Miss Congeniality

by Marie Garner

  “It’s okay,” he crooned, whispering nonsensical words into her ear while he rubbed her back. Her body continued to jerk with sobs while he tried to calm her down, telling her he would be here. Brea didn’t know how long they stayed that way, with her crying and him holding her, but she felt better having cried it out. He kissed her forehead, whispering into her ear while she quieted down, her sobs giving way to hiccups.

  “You okay?” he asked softly, trying not to disturb the quiet. She simply nodded, moving so her face was once again in his neck, breathing deeply. He leaned her back, taking in her puffy eyes, the runny mascara, but she still looked beautiful to him. He brushed under her eyes, catching the stray tears which lingered, and kissed her softly.

  “I’m going to get you some water and ibuprofen.” He waited for her agreement before moving her to the couch. He rubbed her head on his way into the kitchen. She sat there, completely spent, not wanting to do what she knew she had to. When Lance came back a couple minutes later, he sat beside her, gently rubbing under her eyes with a washcloth. Brea let him, welcoming the way he was caring for her. It was something so rare in her life she almost started blubbering again. They studied each other as she took the ibuprofen and drank the water, not knowing what to say, but she figured an apology was a good way to start.

  “Sorry for all that.”

  His gaze softened as he took in her appearance. “Don’t apologize. We all go a little crazy sometimes; look at me the other day. This was one of those, ‘you showed me yours, and I’m showing you mine’ kind of deals.”

  She chuckled despite everything, taking another drink of water. “I guess,” she said softly, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m so embarrassed. Did I really try to jump over the bar at the poor bartender?”

  “Yep, that was all you.” He brushed her hair back, placing another kiss on her forehead. He seemed to like doing that tonight. “What’s going on?”

  She scooted to the other end of the couch, propping her legs up so he couldn’t sit next to her. She wanted and needed the distance, knowing she was going to have to tell him. Brea needed to tell someone, and after dealing with her own special brand of craziness, she figured he won the prize. But she did have one condition. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

  He faced her, still not moving closer, sensing she didn’t want the contact. “Name it.”

  “Tell me why you flipped out at the paparazzo the other day.” He cringed, unsure about whether to tell her.

  “Hear me out,” she told him before he could voice his protests. “If we are going to move forward in a relationship, which is where I thought we were going, then I need to know why you were willing to destroy that man’s camera. You and I both know this is par for the course with what we do. I want some kind of explanation so I can deal with it, if it happens again. Plus, since we have this whole ‘I’ll show you mine, you show me yours’ thing going on, you get to go first.”

  He sat quietly for a couple of minutes, and Brea had all but given up hope he was going to tell her before he started talking.

  “I was out with my sister, Lauren, about five years ago in LA. I had just hit it big, so while I was somewhat anonymous, I still had photographers and paparazzi following me. We had just gotten through eating, and this guy comes up and keeps taking our picture. I politely asked him to stop, and he just kept on. He started screaming questions at my sister about whether we were sleeping together, and making little comments about her.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees before continuing the story.

  “We finally got to the car, but all the attention he was giving us had caused a crowd to grow. We were followed in the car; Lauren was screaming for me to go, but I was literally trapped. I was finally able to get away, but I had to do it by speeding, and I was so busy trying to watch what was behind me I didn’t notice a car had crossed over into my lane.” Brea put her hand over her mouth, horrified at what he was saying, knowing what was coming, but aware there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  “What happened?” she asked when he sat quietly, not wanting to continue.

  “We hit them head-on. The car was completely totaled; Lauren was thrown from the car. She had to spend months in the hospital. Her wedding was weeks away, but it had to be postponed. She still walks with a slight limp today.”

  “What about you?”

  “I was okay, only minor injuries, but I lost it when I saw my sister on the ground. I started screaming at them, and that was where the first reports about me being a ‘bad boy’ began.” She reached over, unable to maintain her distance, rubbing his back in a circular motion.

  “Was your family upset?”

  He looked over his shoulder, struck by how beautiful she looked. “Not with me. Lauren is one of the strongest women I know, and she never blamed me nor did her fiancé or my parents. They were more worried about what I was signing myself up for if I was going to be followed and harassed.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you. People never quite understand what it’s like unless they have to go through it themselves.”

  “Yeah, I had a little idea, but nothing like that. But I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. It was like I was born to do this, if you know what I mean.” She kissed his shoulder, laying her head where she had just kissed.

  “I do. I feel the same way.”

  “I’m sorry about the other day. I’m usually a little better about my issues with the paparazzi, but for some reason, when he started taking pictures of us, it reminded me of that day with Lauren and I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s okay,” she said and realized it was. “I’m not saying I agree with what you did, but I understand a little better. So, thank you.”

  He kissed her softly before leaning back, and took her with him so they lay back against the couch. He patted her knee. “I’ve shown you mine…”

  She laughed nervously. “I know. I can’t believe I am going to tell you this. You have no idea how long I have kept this inside, but I can’t keep it in anymore. I guess I should start at the beginning.” She rubbed her hands along her thighs, shoring her strength. “My mother’s a prostitute.”

