by Jo Raven
He's completely un-Steele now, and I'm perfectly okay with that. My throat feels like a desert, but I try swallowing anyway.
Then, I nod.
Like I could possibly forget about that. I still feel incredibly bad about it, even if he was flubbing the part. I never should have kicked him out like that. But I didn't know how else to cope with the way he made me feel.
"This is...uh..." He's biting his lip a little, and it's cute, and I'm so glad he's still himself underneath all the alpha male trappings I'm trying to decorate him with.
And right then, my phone rings.
The moment's broken. I can tell right away, and I could kill whoever's on the other end.
"Go ahead, you'd better get that," Josh mumbles, and I do, without even looking at the number.
"Hi, Kimberly. It's Steve, from Morning Brew. How are you?"
I swallow hard. "Great!" I say, much too loudly. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to call and let you know I sent the questions over. If there's anything I can clarify, or anything else I need to do for you, just let me know. Okay?"
Yeah, can you go back in time and make it so you didn't call me just now?
"Thanks!" I say, again, way too loud. Hopefully he'll think it's just a weird connection. "Mr. Steele's actually here right now. I'll go over them and let you know if he has any questions."
When I hang up, the silence is deafening.
***
"Got something fancy coming up?"
The clerk at the menswear store is giving me a knowing smile. That hey, my boyfriend's a little bit of a fixer-upper too look. I kind of resent it, although I guess I should be flattered. But even though I brought Josh here specifically to clean up his image, I don't like the way everybody here acts like there's something wrong with him.
But no, he can't show up as Landon Steele in ripped jeans and motorcycle tee, so we have to do this.
And now the clerk's looking at me like she thinks I'm a little soft in the head.
"Uh, yeah," I say, quickly. "Sorry. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."
She grins. "Bet you didn't."
Lord. I'm blushing like a traffic light, and I keep glancing at the dressing room door to see if Landon's on his way back out.
Josh. To see if Josh is on his way back out. As if that would make it better.
"Yeah, my sister's wedding," I blurt out, improvising pretty well. I don't even have a sister. "He's going to meet my parents there, so..."
"Hey, might as well be somewhere with alcohol!" she says, cheerily. "Hope they have an open bar! Make sure he doesn't get too drunk, though. You've got to keep that ink covered up in front of Mom and Dad."
"Actually, my parents are pretty cool with that sort of thing." That part is not a lie, although I think they might've given up on my love life by now. They'd just be happy if I brought home a human being with a pulse for Thanksgiving. Not that I ever brought home one without a pulse, but sometimes I wonder how long they'd keep the ruse going if I came with a blow-up doll.
She's chuckling a little, and I don't really know what that means. "Hon, I'm almost old enough to be your mom, and let me tell you - we always say we don't mind that sort of thing, but trust me. We don't want to picture you with some tatted-up blue collar bad boy. But that's okay. I can help you make him look presentable."
I'm grinding my teeth into a fine powder as I smile.
"Actually, I like him just the way he is," I tell her. She's smoothing a shirt on a hanger, not really listening to me. "He doesn't need a suit to impress anybody."
"It helps, though," comes Josh's voice. I realize I let my eyes drift away from the dressing rooms, and he's been standing behind me for God knows how long.
Then I get a look at him, and I almost forget to be embarrassed.
Almost.
The lines of the suit hug his body perfectly, sleek but not too tight. The clerk gives him that spin around gesture, and he does, smiling. He's preening a little. He should be.
"Y...yeah," I say, finally. "I think that's it."
"This was way less painful than I expected!" Josh saunters over to the register, and so help me, I cannot stop staring at his ass.
Cannot. It's impossible.
He's going to wear the suit home. Of course he's going to wear the suit home. He's like a kid who just got new sneakers that light up when he walks. It's a novelty to him, something hilarious and fun, and he has absolutely no idea that I'm about to explode in a cloud of lust, right here at the menswear store next to the holiday tie rack.
"Hon?" He pauses, looking back at me. "You ready to go?"
Right. He needs me to pay. Also, he just called me hon. Exactly how much of my phony backstory did he hear? I don't know why I'm embarrassed of the fact that I pretended we were a couple. I mean, what else even makes sense?
Still, I'm ashamed of myself. I feel childish, and I'm not even the one who's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet because he got a new outfit.
The clerk gives us another condescending glance when she realizes this is going on my card. She evidently thinks I'm slumming it, and that's a pretty hilarious concept to apply here. Or, she thinks he's only with me because of my money - and she's right about that, even if the details are a little bit off.
"What a snob, huh?" Josh says, as we head down the sidewalk.
"Tell me about it. Somebody should tell her if she keeps making that face, it'll stay that way." I'm still blushing like crazy, but I just keep my face turned away a little bit and hope he doesn't notice.
"That was really sweet, the way you stood up for me," he says. "You didn't have to."
I shrug. "It was annoying me. I didn't like the implication."
"What, that there's something wrong with me, or that there's something wrong with us?" He clears his throat. "Being together, I mean."
"We're not," I say, quickly, mostly because I need to remind myself.
"I'm aware," he says, dryly. "But that was your story."
