“Relax,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow at me, and we both laughed. Relax? Yeah right. Not tonight.
“You’ll be fine.” I kissed her cheek and smiled. “And you look amazing.”
“So do you.”
The limo inched forward.
I looked at Rachel. “You sure about this?”
“Too late to back out now.”
“We’re not there yet.” I took her hand. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you change your mind—”
“No,” she said. “I need to do this. I’m tired of playing these stupid games for the media’s benefit. We’ll just show them the truth, and they can deal with it.”
“Which they will,” I said. “As snidely and obnoxiously as possible.”
“Probably.” She leaned toward me. “But I’m not ashamed of you, and I’m tired of pretending I am.” She kissed me lightly, and we both smiled nervously.
The limo stopped. The door opened.
Rachel closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then slid toward the door. After one last glance back at me, she swung her legs out, made sure her heels weren’t teetering on the edge of a bump in the red carpet and took the chauffeur’s hand as she stood.
No turning back in three…two…
I stepped out of the limo behind her.
Immediately, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and every lens in sight shifted toward me. Toward us.
Heart pounding and stomach turning, I offered Rachel my elbow, and she slid her hand around it.
She looked up at me. I smiled. So did she, though she still looked as nervous as I felt.
On both sides of the red carpet, reporters leaned toward us with microphones, practically doubling themselves over to stretch as far across the barrier as they could.
“Ms. Taylor! Ms. Taylor! Over here!”
“Over here, please! Ms. Taylor, Mr. Harder, look over here!”
“Is this a publicity stunt, or are the two of you really dating?”
“How about a kiss? Come on, let’s see a kiss!”
As we walked, I put my hand over hers on my arm. She glanced up at me again, and her smile was tight and nervous. I wanted to kiss her just then—in part because she looked so damned good, in part to reassure her—but I let her call the shots.
We stopped and faced the cameras. God, I’d never felt so much like an animal in a cage. The reporters may as well have been asking us to do tricks in exchange for fish.
Rachel’s brow creased with an unspoken question.
Heart pounding harder than ever, I dipped my head and kissed her. Not deep, nothing that would be remotely inappropriate in public. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so exposed and scrutinized and…and just weird.
After a moment, long enough for them to get their damned photos, I broke the kiss and we exchanged one last glance before we kept walking.
As we neared the end of the red carpet and the entrance to the venue, Rachel exhaled hard.
“You’re doing fine,” I said.
“What about you?”
“I’m all right. Don’t worry about me.”
“Olivia!” A pair of long-haired guys with tattoos creeping up from their collars approached. I recognized them as the guitarist and lead singer for Pounding Sand.
One hugged Rachel. “It’s great to see you!”
“You too,” she said. She hugged the other and then gestured at me. “Ronnie and Tom, this is—” Her head snapped toward me.
“Buck.” I extended my hand.
“Ooh, you’re that porn star, aren’t you?” the singer, Ronnie, asked as he shook my hand.
I glanced at Rachel. When she nodded, so did I. “Yeah, I am.” I extended my hand to the guitarist, but he didn’t take it.
Instead, he asked with a hint of slime, “So have you ever been to an event like this?”
I just smiled. “A few, actually.”
“Have you, now?”
“Your industry isn’t the only one that gives out awards,” I said.
He wrinkled his nose. They both gave Rachel a nod and then disappeared into the crowd.
Rachel smirked as she watched them go. “That went well.”
“Think they liked me?”
She giggled. “Probably not. Oh well.” She took my elbow again. “They’ll get over it.”
We continued into the venue. As the murmuring voices and flashing cameras on the red carpet faded behind us, Rachel let out her breath. “I’m pretty sure the entire payroll of Risen Star just shit bricks.”
I laughed. “Probably. But there isn’t much we can do about it now.”
“No, there isn’t.” She took another deep breath. “Shall we go sit?”
“After you.”
I followed her into the auditorium. We found our seats—bet they didn’t have this in mind when they marked it Olivia Taylor Plus One—and sat.
I tried not to notice the looks people shot us as they walked past or from their seats in front of us; God knew how many heads were turning on the balcony.
Within minutes, the lights went down. As the awards show kicked off, I hoped I hadn’t just helped Rachel send her career up in flames.
The limo door was shut, and now that we were sealed away from the rest of the world, Rachel groaned and leaned forward. Resting her elbows on her knees, she rubbed her temples.
I put a hand on the back of her neck. “You okay?”
“I don’t even know,” she said, her voice flat. “I can’t decide if I just made things better or worse.”
I dropped a light kiss on her bare shoulder as the limo started moving. “It was a ballsy thing to do. There might be fallout, but if anything, you showed the world you’ve got some chutzpah.”
“Maybe. I just feel like I’m the girl who wore a red dress to the cotillion ball.”
My brow furrowed. “A red dress to the what, now?”
“A red dress to…” She paused. “It’s from Jezebel. This movie from the 1930s.” Rachel absently traced a seam on the seat with her finger. “Bette Davis’s character is going to a cotillion ball. Kind of like a debutante thing, I guess. So all the unmarried girls are supposed to wear white, but she wants to wear red.” She waved a hand. “And it’s this massive scandal, which leads to her and her fiancé splitting—”
“What?” I laughed. “Seriously? They break up over a dress?”
