BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset)

by Parker, Kylee

  “What about Jason?” Taylor asked.

  “Not even Jason. At least not right now.”

  Greta and Taylor nodded their understanding.

  “Will they do the lights too?”

  “Yes, and I’m having camera’s installed. There will be three monitors.”

  “I’m guessing one will be in your room?” Greta asked.

  “One in my room, one in Taylor’s, and one in a central location like the kitchen of living room.” Namir noticed Taylor’s face darkening. He knew this talk was scaring her, but he also knew that once all of the equipment was in place, that she would feel better, safer.

  Less than an hour later, Jason sauntered up to the front door and rang the doorbell. When Greta let him in, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and demanded to know where his “little super star” was.

  “In the back yard with her puppy.”

  Jason’s face went blank. “Puppy?”

  Greta smiled. “Yes, he’s a cute little thing.”

  Jason rolled his eyes dramatically. “She doesn’t have time for a puppy!” He turned towards the kitchen and turned back with a sly smile. “Say, fix me a drink, ok?”

  Greta threw her hands into the air as he went through the kitchen and onto the back patio.

  “Guess you want it delivered too!” She said aloud, but went and made the drink anyway.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Jason asked as he walked towards Taylor and Namir. He noted with amusement that Constantine was wearing the skimpiest one piece he had ever seen on her, and she was shamelessly stretched out on a lounge chair.

  “It’s my puppy!” Taylor beamed. “I named him Lancelot.”

  Jason bent to kiss her cheek. “Oh yes, he’s fantastic, but I was referring to this!” He said and held a hand out towards Constantine. “Your mother is actually sunbathing without benefit of hat and umbrella!”

  Constantine gave him a dry look. “I have the benefit of SPF 30, Darling.” She rolled onto her stomach and asked if someone would please rub more lotion onto her back.

  Jason looked at Taylor and Namir. Namir shook his head solidly. Taylor mouthed, “No way!”

  “Guess I’m it.” He said and knelt beside her chair.

  “Taylor, I have fantastic news.” He said squirting the sunscreen directly onto Constantine’s back. She arched her back and spat out an expletive. Jason laughed silently while looking over his shoulder at Namir and Taylor.

  “Jason! Rub it your hands first, then put it on my back! That was a shock!”

  “Yes, yes. Anyway, Taylor, guess who would like for you to read for the part of Cinderella?”

  “Cinderella?” She asked with her brows pulled together. “That’s a kids’ story!”

  “Oh no, my dear! This is being directed by the master of Goth and all that is doom and gloom! None other than Frank Shard! He’s version of the fairy tale would give the Brothers Grimm nightmares if they were still alive!”

  Constantine lifted up on her elbows and looked at her daughter, sliding her large sunglasses halfway down her nose. “Told you it was good news!”

  Namir’s mouth tightened. He glanced at Taylor and caught her looking at him expectantly. “I’m not sure her being on a movie set, if she got the job, would be wise right now.” He glanced back at Taylor and saw her face relax.

  “Oh she’s guaranteed the part, the reading is just a formality.”

  “That’s fine…” Namir began. “But I still say it isn’t wise.”

  Jason and Constantine looked at him like he were evil. Jason decided to speak first.

  “This part will pay 1.25 million dollars!”

  “Is that it?” Constantine whined.

  “She’s not an established actress.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

  Constantine sat up. “You can do better than that, Jason!”

  Taylor looked from one to the other as they began arguing. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest. When she stood and yelled, everything stopped, including Lancelot.

  “Hey! You guys remember me?”

  Jason and Constantine looked at her with wide eyes and mouths open. Greta was making her way to Jason with a mixed drink on a tray, and stopped mid-stride.

  Taylor talked with her hands flying. “I’m the one who has to decide! Not the two of you!”

  Jason approached her like she were a dangerous animal. His voice and body language meant to be soothing. He noticed Greta and motioned her forward, taking the drink from the tray and swallowing half of it in one gulp.

  “An opportunity like this might not come again for a very long time, sweetheart.”

  “Really? Then you do the part, Jason! I’m sure you’d look lovely in drag!” Taylor took off across the yard with Lancelot following as closely on her heels as his little puppy legs would allow him. Taylor stopped at the kitchen door and picked him up. She ran up the steps and took sanctuary in her room, locking the door behind her.

  Namir sighed, and once again stopped his project. Jason and Constantine had their heads together whispering furiously. He guessed he wasn’t included since he was against the idea to begin with. He walked towards the house to check on Taylor. It was hard to tell what rash decision she would make just to get back at them.

  Taylor pulled a book out from under her bed. It was where she stashed her favorites, and only Greta knew they were there. She sat crossed legged on her bed and opened her tattered copy of Grimm’s Fairy tales. She grazed the handwritten message in the inside cover.

  For my sweet princess! Fairy tales aren’t always good and they certainly don’t always end happily. Guard your heart and your mind! Love to you always, Daddy

  Tony Randall had given the book to his daughter after Constantine had put her in modeling classes at the age of eight. He knew what that type of life would cost Taylor.

