Hollywood Playboy

by Natasha Madison

  “I didn’t . . .” he says, coming closer, and I hold my breath, “fuck Roxanne last night.”

  “I don’t care,” I tell him, my voice now lowering to an almost whisper.

  He walks even closer and leans in, invading my personal space. He’s so close, closer than in the restaurant, his face going close to my ear. “Liar,” he whispers, and my body shivers, then he chuckles and turns and walks out.

  “Motherfucker,” I hiss to myself after the door clicks closed. I count to ten or maybe a hundred, then I walk out of the room, peeking out first to make sure that he isn’t there smirking. I make my way back to my room, grabbing my phone and texting Kellie.

  Me: I’m available if you are.

  I toss the phone onto the bed, pulling my sports bra off, and my phone starts ringing. I get a huge smile on my face when I press the green accept button. The little circle spins at the top, showing me it’s connecting.

  Her beautiful face fills the screen. She doesn’t have one stitch of makeup on, and her blond hair is piled on her head. Our friendship started two years ago when I followed her for a week during her Broadway debut. Well, we bonded over our love for music, our love for coffee, our love for memes, and most importantly, our outlook on Hollywood.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” I see she is lying on a couch with her head propped up on a couple of pillows. “Where are you?”

  “On the tour bus of hell,” she says, rubbing her face. “Can you do me a favor?” she asks. I kick off my shoes and hop into bed, sliding under the covers. “Next time I bring up how much fun touring is, can you remind me of this conversation?”

  I start laughing at her when I hear a deep voice in the background. “I’ll remind you, babe.” I open my eyes, not expecting a man’s voice, and then I see her turn and glare at him.

  “I told you not to call me that,” she says, then comes back to me. “Um . . .”

  “Um? I’d say that’s a good word, all right,” I say, turning on my side and laying my head on the pillow.

  “I’m going in my room,” she says and gets up while I hear him grumble in the background. She walks into her room and then closes the door and collapses on the bed. “I’m in hell.”

  “I think you have a lot to explain,” I tell her, and she nods her head.

  “I had to amp up my security, then guess who walks in as my bodyguard? Christ on a cracker, it was Brian,” she says, and my eyes go wide. You see, she and Brian have a past. Well, not so much together, but she was dating someone, and she reached out to this security firm to help her sneak around. Except she fell hard for Brian, who more or less ignored her. “Yeah, so he swaggers in here, and I’m not kidding with the swagger.” I laugh at her facial expressions. “I just . . . it’s so irritating . . . I’m supposed to be ignoring him and all this shit, and he’s basically my shadow.”

  “Well, at least he’s not an asshole who pretends to be your friend and then tries to kiss you and then ignores you,” I point out and then proceed to tell her the whole story about Tyler.

  “He already fucked Roxanne a while back,” she says, and I look at her. “It was a one-night thing.”

  “How do you know?” I ask her, pissed that I even care.

  “We share the same stylist,” she says, and I don’t ask for any more information. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Fuck if I know. What are you going to do?” I ask her. “I think I’m going to ignore him to give him a little taste of his own medicine.”

  She laughs. “I think the only thing that men can’t handle is when you ignore them.” She looks up at her door and then back at me. “I did that to Brian, and he snapped after four hours.”

  “What did he do?” I ask her, wondering if I’m going to have the same thing from Tyler.

  “He told me that he would put me over his knee and turn my ass red.” Her cheeks immediately turn pink, and my mouth falls open. “Yeah, but not yet. Because he doesn’t eat where he shits, or shits where he eats, or however the hell that saying goes.”

  “I get that,” I tell her, and she glares at me. “What? It’d be really awkward if you guys hooked up and then you dumped him, and he had to watch you flirt with other people.”

  “I don’t flirt,” she hisses. “It’s called Southern charm.” I laugh at her, and then as we talk about her tour stops, a strange number comes up on my phone.

  “I have someone trying to FaceTime me,” I tell her. “Can I call you back?”

