by La Jill Hunt
That’s why I looked out when I found out someone was stalking her. If anything happened to her, I don’t know what I would do. So, I had the best in the business, Landon Malone, assigned to her. I know we were both put in a bad situation, and I made it worse by saying I didn’t know who she was. But I thought we were moving past that and moving forward.
Since the accident, I have been putting things into perspective and am realizing that I can’t keep living like this, in a meaningless marriage with a woman who grates my last nerve. And just when I come to grips about what I need to do and how I need to do it, I gotta deal with this. I thought Paisley and I were on the same page, but it’s quite obvious that we’re not, and I gotta find out what the hell is going on.
Knock knock knock.
Warren walked over to the door and opened it without even seeing who it was. Paisley stood in the doorway looking fine as hell, dressed in a black shirt and jeans that hugged the contour of her shapely legs. His eyes fell on the high heels she wore, making her appear statuesque, and slowly moved up her body until they rested on her picture perfect face that he thought about nonstop. She stepped into the room without saying a word, and faced him.
“I’m here,” she said after a few moments. Warren half expected her to rush in and fall into his arms. It was, after all, the first time they had seen each other since the accident. This definitely wasn’t the reaction he expected, confirming what he already expected.
“I see,” Warren said, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her full lips. “You look good, Paisley.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She gave him a half smile, and then said, “So, what’s going on?”
“I’m wondering the same thing, Pais.” Warren shrugged. “I’ve been calling and texting you for a few days now, and you’ve been conveniently unavailable.”
“Come on, Warren, you know I’ve been dealing with a lot.” Paisley frowned. “My life is crazy right now.”
“And you think mine’s not?” Warren asked.
“I’m not saying it isn’t. The studio is back open, we got the grand opening of the club, and I’m dealing with this psycho who seems determined to make me lose my mind,” Paisley explained. Her cell phone began ringing from her purse and she ignored it.
“Are you trying to ruin me?” Warren added, taking a swig of Jack Daniels.
“What are you talking about?” Paisley gave him a strange look.
“I know that I may have hurt you in the past, and I’m sorry . . .”
“What are you talking about Warren? You’re drunk.”
“Don’t try and play me, Paisley.” Warren shook his head. “I thought the one thing that made our relationship work was the fact that we never lied to each other.”
“Are you implying that I’m lying to you, Warren?” Paisley asked. “Why would I try to ruin you? Are you crazy?”
“Then why are you doing this to me?” Warren folded his arms.
“What are you talking about?” Paisley shook her head in confusion.
“I got this in an e-mail,” Warren huffed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded picture of her and him taken years ago. Paisley was topless and so was Warren. Her hands caressed his face as she leaned back. He was kissing her neck. Anyone who saw the picture instantly knew that it was an intimate moment between two people who were in love.
“Where did you get this from?” Paisley took it from his hand and stared at it.
“I told you, it came from an e-mail. I thought you had something to do with it.”
Paisley shook her head at him. “Warren, you’ve gotta be kidding me. You think I would do something like this?”
“Well, I tried to call you and talk about it, but your ass was so busy that you couldn’t talk,” he replied.
“What e-mail address did it come from?”
“I don’t remember. Like I said, I thought you had something to do with it.”
Warren was relieved to know that the pictures hadn’t come from Paisley. He still had to wonder where the picture they had taken more than ten years ago did indeed come from.
“So, where did the picture come from Paisley, if it didn’t come from you?”
“I don’t know, Warren! The only people in the world that had copies of the pictures were you and me. Where are your copies?” Paisley snapped.
“Locked away! And what the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I would do this to us? This picture is private.” Warren’s voice softened and he added, “I wouldn’t want anyone else seeing it. It’s like . . . like invading a private memory.”
“Exactly, Warren. We gotta figure out where this came from.”
Warren stared at her. He was still in love with her. It killed him that they couldn’t be together. His heart ached every time he thought about it. Which is why he kept the pictures locked away; every time he looked at them, they reminded him of a time he could never get back. He had messed up and he knew it. But he still wanted her. He thought about the recent pictures he had seen in the tabloids of her and Python, and couldn’t help feeling jealous.
“Are you fucking somebody?” Warren asked.
“You’re crazy,” Paisley retorted. “Are you still on meds from the accident? Someone is selling private pictures of you and me together . . . provocative pictures I might add, and you’re asking me who I’m sleeping with?”
“Forget the damn pictures! I’ll take care of that. Just answer the question.” Warren took another swig. “I love you and I wanna be with you. Tell me, Paisley. I need to know!”
“Did someone really send you that picture, Warren, or are you making this up?” Paisley frowned. “Is this some kind of game you’re playing with me?”
“Answer the damn question, Paisley!” Warren stared at her. “Are you fucking Python? Or maybe you’re fucking Landon.”
Paisley’s phone began ringing and she reached into her purse and stared at it. Shaking her head, she clicked it off. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Warren. You really didn’t call me all the way over here for this bullshit. I did not leave one of the most important events in my best friend’s life to come deal with this bullshit. I’m leaving.”
