by Layne Harper
He picks up my hips and rotates his dick inside as he bellows so loudly that if the press has arrived, I’m sure they’re getting an earful.
I moan, letting him use my depleted body for his own selfish, wonderful needs. Nothing has felt this good. My plastic toy left me longing for the real thing—him—all of him.
“You’re my everything,” I tell him as he picks up my limp body and cradles me to his chest.
“Sweetest words ever.” He moves us to the chair, and I could stay curled in his lap for forever. He doesn’t seem interested in moving, and I don’t think I’m sated yet. My sexual craving has been satisfied. But I need more of him: his touch, his scent, the sound of his beating heart.
His fingers trace down my back and sometimes pause to play a rhythm on my vertebrae. He hums a tune that I don’t recognize as I beg time to stop.
“You find your bliss?” he asks after a while.
“Um-Hum.”
“Good, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed.”
He carries me into my bedroom, and we fall asleep with my head on his chest and his leg thrown over my thighs. We’re anchored to each other, and it’s the most peaceful two hours of sleep I’ve had in eleven months.
***
“Don’t you have a nice after sex glow,” Bella whispers in my ear.
Blushing, I smile. No need to confirm nor deny.
“Where’s the rock star?”
“I left him in my bed fast asleep.” Changing the subject, “Did anyone notice that I was late?”
“The paparazzi outside distracted the girls from looking at the clock.” She hands me the broken lid to a cookie jar. “What do you want to do about all of these?”
Sighing, I hold the chipped lid. “I talked to the manufacturer yesterday. They apologized and are overnighting replacements. Let’s hope that we have them today.”
Bella rests the white ceramic container on a wooden shelf. “Okay. I’ll put a couple of these out. We can’t forget to add the lids when they arrive.”
“Done.”
Janet, Cindy, Robbie, and Shannon are all back in Los Angeles. We aren’t filming getting the merchandise set up. Cindy said people will find this boring. I’m sure she’s right, but, geez, it’s stressful.
It’s just Bella and my two new employees helping me out today. They’re sweet girls. Roxy just graduated from LSU and wants a career in fashion merchandising. She’s a fan of my site so she was a natural hire. The other girl is the granddaughter of one of Grandmother’s dear friends. She’s twenty, very pretty, has no clue what she wants to do with her life, and thinks this job is very cool. We’ll have to see how Casandra works out.
Bella tasked my new employees with steaming each article of clothing and hanging it on one of the racks that Vince built for me.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my bra.
Aaron: Where are you?
Me: Work
Aaron: Why didn’t you wake me? I’d have gotten the police to get you through the crowd out front.
Me: Grand opening in three days. I’m crazy busy. Didn’t have time to jack with them.
Aaron: Too busy for lunch with me?
Me: Never
Aaron: Be there in thirty.
Me: You know when you leave my house that we’re confirming us.
Aaron: Is that a problem? I thought that’s what I was doing when I Tweeted you.
Me: Not for me. I agree. Just confirming.
Aaron: I’m golden
Me: When you get here, come inside.
I take the salt and pepper shakers from their wrapping and set them next to the cookie jar. “This feels so right. He’s just as in to me as I am in to him. Like seeing him this morning is the highlight of this week, and you’d think getting NPC ready would be. But then, of course, we are now going public with a relationship in its infancy.” I sigh. “It is what it is.”
“Things are so good for you right now. You’ve gotten the dream and the boy all at one time. Don’t let the media rain on your parade.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Easier said than done. I guess I have gotten what I’ve wanted. I feel like I had to go through the horrible breakup and then the months of depression to get here. Now that I’ve got perspective, I can see why I had to plow through the trenches to have this.”
She bumps my hip. “Happy for you. You’re a tough cookie.”
I get another text and grab my phone.
Aaron: There’s that invitation again. On my way.
I don’t have a chance to reply because my phone starts ringing. It’s Cindy.
“Hello,” I answer. “How’s LA?” Motioning to Bella that I’m taking a call, I walk to the back of the store.