“Well, more like over the scandal it caused.” She smirked. “And the fact that he was a bullheaded ass and she was the same kind of stubborn brat as Scarlet O’Hara.”
I smirked. “Not a Gone with the Wind fan?”
“I loved the story,” she said. “Just wanted to smack her a few times.”
“She was a bit of a snot, wasn’t she?” I slipped my fingers between hers and gently clasped our hands together. “So, this movie with the dress. They really broke up over something like that?”
She nodded. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you buck the status quo in the South.”
I laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t know anything about ‘bucking’ the status quo, would you?”
Her lips pulled into a toothy grin. “No, not at all.”
I chuckled but then turned more serious as I caressed her face. “Well, whatever comes of this, it’ll blow over sooner or later. The media works that way. They’ll latch on to something scandalous until something more scandalous comes along.”
“The media have a field day whenever I screw up.” She put her hand over mine. I swore I could feel her heart pounding as she held my gaze and whispered, “This could be a long ride.”
“I know.” I drew her toward me and kissed her. “But whatever they say, you and I know the truth. And I’m not going anywhere.” I kissed her again, deeper this time.
Whatever happened after tonight, we’d face it down and deal with it, but for tonight? I meant what I said. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Seventeen
Rachel
WHAT IS SHE THINKING? TAYLOR RELAT
IONSHIP WITH PORN STAR—CONFIRMED! Pop Star & “Boyfriend” Steal Rock N Rhapsody Spotlight on Red Carpet
Olivia Taylor picked up her first and second Rock N Rhapsody Awards last night, winning Song of the Year and Album of the Year, but stole the spotlight from her own victories before the show even started. Stepping out of a limousine to walk the red carpet, Taylor slipped her arm into the elbow of tuxedoed adult-film actor “Buck Harder”, confirming weeks’ worth of rumors about a relationship.
The bizarre couple walked the red carpet together, posing for numerous photos with her hand on his elbow or his arm around her waist. Photographers and reporters loudly goaded them into kissing for the cameras, but the couple refused anything beyond a single, unenthusiastic kiss, igniting widespread speculation that this is little more than a poorly considered publicity stunt.
In spite of their lack of public affection on the red carpet, though, they sat together during the awards show, and he beamed and applauded when she was presented with her two awards. Taylor smiled and looked out at him when she thanked him during her acceptance speeches, citing him as “unflinchingly supportive” and “endlessly patient.” Taylor was nominated for four awards but lost out on Female Entertainer of the Year and Entertainer of the Year to Tatiana.
So is it serious or just a publicity stunt? According to an unnamed insider, the pair have indeed been dating in secret since meeting on the set of Taylor’s “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet” video.
“One day of filming together, and [Buck] had to have her,” the source says. “They’ve kept it on the down-low, but come on. Everyone saw the way they were looking at each other on set. Even when the cameras weren’t rolling.”
Social network sites and the blogosphere have been abuzz since the news first broke of the couple’s red carpet appearance, including some crass commentary:
“Buck Harder must’ve liked the novelty of a woman who wasn’t already on her back when he met her,” quipped celebrity blogger Sally Kate. “Though I don’t imagine he had to wait too long.”
“Guess I’ll never get to date Olivia Taylor,” tweeted comedian Shay Marx. “Can’t measure up to anything THAT guy’s got.” He went on to comment, “Well, if Olivia doesn’t put out, least he can just go to work to get some.”
It has also been confirmed that Buck Harder is still actively involved in the adult-film industry, having starred in no fewer than three productions since appearing in Taylor’s music video. Later this month, he is slated to join Cherry Kitty, a porn star notorious for her “extreme oral talents”.
Taylor famously told Carson & Baxter in the Morning that, if she was dating the porn star, “My mother would kill me.”
No word on her mother’s reaction to last night’s revelation.
Taylor is scheduled to appear today on Live with Blair Fox.
I slammed my hand down on the table, and everyone in the room jumped. “Last night was not a publicity stunt.”
“Wasn’t it?” Darryl, that sleazy exec from Risen Star, asked. “Then tell me, what the hell was it?”
“What the hell were you thinking, Rachel?” Rich asked.
I looked him right in the eye and didn’t back down. “I was thinking that maybe if there was no more mystery and no more secret, the paparazzi wouldn’t need to keep stalking me and watching my every move while they tried to figure out my personal life.” I made a sharp gesture. “It’s out now. The question is answered. Everyone can move on.”
“Move on?” Darryl laughed. “Is this what you call moving on? Everyone in the entire business is talking about this, Rachel. In fact, everyone and their goddamned mother are talking about.”
“They’ve been talking about it ever since you cast him in my music video!” I threw back. “And I figured the sooner they—”
“You figured?” He scoffed. “Since when is it your decision what gets out to the media and what doesn’t?”
“Since it’s my life, damn it.”
