All The Pretty Lights (The "A" List #1) (7 page)

I try to hold my smile, knowing all my new co-workers are watching our exchange. “Sure. It’s--, it’s just a lot.”

“I know it is, but, you’ll get used to it crazy quick. Believe me.” Colt holds my elbow like he wants to hold me in place. What’s he afraid of? That I’ll run off? “Hey, Albert!” He calls over the crowd. “I’m gonna get dressed now. Can you bring Daphne something to drink, please? We’ll be in the bedroom.”

Thankful for the opportunity to get out of here and have some privacy, I gladly follow Colt’s lead, sneaking through the chaos to the ornately carved back double door of the master bedroom.

Once inside, I lean back against the wall nearest to my right and let out a long, exasperated breath. That was a lot.

Colt watches me from the corner of his eye, as if he’s maybe expecting me to faint. I swallow hard, and stand tall.

“Ok.” I’m speaking to myself as much as to him, getting my bearings together. “Let’s get started. Let’s get you dressed.”

Colt’s eye twinkles, and a sly smile plays out over his lips. A rush of heat hits me like there’s a nearby fire. His shirt is the first to drop to the floor. My mouth goes dry.

Next, the light clattering as his belt is unbuckled and the jeans he wears drop down passed his hips. My ears begin to ring.

His powerful body moves effortlessly when he steps out of his pants and kicks them away, the denim landing on the carpet in a wrinkled ball somewhere to the side. My heart begins racing forcing blood in loud thuds throughout my body.

Colt’s thumbs insert themselves under the elastic waistband of the plaid boxers he wears. The material is pushed away enough for me to see the deep indented muscular notch of his hip, and the soft protrusion of the vein that seems to be flexing wildly, snaking its way down to—

His lips curl themselves into a smile as he watches me watch him.

The cocky grin that he’s famous for is on full display on his camera-ready face, while much lower, something else all together is on display.

I try to catch my breath. I can’t.

Stumbling back, I feel the soft, plush corner of the mattress hit the back of my legs and I fall against it, sitting, holding onto the post of the four corner post bed frame for support.

Holy. Shit.

Colton Webb’s penis
. Colton. Webb’s. Penis.

It’s on full display in front of me.

Every single inch of the long and perfectly groomed limb hangs in a relaxed way against his inner thigh.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“So,” he asks, standing in a way that seems to flatter him most. Every muscle is flexed, and I do mean
every
muscle. “Boxers or briefs. Or… commando?”

Thank God for the bed, or I would have hit the floor, surely loosing my legs out from under me. The thought of Colton Webb walking around commando is just too much. Well maybe it isn’t that. Maybe it’s the giant appendage that’s begging me to stare at it no matter how hard I fight to fix my eyes on Colt’s nose instead.

It’s a battle I’m losing.

Every single second that passes, I can feel myself grow weaker, and know that I’ll be giving in soon and staring longingly at it again. Now that I’ve seen it, I’ll never be able to
un
-see it. It’s burned in my memory like a permanent Polaroid picture.

“Um,” I answer quickly to end this before I wind up mentally eye fucking his dick. “Briefs.”

He smiles, then turns to the collection of clothes set out on a nearby chest of drawers. Thank God. This will be over soon. Cover that thing up! Now! Before I lose the strand of dignity that I’m holding onto by a thread.

He reaches for the cotton briefs, then pauses. I see out of my periphery that his long penis jiggles from the sudden stop of motion and I have to close my eyes lest I’ll be ogling it.

“Black or white?” He asks calmly, playfully. Oh, God! He’s enjoying this! He’s doing this on purpose. I bite my tongue, thinking about how sick and twisted his little game is.

“Black!” I spit out faster than fast.

I hear ruffling, rummaging, as he undoubtedly pulls the underwear up. “You
sure?
”

I’m losing my patience with this man, toying with me like this. “Yes! Black! Now!”

He laughs.

Once I hear the telltale elastic snapping against his skin as the garment is fully in place, I feel it’s finally safe to open my eyes again.

The door knocks twice with Albert sashaying in, no longer appearing to be speaking to himself. “Here you go darling, a sparkling water.”

I take it thankfully and gulp deeply and quickly to put out the flames. As Albert leaves, he spots Colt in his skivvies.

“I
loove
my job!” He sings as he closes the door behind him.

~*~

“Shit!” Colt lets out, catching my attention while  I’m searching through the box of cufflinks, selecting the perfect pair for tonight.

Andrea has come in to tell him something that apparently isn’t welcomed news. It’s none of my business and I try my hardest not to appear like I’m eavesdropping. The two of them talk in hushed voices as I carry about my business, finally choosing the pair of onyx, modern links for his cuffs.