  “Yeah, go and be good and safe and please try not to kill him.” She laughs, and I point at her.

  “Go see your babe.” I smile, and she glares while I press the green button.

  The circle spins again, and then Tyler’s face fills the screen. I see that he has a towel around his neck. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “It’s a good thing you cleared that up since I didn’t recognize your egotistical face or your condescending voice,” I say. “Who gave you my number, and what do you want?”

  “I have all the numbers on the original call sheet in case we need to contact you, and I want to know if you would like to have lunch with me.” I roll my eyes at him and how fast that entire sentence flowed from those sexy as sin lips of his. The phone accidentally falls out of my hand, landing on my stomach. Picking it back up, I see that his mouth is open. “Are you in bed?”

  “Um, yeah, it’s a relax day. That is what it said on the call sheet. Did I read the itinerary wrong or something?” I ask him, and I see his mouth close and then open. He tries to say something, but the words aren’t coming out.

  “Are you . . .?” he stutters, and my eyebrows pinch together. “Are you naked?” he asks, and it’s almost as if the words pain him to say. Then his eyes change, the brightness and laughter color gone and the shade darker. “Like naked, naked?”

  “Why do you care if I’m naked?” I ask him, getting up on my elbow but holding the covers to my chest.

  He rolls his eyes and takes a huge swallow, and I watch his Adam’s apple going up and down slowly, almost like his mouth is dry. “I don’t care.” He throws the same line back at me that I threw at him.

  Oh, how the tables have turned. I lean in closer to the phone, a hair’s width away from the camera so only my mouth is visible to his naked eye, and I tell him to come closer. When he gets close enough, I lower my voice and say, “Liar.” It comes out on a whisper, and I disconnect the call. I’m smiling to myself, celebrating the power of fucking karma, when a text comes in.

  Tyler: Pick you up in thirty, dress warm.

  Me: NO

  Tyler: See you then. Room 1712, right?

  Me: NO means NO

  Tyler: Fine, then we can sit in your bed all day and watch Dateline while you lie there NAKED and RELAX.

  Me: I’ll be ready in thirty.

  I shake my head. “Well fucking played, Romeo.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tyler

  Two rappers are at each other’s throats. The question is, who is going to win this rap battle?

  I’m putting on my black riding boots when I hear a knock on the door and then the click of the lock. Looking up, I see Cassie coming into the room, sticking her head in the room first. Then she looks at me sitting on the couch in front of the television, which is playing another fucking Dateline episode. “Is it safe?” she whispers, and I look at her, my eyebrows furrowing. “Roxanne,” she says, and I just nod at her.

  “Never happened,” I tell her, grabbing the black leather jacket and shrugging it on, my long-sleeved white shirt showing.

  “What are you talking about?” she says, walking in and looking into the bedroom. “I thought I saw you and Roxanne running into the hotel last night.”

  “Yeah,” I say, grabbing my phone and tucking it into my back pocket, then grabbing my wallet and putting it in the other pocket. “Changed my mind.”

  “What?” She looks shocked. “Are you ill?”

  “Nope,” I say, picking up my room key. “I’m out. I’ll see you later.” Twis
ting the handle of the door, I listen to the click and pull the door open.

  “Where the hell are we going?” she asks me, coming closer to the door.

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” I tell her, grabbing my sunglasses from the inside pocket of my jacket. “I’m going for a ride, and I’ll be back later,” I say and walk out, not giving her a chance to ask anymore questions. I press the down button and wait impatiently for the elevator to come. When it finally does, I press the button for the seventeenth floor. I watch the numbers count down until the door opens, and there she stands. I try not to smile, but just seeing her standing there in her tight blue jeans, a white T-shirt tucked into the front with the back hanging, and a black leather jacket hanging open. Her white Adidas running shoes making the whole outfit.

  “You ready?” I ask her when she walks into the elevator, and I press L for the lobby.

