Miss Congeniality

by Marie Garner

  They eventually ate, but only after Lance cried uncle because he swore she was going to break him. Eating at her table, she in her bathrobe and he in his boxer briefs, she couldn’t help feeling more content than she had in a long time. There was a bunch of shit going on with her brother. She wasn’t naive enough to believe it would all go away because she wanted it to, but at least she had something to cling to. This budding relationship with Lance was turning out to be her saving grace. As much as she fought it, he balanced her. He was equal parts irritating and amusing, and one couldn’t discount his ability to make her come quickly and fiercely. She hoped this was something long-term because she could see herself with him months from now.

  “What are you grinning about?” She didn’t even realize she was until he pointed it out to her.

  “Nothing. Everything. You.”

  “Ahh, I thought I may have something to do with it. It was the orgasms I promised and was able to deliver.” She didn’t respond, didn’t want to make him think his orgasms were part of the reason she was in such a good mood; he was entirely too cocky as it was.

  “I’m not admitting to anything.”

  “You don’t have to.” He scooped up the last of his vegetables, positioning his utensils on his plate in the universal symbol to show he was done with his meal. Guess some of those lessons from his mother did stick, she mused.

  “Tell me everything will work out with my brother.”

  “It will work out with your brother. It may not be the way you want it to end, but it will unfold in the way it should. Like I told you before, I’ll be with you, right here every step of the way. If you want to stay here, I will support you. If you want to go to the trial, I will support you.”

  “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “Nothing. You’re my gift for being so damn good.”

  “I thought you were bad.”

  “Oh, no, I’m that damn good.”

  “Are you staying?”

  “You couldn’t drag me away.” He held out his hand, helping her up while they walked upstairs. Brea was feeling amazing, flying so high she didn’t think anything could bring her down, not even all the shit with Alex. She was going to hire him a lawyer and make sure he got the best defense he could. She refused to lose her brother in the same way she lost her mother, and she would fight to get Alex back. Even if she had to fight him. And when she was in cuddling with Lance on the couch watching a movie later that evening, she felt the need to pinch herself to make sure this life was hers.

  The ringing telephone woke Brea from her slumber. She reached for it only to hit something hard and warm. Lance, she thought with a smile, briefly considering continuing where they left off yesterday. But first, she had to get the phone, which had actually stopped ringing but started up again soon after. Must be really damn important, she thought when she saw it was only six-thirty in the morning. Climbing over Lance’s body, who grunted when she accidently elbowed him to get to the bedside table, she looked to see her PR rep was on the phone. Brea groaned because she didn’t want to talk to Henry, who could be a bit abrasive and somewhat of an ass to her. She knew he only called her this early in the morning if it was serious.

  “Hello?” she grumbled, lying on Lance’s chest because he was there and made a surprisingly-decent pillow. He started rubbing her hip, and she could feel his morning erection.

  “What in the hell is going on with you and Lance Holder?” She held her phone out from her ear, surprised at Henry’s tone. She hoped Lance didn’t hear, but judging by the way his eyes widened in shock then narrowed in anger, no such luck.

  “What are you yelling about Henry?”

  “You and Lance Holder. Why in the hell am I hearing about your supposed relationship again on TMZ this morning? You are all over the fucking news, and now US Weekly, People, and even The Today Show, among others, have been calling me all morning.” She put her head on Lance’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart while she dealt with Henry’s bitching.

  “Stop bitching and tell me what this is about.”

  “This is about me not getting ahead of the story. And you deliberately keeping information from me. I can’t protect your reputation, which is what you pay me to do, if you don’t let me know personal information, such as who you are dating.”

  “Henry, he’s a friend who I recently started dating. It is not your business or anyone else’s whom I’m dating. I pay you to make sure my reputation stays flawless, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong? You have a reputation to uphold for being Miss Congeniality, and I can’t do that if you are dating that man! It was bad enough when the YouTube video popped up last week, although we were able to keep it somewhat contained since you were no longer seeing him, but I have a feeling this news is going to explode. I am going to be the one left trying to protect you and yours, not him!” She was about to respond when the phone was ripped from her grasp by Lance.

  “Henry, right? Lance Holder. If you have additional questions about our relationship, why don’t you field them with my PR rep, and she can give you all the information you need. Brea doesn’t pay you to be an asshole to her; she pays you to protect her rep. Issue your blanket statement, or no fucking comment, and keep it moving. If you have other questions about me, ask me personally or my PR person; don’t call and harass Brea anymore. We clear?” He hung up on Henry’s blustering, throwing her phone on the other side of the bed.

  “Is he always that annoying?”

  “Sometimes he’s worse.” She scrunched her nose in frustration. “But he’s been really good business-wise, and I need someone like him to handle the press.”

  “What you need is someone who doesn’t treat you like you work for him. You pay his bills, not the other way around.” Lance had a point, but it wasn’t his decision and she didn’t want to argue with him.

  “Do we really need to talk about this now?” She trailed her finger down his chest, making little circles around his stomach.

  He inhaled sharply. “What do you have in mind?”

  She pushed up on his chest so they were eye level. “If I have to tell you, I’m not doing it right.”

