by C. L. Riley
“We’re here,” Omar announces from the front seat. He’s acting as my driver and security this evening. I told him I’d sit in the front like a normal person, but he insisted I follow our regular protocol.
“Thanks, man. For everything. Order whatever you want and make sure no one, especially the press, interrupts. My mom will whip out baby pictures if she has the chance.”
She’d done that once when I’d taken her to a movie premiere, right there on the red carpet. I’ll never forget the expression on our interviewer’s face.
Omar gives me good news, putting a halt to the vivid images. “I’m certain your arrival has gone unnoticed. I’ve seen no evidence of the paparazzi since we landed.”
“No press is good news.” I hope it stays that way.
I climb out of the town car, and Omar hands the key over to the valet. I’m wearing dark glasses, despite the overcast sky, and my hair is growing back, making me less recognizable.
Even without the press lurking, I struggle to reign in my escalating anxiety.
Meeting with my mom and her new man is stressful enough, add on my imminent attempt to contact Cadie, all without any chemical assistance, and I’m screwed.
I’ve given up sex and drugs, booze included, and lost the woman I was falling for. All I have left is my music. When I get back to the hotel, I’m going to get busy writing. I’ve never had so many lyrics bouncing around in my head.
I’d always been told giving up chemicals was akin to throwing away your creativity. In my case, it’s the opposite. It seems I have another thing to be grateful for.
They told us in rehab to look at the glass as half full rather than half empty, something I’ve always struggled to do. I’m willing to admit it might be a quarter full.
With Cadie, the damn glass would be overflowing.
* * *
Cadie
I’m running late, something my father abhors. My job interview lasted longer than expected.
As if losing Shag in the most humiliating way possible wasn’t enough, I returned from the cruise to discover the bookstore had hired a new store manager, and I was no longer needed as a department head. The hours and position he offered weren’t enough to pay my bills. Talk about a double insult. First Shag and his stellar shagging and then my job, something thing I truly enjoyed, both gone.
So much for rising from the ashes like some mythical creature, I’m stuck in the fire with no water in sight. My earlier bravado has been crushed under life’s harsh heel like an insignificant insect.
Of course my dad has his own opinion on the employment matter, insisting my impromptu vacation prompted my demotion. Maybe he’s right. Whatever the case, I’m back in the market for a job, and so far, even with my degree, I’m not making any headway. Not enough experience, not the right kind of experience, the reasons all add up to one thing: I’m unemployed and unemployment benefits don’t stretch far enough. I’ll deplete my savings if I don’t find something soon.
The one glimmer of hope I’m currently clinging to is something my dad mentioned this morning while confirming our dinner date. My future step-brother is in the market for a personal assistant. If it’s anything like the job Misty performed for Shag, minus the sexual favors and drugs, I could do it. In fact, a job like that is exactly what I went to school for. I hate to rely on family, including future family, for anything, but I’m getting desperate.
I hesitate outside the restaurant door. Quite frankly, I’m astonished my dad picked this place. For someone who is constantly worried about money, he’s chosen one of Portland’s most upscale restaurants for our family get-together. Not that he’s poor or anything. In all likelihood he has money tucked away in various investments I know nothing about. It seems his wife-to-be is reason enough for him to dip into those resources. Too bad I don’t have an appetite to put my theory to the test. It’s not often he treats me to an expensive meal.
To be honest, I’ve lost my desire for food. I’m down to a size ten without even trying. None of my clothes fit right, and I don’t have the money to buy new ones. Robin and Josh say I look better than ever. I wish I felt the same.
Damn Shag Steal for making me realize what I’d been missing and leaving me wanting more.
The door attendant waits patiently, holding the door.
With a sigh, I cross the threshold, hoping my future step-brother finds my skills impressive enough to offer me a job that meets my needs. From what my dad said, the position pays well and involves traveling. Getting away sounds like an added bonus. I’m growing weary of Robin and Josh’s attempts to shove me into some stranger’s arms. They’ve tried to set me up with several guys since my return. I can’t get them to understand that dating is the last thing on my mind.
The way things look, I might stay celibate for life, anything to keep my heart from ever hurting the way it hurts now.
Pushing the painful thoughts back into the compartment I’ve reserved for them, I try to think positive. I need to project positive energy, if I want to make a good first impression.
Following the hostess through the crowded room, I spot my father in a cozy corner booth, an attractive brunette snuggled against him, examining the menu. My step-brother-to-be, his back to me, has a buzz cut and appears to be extremely tall and broad-shouldered, reminding me a little too much of someone I can’t forget. Had his head been smooth shaven, I might have turned around and left the way I came.
Taking another deep breath, I smooth my skirt and paste on a smile. My dad’s head comes up and he gives me an approving nod, while his fiancée lets her gaze travel over me as I approach.
“Here’s your party. Can I get you anything to drink?” our hostess asks.
I stop at the edge of the table, and my step-brother turns his head.
Oh God! No. Fucking. Way.
I’m frozen, and my dad clears his throat.
“Honey, order your drink and sit down. You look like you’re going to faint.”
I feel like I’m going to faint.
