WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two

by Juliet Braddock

  Lexi was cute and bubbly with red hair that clearly wasn’t her natural color. She was young, perhaps a couple of years younger than Drew, with a vivacious personality that captured the attention of anyone in her presence. A kiss on each cheek greeted Maxine as she mustered up her courage and introduced herself. By the time Randy arrived—fifteen minutes fashionably late—she and Lexi were old friends.

  Randy was, to Maxine’s surprise, dressed rather casually in a pair of khakis and tight-fitting baby blue cashmere sweater. With his employ, she had just assumed he’d be wearing an Armani suit. These days, reporters tried to dress the part of their often famous subjects.

  He’d offered them both a perfunctory shake, then took his seat at the table. With his thick black hair spiked with a touch of gel and his piercing silver eyes that Maxine was certain could slice right through a person, he intimidated with his presence alone.

  Momentarily, Maxine wondered if Randy was one of those wanna-be critics who went into reporting just to spew his hatred for the theater. There were many of them out there in the realm of theatrical journalism. However, she shoved that thought to the side and sat back quietly while Lexi chatted away with him.

  It was nearly four-thirty by the time they’d wrapped up their conversation, and Lexi hurried off to the theater to get ready for that evening’s performance. Jillian was right; she was superb with the press. She knew exactly what to say and how to say it.

  “So…” Randy began, “I’m trying to build up a network here with this new position at the Times.”

  “Yes…?” Maxine said and raised her eyebrows. He was truly making her a nervous wreck with that glacial glare.

  “Well, I know that D & D has a ton of theater clients, so maybe we can make this…beneficial on both ends here…”

  “I’d be happy to talk to you about our other clients,” she said, sitting up straight in her seat, her back pressing flat against the chair rest. “You know, we represent Jeremy Martin who’s doing his—”

  “Yeah…Jeremy and his one-man show,” Randy said. “I believe we just profiled him with his last big musical. I’m looking for someone who hasn’t had as much attention. Like…a Drew McKenzie. He’s got the lead role of the entire season. You guys rep him, don’t you?”

  Drew…the Times wanted to talk to Drew! And technically, she wasn’t his publicist. “My colleague, Jillian McGee, handles all of his interviews. I can certainly have her contact—”

  “I hear that he turns down a lot of press opportunities,” Randy continued. “Is that true?”

  “I really…” Maxine hesitated for only a second as she prepared her explanation. “Jillian can best answer all of your questions regarding Mr. McKenzie.”

  “Yeah…McKenzie’s the one I really want to talk to. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”

  “I will let her know the second I leave here today.”

  “And would you like a drink, Maxine?” he asked with a nod toward the small first-floor bar that sat just to the left of the entryway.

  “Uh…no, thank you…Mr. Mansfield” she stammered and motioned for the check from their server. Quickly, she placed the corporate card that Jeffrey had given her in the leather billfold and passed it over. She hoped the waiter wouldn’t be long with the receipt. This guy—reporter or not—just left her feeling jittery.

  “It’s Randy—please,” he insisted.

  “And likewise, please call me Maxine.”

  “Speaking of—you can call me anytime,” he said, watching her every nervous twitch from across the table as he slipped his business card to her.

  She flashed him her quickest and best smile, hoping that he’d allow this meeting to break soon. “Sure thing. And I’ll make sure that Jillian reaches out to you next week.”

  “And…uh…I don’t mean to get too personal here, but…” he said, tracing his thumb around his water glass. His eyes never left hers. “You dating anyone, Miss Kirk?”

  “Actually, yes,” she breathed a sigh of relief. And while the words felt so very strange for Maxine to utter, she said, “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Lucky guy, he is,” he muttered and turned off his recorder. Maxine hadn’t realized that it was still running. “And a shame for the rest of us.”

  Under normal circumstances, Maxine didn’t quite know how to respond to such compliments. Now with this man making her nearly nuts with his strange behavior, she thought she was nearly going to fall apart. Fuckballs.

