture. But when he sees the gun, his eyes widen, and he quickly lowers his camera.
“Get the fuck off my property, or I swear to God I’ll shoot your head off.”
My hands are still shaking, but I mean every word. There’s one person I wouldn’t hesitate to kill; and it’s this grizzly bearded motherfucker.
“Go!” I scream. With my gun still raised and pointed at him, I take several steps forward. Charlie quickly turns around and runs back into the bushes. His large frame vanishes. I listen closely as he scurries away.
When I’m sure he’s gone, I breathe once again. My heart is pounding in my chest. Mingus comes to my side, dragging his leash behind him. I quickly scoop him up. With Mingus in one hand, and my gun in the other, I hurry inside. I close the door and make sure the alarm is on.
I’m a bundle of nerves. Why won’t the paparazzi just leave me alone? Particularly that asshole? It’s like his mission is to ruin my life. Now, I regret not shooting him when I had the chance.
Mingus yelps.
“Whatever, he deserves it,” I tell him.
I place Mingus down, unfasten his leash, and walk to my bedroom. I put the gun back in the drawer and take a seat on my bed. My hands are still shaking. I think about calling the police and telling them that Charlie trespassed onto my property. But then I realize that would only bring on more media attention. That’s the last thing I want.
I’m frightened. Feeling vulnerable. I really don’t want to be alone right now. I pull my cellphone out of my jacket pocket. I’m about to call Suzie and tell her what happened, ask her to come over. But I stop myself. I realize who I really want to call is him. I want him here, by my side. I want to feel his strong arms around me. I want to feel safe, protected, not alone.
If they get pictures of him coming over, I’ll only be providing more fodder to the very paparazzi I loathe. But I don’t care. I’m sick and tired of being by myself. The other night, with him, was the first time I’ve been happy since the accident.
Fuck, the paparazzi. I’m tired of them ruling my life.
I dial his number.
As the phone rings, I take a deep breath. When he answers and says hello, I’m surprised by how nervous I suddenly feel. Then I realize how foolish I’m being. After all, I just offered him a contract to have sex with me.
“It’s me, Melody,” I finally say.
He sounds taken off guard and takes a moment to respond.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks.
Just hearing his voice calms me a little. He sounds strong, tough.
“Am I calling at a bad time?”
“No. Not at all.”
I’m waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. There’s a long silence.
“Have you had a chance to think over what Suzie presented to you?” I finally ask.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“It sounds good.”
Kade isn’t much of a talker. But I don’t care. I just want his strong presence in my life right now. And I’ll take his body while I’m at it.
“Good. And what about getting tested?” I ask.
“I already have. I’ve got the results. All clear.”
A smile quickly forms on my lips.
“That means we can begin our arrangement immediately.” I’m somewhat surprised by the excited tone in my voice.
He doesn’t respond.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“No. No problem. It’s just that I have to train for a fight this weekend. Any chance we can meet at night?”
“Like tonight?” I put forth.
“Damn, that’s fast,” he says.
I know it is. But I really don’t want to spend the night alone. What if Charlie comes back onto my property? But that’s not the only reason I want Kade to come over. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said Kade awoke something in me. After having sex with him, I felt alive for the first time since the accident. I don’t want that feeling to end. “I know it’s last minute, Kade,” I say into the phone. “But can you be at my place at 9 pm and bring the signed contract?”
There’s a long pause. Please say yes. I need to see you.
“Sounds good,” he finally says.
Nervous energy rushes through me. My body eagerly anticipates round two with the hot and gorgeous Kade.
“Oh, one more thing,” I tell him before getting off the phone. “Could you wear a hoodie?”
“I usually do,” he replies. “But why?”
Sighing, I tell him, “There’s some paparazzi lurking around my house. You might want to keep your face hidden when you come over. I
hope that’s not a problem?”
“Not at all,” he says. “Especially considering what you’re paying me.”
