Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) (28 page)

“Pfft,” I snorted. “He never used the word love. He claims he only got to V.”

Her questioning frown was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“I got it,” sung Trix, jumping up from the couch.

“Trixster,” came a familiar voice followed by Trix’s excited squeal. Casey wrapped her up in a huge hug while Lionel stepped into the apartment and kissed her cheek. “And my Princess Leah,” he sang, racing to give Leah an exaggerated air kiss to each cheek.

Lionel set a bag down on the kitchen counter and quickly came to kneel in front of me, resting his hand over my brow.

“You’re hot,” he said with a frown. “Did you go to the doctor?”

“Yes, Dad, my parents drove me this morning. I have the flu. I need rest and fluids.”

I glanced at Casey who was chatting with Leah and Trix without even pausing for a breath. Something about Decker and Andi taking off for the weekend because Decker’s middle brother was having some sort of love-life crisis. Lionel took the empty bowl of soup to the kitchen and returned with a full glass of water. He placed it on the coffee table and fussed with my blanket and pillow. Meanwhile, Casey was tying a frilly apron around his waist. I looked from Lionel to Casey and back again. He shrugged and began cleaning up the tissues that had missed the plastic bag on the floor beside me.

“Why are you wearing that?” I asked Casey, interrupting his conversation with the girls.

“I’m cleaning, silly.” He turned to carry on his chat like I hadn’t even breathed a word.

“You’re cleaning my apartment?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded with a proud smile, obviously happy with his decision to do a little cleaning for me. I can’t say I wasn’t happy about it either; the place looked like a bomb had hit it.

“And you’re wearing a woman’s apron to do it?”

“It’s not a woman’s apron. Where on here does it say women only?” he scoffed.

“Why are you wearing an apron period? It’s not the eighteen hundreds anymore.”

“So my clothes don’t get dirty.” He said it with a ‘duh’ expression.

“Normal people just wash their dirty clothes once they’ve finished cleaning,” Lionel murmured.

“Normal is overrated,” Casey said with a wave of the feather duster he had dragged from the bag they’d brought.

“Honey, we’ve got to get going. Trix has a shoot tonight.” Leah leaned over the back of the couch and kissed the top of my head. “Call me if you need anything, even a bitch session about a certain charming American with a ridiculous British accent.”

“I’ve left the rest of the soup in the fridge. I’ll bring more tomorrow.” Trix blew me a kiss.

“You don’t have to do that,” I argued.

“It’s not problem. I have no one to cook for at home, and I like cooking . . .” She gave me a naughty wink. “Almost as much as I like f—” At that point, Leah gave her head a gentle tap with the palm of her hand. “What?” Trix pouted.

“Let’s go.” She sighed.

Lionel and Casey gave the girls kisses and hugs and let them out. The apartment then fell into a comfortable silence.

“Have you seen the gossip rags lately?” Casey asked innocently as he dusted my bookshelf.

He looked quite the sight in his apron with his duster. I would have taken a picture if I could have found the energy to reach for my cell phone, which sat on the arm of the red chair Leah had not long ago abandoned.

“Not since Dozie tried to impregnate a married woman via her mouth.”

Lionel snorted as Casey darted to their bag and dragged out a trashy magazine I recognized immediately.
Tinsel Town
, more like rumors and lies town. It had been the relentless, blood thirsty, soul sucking magazine who first broke the news of my family destroying ways. I cringed at the sight of it as Casey approached me.

“It’s not bad,” Casey confirmed. “In fact, it’s very, very good.”

He placed the magazine on the coffee table, and I eyed the image on the front cover. My stomach rolled at the sight of Kasper. Then I noticed the story tag line—“From Reality Royalty to Shame”. My body rose of its own accord as I reached for the book, flicking to the double page spread. Kasper had admitted to cheating on his wife, with not only me, but a slew of other women. He also admitted that those women, myself included, had no idea he was married. It was a big, dirty confession, and I loved it.

“Decker told me that Bradley made this happen,” Casey whispered.

My gaze shot to his. “He did?”

