by Skye Turner
He laughs as I shut the door then I see him shake his head as he heads back into his office.
He worries about me. I know he does. But there’s no need. My life suits me. It’s fine. It works for me and I love it just the way it is.
I flip on the radio and turn up the volume as I open the sun roof. Fall Out Boy blares from the speakers and I dance to the beat. Inhaling the rich, clean leather scent of my oasis, I pull onto the road to head to the studio.
Ok then, let’s do this. Time to go pick up the movie star…
Chapter Two
James
It’s a quarter after five and we’ve just wrapped up the scene we’ve been shooting all day. My co-star apparently partied too hard last night and her head wasn’t in the game. She kept flubbing her lines and the director decided to wrap for the day a bit early in hopes that she can get her shit straight for tomorrow. She’s cute, but young, and has a reputation for trouble. She’s been hinting that she’d like to “run lines” together tonight, but a troubled twenty-something, whose using is widely reported is not my style. I’m just not interested.
Shaking off her advances with my trademark half-smile, I call out that I’ll see the crew tomorrow. I leave her gazing after me as I head to my trailer to change before leaving the studio lot. My “driver” should be here in about fifteen minutes. They better be on time. I can’t stand having to wait on people.
Turning the corner from Studio Five, my trailer comes into view, and I see a black Tahoe parked behind it. I’m assuming that’s my car since there are no other cars on this section of the lot and it wasn’t there when I went in to shoot this morning. Where is the pot-bellied driver though?
My attention is suddenly caught by a feminine laugh. My head whips to the side and I see a petite, but voluptuous woman on her phone leaning against the SUV. Great… how did she get in here? Security is going to get an earful about this! I am not in the mood to deal with another proposition from a female fan. She is a pretty little thing though. Black knee boots are complemented by shapely legs and dark skinny jeans cupping a very nice ass. I can see the hem of a white shirt poking out from beneath a cropped black leather jacket. Her chest is ample beneath the tight leather and I wonder if she’s all natural or cosmetically enhanced. She looks tough regardless of her petite stature. She’s laughing at something she’s hearing and her short red hair is flaring out around a very intriguing face with full, red lips. I have to squint to make sure I’m seeing correctly. Bleached-blonde bangs with a hint of pink underneath? What the hell? She’s small, maybe a touch over five feet, but confidence rolls off of her in waves. She’s sending out vibes as if she’s over ten feet tall.
Stopping, I cross my arms, watch her, and try to decide what I’m going to do here. Part of me is intrigued. I have a thing for redheads and I’m curious as to what she’s proposing but the other part is exhausted and ready to just change clothes and head in for the night. Where the hell is my damn driver?
Before I can decide if I’m going to give her an autograph and send her on her way or just call security to remove her, she looks up. The smile leaves her face and her back straightens as she leans off the very large vehicle and stands up. She says something into the phone and hangs up.
Decision made, I saunter over to her. She watches casually as I approach. When I’m right in front of her, I ask, “What did you want signed, sweetheart? I don’t see any photos… so, your phone? Your arm? Your side? Your breasts?”
She gasps and her intriguing golden eyes seem to ignite as she glares at me in outrage. “Excuse me?”
I don’t have time to deal with this shit. I’m not in the mood to deal with any feminine games! Crossing my arms, I look at her. My eyes travel her petite frame from her head to her feet. “You’re on my set. What do you think you’re getting from me? You obviously came with a purpose, so let’s cut the shit and you can just spit it out.”
Rolling her eyes, she stands straight up and takes a step toward me. “All I want from you, Mr. Black… is a paycheck.”
A paycheck? What the fuck? What is this woman talking about?
I’m taken aback. What? Is she a hooker? How did she get in here? “Excuse me?”
She points at me and then at the SUV. She speaks slowly and enunciates her words. “A p…a…y…c…h…e…c…k. This is called a v…e…h…i…c…l…e. I am what you call a d…r…i…v…e…r. My job is to start this nice ride and take you wherever you need to go. In turn, you pay my company and I get a paycheck. Is that slow enough for that small brain of yours to comprehend?!”
