by Lyn Rosella
Lexi finally put an end to our face-off. "I have a number," she said, "No address and there's no way the company will release it to me. But I can text it to you."
"Right now?"
She sighed and pulled out her phone.
◦◦◦
I didn't try to get in touch with him right away. Truth was, I had no idea what to say. He'd been so casual about walking out and had disappeared so quickly - would he want to hear from me at all?
There was only one way to find out. Maybe I just wasn't ready for the answer yet.
Luckily I had a grueling rehearsal schedule to distract me. The tour was three months away - it might have sounded like a lot of time, but I knew how fast it would go by.
And I knew I wanted him there with me, on the road. He made me feel safer than any security team before him every had. That news story be damned - it was tragic but it was a long time ago, and no article on the internet could tell me what had really happened - only Vaughn himself could do that.
It was a whole week before I finally worked up the nerve to send a message. I stretched out in bed, sore all over after spending the day learning a series of new steps and high-kicks to a remix of an old song. The television was on but it was muted. And Vaughn's gift lurked in the back of my nightstand drawer.
The thought of that pink monster gave me the idea. A big part of me wanted to hold it up near my cheek, take a selfie, and send it to him. But the thought of that photo ever getting leaked made my insides go cold with dread, so I scrapped that idea.
But how much harm could a few dirty words do?
And what should I say? I didn't want to sound too pathetic, too needy. I didn't want to beg. I had to be careful though - as he'd said so clearly before, he had to be the one calling the shots. I still couldn't believe that I was okay with such an arrangement, but now wasn't the time to question it. Now was the time to bring him back to me.
Hands unsteady, I tapped out the message on my phone - "I'm ready for my next assignment, sir." I took a deep breath before hitting "send." That had to do it. It was the right thing to say - I wasn't demanding anything. I wasn't even asking for anything. I was just letting him know that I was waiting.
And wait I did - all night long. He never responded at all.
Another day, another dance, another talk show appearance. I should have been thrilled. My tour had sold out as soon as the tickets went on sale and the hype was off the charts.
But it was time to face the music, so to speak. The rumor mills kept right on churning and I couldn't put it off forever - I had to do a little damage control regarding the pictures in the hotel that night.
So why not a talk show? Why not talk about it in front of millions while I was still missing him and wondering where he was?
I was the first guest up that night. It had been five days since my text and I'd given up any hope of hearing back. I entertained the possibility that the phone number was wrong or that he simply never saw it, but that was just denying the harsh truth of it - he was through with me.
"Let's have a round of applause for Zenaida!"
I should be above talk show appearances by now, I thought bitterly as I strode across the stage to shake the host's hand. Harper Moore was new on the late night scene, but was a very good host from what I'd heard. As long as he didn't do the same awkward thing that so many white hosts before him did and try to be cute about repeating hip hop slang and lyrics, we would get along fine.
"Thanks for having me, Harper," I said, curtsying to the audience before taking the seat next to his desk. He circled around to his chair while the audience remained on their feet, clapping and cheering like mad. It was nice to see people so excited to see me - I needed the reminder sometimes that this was all for the fans. It was too easy to lose track and get caught up in industry politics and personal drama - as I very much had been, lately.
"So as everybody knows, you've got a big tour coming up." The audience went wild once again, and he had to raise his voice to get them to settle down. "Tickets sold out in record time, they’re being scalped for record profits. How do you feel, are you excited?"
"I feel blessed. I feel... lucky," I recited, using the words I'd rehearsed backstage with Lexi. "I can't wait for everybody to see the show."
"And for people who couldn't get tickets?" he asked, "Because you know how quickly you sold out, not everybody who wanted to see you is going to get to be there."
"We'll be live streaming every concert," I said, smiling at the audience. That earned another round of cheers.
"What can we expect this tour?" he asked. "Any new songs, any surprises?"
"Oh, Harper, you know I've always got something up my sleeve." Which was ridiculous, because my top was sleeveless. He laughed.
"All right, all right, so, not to change the subject..." You can't wait to change the subject, liar. "But can you fill us in on these rumors? I'm sure you've seen the picture online." He gestured at the screen next to his desk where the photo of Vaughn and me was on full display. "Am I right if I say you're having a little 'office romance' of sorts?"
I shot him my most practiced, fierce smile. "Now now, Harper, I am a single woman, so something like this isn't exactly scandalous." The audience laughed. "And you don't know what I was doing there. There's no photos of me in that room. Perhaps I was giving singing lessons!" That brought even more laughter - singing lessons at three in the morning? No one was buying that.
"Well, we heard the unfortunate fellow lost his job."
I looked down at my hands. Of course the security company had let him go right away, having an affair with a client was way against the rules. "An unfortunate consequence," I said, "And one I myself didn't think about at the time." Appear apologetic, Lexi had coached, Don't start ranting against the company or the business or the rules, it will make everything worse.