  “Well, thank you again for taking the time to meet with Lexi today,” Maxine said and pushed herself up from the table as she extended her hand. Cold. Again. “I’m looking forward to the story and do let me know if I can get you any additional information.”

  “I think we’re set,” he said, still holding on to Maxine’s delicate fingers. “For now at least.”

  “Have a good weekend,” she nodded before she turned quickly and nearly bolted for the door.

  “You, too, Maxine…” he whispered and took one last sip from his wine glass. “You, too.”

  # # #

  “How about you meet us at the bar and tell me everything then?” Jillian suggested before Maxine could get in a word edgewise about her afternoon. “You’re near Sardi’s right now? Why don’t we all meet at Playwright Tavern? It’s just a couple of blocks away. Straight up Broadway.”

  Maxine actually planned to go out with Ben for a little while that night before Drew finished with rehearsals. However, she had to talk to Jillian. That whole afternoon upset her terribly. She could only hope that she didn’t wreck the story for Lexi.

  “Had the shittiest day,” Jillian continued on. “And so did Jeffrey, so he’ll probably be with me…”

  “Must be something in the water…”

  “Oh, no!” Jillian squealed. “Did Lexi fuck up with the Times? Sometimes she can put her foot in her mouth and—”

  “No, that was all fine,” Maxine’s voice soothed. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  “So you’ll come to the bar?”

  “Can my roomie tag along?”

  “You mean Ben?” Jillian asked. “Of course! The more the merrier. Call Mack, too, and see if he’ll drop in after rehearsal. It’ll be like Old Home Week!”

  Mack was actually her next call—right after she texted Ben to tell him where to meet her—and she decidedly chose to spare him the details of Randy Mansfield’s proposition until later in the evening…after he had a couple of drinks. For the moment, she kept her message light as she trudged up Broadway, weaving through the throngs of tourists. The last thing she wanted was for Drew to storm out of rehearsals and barge into the Times building to throttle Randy Mansfield into the screen of his laptop.

  Playwright Tavern, by far, was no elegant, five-star extravaganza. But the legendary Irish pub's location near the center of Times Square made it a hotspot for both tourists and theater personnel alike. The crowd was filled with single middle-aged women, hordes of gay men, stagehands, and a handful of actors.

  Early that Friday evening, the place was crowded, yet not packed to its usual pre-theater capacity. However, just as she’d stepped inside the entryway, Maxine’s phone began to ring.

  On a break in between scenes, Drew promised he’d be there soon. While he wanted nothing more than to just steal her away that night, he hadn’t had the chance to spend much time with Jeffrey in a while, and it would look good for Maxine to schmooze a bit with her superiors. They’d put in their appearance, but he did have plans for her later.

  Just as she ended her call, Ben snuck up from behind and scratched his fingers against her ribs. Promptly, she turned with a sharp cry and swatted him on the arm. He knew that she hated nothing more than to be tickled!

  “Good to see you, too, Cap!” he said. “Where’s the bosses? And the boyfriend?”

  “They’re on the way—and Drew’s stuck in rehearsals for a bit longer,” she said. “Not to worry. The party shall begin shortly.”

  “So you had a rough day?” Ben aske
d.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to keep repeating myself. I’ll tell you once everyone else is here…”

  “Nothing with the Drewmeister, I hope?”

  “Oh, no!” she said. “All is fine there…” For now. Until I tell him about Randy Mansfield.

  “There’s the girl of the hour!” Jeffrey’s voice called out from halfway down the short block as he hurried along to pat Maxine on the back. “Congrats on the Times. Now, let’s get some drinks. I just love it when one of my clients decides to OD and completely wreck a suite at the fucking Waldorf!” Jeffrey reached out and shook an amused Ben’s hand. They were all in trouble. Ben was wearing his lavender contact lenses.

  “At least it wasn’t The Liberty Inn—they rent by the hour,” Ben joked in reference to Jeffrey’s mention of the drug-addled actress after whom he’d been cleaning up that entire day. “So I’ve heard...”

  “I’m Jeffrey…” he chuckled catching the purple hues of Ben’s gaze. “And you must be the roomie…?”