  Lance’s hand stilled where he had been rubbing her hair, but he didn’t say anything. Once Brea started talking, it was like she couldn’t stop. The whole sordid tale came out: living with her mother and her addiction, what it was like not knowing which junkie or john was going to be there the next day, and the Hell which was the first eight years of her life. He stopped her every so often, asking a question every now and then, primarily for clarification; for the most part, he just let her talk.

  “What happened when you were eight?” he asked, it not being lost on him that she said the first eight years of her life were horrific.

  She grinned, thinking of Derrick and Sylvia. “When I was eight, I got a second chance. There was a social worker at school named Derrick. He and his wife didn’t have any children, so they decided to take my brother and me into their home. They were amazing, and they gave me the childhood I always wanted. I had food and shelter and never had to worry about my safety again.”

  “So, if your story had a happy ending, what happened tonight?” Her eyes filled with tears, causing Lance to put his arm around her and pull her close. She accepted his comfort temporarily, pulling back to wipe the tears.

  “Derrick called me tonight, as I was leaving the set.” She stood up, shaking out her hands while she paced in front of the couch. “Now, you have to understand, when I got out, I never looked back. Alex told me when I left, I wasn’t to come back and I knew, I KNEW when I left he was getting worse. I could see it, the shadows under his eyes. And I knew my mom was going to drag him down with her.” She stopped, looking down at Lance, tears flowing freely.

  “I begged him to come with me, would do anything for him. But you know what he said to me? He told me I was the brightest spot, and I was to get out and never look back. And I didn’t.” Brea sat on the coffee table dir
ectly in front of him, hands clasped, head down while she continued the story.

  “I rarely came home, kept my contact very limited, because Alex felt like I couldn’t survive in Hollywood with a junkie mom, that the press would eat me alive. Maybe he was right, but we’ll never know now.” Lance tilted her chin up, wiping the tears which lingered.

  “Alex did what he felt he needed to do in order to protect you. You can’t blame him for that,” he said sympathetically.

  “I know! But I can’t help but think if I had stayed in touch better, things wouldn’t have gotten that bad.”

  “How bad did it get, honey?”

  “Instead of getting away from my mother, Alex got sucked right into her web. I saw it when I went home about six months ago, but he brushed off my concerns as if they were nothing. Well, tonight when Derrick called me, he said Alex had been arrested.” She hung her head, sobs overtaking her body while he simply held on. Brea loved how he just gripped her, and didn’t let her go. When she was finally calm again, he continued to question her.

  “Why was he arrested?”

  “He was high on crack, and he attacked his dealer.”

  “Surely, it couldn’t be that bad if he just beat the guy up a little bit. What did they charge him with?”

  “Assault and battery in the first degree. It’s a felony! He’s looking at ten years in prison!” Lance didn’t say anything; he just dragged her so she was sitting in his lap.

  “Okay, so maybe this isn’t as bad as you think.” She blinked at him, wondering why in the hell he said such an asinine statement.

  “It is that bad! Are you kidding me? My brother is going to prison!”

  “I heard you. I heard everything you said. I also think we need to talk about this later.”

  She was upset for a completely different reason. “You wanted to talk about it tonight; don’t tell me it’s not that bad.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying it isn’t bad, and I’m glad you told me. But I don’t think we are going to be able to solve anything tonight. You’re still half-drunk, and I need time to process everything you told me. So, what I suggest—” he put his hand over her mouth when she tried to say something “—is we go upstairs, go to sleep, and talk about it in the morning.” Brea started to argue, but he had a point. She was too damn tired and her brain was overloaded. She let him carry her up the stairs to her room. His fingers teased the bottom of her shirt and she simply nodded, giving him permission to take it off. He did so gently, showing care and consideration as he undressed her and helped her get into a sleep shirt. Brea thought she would be nervous because he saw her naked, but his hands felt so good. He pulled his shirt and pants off, leaving him in navy boxer briefs, before he laid her face down on the bed.

  “Shh…” he said, kissing her shoulder softly before he started to knead her shoulders. She moaned in appreciation, loving that he knew exactly what she needed to feel better.

  “I’m really scared,” she whispered in the dark, lulled by his gentle ministrations.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he stated, as though it was the most natural thing in the world and they had been solving problems together forever.

  “I like that.” She closed her eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “Like what?”

  “The idea of ‘we’.”

  “Me, too,” he finished, lying down beside her. He pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She reached up, hugging his neck, and he kissed her cheek. “Now go to sleep.”

  “So damn bossy.” She yelped when he pinched her ass.

  “Sleep.” He closed his eyes, and she drifted off smiling.

  Brea woke up having to pee, but she was unable to move because of the arm slung around her waist. She was embarrassed when she recalled what happened last night but couldn’t bring herself to be upset. He had been so careful with her, regardless of the fact she acted like a crazed animal hyped up on drugs. The irony given the current situation with Alex wasn’t lost on her, but she had more pressing matters. Like the fact she was cemented to the bed by the arm and his leg, which was between her own, and she could feel his cock pressing into her backside. She tried to move his arm to be greeted with a grunt and a tightening of said arm.