We hang up. I take off my mask and smile. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again. I remind myself that this is a business transaction. There’s a contract for crying out loud. He’s being paid to have sex with me. This is all a fantasy. But after everything I’ve been through, I allow myself to get temporarily lost in the illusion.
I take a seat at the piano. Although running into that asshole Charlie has really riled me, I need to get back to work. I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing. I try to go back to that quiet place, where I forget the world outside and just focus on what’s going on below the surface of who I am.
The first image to pop into my head is of him. I just can’t stop thinking about him. His eyes. His strong, capable hands.
Then, I remember the tattoo of a young boy inked on his chest. I wonder if he has a son. Then, it hits me out of nowhere – like a freight train – the thought of having children. I’ve always wanted to be a mother. But I thought it was something I could put off until I was in my thirties. After all, I had a career to establish first. But now, with the accident, I wonder if I’ll ever get married and have children. Who would want to settle down with someone like me? Someone who looks the way I do? Has this accident robbed me of more than just my looks and my career?
I force myself to stay focused and not let these thoughts derail me. I’ve finally started to work again and it feels good. If I’m going to allow these scary thoughts to the surface, I need to transfer them into music and not let them drag me back to bed.
I start writing another song.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Paparazzi? Damn, what have I gotten myself into? But for two hundred thousand dollars and the chance to pay off my debt to Shane, whatever it is, it’s worth it.
When I get off the phone with Melody, I finish my sparring session with Luke. Five days isn’t enough training time, but Shane had a point. The last time I fought, I was such an emotional wreck that my mind wasn’t focused. I was more worried about Max than my opponent in the cage. That’s why I lost.
That won’t be the case this time.
After finishing my training session, I leave the gym and go back to my apartment to shower and get ready for my meeting with Melody.
As I drive my Corolla up the 110, I glance at the signed contract on the passenger seat. It’s still hard to believe our paths have crossed again. After meeting with Suzie at Denny’s, and going through the contract, I finally realized who I spent the night with.
Melody Swanson.
She’s a big pop star whose music was constantly on the radio a few years ago. I’m not a big fan of pop music but her stuff was pretty good. I prefer hip-hop and R&B. Melody was also in a movie I saw at Layla’s place. It was some chick flick that Layla loved but wasn’t really my thing. I’m an action-heist-film kind of guy. I did some research online and discovered that after her accident, Melody was rushed to the same hospital where Max was staying. She was the reason there were all those paparazzi roaming around the night I lost my fight. I vaguely remember Shane mentioning something when he came to the hospital for a visit. But my mind must have been such a jumbled up mess that it didn’t register. Now, Melody’s life and mine have intersected once again.
This deal with Melody will help me pay off my debt. And by agreeing to a couple of fights for Shane, I’m getting closer to being a free man. It’s a shame I don’t own my gym anymore, because then I would have a semblance of my life back. I built that gym with blood, sweat, and tears. But in exchange for the money to help pay Max’s medical bills, I had to sign it over to Shane. Maybe one day I can get it back. At least I hope.
When I pull my car onto Melody’s street, I see that same red Volkswagen parked outside her house. In the darkness, I notice the silhouette of a man pointing his camera lens at me. I pull my hoodie over my head to cover my face. Rather than park on the street, I drive up to the gate and roll down my window. I press the button on the intercom. I tell Melody it’s me, and the gates open. I drive my car up her driveway.
She opens the door wearing her mask. She’s sporting a long sleeve Rolling Stones t-shirt and leggings. I considered wearing something nicer than jeans and a t-shirt but that’s not really me. I’m a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of guy.
“There’s a guy parked on your street taking pictures,” I tell her.
“I should have shot him when I had the chance,” she hisses through her mask. She motions me inside.
We enter the kitchen.
“Shot who?” I ask, surprised by her statement.
“That paparazzi asshole,” she says, annoyed. “I caught him in my backyard earlier today.”
“You call the cops?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not worth all the attention. I thought when I pointed my gun at him; he’d get the hint. But this guy is a real pest. He just won’t leave me alone.”