  “Ben Worthington. And yes, I live with the Captain here.”

  “Captain Kirk…you’re funny. Let’s go inside, shall we, all?” Jeffrey said, stepping back to allow Ben to pass through the door before him. If Maxine and Jillian hadn’t been so caught up in their own stress, they might have noticed that there was a bit of flirtation going on between the boys.

  Long and narrow, the pub sprawled over three levels of hardwood floors and brick walls with doors and steps that seemed to lead to nowhere. Jeffrey insisted upon finding seats upstairs to enjoy the view from the huge windows and was in a hurry to sit down. Unfortunately, between himself and Jillian, they knew almost everyone sitting at the downstairs bar. It took them nearly twenty minutes just to reach their destination. Air kisses. Cheek kisses. The occasional hug. Jeffrey and Jillian seemed to share a welcoming routine with each and every regular in the joint.

  Once they’d finally climbed the steep, creaky staircase, they’d slipped up to the bartender, and Jeffrey started a tab.

  “I guess you've been in here before?” Ben mused.

  “A few times,” Jeffrey smiled.

  “So what the hell happened with the Times?” Jillian asked suddenly, turning all eyes to Maxine. “You said the interview went well?”

  “Yes, it did—Lexi was fantastic,” Maxine began. “But then after she’d left…things got a little strange…”

  Frowning, Jeffrey asked, “How so?”

  “Well, he wanted to know about our other clients, so I started telling him…and then he asked about Drew. I told him that Jillian handled all of his publicity and that she’d be in touch very soon.”

  “Okay…that’s good!” Jeffrey said.

  “I’m not sure though, Jeffrey,” Maxine said. “He mentioned how Drew refuses interviews. I’d just…maybe I’m being over-protective here, but I’d tread carefully with him.”

  “See, Jill,” Jeffrey said, pointing to Maxine. “She’s just like you, a few years back. She has an instinct for this business.”

  In kind, Maxine could only blush at his compliment.

  “But then…” She brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down. “He tried to buy me a drink and wanted to know if I was dating anyone…”

  “Shit, you did have a bad afternoon, didn’t you?” Jillian said, slugging back her Cosmo.

  “Damn, girl!” Ben patted her on the back. “And you told him…?”

  “Uh…that I have a boyfriend, thank you very much!”

  “What happened then? Are you alright?” Jillian hovered like a mother hen. “And you didn’t let on that you’re seeing Drew…”

  Maxine shrugged. “Yeah, I'm okay. It was just strange,” she said. “And no—I didn’t tell him one word about Drew.”

  “What a pig,” Jeffrey shook his head. “Who knew?”

  “But I didn’t want to burn my relationship with the Times,” Maxine continued. “I just made my exit as gracefully as possible.”

  “After he made a play for you…”

  “Who the fuck made a play for my Maxine?” Drew’s voice thundered suddenly from behind.

  “Fuckballs…”

  Together, Jeffrey and Jillian whipped their heads around to look at Maxine. “What?” they said in unison.

  “Fuckballs. Maxine’s favorite word. I taught her how to swear,” Drew said rather proudly. “But who the fuck hit on you?”

  “Shush, buddy,” Jeffrey lifted his finger to his lips. “Times reporter. Randy Mansfield.”

  “He’s in here? Where the fuck is he?” Drew said as he turned around, looking left and right while his hand slowly formed a fist. Maxine giggled. No man had ever fought physically for her honor before. “I’m gonna…”

  “No, he’s not here. And you’re gonna sit your ass on that last open stool right there and shut the fuck up,” Jeffrey said. “I’ve already had to deal with one asshole client today. I shall take no shit from you tonight.”

  “And you need to play nice because Randy wants to interview you!” Jillian said.

  “Fuck. Balls!” he nearly spit. “I’m not doing the interview.”

  “That’s fine,” Jillian said. She was quite used to Drew’s refusals.

