Dirty Boy (24 page)

Max spun. “What might
that
be?” he said, deciding not to comment on her assumption about doing whatever because of her sex.

“Act as if you owned the place,” she answered.

Kelan winked at her. “That isn’t because you’re a woman,” he assured her. “It’s because he’s an asshole.”

“Whatever,” Max grumbled, heading toward the door. He needed to be alone. Go to Point Fermin, as he sometimes did, and mourn the loss of his son in private, where no one could judge him or see his pain. “Bring her home later.”

“Hey, Kelan, are you busy?” Kelan parodied, annoying the fuck out of Max. “No, Max, I’m not. I was just relaxing before my date. Why? What can I do for you? Would you mind bringing Addie home for me? Not at all. Thanks for asking.”

When the conversation ended, Kelan glared at Max.

“Fuck off. I brought her here so you can get to know her. I think she’d be good for you.”

Kelan snickered. “Playing matchmaker is a new hobby for you.”

Max tasted more vodka and flipped his friend off. “I left a message for you. Didn’t you get it?”

“No. I hadn’t checked yet.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Addie inserted. “I can call a cab.”

“No,” Kelan said with a shake of his head. “I’m just giving him a hard time. I’ll be happy to give you a ride.”

Frowning, Max drank again. “That’s Story’s soon-to-be-friend. I didn’t bring her here to fuck you. I brought her here to
meet
you.”

Addie laughed nervously. “He has a date,” she said. “Besides, I’m an adult actress. Why would he want to meet me for any other reason but to fuck?”

Max and Kelan shared a look before Kelan turned to her. “Your profession doesn’t matter to me. I’m quite secure in the knowledge of what a woman will get if she has me. I’m quite a catch, a hell of a lover, and an all-around fun guy.”

“I’ve fucked Max, Ryker, and Eric,” she announced.

“You screwed
Eric
?” Max asked in surprise.

Uncertainty entered her eyes and she nodded.

“Ryker’s a fucking cokehead,” Kelan said without remorse. “Eric’s a plain dickhead. The only one I
might
have a problem with is Max. If you were just a fling, fine. We’ve fucked each other’s “flings”. But he seems to be aiming for something more with you and I.”

“I told you she’s Story’s soon-to-be friend,” Max said.

“What the fuck is that?” Kelan asked.

Calmer now, Max screwed the cap back on the vodka, and returned it to its place. “They’ve met a couple of times, liked each other, but haven’t had a chance to really bond.”

“I see,” Kelan answered. “Where
is
Story by the way?”

“At the condo,” Max replied.

“Alone, I assume,” Kelan guessed. He turned to Addie. “Can you excuse us for the moment?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. Come with me, Max.”

The least he could do for his friend was find out what he wanted to say, so Max followed Kelan to the small balcony. The sun was low in the sky, and the stretch of beach along Kelan’s property front was deserted.

“Let Kayleigh rest tonight, and take Story on a date,” Kelan advised.

If no one else knew who Max was referring to during his outburst a few minutes ago, Kelan would.

“A date?” he scoffed. Then, she’d really get ideas.

“A fucking date, Max,” Kelan directed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Very fucking funny.”

“Do you remember the day you met Story, you called and told me about her?”

“She was my little stepsister, whom I was expecting to loathe. It was news that I didn’t.”

“You’re so full of shit. She intrigued you.”

“She was fifteen and I was married.”

“You didn’t do anything untoward nor did you disrespect Kayleigh.”

“Don’t say her fucking name.”

Kelan raised his hands in surrender. “You brought Addie for me. Now, go to Story for you.”

“I…” Max trailed his voice off as he decided not to tell Kelan how Addie ended up at his house. Kelan had stuck by him through the best of times and the worst. If two lost souls, like Addie and Kelan could find each other, Max wouldn’t ruin it. “I can’t take Story anywhere,” he said instead. “All she has are two pairs of shorts and two T-shirts to wear.”

“You’re slipping, old man. You took Nat shopping as her fuck buddy. You spoiled the shit out of Greta. You helped Erin to open her own boutique. Story deserves no less.”

Max scrubbed a hand over his face. “She wants to be a fashion designer. Those are her true dreams.”

“Commission a piece for her,” Kelan advised. “Give up fighting what you’re feeling for her.”

Max considered Kelan’s advice. Thought about having Story’s comfort, her presence,
her
. It wouldn’t last. Their foundation was being built on less than what him and Kayleigh’s had been.

“Just tonight, Max,” Kelan said. “Go to the studio, get her an outfit and make dinner reservations. You do that for me. I’ll cancel my guaranteed fuck to sit and chat with Addie and keep my hands off of her.”

“Fine, fuck. It’s a deal.

Story followed Max to a table in an upscale, downtown LA restaurant. She’d been in nice places before but this one took the cake. And anything else on the menu. Exotic or otherwise. She couldn’t stop herself from staring in wonder at the beige and white décor. The gleaming chandeliers competed with the diamond necklaces, bracelets and earrings adorning the persons of most of the women there. Story swore it was a competition to see who wore the most.