Shag’s top lip curls up, forming that damn smirk I remember so well. “Please, have a seat.” He lowers his dark shades just enough to wink before patting the empty space beside him.
Turning to the hostess, I bark out my order, “Vodka tonic, make it a double.”
“Cadie…” my dad protests.
“Oh relax, dear,” my future step-mother scolds my father. “She looks like she’s had a rough day. Go on, order whatever you like, sweetie. I’ll have one too.”
I give her what I hope is a grateful look and slide in next to her son…the breaker of my heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Shag
“There’s no shortcut between being in your living room and being a rock-star.”
-Paul Rodgers
Cadie O’Shea, the last person I expected to see at this table, is sitting next to me, working on her third double. Now that I’m not drinking, watching her use booze as blanket to hide under is pissing me off. I understand the situation is uncomfortable… okay, so maybe its borderline intolerable, but even so, I’m forced to endure it without any chemical support. Shouldn’t she have to tough it out too?
I realize I’m being childish, ridiculous even, over her desire to drink. The problem is I’m barely out of rehab, and my cravings are waiting below the surface, looking for any opportunity to drag me back down, right into the same pit I just climbed out of. That can’t happen. Pit dwelling isn’t conducive for my career.
“So, Cadie…” my mom starts, unaware of my internal battle. “Your father mentioned you were looking for a new job.”
I’m relieved when Cadie places her glass on the table, and then pushes it away, reaching for a piece of bread instead of more vodka.
“I had an interview today. There might be an offer coming. I have good feeling.”
The way she rushes her words isn’t natural, not for her. I spent ten days and nights in her presence, and I have no doubt she’s lying.
She shifts and h
er thigh brushes mine, sending a shockwave of awareness to my cock. Having her so close is almost unbearable. I want to swipe the table clean and toss her on top of it. I can’t get the memory of her sweet pussy out of my mind. Her taste, her smell, the sexy sounds she makes when she comes, I want all of it. Hell…I want her.
My mom’s next question is directed at me. She repeats it a second time, breaking through my thoughts, “Shag, what’s going on with you? You’re so quiet. Tell Cadie about the position you need filled.”
I let out a sigh and launch into a brief summary, “I’m looking for someone to travel with me to the Caribbean. My label has decided a reality show is a good move, all things considered. I don’t have any choice in the matter, not if I want to keep my career on track. I’ll be the first rock-star featured on Roping a Rock-Star, some crazy dating show. My PA will help me stay organized and assists with day to day stuff. It’s pretty basic, really. You’d help keep me in line and on schedule.” Following Cadie’s example, I grab a slice of bread, making a show of adding butter.
“Keep you in line, huh?” she scoffs, her words slurring. “From what I’ve read, that’s no easy task. How much would you pay this person who is supposed to organize your life?”
“Cadie,” her father groans. “What has gotten into you? You’re being rude.”
“Oh geese, Dad, didn’t mean to spoil your little party. If you’ll excuse me.”
She scoots from the booth and stands, almost losing her balance. By some miracle, she manages to stay upright and sashays away.
“Let me talk to her,” I say when her father starts to rise. “She might be embarrassed about losing her job. It’s my chance to make a good impression. I’m going to be her step-brother, after all.”
I’m not sure why I added that troublesome truth to my suggestion, especially when the idea makes me nauseous. I’m in love with my future step-sister. This is too fucked up for words. There’s a reality show in the making right here at our table.
Launching to my feet, I stalk past the bar, heading the same direction as Cadie. Omar catches my attention from his spot at the bar’s far end, canting his head and confirming I’m going the right way. I end up in the hallway that houses the restrooms.
The scene is far too familiar. Only this time, there is no guy trying to put his hands all over her, and she’s not slumped against the wall outside the bathrooms, which means one thing.
I’m going in.
I stare at the door marked “Women” and push, entering a mauve colored room with gold accents and pricy floral arrangements that smell fresh. As swanky as the restaurant is, there is no bathroom attendant, one less thing to deal with. There is, however, a woman leaning over the counter, her face an inch from the mirror. She’s lining her lips and lets out a little squeak when she sees me behind her.
“I think you have the wrong room,” she snickers, shooting me a smirk that rivals my own.
“Actually, I’m looking for my girlfriend, a gorgeous redhead.”
“I’m not your girlfriend!” Cadie snaps from behind a stall door.
The woman at the mirror gives herself a final glance. “All right-y then, I’ll leave you to handle your business.” She gives me another long look as she passes by, her interest obvious.
Of all the women I had to fall for, I picked the one currently mumbling to herself from the toilet. I’m pretty sure she mentioned something about castrating me.
“Cade Cat…”
“Don’t call me that! Ever!”
Even though she can’t see me, I raise my palms in mock surrender. “Fine. Ms. O’Shea, would you please come out so we can talk about you working for me?”
“You’re not going to apologize for your disgusting sex fest?”
“I’ve tried to apologize for the past two months. Will doing it again make a difference?”
“No, but you should at least make an effort.”
“Can you please come out, so I can look you in the eyes when I grovel?”
I want her out of the damn stall. The restaurant is packed, which means we’re sure to have company soon. The last thing I need is someone recognizing me and reporting my unbecoming bathroom behavior.