  “Asshole hits on my lady and expects me to talk to him!” Drew shook his head, then slipped up behind Maxine. Casually, he moved her hair aside and kissed her on the neck. And he didn’t seem to care that all eyes were upon them. “Are you okay, little one? Did he…he didn’t…”

  “No, he didn’t touch me, Drew,” she assured him and caught his lips against hers. “And he doesn’t know that we’re dating, just for the record.”

  “Don’t worry, Broadway Boy, she held her own,” Ben chimed in.

  “Did you just call him Broadway Boy?” Jeffrey asked. “Oh, I must really have a lengthy conversation with you before this evening ends.”

  “Why do I suddenly feel like the fifth wheel here?” Jillian whispered to Maxine with a glance toward Ben and Jeffrey. “So how’s rehearsals going, Mack?”

  “Not ready to write my Tony speech yet, but talk to me after we open,” he said. Maxine was pleased that Jillian could divert his attention away from any possibly nefarious suitors edging their way into her little life. “So will you be joining us next weekend for my mother’s soiree in the Hamptons?”

  “Aw, I can’t this year,” Jillian said regretfully. “Home to Michigan for my cousin’s wedding. Always the bridesmaid, you know…”

  “There’s always that brother of mine…” Drew reminded her. “He’s taken quite a fancy to you over the years…”

  “You know, Drew, one of these days, I’m going to agree to a date with Adam if for no other reason than to make him stop!” However, Drew was laughing too hard to take offense to her comment. “You just wait til you meet him, Max. You must text me.”

  “Shhh…” Drew said, leaning over toward Jillian. “I want her to be surprised—get the full effect of him.”

  “Yeah, if he doesn’t hit on her, too!” Jillian said.

  “Don’t give me nightmares…” Drew warned. “Likely, though, he’ll just pump her for information on you, Jill….”

  Their banter continued on for well over an hour, but when the clock struck seven, Drew decided that it was time to carry Maxine off into the sunset. While Ben looked a little forlorn, Maxine reminded them that the night was still young and that the party didn’t necessarily have to end with their departure. However, she had her own drama unfolding before her. Drew was quite antsy to get her out of there, and Maxine couldn’t wait to be alone with him.

  “Five days and four hours since I’ve been inside you, Maxine,” Drew whispered as they clomped down the narrow staircase to exit. “I don’t know if I can keep up like this…”

  “We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?” She continued to clutch his hand but took just a few steps ahead, playfully wiggling her bottom all the way out of the bar to the far corner where Lou was waiting, parked illegally. “Maybe we can schedule slee
povers during the week? Your place or mine…?”

  He nearly climbed on top of her after they’d crawled into the backseat, but he stopped himself and sat on his knees while he fastened her seatbelt for what might just be a bumpy night.

  “I like the way you think, little one…” His finger traveled over her open lips, circling around then back again as he watched her hips gyrate against the seatbelt. “Too tight?”

  She nodded. “Yes…”

  “Good,” he said, then settled himself beside her to buckle up himself.

  “Okay, yous two…” Lou’s gravelly voice rattled from the front seat. “Ready for the next stop?”

  “Fort McKenzie, please…” Maxine giggled.

  “Or not…” Drew whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Maxine,” he answered. “Mind your manners and don’t be so nosy.”

  Clearly, they weren’t on their way back to his apartment. Lou continued on down the block, heading East in the opposite direction. Once again, Mack had something up his sleeve.

  “Drew, where—”

  As he raised his hand, he turned his head away. “Infraction Number One this evening.”

  “But what did I—”

  “Where are we going?” he mocked her. “Next it’ll be, ‘Are we there yet?’”

  Crossing her arms in front of her, she muttered, “Humph.”

  “Infraction Number Two: Pouting.” For sport, he folded his own arms across his chest and pulled in one seething sigh. “Let’s try for three…”

  This rancorous repartee between them only enhanced her existing arousal as she felt herself drifting along to that place where only Drew could lead her. Stupid seatbelt. She wanted to rip the damn thing open and hop into his lap. She didn’t even care if Lou was in the front seat.

  Five days. Four hours. And counting. Sexual starvation had reached an entirely new level for Maxine, and she needed him.