“Well, your ears must be burning, MK.”
“Why?” I ask as I hop up on the marble counter.
“Your grand opening is the hottest ticket in New Orleans and maybe all the south.” She’s talking fast. I’ve come to learn that this is what Cindy does when she’s excited.
“That’s good, right?” I ask.
“Should be great news for NPC and hopefully the media hype will translate to viewers in January.” She pauses for a beat. “It also means that there is going to be a lot of press. So far everyone we’ve invited is coming. We’re also preparing for paparazzi.”
“I’m assuming the reason for the attention isn’t because the world has a burning desire to watch Burnt Sugar.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “No, sweetie. Your Twitter exchange with Johnny and the fact that his album is still sitting at the top of the charts with you starring as his muse has made you quite an intriguing public figure. I know you don’t want him mentioned on the show, but we can’t not film him if attends the grand opening.”
“I know.” I squeeze my temples. None of this is news. It just makes it more real when someone else tells me what I’ve known in my heart. “Have we confirmed to the press that he will be in attendance?”
“No. We’ve taken the high road and said we don’t comment on your private life,” Cindy replies.
“He hasn’t given any hints that he wants to keep us private. He was thrilled when I invited him, but let me double check and make one hundred percent sure we’re on the same page.”
Cindy says, “Also, we’re going to have to make a plan for how he’s handled on the show. Part of your blog is your quest for love. You seem to have found it in a very public figure.”
Twisting a strand of hair, I lean back, resting my head against a cabinet. “Yeah, I’ve thought about that also.”
The dinging noise in my ear indicates that I’ve received a text. Pulling the phone from my ear and putting it on speaker, I read the text from my mom.
Mom: Had to find out you were back with Aaron from the Today Show. Jesus Christ, MK, would it be so difficult to clue me in on your life?
Well, that makes me feel like pond scum. I note to call Mom and give her the update as soon as possible.
“MK? You there?” Cindy asks.
I take her off speaker and bring the phone to my ear. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got the I’m-a-crappy-daughter text from my mom.”
“Oh. Fix that one, sweetie. No one wants to be cross ways with her.” She pauses and then gets us back on subject. “It would be best if we had a roadmap going forward before the grand opening in regards to Johnny.”
“The press is already camped outside my carriage house. This morning I took an Uber the whole four blocks to work because I didn’t want to be chased down my street like I was the last time my relationship was made public.”
“Did they come to the store?” she asks with a hint of concern in her voice.
“Once I went inside, they waited for a bit and then left.”
“I’ve a feeling that’s not always going to happen.” Cindy is almost apologetic for pointing out what’s gnawing at my gut.
“I’ve had the same thought.”
“Do you think you need a security guard?” This is the same question that I had this morning when I saw my sidewal
k full of men and a few women all with their cameras trained on me.
“I don’t know. Aaron and I will discuss over lunch.”
“Are you doing okay, MK? I know you had a rough time with this before.”
Sighing, I don’t how to respond. “I’m doing okay. I have Aaron’s support and a fence. That makes life much more tolerable.”
“Hang in there,” she replies before we both hang up.
Walking back to where everyone is working, I announce, “Ladies, lunch is on me today.” Reaching into my wallet, I pull out my credit card and hand it to Bella. She gives me a concerned look, but I shake my head and flash her my big, pleading eyes. “If you get back here and there are reporters everywhere, come around to the back entrance to the store.” I smile and add, “I’m super sorry.”
Five minutes later they’ve cleared out, and No Pink Caddy is empty.
Pacing, I wait for Aaron to arrive. My finger, once again, discovers that the band aid is in place for a reason so I trace my star tattoo instead. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Brushing my hair from my face, a handful remains in my hand. Staring at the loose strands I conclude that stress is going to indeed kill me.