Warren grabbed her by the arm. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done talking to you.”
Paisley snatched away from him. “I swear, if I find that you did sell that picture to Bad Babes, you won’t have to worry about leaving your bitch-ass wife because she’ll be a widow, believe that. I don’t know where all this is coming from, but call me when your ass sobers up.”
“You know I would never do anything like that to you, Paisley. You’re my everything.”
Warren pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue. She struggled at first, then relaxed and kissed him back. Just as he felt himself becoming aroused, she pushed him and he stumbled backward.
“No, Warren!” she said. “I’m not doing this.”
Her phone began ringing again. She shook her head as she walked past him, heading toward the door.
“Don’t,” he told her, struggling to get up. “Paisley, I love you.”
She turned and stared at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I love you too, Warren. That’s the problem.”
Kollette
Oh, hell no. This is not happening. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill her. How dare she? I mean, does she really think I’m gonna let her disrespect me and my marriage like this and get away with it? Well, if she does, she has another think coming. I knew I would catch them eventually. Warren has been acting crazy these days. He’s so damn somber and sour that no one even enjoys being around him. And it has nothing to do with the accident.
He’s been like this for months. He won’t talk to me, let alone touch me. I’ve known for a while that he had something going on but I thought it was with that stuck-up, know-it-all Ebonie. I don’t like the way she looks at me. Like she’s better than me. Like I’m not Mrs. Warren Cobb. When I got the call
that Warren and a woman were involved in a car crash, my first thought was that it was Ebonie. To find out that it was Paisley Lawrence, a video ho of all people, was devastating to me. How could Warren be so stupid? This woman is the epitome of skank-ness, I don’t care how beautiful and sexy she is. Sensual Seductress my ass. She’s a disrespectful bitch who needs to be taught a lesson. I’m tired of her, and if she and Warren think that I’m about to just sit back and continue to let them have their little secret rendezvous, they’ve got another think coming.
“I love you too, Warren. That’s the problem.” Paisley’s voice drifted down the hall.
“Paisley, Paisley, come back!” Warren called out.
Kollette watched as Paisley closed the door of Warren’s suite and rushed to the elevator. This bitch has the nerve to be crying? Kollette could feel her anger rising and, in a brief moment, thought about walking up to her and punching her in the face. No, she told herself, that would just make me look bad. It’s time I show both of them what I’m capable of. Once Paisley got on the elevator, Kollette grabbed her phone and dialed.
“Ebonie, it’s Kollette.” She was direct and to the point. “I need you to meet me at the office right now. We need to make some calls and set up a press conference for first thing in the morning. What do you mean? Listen here, sweetie, that’s where you’re wrong. You don’t work for Warren, you work for the Ministry. Now stop what you’re doing and get your ass over to the office right now before you don’t work for anyone.”
Chapter 17
“You a’ight?” Nick asked as Paisley got into the car. She said nothing as she climbed into his awaiting Trooper. Ignoring the tears that were streaming down her face, she pulled the seatbelt across her body, closed her eyes, and leaned back. The SUV jerked as Nick pulled out of the back parking lot of the hotel, where Paisley had specifically told him to wait.
Did Warren actually just come out of his mouth and threaten me? Does he really think he has that much control and power over my life? No way, it had to be the alcohol talking.
“Where to?” Nick’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Paisley had become so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost forgot where she was and who she was with. Glancing over at the young, handsome driver, she just shrugged. Although she knew that returning to Street Dreams was the obvious choice, Paisley didn’t have the energy to face the crowd or her friends, who were probably pissed that she left the way she had.
“Can we just ride around for a while?” she finally answered.
“Sure thing,” he replied, reaching into the center console and putting a CD into the dashboard player. The jazz melody of Pharrell and Snoop Dogg’s “Beautiful” streamed through the speakers. “You like Hidden Beach music? I love it; makes me relax.”
“My life is so fucked up right now that I don’t even know what that is anymore,” Paisley mumbled, closing her eyes again.
“Huh?” Nick asked, turning the music down a little.
“Nothing,” Paisley answered, “I was just thinking out loud. The music is nice.”
Paisley’s eyes opened for a moment and she saw that they were on the interstate. She wondered if Nick had a specific destination in mind, but she didn’t bother to ask. It dawned on her that she really had no idea who Nick was other than the fact that he worked at Java’s and was a computer whiz.
What the hell are you doing, Paisley? You’re in a strange car with a strange man. No one has a clue where you are or who you’re with. What if he tries to kidnap you, rape you, or worse, kill you?
She glanced over at Nick and saw him nodding along to the music. For some reason, there was something about him that put her at ease. He was so nerdy and quirky, but in a cute way. It was as if there was a familiarity about him that she liked.
He looked over and gave her a half smile and said, “You okay? You want something to eat? Drink? Gotta pee?”
“Pee?” she repeated, smiling.
