Preston didn’t get the hint and read the title out loud as he kept stride with me. “Kiki Loveless gives sub-par performance of newest release.”
I held up my hand to silence him. “I don’t need to be told when I sucked. It was the perfect storm of unfortunate events that caused it.”
Bert, who had been sitting down the hall in a chair that threatened to collapse under all his muscular weight, stood, and followed me as I hurried toward where the limo had dropped us off.
“Is that what you think it was?” Preston whispered low into my ear. His implied threat stopped me in my tracks.
“Did you have something to do with all of this?” I hissed.
Preston smiled charmingly, but there was no warmth behind it. His mind games irritated me, and I felt like I was seconds away from slapping him. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Will you please just hear me out? For old time’s sake?
“Why? So you can ruin things like you always do?”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he said.
“There aren’t words harsh enough for you, Preston.” I pushed past him again, and Cinnamon leaned out of my purse toward Preston, barking shrilly.
Preston grabbed my arm and turned me toward him. I entertained the thought of slamming my heel onto his foot but decided against it. The last thing I needed was a lawsuit for breaking his toes. I could always fib and say I stumbled…
“The scathing reviews of your performance are only the tip of your problems. I wondered if you’d seen these.”
Preston held up his phone again and scrolled through a few pictures on Instagram. They were of Josh holding me in the park, several of which looked like they could pass as the cover of a passionate romance novel. There was an unmet longing in each of our eyes, and our parted lips nearly touched. The group of shrill, screaming girls must have posted them on social media and tagged me in them the second they’d had a decent internet connection.
“Why are you showing me this stuff?”
“I’m only trying to look out for you.”
“Look out for me?” I scoffed. “How could you possibly be looking out for me?”
“It would be a real shame to have Josh let go because Mr. Drake saw these. From what I’ve heard through the grape wine, Mr. Drake is already suspicious of Josh’s ability to do his job.”
“You mean grapevine.”
“Whatever,” Preston answered, tossing his hands in the air.
“I highly doubt Josh’s job will be an issue anymore. Josh is no longer my head bodyguard. He was reassigned to Ruby. Bert here will be taking care of me.”
Preston and I both looked over our shoulders to where Bert was systematically cracking his knuckles. I smiled haughtily, seeing some of the smugness slip off Preston’s face.
Preston lowered his voice again. “Just remember, your time on top isn’t going to last forever, and if I have any say about it, it’ll happen sooner rather than later.”
Turning to face him head on, I pulled off my sunglasses and stared him down. “I’d like to see you try.”
Preston grinned at me. “I told you that I could ruin you, didn’t I? You never were a very trusting woman.”
“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?” I asked casually, examining my nails.
“Josh.”
I scoffed, blowing off his threat. “What’s Josh got to do with anything?”
Preston leaned in close and whispered into my ear. “It’s no secret that you’re pining after him. It’s almost pathetic how much you let him affect your emotions.”
Wishing I’d worn heels so I could pull one off and stab Preston in his eye, I noticed Josh watching us. Bert mostly stayed out of the way, and unless he knew there was going to be a physical altercation, he let my drama run its course. Josh was the type to keep it from happening in the first place.
Showing Josh that I didn’t need him or his protection, I steeled myself and motioned Bert over with two fingers. “Bert, take me back to the hotel before I kill someone.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Your tour starts next week, is that correct?”
Yet another reporter had her microphone pointed at me, only inches from my mouth. My eyes flicked down to it, wondering if she was going to shove it closer if I didn’t answer soon, then back to her pretty face. She held her smile like it’d been superglued on, and by the look in her eye, that very well might have been her first major job. Props to her for being cheerful after what was surely a long day on her feet in a pair of impressively high heels, waiting for celebrities to show up for her to run them through the gauntlet of superficial questions all their viewers were surely dying to see.
“That’s right. Kicks off Thursday night with Ruby Hawkins as my opening act.”
The red carpet was packed, and everyone who was anyone, from Famke Janssen to Tom Cruise, made their way into the Grand Palais, situated near the Champs-Elysées. The attendees had been invited to participate in a celebrity pool tournament for charity, and while most were there to play a good-natured game without any real hopes of winning, everything I did, I played to win.
Bert led the way in, and I followed Collin and Ruby. I was perfectly aware that it was Josh who was pressed close behind me. I reminded myself that he was just doing his job, nothing more. After a day or two of ignoring him and pretending like there’d never been anything between us, I had managed to lock up and bury my feelings for him, deep, deep inside.
After the lobby, the building opened up into a two-story room with an exquisite glass ceiling, through which I could see a few twinkling stars in the deep blue sky above. Around the room, dozens of pool tables had been moved in, placed on enormous decorative rugs. A well-stocked table of appetizers had been set up at the back, and the wait staff carried around trays of assorted drinks in tall flutes. To the right, a large electronic board of matches was already up and running.
“It’s stunning in here,” I said aloud. “It’s like one of those incredible balls people used to throw a hundred years ago.”
I’d directed my comment at Ruby, but she was too busy, snickering about something that Collin had said. When the two of them were together, they only had eyes for each other.