  “Lance,” she whispered, trying to wake him gently.

  “Hmm…” he pulled her closer like he was squeezing a pillow, and Brea knew he wasn’t going to move on his own. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she reached behind, grabbed his dick, and squeezed. He jerked up, blessedly freeing her so she could run into the bathroom. When she finished in there, taking a minute to brush her teeth, she walked back into the bedroom to face the music because he wouldn’t be happy with her. What man would, when you woke him up by squeezing his dick so it hurt? He looked so irritated she couldn’t resist the laugh.

  “Uh, sorry….” She shrugged, not quite apologetic.

  “Sorry? I thought my dick was in a vice, and you say sorry?”

  She walked toward the bed, kneeling on the side before answering. “I had to pee, and you wouldn’t move. It was an emergency.”

  He shook his head, not quite believing her.

  “Give me a minute,” he disappeared into the bathroom, where she heard the water running. He came back, flopping beside her on the door.

  “Come here.” He gripped the front of her sleep shirt and pulled her close, enjoying the meeting of lips, and tasting the slight mint from where he brushed his teeth. She climbed into his lap, running her hands through his hair. He ran his hands up her legs, gripping her ass and pulling her closer. She loved the contact, loved the way he always made her feel so secure. He moved his lips to her neck, swirling his tongue behind her ear, causing her to shiver with need.

  “Lance,” she whispered, seeking more.

  “Gotcha, babe.” He moved, laying her down on the mattress, and continued to kiss her. “You’ve got on too many clothes.” He helped her get her shirt off, exposing her beautiful breasts to his eyes, before he slid down her panties. His eyes widened in appreciation. “Oh, babe. I’m about to feast.” Lance leaned down, swirling one nipple around with his tongue. She leaned up, wanting more, and he continued to suck on her right nipple while he reached up and tweaked her left one with his fingers. He traded positions, moving his mouth to the left one, breathing over it, causing goose bumps before he took the nipple into his mouth. She gripped his head, loving the feel of him, before he kissed her chest. He moved down, kissing her stomach and parting her legs at the same time.

  “Now this.” He looked up and she looked away, suddenly shy. “Don’t look away,” he said, and she couldn’t to save her life. His stare held her at attention, letting her know he was all in. He leaned down and pressed little kisses up the inside of one thigh then the other, avoiding her center.

  “Lance,” she fairly growled, needing his touch.

  “Yes, dear?” he asked sarcastically, and she jabbed him in the back with the heel of her foot.

  “You know what. I’m dying here.” He breathed over her slit, his hot breath causing her to squirm with unsatisfied hunger.

  “Oh, baby.” He stuck a finger in to the knuckle, knowing he was torturing her. “You’re nowhere close to dying. But I’m about to make you scream.” He pulled his finger out and stuck it in again in a slow rhythm.

  “Harder.”

  “Nope. This is my show.” She was going to kill him. As soon as he gave her an orgasm. He continued moving his finger in and out, adding a second one. She wanted more, craved it in a way she never had before. He removed his fingers, sucking on them as she watched.

  “Tasty.” He moved in, licking her opening in one long motion. He thrust his tongue in and out, causing her to grit her teeth while she dug her heels in the sheet, seeking some friction. She tried to back up, feeling too much, and he pressed her thighs to the bed holding her in place. He continued to feast while she moved her hips up and down.

  “So…clo
se…” she screamed when he flicked her clit with his tongue. He reached down and replaced his tongue with his fingers. She couldn’t speak if she wanted to, so consumed with all the different sensations coursing through her body. She closed her eyes, screaming his name when she felt herself explode underneath him. He continued to move his fingers in and out, letting her ride out her orgasm before he pressed a gentle kiss to her thigh. He crawled up her body, kissing her chest one more time before capturing her lips.

  “Wow,” she breathed, because she didn’t know what else to say after the man just gave her one of the best orgasms.

  He laughed nervously. “I guess I should be thankful you liked my performance.”

  She rolled on top of him, kissing him. “Thankful is not the word.” She tucked her face in the crook of his neck, a place she had determined was made just for her, and drifted off again.

  Brea woke up, noticing she had slept for another two hours. The other thing she noticed was her bed was empty; the place where he’d been sleeping was cold. He didn’t seem like the type to love ‘em and leave ‘em, but Brea felt self-conscious he left her asleep. As if on cue, her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at the screen, seeing Lance’s smiling face back at her, something she didn’t have programmed in before. She had his number, sure, but the picture was new. Guess he wanted to make sure she knew who was calling. Asshole must have done it himself last night.

  “Hello,” she drawled.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “You left me,” she grumbled.

  “I figured I would let you sleep a bit, go home and get changed, and then call you for brunch.”

  “I don’t know.” She suddenly felt shy, unsure of what last night and this morning had done to their relationship. She wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with her, she had no doubts about that. However, there was a shit storm going on in South Carolina with Alex which could potentially affect her, and by default him, if he continued to stay with her.