"It was all I could think of." I hate that I feel so defensive around him all the time.
"Relax, I don't care." He shrugs. "I mean, I wish we had her blessing, but you know, at least we got each other."
He's laughing. Because of course, the idea of us being a couple is just too ridiculous.
And I'm laughing too, because there's nothing else for me to do.
***
On the day of the book signing, I call a town car service and head over to Josh's place to pick him up. It's far uptown, which doesn't surprise me. But I'm a little surprised that he's already waiting on the curb when we pull up near his place. It's starting to get chilly outside, but it doesn't seem to bother him.
"Sorry you had to come here," he says, climbing in. Considering how much he seemed to like the suit when I bought it, now he seems uncomfortable in his own skin. Like he thinks people are staring at him. Well, there's going to be a lot of staring later. He'll have to get used to it.
"Don't apologize," I tell him. "Traffic wasn't so bad."
He glances at me a little askance, like I missed whatever his point was. But I'm not getting into that now, we have some last-minute drills to run.
By the time we arrive at the hotel, Josh is nothing more than a glint in Landon Steele's eye. I'm terribly proud of him, and myself - and a little unnerved.
My creation is sitting just a few inches from me. Six foot two inches of pure, unadulterated sex. Every woman's fantasy, wrapped up in dark worsted wool and a crisp white shirt. Pretty soon he'll be surrounded by admirers, but for now, I've got him all to myself.
Just me and Mr. Steele.
I wonder what he'd say if I put up the partition and...
Get a grip, Tuggey. For fuck's sake.
"Take off your sunglasses," I tell him, instead of please please please ravish me in the backseat of this town car. "You look like a dick."
"Not until the right moment," he says, smirking. "It's all about timing, love."
Love?
"That's my new thing," he says, in response to my unspoken question. "I feel like Steele probably calls people love a lot."
He doesn't, but I bite my tongue. Because now, he does. Landon Steele is officially out of my control.
And I thought the dick pic thing was bad.
Landon - Josh - was right. We walk into the hotel with a crowd of convention-goers, and there's not a security camera or a rental cop in sight. Half of the people aren't wearing badges, and we've put the word out on social media to watch for a Landon selfie that will tell people who to look for.
All the seating in the lobby is full, so we end up huddled against a wall, already drawing curious stares from those who wonder what a guy who looks like Landon Steele is doing here.
Josh leans down to murmur in my ear. "Time for my close-up?"
"Yeah, I think so."
He grabs my phone and snaps an obnoxiously grinning picture, from an extreme high angle. I shake my head.
"No smiling. Come on. You need to try a little harder."
"That's the only take you get." He hands the phone back to me. "Post that, or post nothing at all. C'mon. You think Landon doesn't have a sense of humor?"
I always thought biting your tongue was just a figure of speech, until now.
Cringing, I type:
Come and get me, ladies.
Already, Josh's interpretation of Landon is creeping into mine. This isn't good.
Or maybe it is. Maybe it's very good. I haven't quite decided yet. Or to be more accurate, certain parts of me haven't decided yet. There's definitely a part of me that's responding to the new Mr. Steele on a completely primal level, which is probably a good sign, no matter how many times I have to literally bite my tongue to make this happen.
A few minutes pass, and no one bites. I fold my arms across my chest, starting to regret the choice of high heels. Once again, I tried to dress so I wouldn't look like a total schlub next to Landon. Instead, I just felt buttoned-up and uncomfortable, and the man himself doesn't even seem to notice.
There's someone lurking nearby, and I'm starting to wonder if it's Landon's first stalker. Her eyes are very bright, and they keep running over Landon in a way that makes my throat tighten a little.
Finally, she draws closer.
"Um..."
Josh looks up.
"Excuse me," she says, softly, almost tittering a little. "Are you Landon Steele?"
***
And that's how it starts.
I've made it very clear Landon is not here for autographs, because we're not prepared for that, and he ends up signing next to some housewife's tramp stamp, I won't be responsible for my actions. I might personally believe that my ass looks amazing in this skirt, but as far as Landon's concerned, I might as well be invisible.
Well. It wouldn't do for Landon Steele to be eyeballing his assistant while he's supposed to be schmoozing with fans. Still, even when we were in the town car together, when he was just Josh, I didn't even get the feeling that he noticed. Usually, even guys who aren't into thick girls will at least check out my cleavage in this blouse. It's not over-the-top, but hey, I think I look all right.
Josh, though, no way. Not a single glance towards the slit in the side seam that shows just a hint of thigh. And Landon, even less so. He's turned every single watt of his smile onto all the women who are now crowding around him.
I'm trying to manage things, to keep the crowd to a reasonable size and keep them from blocking traffic. If the convention organizers actually catch on to what's happening, we'll probably get thrown out. Well - asked very nicely to leave. Either way, that's not the kind of publicity I want.
The throng of admirers is still a hum of activity when I start to sense something...off. A presence. I feel watched, and whoever's doing the watching is obviously not pleased with what he sees.
I turn around, slowly, trying to get a glimpse without staring at whoever-it-is. I finally get a sidelong glance at an unnervingly tall man in an ill-fitting suit and...
...is that a cape?