Josh must have thought I was speaking to whoever would hear and answered, “It really is something.”
I looked over my shoulder and nodded. I might have cut him off personally but there was no reason we couldn’t be civil in a professional capacity. Behind Josh, Preston and Monica entered along with another wave of people who all scattered in different directions once they entered the magnificent hall.
Sticking his nose in the air, Preston drew in a breath, then scrunched up his face. “What is that smell?”
The Grand Palais was fragrant with food and people, but behind it was a slight musty smell of a building that’d stood for over a century. It was the scent of history, people who’d been here and the stories they could tell.
“It’s an old building,” I answered grumpily. “Not everything has to be brand new, you know.”
“It stinks, like that Indian restaurant we went to a couple months ago. Remember that, Monica?” Preston asked, crinkling his nose in disgust.
Monica shrugged. “I don’t think it smells bad. In fact, I think I can smell the fondue from here.” She elevated herself a few inches on the balls of her feet and stretched her neck to observe the food table.
“You know I have a more sensitive nose than you,” Preston grumbled, wafting his hand under his nose for good measure. “Smells like incest in here.”
I pinched my lips together and stared at Preston in disbelief, but couldn’t hold it in for long. The second I laid eyes on Josh, my stuttering chuckles turning into full-fledged laughing with Josh joining me, trying in vain to remain professional in the face of Preston’s blunder.
I hadn’t heard Josh laugh for I don’t know how long, and I indulged myself in sharing the moment with him. He’d never know.
“What?” Preston as
ked with a barely veiled attempt to hide his annoyance.
I tried to speak, but I kept giggling. When I managed to compose myself enough to spit out a few words, I informed Preston, “Incest is when close relatives marry each other. I think you mean ‘incense,’ the wooden sticks people burn for ambience.”
My correction sent me, and Josh, into another laughing fit, but Preston didn’t wait around for us to enjoy ourselves at his expense. Pushing Monica forward with his hand on the small of her back, they disappeared into the party.
“You really dated that guy?” Josh asked skeptically. “I mean, the porch light’s on but no one’s home.”
I raised an eyebrow, wondering how to answer. “I was young and stupid and for a time, he was my biggest cheerleader.”
“He stopped?”
The conversation was getting too personal for my taste, and I squirmed slightly in my gold evening gown. “Nothing was ever quite good enough for him. He always was pushing me to the next big thing—more money, more endorsements, more magazine spreads. He wasn’t the Preston I first knew by the time we broke up.”
“But he’s always been that unfortunate with the English language?” Josh asked.
He rubbed his clean-shaven jawline, and in his tux with his hair neatly parted and combed back, he could have been the inspiration behind the Black Tie Ken Doll. He looked so good, it physically hurt. I knew it didn’t matter to him what he wore, but I bit my lip, admiring how well he pulled off the particular style.
“You’re one to talk, with all your silly sayings.”
“But,” Josh said with a pointed finger, “at least I use them correctly. Preston seems to think he’s smarter than he really is.”
“You should hear him trying to speak in other languages. Once, he was trying to impress Celine Dion by speaking to her in French. He was trying to be all suave and tell her she was talented and gorgeous, but it accidentally came out accusing her of being a drunk.”
Josh shook his head and chuckled again, but when he quieted, an unsettled silence quickly fell between us. I grabbed a sparkling water with berries floating in it as a waiter passed and studied the tournament bracket to avoid looking in Josh’s direction.
“Looks like I’m at Table Twelve, and lucky me, Mr. Drake is my partner.”
“Is he no good?” Josh asked.
“On the contrary, he’s as ruthless as I am. I’d better get over there.”
“And I should find Ruby. Bert’s waiting for you over there,” Josh said, gesturing to him.
I left Josh and wandered over to Bert, who led me on a wandering path to where Mr. Drake and his wife, Katrina, and Mandy had already found the pool table.
Mandy introduced me to our opponents, a middle-aged brother and sister duo from India. I exchanged quick chit-chat with them, then turned to Mr. Drake while Mrs. Drake was engaged in conversation with another older woman I didn’t recognize.
Mr. Drake was examining his choice of pool sticks and settled on a twenty-one ounce. Dusting the tip of his pool stick with chalk, he blew off the excess, then popped each of his knuckles as a warm up before playing.
“Ah, there you are, Kiki,” said Mr. Drake with a pleasant smile. “I was afraid you’d chickened out on me.”
“You know her better than that,” Ruby answered. “Kiki’s never one to back down from a challenge.”
I raised my eyebrow, confused at why Ruby was at our table. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a table you’re assigned to play at.”
“We lost already,” Collin said, trying to stifle a laugh. He cleared his throat and adjusted his black tie when Ruby gave him a sideways glance.
“Already? We’ve been in the building for all of five minutes,” I pointed out.
“I swear that eight ball had it out for me. I managed to hit it in the pocket on the first break. Our opponents were even gracious enough to let me try again, and I did. Exact same thing happened.”
I ribbed her good-naturedly for her bad luck. “Only you, Ruby.”
Ruby popped her shoulders up and down. She obviously didn’t have her heart set on winning anything tonight.
