Back Off: Reed Security: Book One

by Robin Leaf

  I stare at him for a minute, looking for signs of deception and see none. “And what about your career?”

  He shrugs. “I’m tired of worrying about my fans and what they expect. I’m going to live for me now.” Walking to his bar, he grabs a water bottle out of a small refrigerator. “This next album is all about my childhood and living with my abusive mom.” He smiles, twisting the cap. “If it does well, maybe I’ll finally come out on the next one. Who knows?”

  “Come out?”

  This fucker is gay? Well that’s a detail I missed.

  He lifts the bottle to his mouth and swallows a mouthful. “I guess Nana didn’t tell you?”

  I shake my head. “No, she did not.”

  Stepping toward me, his face becomes serious. “Trust me, Noah, it’s the only thing keeping me from her. There have been times that she’s made me question my sexuality.” He steps closer. “I love her, so if you don’t do right by her,” he stands taller and his face morphs into what just might intimidate most people, “I’ll bury you.”

  The chuckle I want to release is effectively swallowed, but I do smile.

  His eyes narrow, probably in an attempt to make his threat more menacing. “I’m serious, Noah.”

  My smile broadens and I nod. “Noted.”

  “She left right before you got here to go to the studio to rehearse and record the dance number. I would suggest you try to catch her between the taping and the live show.”

  I look at my watch and formulate a plan. It’s two, which gives me time to make a couple of stops on the way there.

  Yep. It’s time to un fuck this situation up.

  Forty Seven

  Cristiana

  “John, can we start again in one minute?” I ask loudly.

  “Sure thing, Crissy,” he answers.

  “Phillippe,” I snap, “fucking hit your mark this time. If Chastity gets hurt because you can’t remember where to be, then you will be the first to go home.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he salutes, then says under his breath, “Crankiana.”

  I hear the others laugh, although I probably wasn’t supposed to. Yes, I am very aware of my nickname from the dancers. And yes, I’m being a bitch, but they need to step it up if they are wanting to win this thing.

  And who names their kids Phillippe and Chastity anyway?

  “Okay, team, this is the last run through before they start taping for the show tonight. Let’s do it right so the camera men can get their angles.”

  We hit our beginning positions, and the music starts. It feels wrong, but I can’t stop it again. We’re already ten minutes late, and we have to record it next. I’m sure it’s just me being overly picky.

  The music ends, and the dancers look at me expectantly. Instead of giving them the praise they want, I announce, “You have three minutes. Catch your breath, and then we do it for real.”

  I ignore their scoffs and walk to the side stage, taking a drink from my water bottle. My eyes close and I take a deep breath, trying to steel my nerves.

  Yes, I’m a fucking nervous wreck. It’s my first live show, and I have a team of dancers that will be judged by a panel of famous dancers and choreographers, but that’s not the only reason for my nerves. Tonight, it’s my turn to showcase my team in this group dance; then, each will perform a duet of my choreography. The show decided to spotlight one musical artist each week. My team drew P!nk, which is pretty awesome. At least we didn’t draw Ignacio like the other team did. That’d just be awkward, especially today.

  I find myself irrationally angry, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t think I’m mad that Ignacio took the situation into his own hands. I’m not even mad that he kind of made me look like an idiot. Honestly, anyone who would blame me for his supposed cheating is just estúpido.

  No, I’m angry at myself because I chose to allow the love of my life walk away because I’m a dumbass. I was afraid to talk to Ignacio.

  But I’m also mad at Noah for giving up so easily.

  Mostly, I’m mad at me.

  And, truth be told, I’ve been angry since it happened, but now, I’m just downright furious.

  Ugh. Time to channel all this rage into my performance.

  The song? “Who Knew,” chosen on purpose, and it’s fitting that the dance matches the song.

  It’s relevant to the situation since I plan to go to him after this stupid show is over tonight.

  “Cristiana, we’re ready,” the male voice over the speakers tells me.