  Taylor jumped when a quiet knock sounded at her door. She moved to slide the book under the bed, but wasn’t willing to let it go just yet. She unlocked the door and climbed back onto the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Namir walked in. He joined her, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the pink frilly bed.

  “I guess they’re down there discussing me?”

  “They’re discussing something, and yes, I would imagine it is you.” Namir smiled as he looked at the exhausted Lancelot dozing, fully stretched out, over the air conditioning vent. “You wore him out.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. I ordered some training books and a couple of DVDs this morning so we can start working with him.”

  “I thought…”

  Taylor grinned evilly. “Yeah well, I didn’t want you to know I was being responsible.”

  Namir shook his head lightly and pulled the book she was holding from her hands. “What’s this?” He opened the front cover and read the inscription from her father. “The more I hear about him, the more I wish I could have met him.”

  Taylor plucked at the comforter. “He was wonderful. I don’t know how he survived Constantine.”

  Namir handed the book back to her, an amused expression on his face. “So, you’re calling her by her given name now?”

  “Might as well. Greta acts more like a mother than she does.”

  Namir took on a serious expression. “What are you going to do about the reading?”

  “I’ll go.” She said, and he couldn’t help but hear the defeat in her voice.

  “You don’t have to. I stand by what I said, it’s not a good thing right now.”

  Taylor looked up at him with her pale gray eyes. “It’s never going to be a good time. I can’t model forever. Maybe acting is what I need to look at now.”

  Namir frowned. “You’re so young…why do you worry like you’ve already reached your prime?”

  “A model’s career is not certain. Styles change. Opinions on what’s beautiful and what isn’t can change in the blink of an eye.”

  “Is that some of Constantine’s drivel?”

  “No…well maybe in part. I’v
e been in the business for a while now, and I’ve observed how things are. It’s merciless.” She slid off the bed and put her book back in place with the dozens that were stacked neatly under the bed. When she stood, her eyes were sad. “I’m not built like a typical super model, but right now the industry likes the athletic look, two years from now we could be back to someone like Twiggy being the epitome of beauty.” She went to the door and turned the handle. “I better go talk to them. Can you grab Lancelot, please?”

  Namir did as she asked, but his mind was confused. The conversation he had just held with Taylor convinced him that she was an intelligent civilized young woman. The image she portrayed was not the real Taylor at all.

  So why does she do it? He thought. Armor. He realized suddenly. It’s her only defense, and the only way she gets real attention from Jason and Constantine. He shook his head as Taylor stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him. She’s simply broken and trying to survive. A little girl that wasn’t able to grieve her father, and never completely grew up. Namir felt something swell within him. He felt for this woman, he was feeling more for her with each slow step he took towards her, and he vowed secretly, to do anything necessary to protect her.

  Taylor was nervous, more nervous than she thought she would be standing before Frank Shard and a small handful of other people. She assumed they were all tied into the production of Cinderella: An Orphan’s Nightmare, but that wasn’t a fact that had been proven, and no one had bothered to introduce themselves to her.

  She held the script in her hand and read the dialogue back to Frank Shard with as much emotion as was necessary for each word and sentence. She relaxed under the stress and lost herself within the part. When she was stopped by the raised hand, palm forward, of Frank Shard, Jason and Constantine gave each other a smug knowing look. Namir watched from the door, hoping his stare exuded cool indifference.

  Frank and his entourage whispered for a moment, amongst nodding heads and cigarette smoke. Frank, also with an air of cool indifference, spoke brusquely to Taylor, his accent halting and choppy in its nuances.

  “Alright, Taylor. I want you to sing this.” He held out a piece of paper for her.

  She took it from his hand and frowned. “You want me to sing this? Why?”

  He flicked an ash into a glass ashtray to his right. He eyed her with irritation. “Because, I want to hear how strong your voice is, and if you can carry a tune.”

  Several people snickered.

  Taylor thrust the paper back to him. “I don’t need that. I know it by heart.” She said with her chin jutted forward, her eyes glinting.

  The room was hushed in their silence in a way that a writer would have said “they waited with bated breath”.

  Taylor began an a cappella version of the National Anthem. Her voice began low and husky and she moved into the higher notes with clarity and ease, picking them up and carrying them like a professional.

  Namir felt a tremor in his body. Either Taylor was still acting, or she was the most patriotic woman on the planet. The way she moved through the song brought emotion whether you wanted it or not. In a word, her voice was beautiful.

  Namir glanced at Jason and Constantine. It was obvious they didn’t expect her to sing like that. Jason’s face registered awe, but Constantine’s held something closer to envy.

  Taylor brought the song to a strong conclusion with her eyes closed and her arms slightly lifted at her side. When she finished, she opened her eyes and scanned the room. All eyes were on her. A woman seated behind Frank with large black rimmed glasses and a severe bob of straight black hair began clapping and whispering bravo. Frank took his own glasses off and chewed lightly on one of the ear pieces. His face was grinning slightly, his eyes registering dollar signs.