"And are you two still seeing each other? Are you an item?"
We are not, I was supposed to say, We've gone our separate ways. My heart seized up - Lexi was going to flip, but I was going off-script. I had to get his damn attention, I couldn't quit and leave things as they were.
"I don't know what we are," I said. Harper blinked at the change but let me continue. "I haven't seen him since the photo was taken. I've been trying to reach him but I haven't had much luck," I said, chuckling at how pathetic I sounded.
The studio was silent at my admission. Harper cleared his throat and went off-script with me, reading the situation well. "If you could say anything to him right now, what would it be?"
I looked straight into the camera as I spoke. "I'd tell him I'm waiting. Patiently. Quietly. Just waiting." That hinted at more than I wanted it to, but it was the most balanced thing I could think of to say. "Call me, you bastard," would have driven him further away and "Please, sir," wasn't something the rest of the nation needed to hear.
Now I just had to hope he happened to be watching. What were the odds?
◦◦◦
I found out as soon as the interview was over. I'd stayed on script for the rest of it, much to Harper's relief, I was sure. And Lexi settled for one dirty look over a lecture when I returned to my dressing room.
"Here," she said when her scowl was out of her system. She handed me my phone. "You've got a message."
My heart leapt into my throat.
"Yeah, yeah," Lexi said, "Everybody out, we know the drill." She didn't seem too upset, though, despite her eye rolls. If she's getting complacent then it might be time for a promotion.
As soon as the last person had left the room I settled into my chair to read the text.
"Meet me at Laughton's Brewery. 1:30." Well, he'd never been big on words. I wasn't sure what more I expected. I clutched the phone to my chest right over my racing heart. Get it together, Zenaida, I scolded myself. Just because he was willing to meet up didn't mean anything.
And I'd have to be careful not to be spotted. Not that the cat wasn't already out of the bag, but we couldn't have much of a con
versation if we had a flock of cameras in our face.
"Lexi!" I called. She peeked her head inside. "What wigs do we have with us?"
Lexi insisted on sending our on-duty bodyguard along to keep an eye out for me. It wasn't necessary but I wasn't up for a fight, so I let the man come along. If nothing else, he could keep the driver company.
Laughton's Brewery was a tiny hole-in-the-wall of a bar that had its own line of beer. I'd never been there and had never tried it - I was more of a cocktail lounge girl myself - but Vaughn was calling the shots. Besides, nobody would ever expect to find me in there. We'd be relatively safe from prying eyes.
The inside was small and dark and I didn't see him right away. Someone wolf-whistled as I stood in the doorway. I quickly scampered inside.
A hand waved from somewhere near the back. I followed it and found him in a booth at the very end of the bar, alone, nursing a beer.
"Hey," I said, suddenly shy. It was strange to see him out in public not wearing his usual suit. He was dressed very casually in a well-worn t-shirt that showed off his strong arms.
"Hey," he said, his blue eyes meeting mine. Even in that dim light I could make out their color. "Do you want a drink?" I nodded. "Sit down."
I slid inside the booth as he slid out and approached the bar. It was oddly reminiscent of another night, another time, when I'd hired him out just so that I could see him. I'd had no sense of his mood then and I had no sense of it now.
"Here," he said, sliding a short glass of whiskey my way before returning to his spot, sitting next to me in the booth.
"I guess you saw the show?" I asked.
"I did." He started down into his beer.
"You didn't answer my text."
"I know. I thought it would be better if I stayed away."
"But you invited me here tonight."
He nodded. "When I saw you on the television..." He sighed. "I'm sorry about the mess, for what it's worth. I'm sure the gossip mags are having a field day with it."
"You haven't been reading them?" I took a sip of my drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol.
"No. God, no," he laughed. "I don't need to re-live any of that shit. The past belongs in the past."
"Well, I'm sorry, for what it's worth," I said, resting a hand on his forearm. Just the feel of his skin sent tingles down to my toes. "It must have been terrible."
"Karma got me back," he said, and I cringed, reminded of his scars. Karmic retribution, he’d called them.
"Don't say that," I said, "You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of it."
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't know me that well, honey."
I squeezed his arm. I didn't have much to say to that. I knew how I felt about him, and how he made me feel, but of his past? His life outside of the industry? I didn't know squat. "What if I want to change that?"
"No." He pushed my hand away. "You're calling me out because you need closure. That, I can do for you. But nothing more."
"Why?" I hated that my voice cracked again. This was supposed to be an affair, a sex thing, wasn't it? So why was I so emotional? I didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm sorry," I said, "About the job. About everything."
"Don't worry about the job. I change jobs more often than I change socks."