I discard the hair in an empty box as Aaron’s black SUV arrives out front with cars of reporters in tow. Because the store is such a short walk to my carriage house, I see some of the media running the couple of blocks. As the passenger door flies open, he ducks his head, and ignores the five reporters with cameras that have made it to the front of NPC. My door flies open with a loud whooshing noise, and the sounds of cameras clicking fill the air. Then, as it gently closes, their intrusive sounds go with it.
He takes a seat on one of the vintage stools that’s in front of the kitchen island. His brow rises, and his smile is cocky. I flush at the memory of our morning. “Come show me how much you missed me.”
My eyes dart back and forth. “I can’t.” I gesture to the sidewalk that is quickly filling up. “They’ll take a picture through the windows. This is not how I want my fans to find out that we’re back together.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he shakes his head. All cockiness is gone. “I know. How big of a problem are they?” The tone of his voice is worrisome.
I open the refrigerator and pull out some sliced deli roast beef and Havarti cheese. “Mayo or mustard?” Then I spot horseradish that I made yesterday. “Never mind.” Resting all the ingredients on the marble, I grab a loaf of sourdough bread and slice two pieces. I spread the horseradish on both sides and extract a couple of slices of meat.
I don’t know how to respond to his question. The paparazzi are a problem. When I saw them this morning, my heart raced so fast one would think I was being chased by a guy wearing a mask and carrying a chainsaw. The media doesn’t want me dead. That’s the positive.
“Put down the meat, MK,” he demands. “Talk to me.”
I look up and smirk. “Odd request from you, Mister Emerson. You normally like me touching your meat.”
His solemn expression doesn’t crack. “Answer my question.”
Finishing the sandwich assembly, I put it on a plate and slide is across the counter. “I’m assuming you’re asking professionally and not personally if they’re a concern.”
His left fist bangs on the counter so forcefully that I jump, and my eyes grow wide. “You’re damn right I’m asking about professionally. Personally, Zed will be with you at all times. You’re also moving to the New Orleans house.”
“What?” My face crinkles while my lip curls. “I am not.”
The V forms on his forehead, and there’s a tick to his clenched jaw. “Zed sure as shit isn’t sharing a one bedroom apartment with you.”
My arms cross as my face relaxes. “Good point.” I concede that one. Turning away, I gather up the food items I took out and put them in the fridge.
“You’ve told me what a problem those bastards,”—he gestures to the media outside—“were before. I will not leave you vulnerable again.”
“I’ll stay at your place until we can come up with a better plan.”
He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. “What’re you eating?”
I shake my head. The thought of food is revolting. “I’ll get something later.”
Aaron stands and walks over to my fridge. Opening the door, he begins rummaging through it, placing the things I just put up back on the counter. “I felt your fucking hips, MK. You’re too skinny. I’m making you lunch.”
I could argue, explaining all the reasons that food is inconsequential right now, but I don’t. Instead, I silently let him make a sandwich identical to his. He stands over me with a glare that could intimidate Satan himself. I take it from him and place it on a paper towel. “Happy?”
He nods. “Professionally, what are your thoughts?”
I gesture at my crowded sidewalk. “That certainly doesn’t say ‘welcome to No Pink Caddy.’ I mean who would even want to come in here? I certainly can’t film with them pressed against the windows. They’re panic inducing. That’s how big of a problem they are. Now, on the flip side, I’m sure Janet and Cindy are turning cartwheels. This is all an incredible promotion for Burnt Sugar.”
He takes another bite and replies around a mouth full of sandwich. “Security guards seem important. I’ll have Zed get two for out front and then, I’ll have one guy sleep in the store to make sure there’s no funny business.”
“Funny business?” I ask as I pick at the bread.
“Listening devices, cameras . . . that kind of shit.” He says this like it’s no big deal.
That never any occurred to me. It’s like I’m teetering on the edge of a mental cliff. So far I’ve been walking the edge of sanity, and I think I’ve done a fine job of staying on the non-crazy side. But, that comment sends me diving head first into the rocky ravine below.