  “I think you’re about to do it just right.” She kissed him then, grabbing a condom and shaking it in his face before she opened it with her teeth. She enjoyed torturing him while she rolled it slowly over his cock, straddling him. As soon as she had it on him he grabbed her hips, rolling her over and sliding into her again, memories of Henry all but forgotten.

  “But I don’t want to.” Brea pouted later on that morning when Lance suggested they look at what the news was saying. After a late start and a later breakfast, Lance called his rep, Martha, who had been working on the issue for the last week or so, since the whole YouTube incident. Martha was a fifty-year-old grandmother, but she was one of the best in the industry, and she swore he kept her in business with all the situations she had to deal with.

  “I never took you as a whiner.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t believe in looking at what the media says about me.” He was surprised by that.

  “Ever, or as a rule?”

  She ducked her head, not wanting to talk about this. “Ever. When I first started working, there was a story which ran about me being too fat to act, so I just stopped looking at it. I hired Henry to handle all of my stuff. Because I’m only on Maggie Beach and some endorsements, I’m not necessarily recognized as much as some people. And, I tend to be pretty quiet.”

  “Well, you’re about to look.” He kissed her hard and fast before typing in their names on the Google search engine to see what popped up. She leaned on his arm to look over his shoulder, surprised at the number of hits which came up. There were pictures of them at brunch, of her getting into his car, and of his car parked in front of her house.

  “Where did they get all these?” she asked, taken aback at the amount of information the media had from just the short amount of time they
had been together.

  “I’d say someone’s been busy.”

  “Clearly. Who knew we would be that interesting?”

  “Good girl meets bad boy, it strikes a chord. They want to know who is going to be affected most…will the good girl go bad, or the bad boy go good?”

  She hit him on the arm. “I’m not changing for you.”

  He looked at her as if she was crazy. “You think I’m changing for you?”

  “One can hope.”

  “It’s more like a dream.”

  “Or a challenge.”

  “So, tell me why I shouldn’t be mad at you?” Raquel asked before biting into her salad at lunch later that afternoon when she met the girls for their weekly lunch date. It had been predetermined, but with all the media attention surrounding Brea and Lance, she was crazy if she thought they wouldn’t want to talk about it. That was why she wasn’t too surprised at Raquel’s question.

  “It just kind of happened.”

  Raquel put her sunglasses on her head, the universal sign she was about to call bullshit on someone. “You mean to tell me you just kind of fell into bed with Lance Holder? Raise your hand if you believe that.” She looked to Clare, who shook her head no.

  “You know I hate it when you do that shit.”

  “No, you hate it when I’m right,” she countered.

  “Regardless of whether you agree with Raquel or not, she has a point. How did you get involved with Lance? When we left you the other day, you were dead-set against him, and only considering whether you were going to even talk to him again,” Clare broke in, probably to ward off the argument between Raquel and Brea.

  “I called him Friday and we went to this little hole-in-the-wall bar. We talked, and we ended up spending the weekend together.”

  “You’re leaving something out.” Raquel didn’t look convinced by her story, but Brea wasn’t about to tell her about her brother. There was no way she was going to tell them. It was none of their business about what was going on with her family in South Carolina. They knew a little bit about her past, but she didn’t want to share the latest saga with anyone except Lance. She refused to consider why she only wanted to tell him, but she knew she felt safer with him than she had with anyone in a long time. Her history with guys wasn’t extensive; she had dated here and there, but it was really difficult with the hours she worked and the constant barrage of media attention she was beginning to gather since she began dating Lance. She hoped, because Lance was well-versed in the relentlessness of the media, he would understand everything she went through.

  “I’m not really. I don’t want to discuss what we talked about, because it’s private, but just know everything is cool between us.”

  “Clearly,” Raquel said dryly. “You spent the weekend together, and if I had to bet money, your phone is vibrating off the hook because of lover boy.” She was probably right, but she hadn’t checked, choosing to spend this time with her girls because she would see him later tonight or tomorrow.

  “It may be, but it’s none of your business. Plus, I came here to meet you guys and talk about what is up with you since I haven’t really seen or heard from you in the past couple of days.”

  “You haven’t really missed us.”

  She smirked, thinking about her weekend with Lance. “Nope.”

  Raquel laughed, knowing exactly what she was thinking about. “You bitch. I know what you’re thinking about, and you’re not allowed to rub good sex in our faces. Is she, Clare?”

  “I agree.”

  “I’ll try not to. Although, it was so damn good.”

  Raquel turned to Clare, begging, “Make her stop.” Clare held her hands up to stop both of them.

  “I’m not doing a thing. Besides, the only one at this table not getting regular sex is you, Raquel.”

  “You went back with Jason?” Raquel asked.

  “More like we just decided we would continue our mutually-beneficial relationship for the time being until it no longer works for both of us.”

  “Ohhh…those are some awfully big words to basically say you’re fuck buddies.”

  “You’re so crude, Raquel,” Clare said before taking a drink of her water.

  “Hey, I call it like I see it, which is something you appreciate. Aren’t you concerned he will be a little crazy again?”

