by Roxy Reid
I shoot my fill, trying out different angles and focal points.
I’m about to put the camera away. But instead I follow my instinct and turn the camera on Finn.
“Hey! You said this was just for you,” Finn protests, holding his hands up like I’m the paparazzi.
“This one’s for me too,” I say.
For a moment Finn hesitates, but then he lowers his hands and lets me look at him. And maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation, but when he drops his mask and lets me in, it feels like a kind of communion.
Finn makes my chest ache; he’s so beautiful. Not in a generic catalogue kind of way. No, Finn’s beauty is all high cheekbones, day old scruff, dark hair, and a mouth made for wicked smiles. There’s the faint scar along his temple, almost invisible, that he got standing up to a bully as a kid.
And then there are his eyes. Tired but relaxed, drinking me in, while I try and figure out how to fit everything that he is into a single, frozen image.
I almost don’t want to press the button, because I don’t want this moment to end, but the sun is rising. The truce is almost up.
One way or another this weird, magic night is ending.
Still, I hesitate.
“You said I had until dawn?” Finn says, like he’s reading my mind.
“That’s what we agreed.”
He takes a deep breath, like he’s gearing himself up to do something difficult. He steps toward me, and I snap photos on reflex. It’s that or drop the camera and kiss him. His face is getting closer, more intense, less in focus, until his hands are on my forearms, making me lower my camera.
Making me lower my defense.
His hands are so warm, and strong, and he’s so close, his face intent. My heart is racing and slowing down all at once.
“Charlie I know this will sound stupid and ridiculous, and I don’t have any right to ask. You’re either going to slap me or make fun of me until we’re both dead, but hell, I’ve got until dawn, and if there’s even a chance—”
I kiss him.
He stills, like I’ve caught him off guard, but before I have time to get self-conscious, he’s kissing me back, and the sweetness of his lips is giving away to the heat of his mouth. Finn sinks his hands into my hair, and the casual possessiveness of it turns me inside out.
I reach up to return the favor, but Finn breaks away.
“Charlie, this isn’t what I … We need to talk about … Fuck it.”
He grabs me and kisses me, so forceful I realize he was holding back before. Letting me steer.
He’s not letting me steer now. He’s overwhelming me, and I can’t catch my breath.
And oh God, his taste is like coming home. It’s as easy as kissing a lover and as hot as kissing a stranger.
I whimper a little into his mouth, and the responding sound from him makes me clench and soften all at once. My hands go where they want to, up his chest to those broad shoulders.
He’s so much stronger than I remember. Or maybe I just know to appreciate it now.
Finn’s hands slide up under my sweater, and my stomach flips, but instead of moving up, where I desperately want him to go, he grips the small of my back and roughly pulls me toward him. He’s too forceful, and my knees knock into his shins. I grab him for balance, and he uses the motion as an excuse to lift me up until I’m halfway off my toes, his big hands sinking into my butt as he presses me into his hardness.
Oh God. Yes. Yes, he’s definitely stronger.
I want to press closer, but my camera is jabbing me, and I start to pull back, dimly aware I should find a solution to that problem.
Finn’s oblivious to any jabbing though, and follows my lips as I try to draw away. And, ok, I don’t try very hard to break away. In every way a woman can, I’m begging to be seduced.
I could blame it on how long it’s been since the last time I had a date, let alone got laid.
But the truth is, it’s Finn. It’s just Finn. I rock my hips into him, and he groans in a way that makes me feel very, very feminine.
The first rays of sunlight are slanting over his skin, over mine.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
But I want to.
Finally, I muster the strength to turn my head and break the kiss.
Finn takes it as an invitation to trail his lips down my neck, finding that spot I’ve always liked. I gasp, and the sound makes him shudder. This time it’s his turn to pull back, just enough to press his forehead against mine.
“This is …” Finn trails off, his voice rough.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice isn’t much better.
“The last time a woman kissed me like that I bought a ring,” he says, and I jolt.
Finn bought a woman a ring? Is he … No, obviously not. He’s not engaged. A) The internet would know, and B) Finn would never, ever be kissing me if he was in love with another woman.
Still, it’s like cold water to the face. I might think I know him, but I really, really don’t. The only things I know for sure are that he broke my heart and my professional future rests on taking him down.
“No, no don’t get that look on your face,” Finn kisses me again, but I shake my head against his mouth, and he pulls away with a groan.
“Charlie, don’t—” He grabs my chin, “Charlie please. This wasn’t what I meant to … Not that I didn’t … that I don’t …”
I jerk my chin out of his grasp.
“If you’d just come back to my room and let me explain.”
“I do not want to go back to your hotel room,” I lie.
My hips grind into his, even as I say it. I’m one more good kiss away from changing my mind and begging him to come back to my room, but for once Finn can’t tell that I’m lying.
Slowly, he releases me until my feet are flat on the ground again.
I don’t know how I thought kissing him would end, but neither one of us are getting what we want. What we need.
Finn looks out to the Mississippi river, running a hand through his hair as he tries to get himself under control.