My heart races, and my stomach twists into such a tight knot that I might never eat again. My head swims. “Oh God,” I gasp, standing and walking to the kitchen sink. I run the cold water and grab a towel, wetting it. Placing it on the back of my neck, I beg my body to cooperate. I’m so light headed that my knees buckle and bile comes up my throat.
He’s by my side with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, supporting my weight. “It’s okay, MK.” He kisses my hair. “Leave this to me. You’ve got nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Zed and I will make sure that your grand opening goes perfectly without any interruptions from them.”
I spit the nasty substance that’s filled my mouth into the sink. Cupping my hand, I fill it with water and bring it to my mouth, taking a sip. The water does little to wet my dry lips and kill the horrible taste. Gripping the bullnose edge of the marble, I pray to stay upright.
“MK,” he demands. “MK, look at me.” He takes the washcloth and blots my forehead and cheeks. He has the saddest eyes. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me. Trust me there’s no amount of money I won’t spend to make this better.”
His fingers tuck the strands of hair behind my ears as tears spill from my eyes. I’m shaking so violently that it’s hard for me to articulate words. “I can’t have this be a failure. Do you understand that I’ve put everything that I have inside of me into No Pink Caddy?”
He takes my hands and leads me to the barstool he was sitting on. His jaw twists and spider webs form around his clear, blue eyes. “Hey,” he says pulling out a stool and placing it next to me. “It’s not going to be, MK. You’ve got to calm down, sweetheart.”
Swallowing, I squeeze his fingers. “I’m trying.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out. “They can follow me. They can camp out at my home, but you can’t let them ruin my dream.” I take his chin and with pleading eyes, I express the words that echo in my head every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day. “If No Pink Caddy fails, it will kill me.”
He pulls me into his chest and kisses my hair. “I know, sweetheart. I know how much this means to you. You’re my number one priori
ty.”
Grasping his arm, I hold on for dear life. Slowly, I seem to gain control of my body, and I feel more able to deal with what’s been heaped on me.
“What do you think of that out there?”
He leans back and meets my eyes. “I fucking hate it, but it’s my life.”
My hand rests on his thigh. “But you’ve stayed out of the spotlight for the most part. You said that’s why you live in Austin. You spent a lot of time and money making sure Jude was not photographed. I want to know how you are.” I emphasize the word you.
“I’ve been famous long enough to know that this will pass. There’s always something more interesting and the world gets distracted.” He sighs. “We just have to stay strong while we’re the most interesting thing anyone has to talk about.”
That makes me smile. “We’re going to get through this together, right?” I ask because I need to be reassured that we’re partners in this.
“Together, sweetheart.” He takes my hand brushing his lips over my knuckles. Tingles pass through my body.
“Not to act like a mom, but remember stress makes the musician’s dystonia worse.”
Scoffing, he examines his right hand. “So far, so good.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Aaron
October
Music Times @MusicTimesMagazine
@RealJohnnyKnite stayed overnight at the home of @NoPinkCaddy
Music Times @MusicTimesMagazine
Sources confirm @RealJohnnyKnite and @NoPinkCaddy are officially an item.
MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy
@RealJohnnyKnite will you be my date to the #NPCGrandOpening party? #GirlCrush
Johnny Knite @RealJohnnyKnite
@NoPinkCaddy I’m so proud of you. Of course! #WhyAreWeTalkingViaTwitter
Jude Emerson @HorseGirl4Life
@RealJohnnyKnite and @NoPinkCaddy how come I find out y’all are dating again on Twitter. #ParentingFail
Natalie Van @SewingIsLikeCool
@NoPinkCaddy I’ve followed NPC for five years. Why did I find out you and @RealJohnnyKnite were together on the news?
“Don’t tell, MK,” I plead as I lie crumpled on the sectional in my house in New Orleans. My guitar rests on the hardwoods where it tumbled to the floor when the cramp happened. The pain is off the charts. It’s hard for me to focus, and I’m so nauseated that I’m afraid to move.