My driver? SHE’s my driver? No, there must be some mistake. A guy named AJ is my driver, not this pint sized, sharp-tongued, she-devil. No, Hugo is fucking with me.
Small brain? Oh, hell no.
I laugh. “Ok, where is he? Hugo put you up to this, right?”
She looks at me like I’m the dumbest creature on the planet. “Are you serious?! What is your malfunction, dude? Hugo hired me, yes. He hired my company, Top Notch Transport, to get you from point A to point B. Are you on drugs? I don’t deal with drugs. So, if you’re a user, I’ll leave your ass right here and someone else can chauffer you around.”
Am I on drugs? What the hell? No, I’m not on drugs. I’ve never touched a damn drug. Nothing in the world is worth the shit you get from drugs.
What is this chick’s deal? She seems to hate me and she doesn’t even know me. She can’t be my driver, can she?
“I can assure you, I am not on drugs. I have never touched an illegal substance. You’re my driver? No, my driver is a guy. His name is AJ.”
She chuckles and her face lights up with mirth. She pops her full lips and smirks at me. “Good to know about the drugs. That shit will fuck you up. And yes, your driver is AJ. That’s me, but sorry to disappoint…” She gestures to herself. “I am indeed a female.”
Girls that look like her do not have guy names. Is she a lesbian? She doesn’t look like a lesbian. Not that I’m any kind of expert… In my world girls hook up for shits and giggles and because they think it gets them invited into my bed.
Though, this woman seemingly flat out hates me. It can’t be me. She doesn’t know me. Maybe she just doesn’t like guys. That would explain it.
“You’re AJ?”
She narrows her eyes at me again. “I just said that. I’m AJ. Your driver. Unless that’s an issue for you, in which case I’ll call the company and they can send someone else out, though I’m the best. I was told that you wanted a driver who also knew Louisiana history. If that’s what you want, you want me. If you want a dude, I can get you a dude. If you want a bedmate, that’s not me. But, I am really busy and I need an answer… now. If I’m not driving you, I can have another client in under an hour. Either way is fine with me. I don’t like your attitude and let’s get something straight right now… one thing I don’t tolerate is disrespect or male chauvinism. I am not some idiot fangirl who wants to fuck the famous James Black so I can post about it on Twitter.
“You need a driver. I’m a driver. But, don’t waste my time.”
Damn, tell me how you really feel, hunny. What a hard ass. Weirdly, I’m not offended. I’m intrigued. There’s a story here… I decide to push her buttons. “Are you a lesbian?”
She blinks at me and her mouth hangs open. She regains her composure seconds later and her eyes flash. “WHAT? Am I a lesbian? Are you serious? Why would you ask that? Why is that even your business if I am? I am here to drive you, not fuck you! But no, I’m actually not a lesbian. You sir, are a douchebag. I cannot drive you. Screw this! I can deal with a lot, but you… no. Absolutely not!”
She turns rigidly on her heel and starts dialing as she heads around to the driver’s side of the SUV.
Not a lesbian… Doesn’t want to fuck me. Doesn’t even like me. This could be really interesting and just what I need to not die of boredom over the next year. She could be just the distraction I need…
And… she’s leaving.
Oh
no. You are not leaving. Shit just got interesting. Yes, this could be fun.
Smiling a real smile for the first time, I laugh in delight. “AJ. AJ, wait…” She turns and fumes, but doesn’t hang up the phone.
*
Avangeline
Is this jerk for real? He cannot be serious. There is no way he’s survived this long being that much of an asshole. Am I a lesbian? What the ever-living fuck? No, I’m not, but even if I was, it’s not his business. He’s the rudest, most arrogant man I’ve ever met and within five minutes he has me wanting to kill him. There is no way I can drive him for a year. No way in hell.
For the first time ever, I’m dropping a client. In a rage at his asinine comments, and talking myself down in my head to stop from punching him in his smug face, I press the button to call Charles. I cannot believe how enraged he’s made me. I’m not a pushover, but I’m not a bitch either and this man has me wanting to gouge his eyes out with spoons seconds after meeting him.