Mrs. Drake gave her friend a hug, and the woman walked off into the crowd.
“That was one of Margaret Thatcher’s assistants. She and I got to know each other pretty well when I was serving as a presidential secretary to Reagan. What a small world!” she said happily.
“It really is,” I murmured in agreement. “Mrs. Drake, you’re looking fabulous as always.”
“Hello, Kiki,” she said, pulling me in for a tight squeeze, then drawing Ruby in close to her side. “I must say I rather like your gown as well. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so…” She wafted the air as she searched for the right word.
“Elegant?” Josh offered.
Mrs. Drake snapped her fingers, pointed at Josh, and smiled. “Thank you. Yes, elegant. Usually, your looks are so high fashion. The last time I saw you, I believe you were wearing a pair of shoes that made you look like you had goat feet.”
I chuckled at Mrs. Drake’s forwardness. “They were surprisingly comfortable.”
“Enough talk about fashion. It’s time to get this game started,” Mr. Drake announced gruffly. All business, as usual.
“Don’t worry, the night is young,” I said, testing out a couple of sticks until I found the one. “You want to break?”
Mr. Drake gestured for me to take my position at the head of the table, opposite where our competitors had racked up the balls. “Ladies first.”
I leaned over, adjusting to find the perfect position, then struck the cue ball with precision and power. A loud crack sounded, and one of the stripes sunk into the left corner pocket.
“Yes!” Mr. Drake said, making me startle slightly. I could count on my hand the number of times I’d actually seen him excited, and all of them had to do with sales reports.
It took a total of twenty minutes to beat out the Indian siblings and head over to our next match. Round after round, we banked shots, hit doubles, and with incredible precision, knocked the eight ball into the pocket we called.
We were in the top four, playing in the semi-final round. I could tell by the line of sweat on the Polishman’s forehead that we were going to win. I figured it must have been dumb luck that brought him and his wife that far, but after watching her break, I knew she was the real pool shark in the relationship.
People crowded around the remaining tables to watch where they could find a good spot. After the pale blond woman from the other team missed sinking the two, it was my turn. All we had left was the fifteen and the eight ball.
I walked around the table, studying the position of the balls to see if there was any tactical advantage I could get. I leaned over and eyed the cue ball to the fifteen. If I hit it just right, it would snap right into the side pocket. I leaned over to line myself up, noticing that at the end of the table, Josh and his handsome face stared right at me. I met his eyes and he nodded encouragingly to me. Taking a calming breath, I carefully hit the cue ball. In went the fifteen.
It was met with a rowdy round of applause. All that was left was the eight ball. I walked around the entire table to see from every position. When the cue ball had rolled to a stop, the competitor’s two ball was sandwiched between the cue and the eight.
Feeling like giving the crowd a little excitement, I decided to take the risky move and jump the two to sink the eight. I was nothing if not a show off. I indicated my intentions, and a murmur of surprise rippled through the audience. When silence fell again, I heard someone whispering.
“Have you seen Kiki’s most recent performance, sir?” Preston said in hushed tones. Looking for him, I spotted Preston standing next to Mr. Drake at the corner opposite of Josh, his hands in his trouser pockets as he casually threw me under the bus. “It really was unfortunate, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Drake responded with a grunt but didn’t elaborate on his thoughts any further. Josh hovering close by had been a distraction all nig
ht, but Preston was an annoyance that I felt like would be my companion until I died.
“Just so you know, Monica’s ready to step up whenever you need her if Kiki needs a break. You know, for her mental health and all.”
Angry enough to wrestle a bear, I pulled back my pool stick and shot it forward, smacking the cue ball hard. As predicted, it leapt the two and struck the eight ball, sending it flying through the air faster than Preston could react. It hit Preston in the groin so hard he doubled over in pain. The crowd laughed while Monica helped him limp away.
“Nice shot,” Ruby muttered behind her hand.
Mr. Drake marched around the table and threw his hands in the air. “What was that? We could have won, and you went and missed the shot!”
Looking Mr. Drake straight in his frosty blue eyes, I shrugged and asked, “What makes you think I missed?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’d been so close to victory that I could visualize my name written on the enormous cardboard check. I’d chosen to sponsor a charity that helped kids work through difficult life challenges by using music but since I’d jumped the eight ball into Preston’s groin instead of sinking it into the pocket so we could move on to the finals, I’d also lost out on the chance to send them a much-needed boost in funds. For that, I did feel slightly guilty—I made a mental note to have Mandy send them a donation on my behalf tomorrow. As for Preston, sitting in a chair with a package of ice delicately situated over his crotch, I regretted nothing.
Mr. Drake chuckled, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you did that.”
He’d finally calmed down an hour after the final match was completed. That man was anything if not competitive. Shockingly enough, the Polish couple had pulled it off when the man managed to sink the eight ball, resting halfway down the table, around several other of their opponent’s balls. I’d even noticed how much his hands trembled and that more than once, he had to use his handkerchief to dab sweat out of his eyes. Sometimes, it really did come down to luck.
How a Star Shines: A Pop Stars Romantic Comedy Book 2 Page 16