“He did. Bradley made a call to his boss and threatened to leave if the story wasn’t published. It’s all over the Net, even made the headline news last night. There are other women coming forward to confess their own trysts with Mr. Can’t Keep My Pants Zipped.” Jumping to his feet, Casey continued fluttering about the place like a feathered fairy.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s a douche canoe, and a walking poster boy for STDs.”

“Not Kasper,” I whispered. “Why would Bradley do this?”

Lionel’s gaze softened as his eyes met mine. “I guess because he reached E.”

“He hurt me,” I reasoned.

“We don’t know the full story, but if Decker is willing to stand behind his best friend, I would assume it means we’re missing something. You know how Decker gets. He wouldn’t have ditched Bradley as his best friend, but he sure as hell would have been on the first plane over there to talk to Bradley with his fists if he had wronged you.”

I threw the magazine on the coffee table and allowed my gaze to wander around my apartment. My head was spinning, a combination of the flu and shock. The little waves of hope that had caressed my heart when Andi told me there might have been a misunderstanding between Bradley and me had turned into bigger waves, nudging at the pain, washing it away and replacing it with possibilities. If there was a misunderstanding, why hadn’t Bradley tried to fix it? I’d been a complete mess for three weeks. Why would he leave me suffering like this? I glanced to my cell phone. I’d ignored his calls, then been so bold as to change my number. That’s why he hadn’t been in touch. But he could have gotten a message to Decker to pass on to me! All the hurt and pain that had filled my body morphed into anger. Was all my suffering for nothing?

“You look kind of ill. Do you need to throw up?” Lionel asked in a concerned voice.

“No,” I managed to say through a croaky voice. Then my stomach flipped and nausea sent a surge of saliva into my mouth, and I tried desperately to swallow it back down. “Yes,” I said, a little panicked.

“Ohhhh, she’s gonna toss her cookies!” Lionel exclaimed as he leaned down and scooped me into his arms. “Gosh, this isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies. You weigh about as much as a baby elephant, girl.”

He stumbled down the short hall and into the bathroom where Casey waited with the toilet seat raised. I barely made it; my knees hit the tiles, and Trix’s awesome chicken soup hit the porcelain. Casey held my hair back while I lost any ounce of pride I might have had left. When I finally stopped retching, Lionel handed me a warm towel, and I wiped my face and mouth. When I tried to stand, Casey swept me into his arms and headed for my bedroom.

“More like a teenage elephant,” he grunted, as he elbowed his way through my half closed door.

Lionel carefully moved the excessive amount of throw pillows and pulled back my quilt, tucking me tightly beneath it.

“You guys shouldn’t be here. I’ll get you sick,” I murmured, my eyes already trying to close.

Someone patted my head affectionately.

“Then you can take care of us,” murmured Lionel.

Darkness swallowed me.

Bradley

As I pushed the door to the business open, the tinkle of a bell was drowned out by Mark Ronson’s “Uptown Funk”. I paused as I took in the sight before me. Slowly lowering my suitcase to the ground, I let the door fall closed and watched Lionel and Casey as they danced their way around LC’s Day Spa. Lionel had a tiny terrier wrapped carefully in his arms, while Casey had what I thought might be a bottle of shampoo at his lips as he sang loudly to the upbeat song.

When Lionel’s gaze caught mine, he stopped dead in his tracks, while Casey continued to dance and sing, mimicking many of the moves from the music video. He was actually pretty good. When he noticed Lionel had stopped though, he followed his boyfriend’s gaze, and his uptown funky mood plummeted to arctic in a heartbeat. Lionel used a remote to turn down the music.

“You,” Casey hissed.

My eyes narrowed, and I’m sure the worry line that had begun to cultivate between my brows three weeks ago deepened.

“Didn’t Decker talk to you?”

“He told us there had been a misunderstanding, and that’s the only reason I haven’t tossed you through our front window; that and the cost to fix it probably isn’t worth the flickering moment of happiness I would get from your pain.”

Lionel carefully placed the terrier at his feet, then both the men stood, their arms crossed over their chests, their angry gazes focused on me. The terrier promptly sat and watched with open curiosity.

