BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (48 page)

“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’ve 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 insisted. 

“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. 

A camera flashed somewhere to their left as Taylor stepped from the car.  She kept her face loose, but didn’t smile.  Another camera flash caused Namir to grab her by her elbow and hurry her into the restaurant. 

A woman dressed in a backless black dress hurried towards them.  Her smile was accustomed to the wealthy in a way that it didn’t reach her eyes.  “Taylor!”  She spoke to Taylor like she was a long lost friend.  Namir could tell she hadn’t seen Taylor in anything other than photos in a magazine.  She led them past the amber lighted bar with pale yellow chairs, to a glass elevator.  “Your semi-private dining area is in the penthouse.”   

Namir groaned inwardly.  They were going to the top.  Once they were up there, he forgot his former trepidation.  The penthouse had a few scattered tables with black table cloths which led straight onto a low ceiling-ed balcony that had a padded bench around the entire front.  Only a handful of people were dining in the penthouse, but apparently Taylor had reserved the outside portion for them. 

She slid into a corner of the bench seat.  Namir sat in a chair at the table that was there for both.  Benign California air blew across them as Taylor order a citrus water and waited for Namir to order something to drink.  She raised an eyebrow when he said he would have the same. 

“I thought you’d have a drink or some fancy import beer at least.” 

“I’m not Jason, and how can I protect you if I’m inebriated?” 

Taylor’s full mouth puckered into a frown.  “Why does it always have to be business with everyone?” 

“I’m paid to protect you.”  Namir said evenly. 

“Yes, but I invited you out tonight as Namir the man, not Namir the body guard.” 

The shock Namir felt didn’t register to Taylor.  He kept his features still, his eyes locked on hers.  The waitress returned with their waters.  Namir looked at her and smiled.  “May I please have a Heineken?” 

Taylor grinned.  “Now it’s a party!” 

Long after the lobster tail had been eaten and Taylor had picked her way through a huge Mediterranean salad, she and Namir sat talking quietly, oblivious to the waiting driver and the patrons that came and went.

Namir lifted the third beer to his lips and slid the Long Island Ice Tea he had just ordered towards Taylor.  “Here, I know you can’t order for yourself.”

“Ha!  Celebrities don’t get carded.”  She sipped through the long straw and rocked her head back and forth slightly.  “That’s pretty good.” 

“Yeah, I like them.” 

“You don’t drink very much, do you?” 

Namir shuddered slightly.  “No, not anymore.” 

“Why?” 

Namir’s mind blocked out everything except a memory of sweat soaked sheets and his heart thudding in his ears and chest.  He remembered the screaming that was coming from all directions, and hands holding him down.  It took some time before the hoarseness of his voice told him that the screams were only coming from him. 

“Namir?”  Taylor’s voice was full of concern, her hand gently touching his upper arm.  “You’re shaking.”