  “I hope not. I think as long as we keep it to sex, it should be fine.”

  “Famous last words.” Raquel dug into her salad, having made her point.

  “Speaking of famous last words, I thought you were going to stay out of the media and not get into any more trouble. What is with this latest guy?” Clare asked, turning the tables on her.

  Raquel groaned, covering her face with her hands. “That asshole, did you see what he said about me?”

  One of the things Brea loved about the media was they were indiscriminate, latching onto the next great story regardless of whom it was about. Raquel had been in the headlines this morning, as well. The local celebrity press headline read: ‘Man-eater strikes again…Ice Queen retains her crown,’ a scathing article from the guy she went out with last week, saying she was a cock tease and would never find a man willing to deal with her bullshit. It was the latest nightmare in her rapidly-deteriorating reputation.

  “Everyone saw. I thought you said he was a nice guy,” Clare told her.

  “I thought he was! But when we went to the movies, so cliché for a first date, he sent me this text message asking for a hand job.”

  Brea was taken aback. “In the middle of the movie?”

  “Yes! He is crazy as hell! When I texted him back ‘hell no’, he told me I was crazy as hell and no wonder I was still single. Then he left me in the theater and didn’t come back. I had to hail a cab to get home.”

  Brea started laughing, unable to contain herself. “Only you would have a horrible date who then went and reported you to the press.”

  Raquel fluffed her hair. “I know. And I don’t know what to do about my nightmare reputation. I’m thinking about hiring a spin-doctor to help improve it. I can’t be known as the Ice Queen anymore.” Raquel may regularly appear unaffected, but she looked pained by her ongoing situation.

  “It’ll get better.” Clare, always the diplomatic one, tried to make her feel better.

  “It has to, because it can’t be any worse.”

  “Come outside.”

  “I thought we moved past this. You are supposed to say, ‘Hello, darling, how are you? Are you busy right now, because I would really like to see you?’ ”

  Lance’s smoky laugh filled her ear. “I could go through all that, but the end result is the same, and you’ll still end up outside.”

  “I’ll consider it,” Brea said before she hung up the phone. Better to fight him a bit; that way, he didn’t run roughshod over her. She mentally counted to thirty, and as if on cue, her phone rang again.

  “Hello,” she answered sweetly.

  “You have about fifteen seconds to get your ass outside or the next time I get you alone I’ll spank said ass.” She crossed her legs, feeling her face flame.

  “Promises, promises.”

  “Get outside,” he growled. She laughed, loving the way she affected him. She walked outside, hanging up her phone as she reached him. He was propped against his motorcycle, feet crossed at his ankles, holding his helmet in his hands. His hair was lying across his forehead, and she loved that she now had the right to run her hands through it anytime she wanted to. She stopped in front of him, waving her phone at him.

  “You rang, Master?”

  “Ohh, I like the sound of that.” He placed his hands on her hips and moved her so she was flush with him. He kissed her deeply, slapping her ass when she pulled away. She yelped, jerking in shock. “Next time I call, you come.”

  “Are you serious? What is this? Me, Tarzan; you, Jane. I’m not some weak-kneed woman you can just order around.”

  “And yet, you came,” he pointed out. He was right, yet aga
in, but she didn’t want to give him a leg up. This was a war, and she already felt like she was losing.

  “Why did you call me, anyway?”

  He flipped the helmet over in his hands, holding it out so she could see it. “I want to take you for a ride.” She stepped back, taking in his motorcycle. She didn’t know a lot about them, and she had never felt the need to try one because they never seemed safe to her. Who would want to ride on a death trap?

  “You want me to ride that?” She pointed at the motorcycle, looking at it like it was going to kill her.

  “Yes. Have you never ridden on one?”

  “No, because I don’t have a death wish.” He reached for her, but she backed up so all he caught was air.

  “You’re not going to die on my motorcycle.”

  “So you say.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, agitated. “How about this? If you get on my motorcycle for this date, then I will take you wherever you want on the next date.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “Yes.” She brightened, thinking she was going to make him take her to a place he would hate the worst.

  “Fine,” she agreed, allowing him to put the helmet on her head. She positioned herself behind him, wrapping her hands around his waist. He roared out of her driveway, getting on the highway before he put his bike through its paces. Brea figured she wouldn’t like it, but she found she loved it. The feel of the open air, the vibration of the bike between her legs, all made her aware of his hard body pressed against her. She moved her hands down his stomach, grabbing his penis over his jeans. He put his hand over hers, pulling them back to their original position and patting them.

  Okay, she thought, clearly he doesn’t want me to feel him up. Brea decided to have a bit of fun. She moved her hand, grabbing his dick and squeezing, causing him to jerk the machine. Then began a game of cat and mouse, in which she tried desperately to touch him, and he continued to move her hand back. This lasted about ten minutes before he pulled off the road into a driveway. She stared at the house; gorgeous glass windows adorned the front, and she could hear the ocean in the background. He ripped off his helmet after he stopped the motorcycle, getting off the bike before he grabbed her head and kissed her frantically, tongues melding as both fought for the best position.