False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7) (5 page)

After Jessica and the others show up, the rest of the night is less sexual but more fun. We dance, drink, and dance some more. By the time I put a wasted Jessica into a cab at two thirty, she’s made out with Cruze twice. He pushes her away both times, but Jessica is persuasive. He tries to apologize but I tell him not to worry. That’s Jessica.

She takes what she wants.

When we get back to the hotel I take a quick shower, stow my pearl necklace and clit ring in their box, and fall into bed. Cruze is already asleep. He drank a lot too and he has to get up early for work.

I lay there, listening to Cruze breathe, and I can’t help but think about Zane.

“I adore you,” he’d said. And the look on his face? I knew he meant it. I’d told him I adored him too, but it felt like more. It feels like more.

Goddamn, I’ve never felt like this. I’m not sure if it’s some kind of lusty haze, just me wanting what I can’t have or if I truly have feelings for him. It’s seems impossible. Highly improbable. My heart beats faster and I can’t deny that I’m feeling something, something that has nothing to do with fucking or sex or lust or more fucking. But doing those things with Zane is incredible too. Shit. I think I actually like being around Zane.

What. The. Fuck.

When Cruze’s alarm goes off at six in the morning, I’ve decided one thing. I need some time away from Cruze and Zane. I need some time by myself.

After Cruze showers and is dressed, I break the news over breakfast.

“I’m going to move into my house today.”

He stops buttering his toast. “Why? Did I do something? Was last night too much fun?” His face is filled with worry.

“No. Not at all.” I kiss him as a way of soothing his ego.

“What then?” He goes back to buttering his toast.

“So much has happened lately. I feel like I’m just flitting from one thing to the next.” I didn’t say what I really meant, which was that I was flitting from one man to the next. I hadn’t had a chance to really find out what I was feeling. “With my brother dying…” I let the sentence trail off.

“Okay,” he says, taking a bite of toast and chewing. I watch his mouth move, mesmerized. He is a fantastic lover, a fantastic guy. I wish I knew what the fuck my problem is. Zane is bad. He did something so awful, he’s in hiding. Why would I want a man like him? Not when I have this gorgeous man in front of me, sharing his space, his life, his feelings… all of himself.

After Cruze swallows, he continues, “I understand.” He stands, brushes nonexistent crumbs off his lap, and gulps down the rest of his orange juice. “We’ve been taking things really fast. It went from a fuck to flirting to a date to living together. How about we go back to flirting and dating?”

I take a sip of tea. “I’d like that.” I’m not hungry, so I push my scrambled eggs around, moving them from side to side on my plate. “We’ll take things slow.”

He nods. “By your house, you’re talking about Zane’s house, right?” His voice is harsh and I realize he isn’t being sweet about this, but is actually upset.

“It’s my house. Zane gave it to me and Zane is gone.”

He pushes in his chair. “Sure. Whatever you have to tell yourself, Cade.”

I sigh. “Shit, Cruze. I’m not trying to hurt you or make you mad. I just really need some time to myself.” I throw the napkin in my lap on the plate along with my fork. I’m just wasting time anyway.

“Of course.” He picks up his cell phone and walks to the door. “I’ll call you.”

The door to the hotel slams. I know I should be upset. He is a sweet guy. He also has an ego that needs constant stroking. So yeah, he’s kind and caring, but he can also be a self-centered ass. Instead of feeling upset, I’m actually relieved.

It’s time to live on my own for a while.

I pack up my stuff and take a cab to Zane’s house. The drive is uneventful, though long. The cab driver has country music twanging through the speakers. He sings along at random moments.

I’m doing my best to ignore him. My eyes are focused on the landscape beyond the thick traffic. The houses, office buildings, palm trees… a giant billboard of John and Scarlett. His shirt is undone, flashing his perfect chest and abs. Her hand is on his chest and she’s looking up at him like she’d gladly have his babies. Cruze’s hand is bent at the elbow, his hand up like he’s carrying a platter of food. Instead is a ghostly outline of a buxom naked woman. The way she’s sitting and her shape reminds me of those women on the mud flaps of truck drivers. The caption reads:
When he isn’t handling his supernatural clients, he’s romancing the world’s hottest women.

I snort. The cab driver hears and raised a questioning eyebrow, catching my gaze in the rear view mirror.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, turning away.

He shrugs and belts out the chorus along with the singer on the radio.

After what seems like forever he pulls up in front of Zane’s house. He puts the car in park and says, “That’ll be sixty bucks.”

I hand him eighty and get out.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replies.