I can feel their eyes on me, and it’s making me uncomfortable.

“Daphne?” Andrea asks out to me from their little huddle.

“Hmm?” I hum out, doing my best impression of someone who’s very, very busy.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Her voice is careful, but surely hiding some unspoken request. Maybe there’s another celebrity that needs some last minute emergency styling tonight?

“Nope.” I walk over to them, holding out the cufflinks and asking Colt silently for his wrist.

Andrea shifts her eyes to make eye contact with Colt as if this was definitely the answer she wanted to hear. “What size are you?”

I nearly choke! I mean, I know I’m no runway model but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t need to look like every other person walking around out there in the main room of the suite. They may all want to look like little clones of each other, but I don’t. No, thank you. That doesn’t mean that I need to be spoken to about my weight, -though.

“I don’t see how that matters.” I say defensively.

Andrea immediately sees how I’ve interpreted her question and backtracks. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. You see, we had a date set up for Colt for the premiere tonight. One the studio handpicked. She’s got her debut movie coming out in a few months and we were hoping to capitalize on some buzz from her being seen with Colt at the event tonight.”

I finish fidgeting with Colt’s sleeve and take the other one, listening.

Andrea continues. “I just heard from her manager. She’s in bed with a sudden fever, won’t be able to escort Colt tonight.”

Done! I smooth the fabric of his arms, perfecting every slight wrinkle.

“Andrea,” Colt intervenes. “I don’t think it would work. Daphne’s not into this kind of stuff.”

“Into what?” I ask him.

Andrea rolls her eyes at her client and turns her attention back to me. “Don’t be silly! She’d be perfect! And, I’m sure Daphne here would want to help us out this
one
time?”

I feel like I’m lost. “Help with what?”

“Andrea, no.” Colt shakes his head.

“Colt can’t go alone. Not with Audrey showing up. It would make him look weak. He needs to have a date. I don’t have the time to go looking for someone right now. We have two hours to get him on that red carpet, and frankly, darling, you’d make the perfect last minute stand in. We have a designer dress already picked out that would fit you like a glove.” Andrea finally explains herself, and the size question.

I move to speak, but find myself speechless and close my mouth. What is she talking about? I’m not the right person for this.
Anyone
else can do it. Hell, what about Tracy, the hairdresser?

I step back from the two of them and shake my head profusely. “No, no. I can’t do that!”

Colt jumps in. “See? I told you. She’s not up for it. It’s
too
much for her.”

I don’t know why, but hearing Colt basically answer for me and lay out word for word how he doesn’t think I can do it, am not capable of doing it, makes me angry.

How dare he! Who the
hell
does he think he is, putting limits on what he thinks I am and am not
capable
of?

Fuck him,
and
his preconceived notions of what is
too
much for me.

I give him a dirty look.

“I’ll do it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

COLT

“You look….” The wind is knocked from my lungs and I can’t find the words or the breath to finish the sentence.

There are audible gasps behind me as Daphne makes her way from the bedroom where she’s been getting ready for the past two hours. It must be the deep setting sunset that’s casting perfect rays onto her glittering dress in just the right way to make her look… like an angel.

The perfectly fitted, handmade dress that’s hugging her hips tight enough to make me loosen my tie is in one word… heavenly. Her one stipulation for accompanying me tonight had been that she wore her own dress, her own design, and not someone else’s.

It was the right decision. I’m sure she’d look fantastic in a fucking burlap sack, but somehow, wearing her own dress is giving her confidence. That confidence only makes her look all the sexier.

Andrea had pulled some major strings to get the one of a kind Versace dress that we had hanging up for Daphne, once we put our plan together this afternoon, and I’m sure she wasn’t happy that those favors were pulled for nothing, but even she has to agree that this was definitely the way to go.

By the look of shock on Andrea’s face right now, she’s
more
than pleased with the outcome. “Daphne, darling, you look wonderful.”

Daphne blushes. The team members behind her wear looks of pride at their creation. Tracy re-holsters the can of hairspray into her belt after giving Daphne one last spritz of the stuff. Amy, one of my favorite makeup artists who we called this morning to be on standby for Daphne, brushes a touch more bronzer on.

Walking towards her, I take it all in. It’s perfect, she’s perfect. Everything from her shoes to her jewelry. Magnificent.

I take her hand and lift it to my lips, kissing her delicate little knuckles, greeting her the way a woman dressed like this deserves to be greeted. “You look amazing. Breathtaking.”

Her already bronzed cheeks blush from the compliment in a way no one else’s compliment has earned. The long lashes on her eyes close softly as my lips touch her hand. That simple, little action makes my heart pound.