I hear James chuckle behind me and it pisses me off even more. He calls out as the phone rings, “AJ. AJ, wait…”
I turn and pin him with a scowl. “What?”
He smiles sheepishly and tries to cover his laughing. “Stop. Hang up.” He points to the phone. “I’m sorry. That was out of line and I apologize.” He shrugs. “Honestly. I am sorry.”
Is he serious or is this another act from the famous James Black?!
I don’t answer him, but my lips tighten and I just watch him as I listen to the phone ring… and ring. Why is Charles not answering his damn phone?
James stands with his legs apart and sticks his hands in his pockets as he says again, “Can you hang up? I do want a driver who can educate me about the state. Hugo said you’re the best, so, if you’re the best, I’d like for you to drive me. I sincerely apologize for purposely riling you up. I don’t know what came over me.”
I frown before tipping my head back and taking a deep breath of the cold air. Looking at him, I disconnect the call. “You’re an asshole.”
He chuckles and smiles. Damn, he’s good looking when he smiles. Nope, not going there. I don’t care how good looking he is. He’s a jerk. Then again… the good looking ones usually are.
He nods and smirks. “I am an asshole. But look, seriously. I wasn’t expecting…” He gestures at me. “Well… you. I thought my driver was a middle aged man. I’m not often taken by surprise, but I assumed something and I shouldn’t have. I apologize. And I don’t do that… ever.” He smiles again and my stomach bottoms out. “Will you accept my apology?”
He holds out his hand toward me. I watch him and arch my brow as I contemplate what I’ll do and try to find my equilibrium again. Then, shaking it off, I smile slyly as I decide. “Ok, I’ll drive you. But… it’s going to cost you an extra five hundred bucks a week.”
His chin almost touches his chest and I swear his crystal-like eyes twinkle. “What? Seriously?”
Nodding, I tuck my hair behind my ears and hold my hand out toward his, almost touching, but not quite. “Yes, I can already tell you’re high maintenance, so to deal with you and make it worth my while… An extra five hundred a week.” I smirk. “Deal?”
He stares at me and then throws his head back and laughs. Whoosh and there goes the tingle. No, fuck the tingle. No tingle. I’m cold. It’s the stupid bipolar weather, not him. No way it’s him.
He takes my hand. “Deal.”
I try to concentrate as my palm suddenly warms in every place it’s touching his. He gives it a firm shake as he says, “I have no idea what I’m paying you anyway, so I guess I need to get in touch with Hugo.”
Removing his hand, he turns toward his trailer as he calls over his shoulder, “Let me wash this makeup off and change. I’ll be out in like ten minutes.”
Turning to my Tahoe, I breathe deeply and discreetly wipe my damp palm on my jeans.
Hell to the no. The dude is a jerk who’s a movie star and is wearing makeup… No, just no.
No idea what the hell that was, but personal contact with James Black is out of the question from here on out. Nope. It’s going on the “No” List!
Chapter Three
James
I find myself whistling as I jump into the shower in my quiet trailer. AJ was not what I was expecting, to say the least, but she’s witty and quick and I find I’m very curious about her. Having her for a driver is certainly not going to be boring. She also appears to intensely dislike me, so I don’t have to worry about her trying to seduce me. That’s a welcome change.
Slipping on my jeans, I glance in the mirror. My eyes are startlingly blue. They’re my best feature and women seem to become entranced by them. I don’t need for that to happen here.
Scrapping those thoughts, I swipe my leather jacket and mirrored aviators off the counter and saunter out the door as I slip the leather on to protect me from the slight chill in the air. Why is it cold here? Isn’t this place sub-tropical?
Through her windshield, I can see AJ singing and dancing to something on the radio. She notices my approach and stops. As I get closer to it, she hops out and rounds the front of the SUV. She opens the back door and exaggeratedly gestures for me to get in. She’s mocking me and I find it engaging. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s so small against the massive vehicle. Smirking, I slide past her and get in. My arm brushes against her chest and I swear she stops breathing. The door closes behind me with a resounding thud.