“You’re welcome.”

The man jumps out of the cab and helps me with my luggage.

I ring the doorbell and Rita answers. She’s wearing a bright red apron.

“Hi,” I say, hoping she’s happy to see me.

A big smile fills her face. “I wondered when you’d show up.” She pulls me into a hug. “Come on, let’s get your things inside.”

I allow her to help me with my bag even though I totally could’ve handled it myself.

We take my things upstairs. Rita walks the suitcase into Zane’s room.

“No,” I say hastily.

Rita looks at me strangely.

“I can’t sleep in there without him,” I add, unable to help but remember Zane and me in there. The things we did together.

Her features soften as though she understands. “Okay. I have the perfect room.” She walks past me and heads further down the hall, stops in front of a door, and turns the knob. “Go ahead.” She pushes the door open.

I remember this room. I loved it the first time I saw it. It’s filled with light. The furniture consists of clean lines. There’s a bed, a dresser, two small nightstands, and a window seat. The wall the white headboard leans against is painted violet-red. The other three walls are a light gray, as is the ceiling. There’s a chandelier over the bed. The large shade is made of ornately carved chrome. In the center are curved steel bars with lights and shimmering crystal beads.

The bedding is the shade of the accent wall and is simple. Above the bed is a large painting broken up into four pieces. Together it makes a cherry blossom. Very beautiful.

“This is gorgeous,” I say, turning back to Rita.

She nods. “I thought you’d like it.”

I don’t set anything down. “Who stayed here?” I ask.

A dark worry quickly crosses her face. “It doesn’t matter. The room has been completely redecorated. No one has even slept on the bed.”

I want to know more, but it’s obvious Rita isn’t sharing. So I set my smaller bag at the foot of the bed and unzip it.

Directly across from the bed is a bathroom, and to the right is what looks like a walk-in closet.

Rita follows my gaze. “I’ll have your things moved from Johnny’s room to this one… if this suits you.”

I nod. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Rita.”

“Of course.” She rolls the suitcase over to the closet. “When you’re finished, come downstairs. I baked apple pie and you’re welcome to have a piece.”

My stomach growls. It has to be close to lunchtime and I haven’t eaten. “I’ll be right down,” I tell her, smiling.

She comes over and gives me a quick hug. I stand stupidly a moment before I remember my manners and hug her back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, wiping a tear from her eye. “I know he’ll be glad you’re here too.”

I kiss her cheek. She brings out the adoration in me, I guess. “Thank you so much, Rita.”

She blushes and waves a hand over her face. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few.”

When she leaves, I quickly unpack my makeup bag. The bathroom has the same décor as the bedroom: An accent wall, a smaller version of the chandelier, and gray painted walls. The towels are a mixture of violet-red, gray, and white. There are three steps up to the oversized jetted bathtub and I suddenly long to soak in it.

Maybe tonight.

First, I’ll have pie.

Then I’ll work a few hours.

After that, a luxurious fucking bath.

I’m fucking pissed and I’m not sure why. It could be that Cadence decided to go live in Zane’s house. Maybe it’s because she wants to take our relationship slow. Possibly it’s because I’ve been honest with her. For the first time in my life there’s been no games. I care about her. That in and of itself is a surprise.

She’s a prostitute. That usually isn’t conducive to relationships. She’s a brunette. Small chested. My past is littered with blonds with big boobs. It’s my thing. Some men prefer the ass. I’ve always preferred the breasts.

Cadence is everything I never knew I wanted. Her breasts are smaller. She has brown hair. Beyond the physical discrepancies there’s her previous employment and her knack for saying whatever the fuck pops into her head. She doesn’t have a filter.

If I was to go down my hypothetical list of what I want in a woman, she wouldn’t meet any of the criteria. But it doesn’t matter. My fucking heart, my soul, and my body want her and only her.

My publicist thinks it’s because I’m used to getting my own way. It’s possible she’s right. I’ve never been with a woman long enough to discuss whether or not we should take it slow. I’ve never spent more than a few days in the same room with a woman. Living with Cadence was painless. It was so enjoyable.

Except not for her. She needs space.

It fucking blows my mind.

When I’m done in hair and makeup I go over my lines. Today’s scenes involve green screen work. Scarlett and I will be battling and running from supernatural creatures we can’t see.

I’ve done green screen work before, but never to such an extent. The ghosts or ghouls or whatever the hell my character will be battling will be digitally added at a later date, so for today I’ll be talking and shouting and fighting and killing a silver pole with a light on the end.