A jogger goes by, her eyes widening when she sees Finn. I hope it’s because she recognizes him and not because she’s noticed his giant hard-on.
Either way, I move in front of him and glare at her. I must look fierce, or maybe just unhinged, because she whips her gaze away and runs faster.
Finally, Finn looks back at me, “I don’t get it. You kissed me. Did I do something wrong?”
Yes. No. You just reminded me that I don’t know you at all, and my job is to wreck your career.
“It’s dawn,” I say, scornfully. “What did you think was going to happen?”
I’m talking to myself as much as him. But just like that I watch his face close off.
“Right. Dawn. Truce over,” he checks his watch, and the casualness of his movements feels like a personal insult. “The jet leaves in three hours. I don’t tolerate lateness.” Finn turns on his heel and begins walking briskly toward the hotel.
I refuse to watch him walk away. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself and face the Mississippi, trying not to feel like I’ve just lost the possibility of something wonderful.
7
Finn
I stand with everyone on the tarmac as they hook the rolling stairs up to the plane. I’m in a foul mood. I’m sleep deprived, sexually frustrated, and, worst of all, I’ve got a meeting with Zane Wright as soon as we land in Chicago.
I look around, then check my watch. Charlie’s not here yet.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. I know I shouldn’t have kissed her. No matter what we once were, we’re not that now, and she works for me, even if she keeps forgetting it.
I shouldn’t have kissed her, but hell.
That kiss.
She was hot and sweet and, for a few heartbeats, mine.
I meant to take a cold shower at the hotel, but I couldn’t get her kiss out of my head, and I ended up jerking off to her in the shower.
Which, hello, haven�
��t done that in ten years.
The guilt is about the same as it was back then, but the fantasies are much more vivid.
I look at the time and swear. I’m going to miss my meeting with Zane. It took an unholy amount of groveling to get him to meet with me in the first place.
“Has anyone seen Charlie?” I shout.
“I’m here!”
I look up to see her jogging across the tarmac, wrapped in a giant black hoodie, and weighed down by three camera bags and her suitcase.
Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright when she comes to a stop in front of me, and despite the Zane thing, my mind immediately does a swan dive into the gutter.
I scowl, “I said I don’t tolerate lateness.”
“Well, I don’t tolerate less than three hours of sleep,” Charlie barks back at me.
I make a strangled sound of fury in the back of my throat, “Charlie. I need you to take this job seriously.”
“It’s a private jet, Finn! What the hell do you care if I’m five minutes late?”
Because I have a meeting I can’t miss with my least favorite person in the world.
But instead I say, “Just be a professional for once in your life.”
Charlie’s face goes white. She looks like I just hit her.
She takes a step closer to me than hisses so only I can hear, “Just because I didn’t want to sleep with you does not give you the right to treat me like shit. You’ve always been an asshole, Finn. But you never used to be that kind of asshole.”
She shoves past me and starts climbing up the stairs to the jet. Owen hurries to help with all her bags, and she thanks him with a blinding smile that makes me want to punch something.
“What’s with her?” Mariana asks on her way to the stairs.
“I don’t know. Why would I know?”
Mariana narrows her eyes at me, “What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” I growl.
Absolutely fucking nothing.
We’re an hour into the flight, and I can’t get Charlie’s words out of my head. I’ve cooled down enough to think about it from her perspective: I hired her, tried to have sex with her, then publicly accused her of unprofessionalism when she said no.
If another man did that to Charlie, I’d fucking kill him.
There are things I can’t control. I can’t control that Zane is my only option. I can’t control that, apparently, I need a partner just to write a shitty pop song.
But I can control whether or not Charlie feels safe and respected when she’s working on my tour.
I check out the rest of the jet. Everyone else is sleeping or has headphones in.
I make my way back to Charlie. She’s sitting by herself in the very last row of the jet. She’s picked the seat that is the absolute farthest from where I’m sitting, and she’s curled up against the window, with her headphones in, her eyes closed.
The giant sweatshirt and the bags under her eyes make her look vulnerable, and I feel even more like an ass. I tried to manipulate her into forgiving me so she’d solve my songwriting problems, and then when she misunderstood, instead of coming clean like an adult, I kissed her like a starving man. And then when, like a sane woman, she wouldn’t come back to my hotel room, I acted like a spoiled kid who didn’t get the toy he wanted.
Here’s the thing: Charlie’s always felt stronger than me. She was the one who was better at school, whose parents were proud of her. When I broke up with her, I never doubted for a second that she’d be fine without me. She’s tough and brave and whip-smart—the kind of woman who can take on the world.
But just because you can take on the world doesn’t mean you should have to. And for the first time, I realize I can hurt her. Not because she cares about me or anything. Just because anyone, even the toughest people you know, can be hurt when someone with way more power than them is a careless dickhead.
“Charlie?” I say gently.
She opens one eye, then groans and turns away, “Go away.”