  “I knew you could do it!” Constantine gushed as they left Frank’s building. The limo driver opened doors for them all, except Namir. Namir waited until everyone else was in the car before climbing into the front seat with the driver. He was a young Latino man that nodded to him as he started the car. Namir closed the glass partition. He didn’t want to hear Constantine and Jason prattle on. He still wasn’t sure Taylor was doing this for the right reasons. The only perk to this whole thing was that he was able to see Hollywood for a few days. The other great perk was that the movie was being shot in Scotland. He had always wanted to see both of these places.

  Taylor stared out the window in miserable silence as Jason and Constantine congratulated each other as if they had done something special. She wished Namir had ridden in the back with her, but she understood the importance of him needing to be with the driver in case something happened. She was grateful the stalker hadn’t contacted her for the past three weeks. She was also grateful Lancelot would be waiting for her in his portable kennel in her hotel suite.

  Constantine raised a champagne glass to her, but she shook her head. Unperturbed, Constantine raised the glass to Jason and proposed a toast. “To the most skillful manager a girl could want! And to his negotiation skills and bullshitting abilities that turned a 1.25 million dollar contract into a two million dollar one!”

  Jason touched her glass with his own. He looked at Taylor and smiled. “Just think! After this movie, with your modeling career backing you, you’ll be an A list actress with even bigger names knocking on your door!”

  “Oh yeah, it’s going to be great.” Taylor said with little enthusiasm. She only had two months to get ready. Two months. A lot could happen in two months.

  Namir knocked on the door of her suite and waited uncomfortably in his new tuxedo. Taylor had demanded and impromptu shopping trip that afternoon, insisting he needed new clothes. She informed him, rather than asked, that they would be dining out, and he needed to look respectable. The shopping trip had turned into a makeover day as well. He had hated the noisy pretentious salon. He didn’t want to get a haircut, and you would have thought he had asked the young man to perform a crime against humanity when he said he wanted a flat top.

  “Sir! Your hair is too beautiful to keep it in the bondage of such a strict haircut!” He spoke in theatrical feminine gestures, while waving a pair of scissors around.

  Namir quickly tired of the conversation and turned in his seat, allowing his Werewolf charm to take over. “You will give me a flat top, sir, or I will tie your scrawny little limbs together like a bow.” He leaned a little closer with each word, and “bow” come out with a puff of air in the man’s face.

  The light skinned man rolled his head on his shoulders and made a face, but proceeded to give Namir the tightest flat top he had ever had. Just so there wouldn’t be hard feelings, he tipped him twenty dollars.

  Taylor and Constantine had everything on their persons trimmed, waxed, plucked, polished, and highlighted. Namir was exhausted from the place after thirty minutes, but he was there for over three hours. All Jason had was a trim and an entire bottle of the complimentary champagne. When Namir saw the bill for all of their “treatments”, he felt like demanding a whole damn case of the bubbly stuff to go, and he wasn’t even paying the stupid bill.

  Taylor answered the door, taking his breath away. Her tawny hair had darker brown highlights running through it, and she wore a spaghetti strapped pale pink dress with the high waist line that came just under her breasts. The dress hung straight to her ankles, and he saw dainty ivory heels on her slim feet. She smiled in the shy way she had developed with him since the night the flowers and card had been left on her back patio.

  “You…you look…beautiful.” He stammered.

  She lowered her gray eyes then lifted them slowly. “Thanks.” She stepped back from the door so he could walk into the room. She walked a small circle around him, nodding her approval. “Wow, you clean up nice.”

  Namir felt uncomfortable but was pleased she like the way he looked. At least the tux didn’t have tails.

  “So, where do you want to go?” Namir was still uncomfortable with the prospect of being in public, but she had insiste
d.

  “Mastro’s”

  “Are you actually going to eat?”

  Taylor looked at him wryly. “Yes. Lobster to be exact.”

  Namir grunted. “Has Constantine recovered from the fact that she wasn’t invited?”

  Taylor laughed dryly. “No, but last time I saw her she was heading to the hotel bar with Jason. I’m sure they’ll find…something to do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Taylor glanced at him patiently as she wrapped a sheer shimmering ivory wrap around her shoulders.

  Namir frowned before his eyes bugged. He placed a hand over his mouth a breathed, “No!”

  “Oh yes.” Taylor said with a straight face. “They often…console…each other when their lonely. Or at least when they think they’re lonely.”

  “Do they know you know?” Namir just couldn’t believe Constantine would stoop that low, especially considering Jason was married with children.

  “No, but I doubt mother would care if I did. Jason would probably be horrified. If he were sober anyway.” She looked in the mirror one last time. “Ready?”

  Namir nodded.

  He was glad the same limo driver was available for their several day stay in Hollywood. It made things safer for Taylor.

  When they pulled up to Mastro’s, Namir was impressed immediately. The building was a mainly white stucco with three levels. The top, from his vantage point, looked like an open penthouse for outside as well as indoor dining. He hoped they weren’t going up there. If he needed to get Taylor out quickly, he would rather not have to come down three flights.

  The driver stopped directly in front of the black awning that extend to the street. Taylor leaned forward. “We’ll be in there for about an hour and a half.” She passed him two crisp bills, of what denomination Namir couldn’t see. However much it was caused the driver to smile and thank her profusely.