Although she was happy to have a dress from the studio, Story wouldn’t speculate on how the women saw her. Probably as an escort, out with a wealthy man. But when Max had called to tell her he was taking her out as a way to make up for his behavior after they’d left the set, Story had declined, citing she had nothing to wear. He promised he’d take care of it, and he had.

Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she’d accepted the outfit and the invitation.

Max held out her chair, the scent of his cologne and the faint traces of alcohol swirling in her head and invading her senses. “Enjoying the view?”

“Oh! Uhh, I was…umm…” She was enjoying his close proximity and being the object of his sole focus.

“You were checking out the arrogant bitches who can’t shine without the help of all that ice.”

Story slid into her seat and waited until Max sat across from her. “Well, I’m sure all those diamonds were meant to be worn and displayed. You sound annoyed.”
What was new about that?
Max stayed annoyed.
“Why did you come here?”

“I might be somewhat annoyed, Story. I believe the majority of those women are wearing the spoils of their Sugar Daddies.”

“If this conversation is a slap at my mom, we can leave now.” She stood, the subject a sore spot with her. “Better yet, I’ll leave.” Even if she had to hitchhike.

“Stop!” The word fell from Max’s lips in a hard command. “I didn’t mean it that way. If I wanted to take a dig at Babs, I wouldn’t do it in a roundabout way. It would be a direct shot.”

Knowing the truth of that, Story returned to her seat.

“I brought you here for the food.” He cleared his throat. “I can be a jerk sometimes. Shall we start over?”

Since she’d arrived in LA, he’d been a jerk, but the Max with her now was the Max she’d met four years ago. The one she’d dreamed about and worried over. “Starting over sounds like a winner to me.”

“Hi, my name is Jimmy,” a man introduced himself. “I’ll be your server for the evening.”

This Jimmy was a tall, skinny kid, unlike the Jimmy Babs had introduced her to. She wondered if he’d help her out, if she wanted to leave because she couldn’t take Max’s attitude anymore.

“Very good, sir,” Jimmy the Waiter said. “I’ll have that right out.”

Story squinted. “What did you order?”

“Appetizers and champagne. You still like champagne, don’t you?”

She flushed in pleasure, and nodded. “And music.”

“We’ll have to listen to music later. I want to take a drive with you. To Point Fermin.”

“Point Fermin?” she echoed with suspicion. She had no wish to see the scene of the crime. She wouldn’t aid in him continuing to torture himself with the sight of the place that was causing him such overwhelming grief. “Why there?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I want to know if there’s anything interesting about you that I don’t know.”

Max paused to allow their champagne service to be set up. Story picked up her menu and skimmed the selections. Tuna. Octopus. Scallops. Black Ink Soup.

“What’s good?” she asked.

“Everything,” he answered. “I’m going to have the rack of lamb with peppercorn mint jelly, braised new potatoes, grilled asparagus, and plain romaine salad.”

“Sounds yummy.” Although… “I like lamb but it’s not at the top of my food list. Hey, this looks good.”

“What?”

“Grilled salmon, topped with jumbo lump crabmeat, and sautéed spinach and garlic, with braised fingerling potatoes.”

“We can share a shrimp cocktail.”

Story smirked at him. “Get your own appetizer, ‘cause you ain’t getting mine,” she joked.

Max laughed.

“Ummm, wow! This champagne is good stuff,” Story said, once they’d placed their orders and their charcuterie was sat between them.

“Nothing but the best…” He paused and raised his glass. “For the best.”

As much as she was enjoying this “new” old Max, it discomfited her. “Okay. What is it? What are you on? What do you want? You’re being…
nice
to me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Uh, not that you’re not nice,” she amended at his affronted tone. “It’s just at the moment, you’re being
too
nice.”

Max guffawed, deep belly chuckles that would’ve brought a smile to her face had they been some place else.

Story sank down in her chair. “People are staring. Where are your manners?”

“You mean my finesse? I left it at the door. Didn’t want to be lumped with these phony motherfuckers.”

“Then welcome to the real world. The world of ordinary people.”

He reached across their small table and caressed her cheek before dropping his hand. “I can’t believe you’ve never been in a romantic relationship.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” she whispered, her skin burning where he’d touched.

“You’re a beautiful young woman. It seems to me someone would’ve snatched you up by now. You’ve never been in love?”

If she excluded him, whom she’d been infatuated with since she met him, then no. “Never,” she said, then frowned. “Oh. Wait. Yeah. There was a teacher. My sixth grade teacher. I don’t recall what city we were living in, but I had a huge crush on him. He was too good looking for his own good. I think all the girls had a thing for him,” she explained with a giggle.

“I’m devastated. Here, I was hoping to be your first crush.”

She fixed her gaze on him. “Numbers only matter in the final count,” she whispered, all humor gone.

“Right,” he croaked. “Do you know what happened to your old teacher?”

“He certainly wouldn’t be classified as old. When I was eleven, he was about twenty-five or thirty.”

“Which makes him between thirty-four and forty.”

“Yeah. About that. I used to call him Star. To me, he looked like a celebrity.”