“Just thought I’d ask,” he said. “I gotta get some gas and my ex-girl once commented that I never thought to ask if she had to use the bathroom when I pulled into a gas station. Something about cheap gas means nasty bathrooms or something.”
“No, I don’t have to use the bathroom.” Paisley sighed. “Thanks for asking though.”
“No problem. I guess that was the one good thing I got from that relationship,” he commented. He got off the next exit and drove past several grungy gas stations, finally pulling into a brightly lit 7-Eleven. As he got out, he told her, “Just in case.”
Paisley reached into her purse and took out her cell phone. She cut it on and decided that she should at least let everyone know that she was okay. She sent a text to Fallon and Seymone, simply saying: What’s up? Not feeling good, dipped out. Call you later.
Within moments, her cell phone alerted her with messages from both of them, neither one too pleasant. She responded to both with a simple sorry and turned the phone back off.
“I brought you a Slurpee.” Nick passed her a cup as he got back in. “Coke-flavored, your favorite.”
“Thanks,” Paisley said, surprised.
“And guess what else?” he said, reaching into the plastic bag he was holding.
“What?”
“Almond M&M’s!”
She looked at him like he was crazy, hesitating to take them until he said, “Um, I read your interview last year in King magazine. They asked you what your vices in life were, remember?”
Paisley relaxed, and couldn’t help laughing as she thought about the interview in which she admitted that when she was stressed, she would indulge in Coke Slurpees and almond M&Ms. “I forgot. Thanks a lot.”
“You look a little stressed so I figured I would help you out,” he told her. Soon, they were back on the interstate, headed to their unknown destination. Paisley appreciated the fact that Nick wasn’t trying to talk her to death. It was as if he needed this ride as much as she did. They were both in their own little worlds, neither one saying anything, just enjoying the lull of the road and the hip-hop jazz coming from the speakers.
Things seemed to be going well until Paisley noticed Nick speeding up and continually checking his mirrors. “What’s wrong?”
He frowned. “I think someone is following us.”
“What?” Paisley sat up and turned around. There was a pair of brightly lit headlights riding behind them. “Stop playing.”
“I don’t know. I could be tripping, but hold tight, because I’m about to find out.”
Nick swerved from the far right lane they had been riding in, across two other lanes and into the far left lane. Sure enough, the headlights followed. “I knew it!”
“Who the hell is that?” Paisley’s body twisted as she turned around to see if she could make out the car.
“I don’t know. They’ve been behind us for a minute. I thought I was being paranoid when I went to the gas station and they kept going.” Nick frowned.
“Why the hell didn’t you say something then?” Paisley snapped, now looking into the side mirror.
“I told you, I didn’t realize someone was really following us,” Nick said.
“I know it’s some dumb-ass photographer.” Paisley shook her head. “I thought I ditched all of them at the club.”
“We’re being chased by paparazzi?” Nick’s eyes widened. “Aw, hell.”
“Calm down,” she said. “They—”
“Calm down? Does the name Princess Diana ring a bell?” Nick interrupted her. He increased his speed and changed lanes again. The lights followed, this time even closer.
“Just try to lose them,” Paisley told him.
“Uh, duh! What do you think I’m trying to do?” Nick got off at the next exit onto a dark road, and floored it. The faster he went, the closer the lights behind them got.
“Where the hell are the damn state troopers when you need them? If I was going two miles-per-hour over the limit, their asses would be right swarming around me, guns cocked and loaded to take me out. Any oth
er time they would be ready to racially profile my black ass, but nooo, here I am going damn near ninety-six miles-an-hour and not a freakin’ blue light in sight. Ain’t this a bitch?” Nick seemed to be talking to himself.
Paisley exhaled loudly and braced herself in the speeding vehicle. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, quickly dialing 911.
“We’re being chased on the interstate!” she yelled into the phone when she heard the operator’s voice. “Someone is following us!”
“What is your location, ma’am?” The operator’s nonchalance irritated Paisley.
“Um, I don’t know . . . Where are we, Nick?”
“We’re on route Thirteen! We got off at exit two-forty-one!” Nick answered.
Paisley repeated the information to the operator.
“East or west, ma’am?” the operator asked.
“Hell, I don’t know!” Paisley replied. Her heart was pounding as she tried to see some type of landmark. Nick was driving so erratically that everything seemed to whiz past. Frustrated she took a guess. “East!”
“Okay, ma’am, I’m trying to get you some help, but I need to get some information from you. What type of vehicle are you in?”
“We’re in a black Isuzu Trooper.”
“And what type of car is the person following you driving?”
“I don’t know. They’re behind us with their high beams on. I can’t tell,” Paisley spat into the phone.
“Hold on!” Nick yelled, turning the steering wheel hard to the left. Tires screeched and flashbacks of the accident flashed in Paisley’s head. She screamed, and she felt Nick’s arm holding her back like her mother used to do when she slammed on brakes. Nick’s truck spun around and slid, and Paisley heard the squeaking of tires from the vehicle behind them.