“Shall we?” I crook my arm and stand tall, waiting for her to take it.

The room breaks out in applause as we walk arm in arm to where Marcus and his security detail are waiting to escort us to the premiere.

~*~

“You ready? We’re next.”

Daphne and I are sitting at a stand still, waiting in the long line of limousines ready to deposit their riders on the red carpet. Even though these things are planned out and perfectly timed so that this sort of thing
won’t
happen, they almost always do.

After almost ten minutes in the slow creeping car, we’ve reached the point where the end is in sight. The horde of photographers and press are working on hard to our right, huddled and crammed in together to fit along the sides of the sprawling red carpet.

To our left, on the other side of the street, are the fans, rallying behind the police barricades that keep them confined to their area. These people amaze me. No matter the weather they come out, prepared to stand for hours to secure a spot only to get a glimpse of us from behind as we make our way up the carpet, stopping for pictures and quick little side interviews.

The part that really gets me though is that for them that short little moment of seeing us is enough to justify the grueling experience of being crushed in a crowd, under sometimes freezing or rainy weather. Tonight, however, the weather is perfect. It’s cool, but just enough where a jacket would keep you warm. The air is dry, the wind is calm, and it’s perfect for all of those fans to live it up.

“Now?” Daphne asks, reaching for her purse.

The car ahead of us, carrying Jim Epstein, the executive producer for the film has just driven off, allowing us to take the space directly in front of the carpet.

I nod. “Yup. Just stay next to me. Smile. Don’t answer any questions, just say generic things like you’re happy to be here, or, you’re excited to see the movie.”

Andrea had spent time with Daphne, prepping her, as the makeup team was working on my date. My PR specialist had gone over all the basics with Daphne, such as to step aside when the photographers ask her to, so they can get solo shots of me.

I know I don’t have to worry about Daphne, it’s not like she’s a media whore or anything. If she was, this whole day would have turned out very differently. Most people who had the experience that we did last night, would have taken the small bit of fame she’d reached this morning and run with it. There could have been “exclusive” interviews with her being paid to spill secrets, free travel to morning shows, and fifteen minutes of fame to go along with it all.

She didn’t. She didn’t do any of that. That’s how I knew I could trust her. She’s not here to get her name in the papers. She’s here as a personal favor to me, because that’s just the kind of person she is. In essence, she’s
nothing
like me.

“Deep breath,” I whisper in her ear as Marcus opens the door. I step out first, reaching my hand back into the depths of the car to help her out.

And then, it starts.

The flood of light, tsunami of screaming voices and barrage of elegantly dressed reporters. I feel Daphne’s body stiffen next to mine. Looking over, I watch her eyes freeze as if there’s an on coming train.

Instinctively, I wrap my arm around her lower back, resting my palm on her hip, pulling her in to my side.

“Just breathe,” I whisper into her ear. “Block it all out, and concentrate on my voice. Just hear me. I’ll get you through this. I swear.”

Her shoulders lift and drop slowly as she takes a deep breath in. I make sure to keep talking to her, reassuring her as our photo is snapped time and time again. Between each shot we step forward, making our way further into the chaos, closer to the doors of the theater.

“Colt! How ‘bout some solo shots?” Sal, one of the regular red carpet reporters from ‘Entertainment Now’, calls out to me.

“I’ll be right back,” my lips glide over the skin of her lobe. My fingers tap her hip reassuringly before I step away. I may be several feet away, but I never take my eyes off her.

She fidgets, shifting her weight back and forth, but smiles at every photographer that crosses her path and snaps a shot. I can see her grow restless and begin to look around over her shoulder.

“Thanks so much, guys.” I politely dismiss the reporters gathered around me, and return to my date before she gets too overwhelmed.

“Miss me?” I joke, taking her hand to lead her forward since she seems distracted. She doesn’t move easily.

“Hey, who are they?” She points her chin behind us.

Glancing back to where she’s referring, I ask, ‘Who? Them? Those are the fans.”

I smile broadly at one more photographer, but notice that we’ve stopped short when Daphne is holding me back from moving.

“What’s wrong?” I prepare myself for the worst. Has she changed her mind?

Stepping up on her toes, she pulls me down to her mouth so I can hear her over the crowd. “Why are you spending so much time posing for all these people when you haven’t even acknowledged the people standing over there? Those are the people who actually give a damn about you. These photographers will leave you hanging as soon as a bigger actor shows up. I mean, doesn’t that sound a little messed up to you?”

Pulling back, I digest her words, looking past the blinding lights to the cheering crowd across the street. Their noise easily drowns out that of our side of the street.