“Enough about that asshole,” Max said, losing his good humor. “Let’s focus on our food.”

Ninety minutes later, they stood in the designated valet area, awaiting Max’s car. Over the course of their appetizers, main course, and dessert, he’d kept the conversation going, his attitude skating between charm and temptation. There was so much she could read into this, but she knew better. Max had spent the evening with her to amuse himself. Tomorrow, he’d go back to his studio and shoot his scenes with other women.

She wanted to bring up the scandal he’d endured, but didn’t want to ruin the evening by mentioning that time. Somehow, she’d let him know that she’d never once doubted his innocence.

A staff member walked up to Max. “Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr. Sherwood?”

“I am,” Max answered with that air of cool authority.

“Well, sir, there’s an urgent phone call for you at the hostess station.”

“For me?”

The man nodded. “Yes, sir. She specifically asked for Mr. Max.”

Story glared at him. After the wonderful evening they’d had, he was getting calls from other women. “You’d better get that,” she grouched. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Good girl,” he said with a smirk. “I’m as anxious to know who’s calling as you are.” He reached for his cell phone, and frowned. “My phone’s on, so who the fuck can it be? Sit tight, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” she promised, walking a few steps to get out of the way.

The moment Max disappeared, Story felt something hard jabbed against her back.

“Turn around, whore, and you’re dead.” The vicious promise jolted her. “Start walking and make it look normal.”

By sheer will, she forced her legs to move. She was being kidnapped in front of scores of people who were out and about.

“W-what do you want?” she managed as she was guided to a parked car a few hundred yards from the restaurant. “Who are you?”

“Tico,” he snarled. “We’re going for a nice little ride. Ryker wants to play games with
my
fucking merchandise? I don’t think so.”

Reaching his black car, Story stared at it. If she went anywhere with him she was dead. Swallowing, she opened her mouth to scream.

“Make a sound and you’ll be sorry. Try and escape and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground, with some new holes in your ass, I might add.” He opened the passenger door. “Now, slide in, bitch.”

Doing as ordered, Story watched Tico walk around the car and get into the driver’s seat. She needed to find a weakness, something to use against him. Most of all, she had to keep her wits about herself.

Tires squealing, he sped off.

“Max will be trying to contact me,” she said for lack of something better to say.

Story swore his hand shook on the steering wheel, but based on his dark look, she must’ve imagined it. “I don’t doubt that. Before he does, you’ll call him and assure him that you left on your own accord and everything is fine.”

“Did you make that call in the restaurant for him to leave me to answer?”

“You’re bright,” he said with an ugly laugh. “I like that. Now, make the fucking call. If I were you, I wouldn’t argue.”

Afraid to utter a sound, Story extracted her phone from her purse and pressed in Max’s number.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Tico ordered.

“Story, what the fuck happened to you?” Max’s angry voice greeted her.

“Don’t yell at me!” she flared, doing her best to keep from shaking. Her minutes were still dangerously low. She needed to get this call done before they ran out. “I’m calling to let you know I had a fabulous time, but an old friend jumped up at me while
you
answered your phone call. I was compelled to go. Really, I had no choice,” she added, hoping he picked up on the clues. “Feeling his hard thing was all the incentive I needed.

“Is that so?” he yelled as Tico lifted his gun and aimed it at her head. “Does he know you’re living with me?”

Obviously.
“Does it matter?”

“Fuck, yes! You know what? It
doesn’t
matter. Fuck a battalion. I don’t care. Have fun. Save some pussy for the job.”

With that, the line went dead. Story’s heart sank to her knees. Her minutes hadn’t run out yet. Max had hung up, not taking any of her hints, so angered by her words he gave her a quick dismissal.

“You did good, bitch,” Tico said, and turned onto a darkened road.

Story wondered if she’d ever see the light again. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Send chunks of you to Ryker until he gives me my shit or my money. He sent me fake drugs, That’s an offense punishable by death. I don’t give a fuck whose.”

The high rate of speed the car was going made the possibility of surviving a jump slim. But the further away she got from civilization, the greater the risk of her death at Tico’s hands. She’d have one shot to make this work.

Heaving in a deep breath and giving herself a pep talk, Story shut down her thoughts, pressed the unlock button, and opened the door, flinging herself out. She landed with a hard thud and rolled into tall brush. Not far away, the car screeched to a halt.

Kicking off her shoes, Story jumped to her feet and ran as fast as she could, as far as she could. She had a head start on him.

The report of a gun resounded in the night and a bullet whizzed past her head. Tico was close by. Story couldn’t see a foot in front of her. Jagged ground interspersed the grass beneath her feet. Another bullet clipped by, a hair’s breadth from hitting her in the side.

A tree loomed up and Story veered to the right, hoping Tico passed her by. She hugged the trunk, blindly feeling for low hanging branches. Finding one, she swung onto it, her nails tearing as she dug into the bark in search of another branch to keep her footing. She wedged herself somewhere in the tree. She wasn’t sure where. She only knew she was high off the ground and, hopefully, out of danger.