  “Okay, let’s go, places everyone,” I yell, probably louder than needed. “This is our only shot, so be perfect.”

  Once the music starts, I look up, hitting my first pose. I see a flash of someone, and I imagine that those blue eyes are focused on me, and everything clicks into place. This… this is what was missing. Him. I need him to see it, this dance I created for him. I need to perform it for its intended audience, whether it’s actually him or not, dancing all my pain, all my anger, all my anguish, all my hope, just for him. The words are purposeful and poignant, and when I made up the dance, it was a message for him to not give up on us. Now? Well, now, it’s a message that I’m coming for him.

  The other dancers seem to feed off my energy, upping their level to meet mine. It feels… like magic.

  When the music stops, the stage is quiet. I almost expect thunderous applause, but I forget that the audience hasn’t arrived, well, except for my one member.

  “Wow, that felt good, guys.”

  They celebrate a good performance with congratulatory pats and words of encouragement. They seem to have bonded even though this is a competition. Probably it’s hating me that has brought them closer. Whatever; their comradery will make them better when they have to dance together.

  When I scan the audience area, it’s empty. Whoever I saw earlier is gone, or he was just a figment of my imagination. I gather my shit and head for my dressing room, hoping that I have sufficient time to change and fix my hair and makeup before the show tonight.

  I enter my dressing room, blotting my face with my towel, but I pause, smelling a familiar scent that gets my mouth watering. Who’s been eating in here?

  Looking up, I see the blue eyes I’d imagined earlier. They look tired, haunted, the same way mine looked before I caked on all this makeup.

  He reaches out, handing something to me. He’s holding a bouquet of… is that…?

  He shrugs. “You told me you didn’t like flowers.” His eyes flash and sparkle despite the bags underneath them.

  “So you brought me bacon?”

  “Well, I was going to bring burgers from Bucky’s, but they couldn’t make you a bouquet of them. I asked Justin to improvise. He says you love their bacon.”

  I blink, nodding unconsciously. “I do.”

  He drops his arm holding the bacon bouquet, and takes a shy step forward.

  “That dance… you never cease to amaze me. I loved it.”

  I narrow my eyes, but playfully. “Even though it was for you?”

  He nods, and his face becomes red. “I… well,” he looks down and swallows, taking a deep breath before he looks back to me, a shy smile on his face. “I came to ask you out for our second date.”

  The blushing and the way he stammers makes me smile. He’s nervous, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it from him. He’s showing his vulnerable side, and I find it hot.

  I look over to the counter of my dressing table, which has the same lights both of the dressing room mirrors had the two times we’ve been caught in a dressing room before.

  “No,” he says. “I’m not going to seduce you this time. I’m going to do this right.”

  He grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips.

  “Cristiana Calvillo, will you do me the honor of –”

  “Yes,” I interrupt, knowing what he’s going to say and suddenly wishing it would be more. I decide to make that known. “Whatever you ask me, the answer will be yes.”

  His brows furrow, a
nd his head tilts to the side. When what I mean clicks for him, he smiles.

  “Can we just get through the dating first? I’ll ask other questions when I don’t have bacon grease dripping down my hand.”

  “The bacon grease is what makes me want to say yes to anything.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Will you please say yes to the date. In public. Where everyone can see us. Where we don’t have the pressure to have sex after –”

  “Oh, there will be sex.”

  He smirks and pulls me closer. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  I giggle. “Yeah, you are.”

  He lays his forehead on mine. “Okay, maybe I am, but it’s not an expectation. I want you, in my life, sharing our days and nights. I want to be with you and fall more in love with you every day. I want to wake up tangled with your legs and choking on your hair, sharing coffee with you in the mornings and arguing about what we’re going to eat for dinner in the evenings. I want to walk down an aisle with you, have babies…” He lifts to kiss my forehead and pulls away. “But first, I want to go on this second date with you.”