“You have exactly three minutes to explain yourself,” Lionel demanded.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. The last few days had passed in a blur. I was tired, moody, and missing Wiska like a man might miss his dick. That wasn’t exactly a romantic analogy, but any man would tell you, that’s a fucking lot!

“She didn’t hear all the conversation. The lads were mouthing off. They assumed I was with Wiska in an attempt to woo her over to Brutal Babes. I mentioned that someone quite obviously had a loose tongue, not exactly in those words, but I was curious who the fuck had been talking shit. Then I proceeded to let both of the guys know I would make them both disappear if they ever spoke about Wiska like that again. I reminded them who I worked for, and explained, in no uncertain terms, that Wiska was mine, and if they dared to even breathe in her direction, they’d die a slow, painful death.”

Casey and Lionel cast each other doubtful looks, then finally, Casey smiled.

“You said lads,” he chuckled.

“You sound even more British now that you’re back in America,” Lionel observed with a smile.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Hell no,” Casey growled, causing the terrier at his feet to take a few cautious steps towards Lionel. “You put our girl through hell. She’s a mess. She leaks twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week . . . she’s sick, dammit!”

“She’s sick? And she leaks?” I asked, suddenly panicked.

“Why did it take you so long to get your ass here?” Lionel said. There was no anger in his tone, only acceptance and worry.

“Well, I spent the first week trying desperately to call you all so I could find out what the fuck happened! Then, when I realized no one was going to speak to me, including Decker and Andi, I decided to see how many bottles of whiskey I could consume in the shortest amount of time possible. By the time I mostly sobered up, Decker finally called and we realized this was all a misunderstanding. I was only days away from leaving. I decided to wait until I got back on US soil to fix things. I would have gone straight to Wiska’s, but I don’t know where she lives. Now, what the hell is wrong with her? She’s sick?”

“How many bottles?” Lionel asked. At my confused frown, he said, “How many bottles of whisky did you put away?”

“In total? I have no idea . . . one a day?” I said with a shrug. “That’s not important, anyway. What’s wrong with Wiska?”

“She has the flu,” Casey sighed. “She looks terrible. It might be best to wait another week to see her, or you might get contaminated yourself.”

“Not fucking likely. You either tell me where she lives, or I’ll head over to Kink Harder and get her address from someone there. And where’s Decker and Andi? I was going to crash at their place, but there’s some girl working in Andi’s store, and she won’t let me upstairs.”

“Decker’s middle brother is having a love-life crisis. Apparently, his fiancée was found in bed with another woman, and he’s gone off the rails. They raced out to Vegas to drag his sorry butt home. And we’ll give you Wiska’s address, but you can’t just race over there guns blazing.”

“Damn straight I can . . . Drew was engaged?”

“Decker’s brother’s name is Drew? How anti-climactic. I imaged he would be a Dwight,” Casey mused.

“I imagined him as a Dermot,” confessed Lionel.

“Oh, I like Dermot. I could totally picture Decker’s brother being a Dermot.”

The two men grinned at each other. “I love you, you crazy bastard,” Lionel chuckled.

“And I love you like a back alley hooker loves crack,” declared Casey.

I looked from one man to the other as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes. They’d clearly been drinking this morning.

“You need to woo Wiska,” Casey murmured, dragging me from the land of WTF.

“I already wooed and whisked. She’s mine!”

“Yes, but you bruised her heart . . . unintentionally,” he added before I could argue. “So you need to remind her you L-O-V-E her.”

I didn’t dispute him. I fucking adored her, L-O-V-E, shouty caps and all.

“She’s also been sick. She could use a pick me up.”

“So, what should I do? Buy her soup or something?” Both the men looked at me with raised brows. “Okay, that was lame.” I glanced around the room, and my eyes came to rest on a small pack of sticky notes sitting on the front counter. “I’ve got it,” I whispered. “I just need someone to get her out of her apartment for an hour.”

“She’s sick,” Lionel reminded me.

“It will take me a couple of days to put it together. Do you think she’d be up for a little sunshine by then? Maybe you can take her to Central Park for a bit while I fix up her apartment.”