I leaned in closer. "I've missed having you around," I said, "And I don't just mean when we're... you know. Alone."
He chuckled, turning to face me, close enough for me to smell the beer on his breath. "You'll find another bodyguard."
"I don't want another bodyguard." I angled my face, begging for a kiss with my eyes. If I can just get him to touch me maybe this will all be okay. "I just want you, Vaughn. Sir."
His eyes flashed with heat, and then his lips were on mine. Yes, I rejoiced. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in tighter. His kiss was firm, his mouth demanding. It lit a fire in my belly as I melted beneath him, sinking into his embrace as he wrapped one arm around my waist.
It was exactly the sort of scorching kiss that I'd been craving since we'd been apart. It felt so good and so right to be devoured by him, my lips and my mouth taken, bruised, controlled. A ragged moan breathed out from between us - I wasn't even sure who'd made the sound - but it seemed to startle him. I was left breathless as he tore himself away.
"I shouldn't have done that," he said, shaking his head. He backed out of the booth, away from me, looking as pained as I felt. "This was just a sex thing, Zenaida," he said, his voice firm. "That's all. And it's over. Let it go."
I bit back my protests as he turned and strode through the bar, heading for the door like he was being chased. He wasn't going to listen, he was too wrapped up in his own head.
And, he was right. It was just a sex thing; it was just a brief, short-term fling. It was wild and intense and unlike anything I'd ever felt before, but it didn't mean anything. As he'd said, I barely knew a thing about him.
So why did it feel like my world was crumbling as I watched him walk away?
I was nervous about an appearance for the first time in what felt like ages. It was just a red carpet charity event, one that I would not be singing for. But I'd be interviewed - I always was.
And I had some news to deliver. News that would be talked about outside of gossip mags and blogs. It wouldn't exactly be breaking news but it would play across all the morning shows and would be widely talked about by anyone who was even remotely a fan. The news would have to reach him.
I was not the sort of woman that people said "no" to. I got my way, one way or another, and I wasn't ready to let Vaughn go yet. This is more about his guilt than it is about how he feels about me. I know it. He just needs to see it.
Or hear it. Really hear it.
"Zenaida! Zenaida!" Cameras flashed, threatening to blind me in my distracted state. Lexi and Gavin both followed with their clipboards as I made my way down the step and repeat wall, striking poses in my cheetah-spotted minidress. Not the classiest thing I'd worn, but it was an attention-grabber.
"Zenaida!" I stepped over to one of the reporters raising a hand. I recognized him - one of the corespondents from the network Harper's show aired on. Perfect. I already knew that Vaughn watched Harper's show once in a while, and this would definitely get mentioned. Joked about, but mentioned.
"Good to see you," I said, though I forgot his name. He shot off his questions rapid-fire. He'd want to cover as many celebrities as he could grab. "Who are you wearing, how do you feel about the charity, how are tour preparations coming?"
"Well, I've got one surprise for the tour you might want to know about."
He paused, unprepared for more than a stock answer. "Care to tell us about it?"
"I've written a love song."
Not only did his eyes go wide, so did the crew's around him. At least I'd been kind enough to prepare my assistants. They'd surely be harassed for more information themselves later.
"Oh!" the reporter said, regaining his composure. "That's huge news! Zenaida the pop diva who never writes love songs has gone and done it! Can you tell us more?"
"It's about... possibilities," I said, smiling for the camera and batting my oversized eyelashes. "And it's about second chances. And forgiveness."
I’d written the whole thing in one mad fit of insomnia. A song hadn’t just come to me like that in a long time, and that was how I knew it was right. It was real.
"Well it sounds amazing and we can't wait to hear it," he said. "Can you sing us a few lines?"
"Not here!" I said, waving my hand at the crowd behind me. "But soon! It's all written and we're rehearsing it and I'm sure that everybody will love it."
"Well we can't wait, thank you, Zenaida," he said as I made a graceful exit.
There. That ought to grab Vaughn's attention, I thought as I finally made my way inside for the dinner. And if it doesn't, I'll find another way.
Unfortunately, my little stunt had unintended consequences. Some I hadn't even considered, though I would have if
I didn't have my head so far up my ass.
"Zenaida!" A different reporter - one I didn't recognize - called out to me from behind the rope when we were all exiting the venue at the end of the event. I gave her a nod. "Sources are claiming that your new song is about your old flame, Camden, is it true?"
I recoiled as if slapped. "Fuck, no!" I said. Lexi and Gavin hustled me past before I could tear the woman a new asshole.
“Who the fuck are these ‘sources?’” I demanded as they followed me into the back of our limo.
They sighed simultaneously as they stared down at their phones. "Twitter," Lexi said, "Fuck does news travel fast. Your Facebook page is getting flooded."