  I smile. “Thanks for saving me a trip.”

  His eyes narrow in confusion. “A trip?”

  I nod. “I was coming to you after the show tonight.”

  God, that smile, the one that lights up everything, shows up, just for me, and it makes me grin back at him like an idiot.

  “So, güero, how about we start the date right now?”

  Again, his head tilts. “Right now.”

  “Yes, you can sit next to me in my designated spot, holding my hand, showing everyone who watches this show that you are with me, supporting me.” I wink. “I might even kiss you on camera.”

  His eyebrow raises. “Isn’t it too soon after Ignacio?”

  I shrug. “Fuck what anyone thinks.”

  In a second, I’m in his arms, kissing like we were never apart.

  “I love you, cariño.”

  “I love you, too, güero.”

  ***

  Laying in the afterglow of a great night and twice this morning, I have to say it’s been tough. No, the sex wasn’t tough; that was wonderful.

  What made it tough was suffering all the alerts from the phone calls and the texts we both received from anyone who saw the show. Apparently, outing our relationship on national TV is big news.

  My ears are still ringing from Mama’s shrieks, ones that ended in her sobbing that it was about time that I finally pulled my “cabeza” out of my “culo” and fell in love with the “marinero maravilloso.” When she started talking about themes for the wedding, I pretended to go through a tunnel and turned off my phone.

  Noah fielded similar calls or texts from his sister, his mother, Fionn, and Darby. Jason emailed him early this morning, congratulating him on un-fucking up his fuck up.

  Another ding comes from his bedside table, so Noah rolls over to retrieve his phone.

  I’ll never get used to these new-fangled iPhones and their text messages. It’s just… weird. Why can’t people just call anymore?

  “Scotty sent a link of the latest episode of The Sippers.”

  “Why?”

  He kisses my forehead. “Let’s see.”

  He pulls it up on his phone, cuddles me closer to him, and pushes play.

  “Well,” Jacquie says, “I don’t know how many of you watched Dance Like No One’s Watching last night, but wow, if you didn’t, you should be kicking yourselves today. What amazing talent.”

  “Oh, yes,” Michelle agrees. “Did you see the dance to ‘So What?’ Alicia was awesome, but Phillippe is my favorite. He’s so hot.”

  “He is hot, but my favorite is Turk. His dance with Chastity to ‘U + Ur Hand’ about lit me on fire.”

  “Yeah, and did you notice how the choreography was so unique for each P!nk song?” Michelle sighs. “I wish I was that talented. Cristiana did such a good job matching the dancers’ styles.”

  “Oh my God, and that opening number? She gave me goosebumps when she danced. She outshines any dancer on any stage.” Jacquie smiles. “And speaking of Cristiana, did you happen to see her in the audience?”

  Michelle raises her glass to her lips and smirks. “I did.”

  “Was that a new man next to her? If so, wow.” Jacquie fans herself.

  “Yeah, but didn’t he look familiar, Jacquie?” Michelle sets down her wine glass. “I swear I’ve seen him before.”

  “Rumor on the street is that he owns the company that handles Ignacio’s security.” Jacquie takers her own sip of wine. “I also heard that he and Cristiana may have attended the same high school.”

  “Ooh. Do you think they knew each other? Like maybe they were high school sweethearts with a second chance at love?” Michelle swoons.

  “Maybe,” Jacquie says. “That’d be so sweet. I like thinking that instead of licking her wounds over Ignacio, she’s probably licking the abs of her new man.” Jacquie lifts her glass, looks into the camera, and winks. “I know that’s what I’d do if he were anywhere near me.”

  Epilogue

  2017

  Noah

  I asked the busiest woman on the planet to marry me six years ago, and she said yes. We haven’t tied the knot yet though. It’s been okay up to now because we are together in every sense of the word. She is in demand, and I love it. I’m so fucking proud of her, but I am ready to settle down.