Lionel looked to Casey, and he shrugged as he scooped up the terrier. “She will probably be dying to get out of her apartment by then,” he confessed. “Whatever you have up your sleeve, Bradley, it had better be fan-fucking-tastic.”

He moved to the back of the store, leaving me shifting nervously from one foot to the other while Lionel pretended not to watch me like a hawk ready to strike.

“You might need this, too.” Casey held a garment bag high off the ground, and my stomach churned with both anticipation and nerves.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“If you’re thinking it’s the sexy gladiator outfit you wore to our first Fancy Dress Friday . . . you’re wrong.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” I admitted with a raised brow.

“Oh, then you’re probably spot on. She was going to throw it away, and that would have been a travesty.” Casey confessed. “We had it dry cleaned and kept it here for her. It’s too beautiful a dress to throw away.”

I reached out and took it from him. “I never got to take it off her,” I whispered, regret over the way our night ended yet again flailing me, rendering me speechless.

“Maybe you can rectify that,” Lionel said softly.

“I hope so,” I breathed.

*

Two fucking days felt like a year! Casey and Lionel were kind enough to put me up in their apartment, but I would have been more comfortable in a shantytown. They were constantly pranking me, everything from whoopee cushions to blue dye in my shampoo. I’d scrubbed for an hour to make myself look less Smurf-like and more human. I was seeing Wiska today, and I was already nervous as hell. I didn’t need to look as blue as my balls felt.

I’d also been roped into helping out in the day spa. Washing the Great Dane, Marigold, would be one experience I wouldn’t soon forget. I’m not sure who came out of the cubicle cleaner—me or the dog. Perhaps I should try to spray off in there to get rid of the lingering blue from my skin. To top it off, I had a severe case of writer’s cramp, but it was more than worth it. I gathered the enormous pile of sticky notes into a box and kept the half dozen important ones separate.

“Hurry up, lackey, we need to leave. Lionel will be picking Wiska up in less than half an hour.”

“I’m ready,” I mumbled as I raced down the stairs and into the business section of Lionel and Casey’s home.

“Ohhhh, you’re not really blue anymore, more like a fading indigo.”

“And again, thank you,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

“You’re very welcome,” Casey replied with a grin.

It was a forty minute drive to Wiska’s apartment, and Casey called ahead to make sure Lionel had already left. They’d just reached Central Park which gave us an hour tops to do what needed to be done. Thankfully, Casey had a key to her apartment; it was an emergency key he had made Wiska give him when she came down sick with the flu. Thinking of her so sick, and on her own, made my heart throb with grief. I felt like I had let her down, even though I really hadn’t. The whole thing felt like my fault. Perhaps I should have tried harder to get in touch with her that first week. My Pappy pity party that followed sure as hell hadn’t helped the situation.

With a regretful sigh, I entered her home. I stopped and took in the surroundings. It was perfect, just as I imagined it would be. It was small, but homely. The colors were a combination of warm honey floors, a red arm chair, and red and grey pillows. The place was spotlessly tidy, except for a few errant dishes that crowded the dish drainer by the sink. Her fridge was covered in magnets that held pictures of her and her friends and family. Among the memories, I found pictures of Andi and Decker. They were in costume, so I assumed it was Fancy Dress Friday.

When I moved through the apartment to her bedroom, I looked over the small room and her comfy bed with longing. I could almost imagine Wiska laying there, her long blonde hair splayed over the pillows as she snuggled under the covers. I had come to realize she had a habit of sticking her feet under me, whether to keep warm or for comfort I had no idea. At first, it had irritated me, having her feet firmly wedged under my thighs or back. But three weeks without it had made me realize how much I missed it. I wanted her feet back under me . . . heck, I wanted her under me.

I moved forward and sat on the bed. It was actually quite firm, nothing like the cloudy oasis it looked. It brought me back to the first day she had been in London, when she bounced all over my bed like a sexy, albeit slightly crazy, angel. I’d wanted her then, even if my brain hadn’t been with the program yet.

“If you are thinking of jerking off in her bed, that will so not work.”

I frowned at Casey.

“Okay, okay, enough reminiscing and sulking. We need to put this plan into action before they get back.”

With a determined nod I handed him the box. “Get to sticking.”