  “No,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a secret,” I say, leaning back against the elevator wall. We arrive in the lobby before she has a chance to ask me another question. “Let’s bounce.” I smirk at her while she glares. She walks next to me but a touch back, following me around the people in the lobby. I walk out the revolving door and nod at the doorman. You see, after I went back to my room with another raging fucking hard-on, I knew I had to get away from it all. I needed to clear my mind, so I called down to the concierge and ordered the only thing that I could do to take me away from all the madness.

  Then I FaceTimed her, and after I hung up, I called back down and changed it from one person to two, and then I googled the top things to see and do in Tokyo. I would show her that we could be friends even if I wanted to fuck her until she was breathless. Even if she was the one running after me in my dreams.

  I walk toward our ride, now with two helmets on it, both black. As I pass the valet stand, he hands me the keys, and I stop in front of the black chrome on chrome motorcycle. “What is this?” she asks as she checks out the bike. I walk to it and stick the key in it and grab the smaller black helmet and turn to her.

  “We are going for a ride,” I tell her, and she continues to look at the bike, a bit unsure of what to say. “Put this on, and I’ll tie it for you.”

  “Who is going to drive this bike?” she asks me, her hands grasping the helmet hesitantly. “Do you have one, and do I sit on another?” She looks around for another bike.

  “No, princess, I’m your personal driver,” I tell her and then grab the helmet from her. “Push your hair back a touch.” She grabs the elastic on her wrist, pushing her hair back and tying it in a low ponytail. “Perfect.” She takes the helmet from me again and slides it on her head with the visor up. I grab my own helmet, putting it on and tying it, and then doing the same for her. I’m leaning in probably a bit closer than I actually need to, and I may or may not have sniffed loud enough that she raised her brow at me. But fuck me, I had to know if she still smelled like strawberries. “You ready?”

  “Not even one bit,” she says honestly. “Do you know how to drive this thing for real?” she asks when I walk over to the bike and throw my leg over, sitting on it and kicking up the stand with my right foot.

  “Did you not watch my last movie? I did my own stunts,” I tell her and then hold out my hand for her to step up to the bike.

  “Was that the movie where you flew off a roof on said bike and crashed into the Louvre?” Her voice is sarcastic and scared at the same time.

  “Throw your leg over and then put your feet on the little pegs on each side.” I point at the footrests sticking out in the back. She follows my advice and throws her leg over the back. “Make sure your ass is comfortable on the back seat.” She nods. “You won’t be able to talk to me while we are riding, so if you need anything, just tap my leg.”

  “Um, you want me to touch your leg?” she asks as she looks around. “There should be a little button.” She picks up her hand and motions with her thumb. “Like in the hospital.”

  I laugh at her. “I’ll look into that for next time.” I turn the key and listen to the engine purr. “Okay, now lean forward and hold me around the waist.” I grab her hand and bring her forward then stop. “Zip up your jacket,” I tell her, and she looks down and pulls the zipper up. “Good, now lean in and wrap your hands around my waist.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around my waist, squishing her tits on my back. My cock stirs and immediately starts to go hard. “Fuck,” I hiss out and close my eyes, then look back and see her scared face. “Just an FYI, don’t put your hands lower, or it’s going to be really fucking painful for me.”

  She looks confused for a second and then looks down and then her lips form an O, and she laughs. “Just close your visor.” She nods her head, then takes one hand off me to pull down her visor. She then leans forward and wraps her hands around my waist. There is nothing that will get my cock to go down, at least not as long as those gorgeous tits are smashed up against my back and those arms and hands are precariously close to my dick. Jesus, the visuals that are running rampant in my mind right now.

  Focus, man, focus.