I settle into the rich leather of the seat and inhale deeply. The smell of leather is a favorite of mine and I find it oddly soothing.
As she opens the door and hops into the driver’s seat, she turns around and looks at me. Nonchalantly, she asks, “So, where do you want to go, Mr. Black?”
I must have imagined her response to me. She’s certainly not the least bit affected. But, Mr. Black?! She’s calling me Mr. Black. A lot of people do, but I don’t like that it sounds so formal coming from her mouth. No, she can’t call me Mr. Black. She can call me… James.
“James.”
Her eyebrows disappear underneath the pink fringe in her bangs. She looks surprised as she says, “Excuse me?”
“James. My name is James. Call me that. Not ‘Mr. Black.’ Ok?” I say as I chuckle again at her expression. I don’t remember a time when I’ve felt the urge to smile quite so much.
Her hair fans around her face as she vehemently shakes her head. “No. I can’t call you that.”
“Why not? It is my name.”
“I know it’s your name. But, you are my client. We are not friends. You ride. I drive. I’ll answer any questions you have and take you wherever you want to go. But, this is a professional relationship. I work for you for the time being, therefore, you are ‘Mr. Black.’ No argument.” With that she turns around and checks out the dashboard. “So Mr. Black, where am I driving you?”
Damn, she’s stubborn. Why is calling me by my name, if we’re going to be around each other for a year, such a big deal? I’ll work on that. I really don’t want her calling me “Mr. Black.” It’s very… impersonal… and with most people that would be fine. I like to keep people at a distance. However, I think that AJ seems like someone I just might be able to tolerate a friendship with. I guess we’ll see how it goes. Baton Rouge just got a lot more interesting for me.
I answer her as I stretch my arms out across the seat back. “My apartment is fine. But I want to grab something to eat first.”
She nods and calls off my address before I can tell her.
“You know my address?”
As she puts the SUV in reverse, she holds up a manila folder that I didn’t realize was on the console. “Of course I do. I do my homework.” She expertly maneuvers the big vehicle around the lot and waves to the guard at the gate. As we head onto the road, she calls over her shoulder, “So, what are you in the mood to eat? You tell me what you want and I can recommend a place.”
A short while later, she pulls up at my apartment and stops. The smells of Greek a
nd Lebanese food permeate the car and mix with the leather scent. She hops out and before I can unbuckle my seat belt, which she insisted on, she’s opening my door. She takes the bag from me and with a shrug, I head to my entryway. After unlocking the door, I take the bag from her, intending to head inside. She halts my progress with her muttered, “Wait.”
My brow arches and I pivot with a question on my face.
She’s holding a card out toward me. Looking down at it and then at me, she says with a smirk, “You need to add my information to your phone.”
“What?”
“You need to be able to call me when you need me to pick you up or bring you someplace.” She slips the card into the bag since my hands are full. “That has my cell number. It’s always on. You pay me to be available to drive you, so there’s my info. You call when you need me. I’d prefer a little notice, but if it’s an emergency or something comes up, just call.”
Damn, I’m so exhausted and distracted by the food in my arms, I didn’t even think about how I’d get in touch with her.
“Your call time is 7:30AM tomorrow. What time do you want me to grab you? It takes about twenty minutes to get to the studio from here in decent traffic. I recommend being ready for me around 6:30, just to be safe.”
I nod.
“Good. If you need me before that or something comes up, just call or text that number.” She nods to the still running vehicle. “You’re already programmed in my phone, so I’ll know it’s you.”
She programmed my number!? When?!
Smirking and feeling a lightness I’m not especially familiar with, I call out as she hops back into the car. “You saved my info?”
As she leans against the roof from the side bar, she stares calmly at me. “Of course. Once we agreed I’d drive you after all, while you showered, I programmed all the info I’d need. Including your number. I have to be able to answer when you call. This is why you’re paying me the big bucks after all.”
“So, you’re basically at my beck and call?”