  She is, too. She turns projects down now, which is a step in the right direction. She just finished choreographing a kids’ dance movie in Vancouver, where she’s been for a month. Now, she has an indefinite clearing in her schedule.

  What brought on the urgency of my wanting to get married is that Jason and Darla delivered their son, Reid, a few months ago (they named him after me, and I’m so fucking honored). Yes, they’re finally together. Darla’s not one for traditional commitments, so they’re not married, but I’ve never seen my best friend happier. He’s gets to be a dad, something he never thought he’d be.

  It’s something I’m ready to be, hence the urgency.

  Cristiana won’t even entertain the possibility of kids until we’re married. She says her mother would collapse in a heap of Catholic despair if we even hinted at kids before we’re wed. Graciela and Javier moved to L.A. after they retired and Rafael took over the bakery; they live as caretakers of Riley Tate’s house in Malibu. Graciela is happy helping to raise their twins, but she keeps hinting to Nana that she’s ready for us to get married because she wants the title of abuelita; my fiancée just waves her off.

  But I’m ready. For all of it.

  I’m waiting at the airport for her to come through those doors after her flight. I’m hoping she’ll agree to finally set a date.

  Everyone trails off the plane, but no Cristiana.

  I see a flight attendant pulling a small suitcase behind her.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” I say, trying to choke back my concern. “My fiancée hasn’t come off the plane. Has everyone disembarked?”

  She shakes her head. “No, sir. She’s still on board. She is having an… issue…” blinking, she adds, “…with her luggage.” She smiles nervously, hoping I buy her lie, and adjusts her grip on her bag. “Congratulations.”

  I must show my skepticism, so she quickly adds, “Cristiana mentioned you’re getting married soon.”

  “We are. Thank you.”

  I turn toward the tunnel, and my eyes are drawn automatically to her. Still, when I lay eyes on my angel, my heart squeezes. She is absolutely beautiful and a little pale, pulling her small carryon behind her and biting her thumb. She tends to get woozy on planes when she’s tired, and she has to be exhausted. As soon as the movie finished, she hopped on the plane.

  She sees me and smiles, walking faster, and throws herself in my arms.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you’d just pick me up after I got my luggage.”

  “Nope, I couldn’t wait that long,” I say, kissing her forehead. “Did you get airsi
ck again?”

  “What?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink. “Oh, yeah, I mean I am tired.”

  Nodding, I agree. “I figured.”

  She backs up out of my arms, and her thumb makes its way back to her mouth. “But I’m also pregnant.”

  What?

  She’s… what?

  I feel the world spin a little faster and sway, and the edges of my vision blur.

  She steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “Whoa, there, güero. Breathe.”

  When I start breathing again and feel a little more stable, she smiles.

  “You’re not stealing my thunder here, passing out in the airport. Only I get to feel light headed now.”

  I grab her hand, and start walking to the baggage claim.

  “Wait, Noah. You’re going too fast.”

  I slow my steps, glancing her direction.

  “We’re getting your shit and going on a little road trip.”

  “To where?”

  “Vegas.” I pull her closer. “I’ve waited long enough. And now that you’re knocked up, you have to marry me… today.”

  She stops, digging in her heels.

  “Wait one second, pinche pendejo. I don’t have to do anything, especially if you’re going to demand it without discussing it with me. You can bésame el culo.”

  Without thinking, I spin around and get on my knees in front of her, taking her hand.

  “Cariño,” my voice cracks, and my eyes get misty. Other busy travelers notice me on my knees and slow their steps, and a few stop in curiosity. Some most likely recognize her. I see phones come out to record the moment, but it doesn’t slow me down.

  “I’ve known it was you since I first laid eyes on you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I will love you for every second of infinity. Become my wife. There is nothing I want more in this world than to share my life with you.” I place my hand over her flat stomach. “Except maybe this little nugget. So please,” I beg as she cups my cheek, “marry me tonight.”