  Pulling my own visor down with one hand, I put the other on the throttle. I twist it a bit, and the bike makes a touch more noise. I turn my head to her and nod, and she nods back with a smile filling her face. I lean forward and slowly take off, giving her time to get comfortable. Her hands on my waist squeeze so tight that I know she’s still nervous. I ride moderately until I finally get to the open road where I want to ride. When I stop at a light, I put my foot down on the pavement and give her a thumbs-up. She does the same, and then I smile. The light turns green, and I take off slowly again. When we are finally on the open road, I speed it up a touch. Her hands tense at first, and then she slowly lets go a bit. We ride for a good hour; my mind finally free and the stress off my back as we wind up and down the side of the mountains. As I ride, I take in the mountains on my right, the ocean on my left, and the city skyline below us. I pull over when I see a little open space on the left side. After I kick the stand down, her hands unlock from my waist, and I throw my leg over to get off, then peel my helmet off. I look over and see she is pulling hers off, too. “So?”

  “I had no idea that would be so peaceful,” she says and then looks at me. “Can I get down?” I nod my head, then walk to her and hold out a hand. She takes it and climbs down. “I’m not going to lie. At first, I was scared shitless. And when you went a touch faster, I said a prayer in case we died.” We both laugh. “But then riding up the mountain, it just cleared my head,” she says and looks down at the water crashing against the rocks. “This is the best therapy.” I stand next to her, my mind empty but content to be here at this moment with her. “And it was free.”

  Now I throw my head back and laugh. She has no idea I had to buy this bike, and at the end of the day, I will likely just have to ship it back to LA to be added to my collection. “You ready to keep going?” I ask her, and she just smiles at me, her expression filling her whole face. “Let’s go,” I say, walking back to the bike. This time, she snaps her own helmet and throws her leg over like a pro. Her arms loop around me, but she doesn’t interlock them. She puts both palms on my stomach, and I take off. I don’t know how long we ride, but we finally come back down into the city, going to our first stop. After zigzagging through the tons of traffic, I park in the middle of the sandy parking lot and climb off the bike first. She follows, and we take our helmets off. “Are you sore?” I ask her when she walks a bit funny.

  “It’s like when you get off from riding a horse.” She laughs. “I’ll be fine. Where are we?” she asks, looking around at all the trees. We look like we are in a forest.

  “Follow me.” I start down the asphalt path. Benches line each side as some people walk and others sit and talk on the benches.

  “Aren’t you afraid people are going to know who you are?” she asks from beside me.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I’m hoping they don’t, or they look
at me and say there’s no way he would be here.” We finally walk to a small boathouse, and she sees the boats. “We did the bike, so now let’s do water.”

  “What is this?” she asks, looking around. She doesn’t see it yet. You can’t really see anything but the different colored boats tied up to a dock. Rows of red, blue, and yellow rowboats all rock with the current of the soft water.

  I walk up to the wooden desk and give the little man my name. He just smiles and hands me a number, then points at the door in the back of the room, so I nod. He says something, and I obviously have no idea what he is saying, so he walks to us and grabs our helmets and puts them behind the desk. “Stay here,” he says in broken English, and we just nod as he walks out the back door. I grab Jessica’s hand, and she lets her fingers intertwine with mine loosely as we walk down the dock toward a little boathouse with the door open. She looks around, seeing trees on both sides.

  A little guy is standing at the end of the dock, organizing the boats and the people who are waiting. “What color did you want?” I ask her as her eyes take in everything.

  “I don’t care,” she says and points down at where other boaters are rowing. “Look at those trees over there. Look how they are covering the water.” She points to exactly where we are going. We finally walk up and hand the man our paper, and he nods his head.

  “Color?” he says and walks to the red one. “This okay?”

  “Yes,” Jessica says, then looks at me. “What if we fall in?” she asks. “Do you know how to row a boat without us tipping over?” Shaking my head, I try not to laugh. The man holds out his hand for her as she steps into the boat. The boat moves side to side, and she lets go of the man’s hands and grabs the sides of the boat, letting out a shriek. “If I fall into this water,” she hisses as she tries to get her balance to sit down and not rock the boat even more. “I am going to kill you,” she says, now breathing a sigh of semi relief.