There's a small, thin-lipped lackey following him with a clipboard. My eyes narrow. I have a suspicion, but I really, really hope I'm wrong.
I try to intercept him, but he manages to cut a swathe through the crowd, mostly by shouting "excuse me, excuse me" while his assistant sort of grimaces and tries to make room for himself with an elbow.
"Landon Steele?" the man in the cape - yes, it's a cape, though at least it's just a half-cape - says. Thank heaven for small mercies.
Josh looks up, smiling that dazzling smile. "Yes?"
"Pleasure to meet you," says the cape. "I'm D.B. Blackwood."
Oh, God.
I try to worm my way as close to them as I possibly can, because I have a feeling whatever's about to happen is beyond what we rehearsed. Immediately, I feel a sinking sense of dread. And disappointment in myself. I should have known, I should have prepared him for this.
"Like D.B. Cooper?" Josh says immediately.
"No," Blackwood sneers. "Not like D.B. Cooper. Like D.B. Blackwood."
The crowd is growing quiet, and starting to back away slightly. Blackwood's bad vibes are spreading like a poison. I have to get this guy out of here.
"I have to admit, I was very curious to meet you," Blackwood says, shaking Josh's hand a little too firmly. "We can present such an idealized image of ourselves on the internet, can't we?"
"We sure can." Josh's smile is starting to thin. "Hey, so, can I autograph something for you?"
"Autograph something." Blackwood blinks a few times. "Mr. Steele, do you have any idea who I am?"
"I'm sorry, I don't," he says. "Have we talked before? I get a lot of messages."
Blackwood lets out a disgusted sigh. "I'm an author. Like you. Well..." He smiles humorlessly. "Not like you. But we're in the same genre, and all that. I'm sure you've heard of me, if you really search your memory."
"You know, man, I'm sorry." Josh claps him on the shoulder, and I can see the air chill even further. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. So what can I do for you?"
"Nothing," says Blackwood. His assistant makes a little face, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Like I said, I just wanted to see you. In the flesh." This is punctuated with an extremely creepy grin.
"Well, it's great to meet you," says Josh, sidling away from him. "But I've got to move on to the other fans, right ladies? Not fair to let anyone dominate my time." He glances at Blackwood. "Even if he is a dominant."
The crowd laughs uncertainly, but I'm sensing a conflict of interest. I think most of these women are fans of both authors, and they're not quite sure how to feel about this.
Thankfully, the cheerful mood returns as Blackwood retreats into the shadows. I glance at my phone for the first time in ages, and I'm shocked to see how much time has passed since we got here.
"Landon!" That bright-eyed girl is waving her hand at Josh, and I feel a stab of jealousy that I've got absolutely no right to feel. Well, I guess I'm tired of him getting all the accolades that are really meant for me. Yeah. That must be it.
He turns to her, and she practically comes skipping over. "Hey, the hotel bar's too damn crowded, so a bunch of us are going to the club down the street. You want to come with?"
Josh glances at me. "What do you think, Kimberly?"
I shrug, getting a touch of heartburn at the thought of him partying with all these eager women. "I'm not the boss of you, Mr. Steele. In fact, I think it's exactly the opposite."
He smiles patiently. "Well, obviously, I'm not going alone. I'd be lost without my girl Friday."
Oh, boy. A couple other fans have gathered around, watching expectantly. People are practically frothing at the idea of spending the night with Landon, and I can't really blame them. Josh has done a fantastic job. He's added a whole new dimension to Mr. Steele, one that I never imagined could exist.
"I guess." I let out what I hope is a tolerant, but long-suffering sigh. Everyone is staring at me, and I can feel a
touch of suspicion in everyone's gaze except for Landon's. Er - Josh's. They're wondering if there's something more to our relationship than just author and assistant, and they're right to. I mean, he's practically asking my permission, for God's sake. The only thing that would make a man like Landon Steele act like that...
Well, it looks incredibly fishy. Especially if you've got a vested interest in Landon being single, which most of these fans do - for some reason. The vast majority claim to be happily married, and I see all of their status updates about their loving husbands and the struggles and triumphs they have raising their kids. The idea of Landon Steele is just a fantasy, an escape.
All the same, if they find out he's dating someone - and his chubby assistant, no less - at least half of them will be ready to cut a bitch.
I wonder if Josh is picking up on all this. But he just smiles. "Great. We heading over now?"
The bright-eyed girl's smile has faded a few watts. "Sure. Let's go. Maybe we can stake out a good spot by the bar before it gets too crowded."
I'm not exactly dressed for clubbing. Half of the group is already decked out in corsets or costumes of various kinds, but I'm still business-casual, and no matter how good my ass looks in this skirt, I'm woefully out of place.
We fall back from the group a little bit as we're walking, and I take the opportunity to murmur to Josh, even though I know that looks even more suspicious. "They hate me. They think we're an item."
He just shrugs, grinning. "They don't hate you. Let 'em think whatever they want to think."
I want to tell him that he's underestimating their ability for irrational jealousy, because I've practically become an expert in that field lately. But I don't dare put our heads close together again. People will start noticing.
"You're paranoid," he says, quietly, and I just glare at him.
***