A latch clicks, and the third stall door swings open. Cadie hobbles out and stops in front of me, her arms crossed, pushing up her amazing tits like an offering. I can’t help but stare. It’s the longest I’ve been without sex since taking on my Shag persona.
“Did you get my texts? The gifts? I hope you didn’t kill the rats.”
“That’s your apology? And of course I didn’t kill the rats. I love them. It’s you I hate.”
Okay. Now that I know where I stand…
“Cadie, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t plan that fucking fiasco. Honestly, I don’t remember much of anything. Omar is helping me investigate. We’re pretty sure Misty and Marcus found a way to set me up and drug me. You know me better than that. I would never intentionally hurt you. What we have is real.” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“I thought I knew you. I believed what we had was real. I was wrong…wrong about all of it. Wrong about you. Besides, what does it matter anyway? Proof or no proof, you’re going on some dating show. You’ll be with other women. How the hell would that work for us?”
She has a point. How would it work?
It won’t.
As long as the show is taping, there is no way we can be together as a couple, and after that we’ll be step-siblings. Talk about a tabloid nightmare. As much as I want Cadie, I’m going to have to let her go. All I can offer is cheap sex and a future of sneaking around, hoping the pap hounds don’t sniff out what they’d no doubt label a scandalous affair. Cadie O’Shea is worth more than that. She’s nobody’s dirty secret.
I hate to agree with her bleak assessment of our future, but I do. “You’re right. Our parents are getting married. Even if you do believe I’m not lying, we’re screwed.”
Her eyes grow misty and she parrots my sentiments, adding yet another reason we’ll never work. “Let’s say I did believe you, and Omar finds evidence of their plotting, it won’t matter. Like you said, we’re about to be family. My father is finally happy. I can’t take that from him. He’s been alone since my mom died. He deserves this.”
Despite the finality of her words, I grab her shoulders. “What about you? Us? Don’t we deserve happiness? I sure as hell believe you do, even if I don’t.”
“God, this is a nightmare, isn’t it?” She gazes up at me, her eyes sparkling with tears.
Unable to stop myself, I lean down and claim her mouth, kissing her like it’s the last time, which it probably is. At first she doesn’t reciprocate, but her hesitation is short lived. A second later, she’s meeting my intensity with her own, clinging to me like she’s going to drown without my touch.
The door opens behind us and quickly closes, putting a halt to our intimate moment.
“Shit,” I mutter. “What now?”
She grabs a tissue from a nearby box, dabbing her eyes. “I become your assistant and try to move on. I’m not sure how that will work, but I need a job, and our parents will think it’s odd if I don’t accept.”
“I’ll pay you a hundred grand,” I offer, willing to pay more if she wants, anything to keep her close. I’m still a selfish bastard and don’t see that changing anytime soon.
“A year?” Her eyes widen.
“No, for six months. We’ll reevaluate after the probationary period.”
She smiles for the first time this evening, her face lighting up. “I can live with that.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here and play family, okay, sis?”
She frowns. “Don’t call me that. It’s too weird. Brother.”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but grin. As fucked up as this situation is, it seems I can at least have Cadie as a friend and employee. It’s more than I deserve. Like they taught us in treatment, we only have today anyway. So we’ll take this crazy, unorthodox relationship one day at time
.
If I look ahead, all I see is a train wreck, waiting to happen. At some point, sooner rather than later, we’re gonna crash and burn, but until the train derails, I plan to make the best of whatever time we do have.
* * *
Cadie
One Week Later
And I thought first class was nice.
Holy Heaven in the sky…Crude Element’s new private jet makes my previous plane ride with Robin, to Miami, seem like a trip in the cargo hold.
At the thought of Robin, guilt invades, reminding me of her final words. The images from earlier assault me, and I’m unable to resist the pull, allowing the scene to play out…
With my new luggage, bumping along behind me, I glance over my shoulder. What I see squeezes my heart. My BFF is rigid and looks more like a board than a person seated on the couch. The same couch where we’ve spent countless evenings, studying or watching movies while scarfing down ice cream and popcorn, laughing and crying, but always enjoying each others company.
Part of me wants to drop everything and make things right. I hate leaving her behind when there’s so much animosity between us, but I don’t have time to fix our friendship. I’m not sure it’s even repairable at this point.
My limo is outside waiting. In less than sixty minutes, I’ll be on a plane for my five and a half hour flight to a secluded island in the Bahamas, privately owned by some French billionaire who developed and manages an exclusive, invite-only resort for the ultra wealthy. Roping a Rock-Star will be putting more money in his pockets for the use of his property over the next month.
Ever since I accepted the position, working for Shag, Robin and Josh have been harassing me about my decision. At first, I appreciated and understood their concerns, but after days of the same old arguments, I’d had enough.
For God’s sake, the man is going to be my step-brother.
As often as I reminded them of that glaring fact, I figured they’d leave me alone. No such luck. And despite how much I love my BFF’s, there is no way I’m turning down an opportunity to make six-figures. Besides, after the initial trial period, if things are still weird between me and Shag, I can move on with an amazing experience added to my resume and enough money to breathe easy for once.