“See?” Daphne tugs on my sleeve excitedly. “They see you looking at them and they’re going crazy over it!”

She’s right, it’s true. It’s pure pandemonium over there.

“Come on!” Daphne practically drags me behind her as she takes me back down the carpet.

Photographers watch confusedly as I break protocol and backtrack. Justin Moore, one of the supporting actors from the film, playing my young rookie of a partner, freezes as we approach him stepping out of his limo.

“What’s wrong, Colt?” He’s confused.

Daphne allows us to stop momentarily. “I’m not exactly sure,” I inform him.

“Hi. I’m Daphne!” She smiles, but doesn’t give Justin even a second to introduce himself. “Are those fans across the street here to see you, too?”

Justin glances back and forth between the two of us. He’s new in Hollywood, only having been in one other movie before this, and he’s still a little wet behind the ears. It’s clear he has no idea what to make of this situation.

“Um, yeah. I guess so,” He’s shy. I may be the main attraction, but he’s handsome enough to have a small following. These fans are here to see him as well.

Daphne takes his hand, too. “Good. Let’s go.”

Before I know it, Daphne’s leading the charge with both Justin and myself close behind, held tight in each of her hands, being led directly to the sea of swarming fans threatening to knock over the barricades as they see us approaching.

Local police that have been assigned the security detail race over to us, determined to control the crowd, followed by Marcus and the rest of my own security team.

High pitched squealing and shrieking pierce my ears, as the fanatical women jump up and down, tears running down most of their cheeks. They reach for me, call to me as well as Justin, but strangely enough, we’re not the only people they want to interact with.

They call to Daphne, reach to shake her hand, hug her, and beg for a picture with her. She obliges, and I can’t help but notice she looks much more comfortable now than before, as if she’s hitting a stride.

“This is crazy, bro!” Justin calls out to me. This
is
crazy. It’s also
genius
.

After a half hour or so, we’re told that the movie will be showing soon. We have to practically peel ourselves from the fans, waving goodbyes as we leave them behind. But, they’re sated, satisfied, having just had more contact with us than they ever hoped possible.

Our visit with the fans has done wonders for me, too. I’m not nervous at these things, not usually anyway. Tonight though, I’ve had a gnawing feeling in my gut. I knew I’d be seeing Audrey for the first time in months. It couldn’t be avoided. It does help that I have a gorgeous woman by my side, one that the fans seem to adore, one that leaves me in awe.

With Daphne next to me, I now feel confident. Not just in having to see my ex, but that I may actually be doing something worthwhile here. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

~*~

DAPHNE

“I need popcorn,” I whisper in the dark to Colt in the seat next to me.

The movie has just begun to play, with the opening credits scrolling across the jumbo screen before us.

“What?” Colt leans into me. “It’s about to start.”

I shift. “I know, I know. But, I just can’t watch a movie without popcorn. It’s—it’s not natural.” It may be dark, but I’m still able to see him watch me curiously. I know I sound ridiculous. “I’ll be right back.”

Colt’s hand settles on mine, stilling me. “Daphne, they don’t have things like that here.”

“This is a movie theater. They must have popcorn somewhere. Trust me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

I’m on a mission. The first part of it is to get popcorn. The second is to prove Colt wrong.

~*~

“Excuse me,” I stop the first theater employee I can find. The young woman, dressed in black pants, white button down shirt with yellow cummerbund and matching bowtie. “Do you happen to have any popcorn?”

The girl looks like I’ve just asked for her first born. “Um… no. We don’t serve concessions at these premieres.”

I feel my mouth drop open. “What? Why not?”

As she turns to face me, I see a shiny name tag with Laura’s name on it. She laughs. “Have you
seen
those people? They don’t eat. We don’t bother making popcorn that will go uneaten. Maybe they’d eat some lettuce. We could get some of that, maybe.”

My stomach drops. And grumbles.

“Daphne?” I hear my name being called from behind. Turning, I see a tall man with little to no hair, dressed in a handsome, perfectly fitted tux. I don’t know him. Well, at least I don’t think I know him. I’ve met so many people today that I can’t be sure.

Wait! What if I’m supposed to know him? What if he was one of the many faces I’ve seen and one of the hundreds of hands I’ve shaken? I’m going to look incredibly rude if I suddenly can’t remember.

“Hi,” I greet him. Oh, my God, what do I say next? Should I say it’s nice to see him again? But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. I’m so confused.

Surprisingly, he reaches down to kiss my cheek. First one, then the other, like I’ve seen Europeans do. “Good to meet you. Andrea sent me a message that you’d be here tonight.”

Well, that answers one question. I haven’t met him before.