“And our recording contract,” Darryl said. “Which means we decide what—”
“You know, maybe I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not,” I said. “I’ll mold who I am onstage and in my videos to whatever Risen Star wants, but I’m not calling time on the first decent relationship I’ve had in—”
“Decent relationship?” He snorted. “Rachel. Do you even hear yourself? You’re seeing a porn star. If you think that qualifies as a decent relationship, then—”
“I don’t think that’s something for you to decide,” I snapped.
He stepped closer and spoke through gritted teeth, “As someone who has money invested in the success of Olivia Taylor, it is something for me to decide. I am in a position to make that decision. When magazines are selling more than albums, that’s a problem, and it’s my problem.”
I clenched my jaw. “Then drop me. Go ahead.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing with fire here. I made you. I can unmake you.”
“Go ahead.” I inclined my head. “I dare you.”
Rich cleared his throat. “Rachel, why don’t—”
“I’m a liability to Risen Star as long as I’m signed to you,” I said, “but I’m not worth a dime to you if you drop me.”
“If Risen Star drops you,” Darryl snarled, “you’re not worth a dime to anyone.”
I resisted the urge to flinch. “Then what does that say about you?” I folded my arms across my chest. “After all, you signed me.”
He laughed dryly. “I signed you because of your voice. That voice is worthless without a record contract, and good luck finding anyone who’s willing to offer you one after all this bullshit.” Before I could snap back at him, he jabbed a finger in my direction, almost hitting my chest. “Now get your shit together. You’re on in thirty, and don’t even think about fucking up this interview.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
Rich turned to me, but as he opened his mouth to speak, I held up a hand.
“Don’t.” I glared at him. “Just don’t.”
“Rachel, last night, you should’ve won the Entertainer of the Year award.”
I blinked, guarded against whatever strings were attached to that out-of-the-blue compliment.
Quinn nodded. “He’s right. Tatiana is half the musician you are and nowhere near the entertainer.”
“And Tatiana also has a solid, respectable image,” Rich growled.
Ah, there it is.
Quinn huffed and rolled his eyes. “What difference does that make? It’s an award for performances and—”
“Oh, stop being so damned naïve.” Rich looked at me, inclining his head slightly. “You know how these things work. Yes, the awards are supposed to be for the music, but of course they’re political. Everything is. That’s why your music is winning them and you’re not. Your image is tarnished enough without adding all this nonsense.” He pointed right in my face. “You’re going to get dropped if you keep this up.”
I set my jaw. “Battle Cry is about to go gold, and the tour is almost completely sold out. Are they really going to drop me because they don’t approve of my personal life?”
“It’s not about whether the label approves, Rachel. It’s about how your personal life affects your image as a product of Risen Star.”
“Risen Star put me in a music video with a porn star, and now they’re pissed off that I’m being associated with him?”
“The music video didn’t go over well,” he said. “That’s why your entire image was overhauled before the tour. And associated with him is certainly a clean way of saying sleeping with him.” He shrugged. “Like we talked about in the meeting after the video was released, the public wants a slutty Lady GaGa, not a slutty Olivia Taylor.”
“And exactly what have I done that’s slutty besides that damned video?”
He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head in true you-know-damn-well fashion.
I threw up my hands. “I’m with one man, Rich, and we’ve hardly done anything out
rageous in public.”
“Rachel.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “He’s a porn star.”
“So I’m the slut?”
Rich rolled his eyes. “You’re all but announcing to the world that you’re sleeping with this guy!”
“How?” I asked. “By showing up in public with him? Just like every other damned couple in the universe?”
Another exasperated sigh, followed by a look. “Every other damned couple in the universe doesn’t include someone who gets paid to have sex with other people—dozens of other people, Rachel.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “And I’m the slut.”
“You’re the one getting a reputation.”
“A reputation. As a slut.” I forced a breath out through my teeth. “Because my boyfriend”—oh, no, I did not miss Rich’s wince—“makes his living having sex with other people in front of cameras.”
“Which means it’s a safe bet the two of you aren’t just going home at night and holding hands in front of the TV, now isn’t it?”
“So what?” I slammed my fist down on the table. “We’re dating! And anyway, I can’t win. The press even threw a fit because we didn’t do anything besides kiss briefly on the red carpet. They thought we were faking it because we weren’t all over each other.” I shoved a hand through my hair. “What does everyone want?”
“It really doesn’t matter.” Rich folded his arms across his chest. “What matters is what Risen Star wants, and they want you as far from Buck Harder as possible.”
“No.”
He locked eyes with me. “What do you mean, no?”
I lifted one shoulder in a sharp shrug. “Pretty sure you know exactly what I meant.”
“Rachel, you can’t—”
“I’m not leaving him just because the label doesn’t think it looks good.”
“You want to stay signed or not?”
My stomach flipped. “Are you really asking me to choose between my career and my boyfriend?”
He laughed and rolled his eyes again. “Rachel. Come on. You’re dating a porn star. Just end it now and move on with your career. Otherwise, you’re going to be regretting even hemming and hawing about this in six months when your recording deal is history and your ‘boyfriend’”—he added emphatic air quotes and no small amount of sarcasm—“is balls deep in his next playmate of the month.”
The Princess and the Porn Star Page 19