“I just want to apologize—”
“I know that, you’ve got your apology face on,” she sighs and sits up, facing me squarely. “Look, I’m too tired to lie to you, so here’s the truth. Ten years ago I melted every time you looked at me like that. But it’s not my job to make you feel better when you’re a dick. I’ll be on time in the future, and I’ll give you great photography. But that’s all you get from me. Now go away.”
“That’s not why I’m apologizing,” I lower myself down into the seat next to her so we can talk without attracting attention. “I don’t care if you forgive me. You get to be mad at me for as long as you want, for as many things as you want. But I need you to know I wasn’t trying to sleep with you last night.”
“Do you kiss all your employees with that lying mouth?”
“No, I—”
“Cut the crap, Finn,” Charlie says. “You made me follow you around the city all night because you wanted something from me.”
She’s right but not how she thinks. The jet emerges from a cloud, and suddenly Charlie is silhouetted by blinding sunlight. If I was the photographer, this is how I’d capture Charlie. Beautiful, iron-willed, a little too brilliant to look at.
I can’t tell her the whole truth. But I can tell her some of it. I owe her that.
I shift in my seat and look down at my hands, “You’re right. I did want something from you. I wanted you to forgive me for … well, for ten years ago.”
I can’t see her expression, but she stills in her seat next to me.
“But last night was a crappy way to go about it. And this morning I was angry because I have a meeting in Chicago I don’t want to be late for. I’m sorry I was a dick to you. I’m sorry I crossed a professional line. You don’t have to forgive me. But it’s important to me that you know I wasn’t trying to … to manipulate you into having sex with me. And I’m sure as hell not trying to penalize you for saying no.”
Charlie doesn’t say anything.
I look at her to make sure she believes me, “I would never, ever do that to you. I’d never do that to any woman, especially not someone who fucking worked for me. I don’t need you to forgive me, but I need you to believe me.”
It’s hard to read Charlie’s face with the sun at her back, but she nods, slowly.
“Right. Ok, then,” I say, something inside me easing. I get up to go.
“Who’s this big meeting with?” Charlie asks.
And just like that I’m a mass of dread again. “No one you know,” I reply and head back to my seat. I hope she never knows him. The last thing Charlie needs is another selfish asshole in her life.
8
Charlie
I turn on my phone when the jet lands, and I’m hit with a string of texts from Shaun.
Do you have a lead yet? You should have a lead by now.
And then My main source for this exposé is suddenly dodging my calls. I’m counting on you De Luca.
And then finally, Call me ASAP.
I shove my phone back into my pocket. I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason Shaun’s source is dodging his calls is because there isn’t actually a story. After days with this tour group, and all night with Finn, I can confirm that (except in regards to me) Finn is a professional who runs a tight ship. And to be fair to him, I do provoke him.
Some of the time.
Some of the time he’s just being an asshole.
But being an asshole is hardly exposé worthy. Being secretive with the songs for his next album is unusual, but again, not exposé worthy.
If I was guessing, I’d say whatever rumors Shaun heard were planted by one of the bullies Finn has a reputation for firing, or by a P.R. flack trying to throw False Prophet off the scent of some other popstar’s scandal.
I know I should be more disappointed about that. I’m basically watching my big break go up in smoke. But as we all wait for the fancy shuttle that will take us to the hotel, I watch Finn and Owen swipe through pictures of Owen�
�s kittens, while Mariana chats with Karmine about the new person she’s seeing, and Bridget surveys everything like a mother hen watching over unruly chicks. And there’s a tiny part of me that’s relieved. If there’s no story, I don’t have to make a choice. Between Finn and me. Between this weird little temporary family and my own happiness.
I’m lost in my own thoughts as we drive to the hotel. I’m staring out the window, but I don’t really see anything. Just a vague impression of wide, open streets and tall gleaming buildings.
We pull up to the hotel, and I follow Bridget and Finn off the shuttle. I’m admiring Bridget’s ability to navigate shuttle steps in sky high heels as she tells Finn they need to go over some details. Finn demurs, saying he’s got a headache coming on and needs to take a nap.
“Don’t forget your meeting,” I say and Finn freezes.
Bridget looks from Finn to me, confused. “What meeting?” she asks.
“No meeting,” Finn says quickly. “I mentioned to Charlie I might meet up with a friend in Chicago. But she’s out of town this weekend, and now I’ve got this headache, so …”
I glance at Bridget to see if she also finds this sketchy, but her face is as impassive as always.
“Let’s do breakfast tomorrow morning,” Finn says to Bridget, as he picks up his guitar and heads into the hotel. “We can go over everything then.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this ‘friend,’” Bridget says under her breath as she watches him go.
My heart starts to pound. If Shaun’s source is legit … If there really is a story here …
Then this is it. This is my scoop.
I rush into the hotel to drop off my luggage in my room and change into a more nondescript outfit before Finn gets back down to the lobby.
I’ve never tailed anyone before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I’m in sneakers, dark jeans, and my short black trench with the good pockets. My hair is stuffed up under a knitted cap, and my big sunglasses dangle from my right hand. I’m ready to shove them on the instant I go outside.