I realize as she tells me this, that Melody is a prisoner in her own home – confined to her house. This, compounded with her accident, must make her really lonely. I understand why she called me. She wants my company tonight, and it’s not just about sex.
“Can I get you anything: water, beer?” she offers.
“I’m good. Where’s Mingus?” I ask.
“He wore himself out attacking that paparazzi,” she says. “He’s sleeping in the living room.”
She glances at the stack of papers in my hand. I hand her the contract. She flips through the pages, noting where I have signed and then looks at my test results.
“I’m sorry for all this,” she says. “I just need to be careful.”
“No worries,” I say with a shrug.
She eyes me through her mask. “Well, now you know who I am.”
I nod.
“I’m not that person anymore,” she says. “But the media still seems interested in me. They just want to snatch pictures of my fucked up face so they can make a few bucks.” She sighs then says, “I should warn you: if you and I continue to see each other, there’s a chance the media might discover who you are? Do you have a problem with that?”
I shrug. “You’re paying me two hundred thousand dollars a month,” I respond. “It’s worth the risk.”
“I see,” she says glancing at the contract. I sense a disappointed tone in her voice. But then she shifts gears and turns more business-like. “You realize by signing this contract, you can’t tell anyone, anything about our relationship? If you even try to profit from it – ”
I raise my hand and cut her off. “Don’t worry about that. I ain’t that type. I can’t stand any of this Hollywood bullshit.” I’m not lying. Sometimes, I wonder if I’d be happier living up in Portland. But I was born and raised in LA. Even though this city can get annoying at times, it’s in my blood. But the Hollywood-celebrity aspect of it never interested me.
I try to put Melody at ease regarding the whole thing and say, “As far as I’m concerned, it sounds like we both need each other right now. You need me to keep fucking you so you stay inspired, and write your music…”
“ – And you need my money,” she says, finishing my thought. There’s that disappointed tone again. But this time there’s an edge to it.
“Speaking of money,” she continues, in that business-like manner. “How about I pay you one hundred thousand up front and the remainder at the end of the month? We can continue that kind of payment schedule until I’m no longer in need of your services.”
I shrug. “Works for me.”
She nods. “Good. I’ll have Suzie wire you the money tomorrow.”
Damn, just like that I’ll have all that money in my bank account. Too bad I have to turn around and give it straight to Shane.
Melody keeps staring at me with her vivid green eyes. It’s hard to guess what she’s thinking because I can’t read her facial expressions. She’s still hiding behind the mask. But I definitely notice a change in h
er tone, particularly when it comes to talking about the contract. Maybe she’s annoyed because she feels the need to pay someone to sleep with her. Maybe she wishes money wasn’t involved in this arrangement.
“Your friend says you’ve been writing songs,” I say, trying to fill the silence.
“I have,” she says with a sigh. “That’s why you’re here. I’m under contract to deliver a final album to my label. Then I’m a free woman.”
“Sounds like you and I have a lot in common,” I reply.
“How’s that?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Well, because of our arrangement,” I explain, “I might be able to get out of something.”
I don’t want to go into all the details.
“Then it’s a good thing we found each other,” she says.
I nod. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
There’s a long, awkward silence.
“Well then, should we…” she begins to say.
I assume she’s busy and wants to get things started. I unzip my hoodie and begin taking off my t-shirt.
“Hold on a second, Kade,” she says. “I don’t want you to fuck me in my kitchen. Not yet anyway.”
I shrug. “Sorry. I thought you might be busy and want to get started. My bad.” I pull my t-shirt back down. “What did you have in mind?” I ask.
“I’ve got some ideas,” she says.
Although I can’t see her face, the tone in her voice tells me she’s thinking something wicked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Her pussy tastes delicious. I run my tongue over her wet, succulent lips, suck on her clit, and savor her juice. She tastes as sweet as a peach, so fuckin’ good.
She grabs the back of my head and grinds it against her pussy. The smell of her sex filters through my nose. She smells like spring – but bless her – she fucks like a hot, dirty summer.