Stand Close 2 (Stand Close New Adult Romance Series) (2 page)

“
F
UCK
! She hung up on me!” I look over at Sean, and he can’t believe it either. “Don’t look so amused. I’m going over there.” I tear through the large expanse of our home’s foyer, snapping up my keys from a bowl on the marble table that belonged to our great-grandmother. I hate this fucking table. I give it a kick. It doesn’t budge. Now I look like an idiot, and my foot aches. “FUCK!!!”

Sean had to break into a jog to catch up to me. “You’re driving all the way over the hill again? Do you know if she’s even home?”

“Where else would she be? She hardly ever goes out; remember what the private detective showed us?” Sunlight slices into view as I yank open the front door, making me squint and pull out my shades immediately.

Sean crosses his arms across his blue James Perse t-shirt, and squints against the light, too. “She could be at Millennium.”

“Which is right by her house, so I’ll go there, too, if I have to. You coming?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I don’t want you to do anything stupid.” He slides his sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on, locking the door to follow me.

I throw him a look as I open the door of my Tesla S, glaring at him over it. “Stupid? Like what? What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know Jack. I never know with you.” He dips out of sight into the passenger side.

I snort, look into the sun for a second, adjust my shades and jump in the car. “That’s just the way I like it.” I buckle myself in and the car turns on automatically. “I’ll never get over that.”

“It is pretty cool,” he admits. “I should have gotten a Tesla.”

“You wanna go get one right now?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll shut up when you give up the guilt and shame thing. We earned this money.” Driving with the windows down around the u-shaped three-car driveway, we leave the mansion shrinking behind us in the rearview, Mom somewhere inside passed out on painkillers.

“How you spend it is the problem I have with it, Jack.” He stares out the window, tired of having to repeat himself, but not as tired as I am of hearing it. “Plus
we
haven’t earned it.”

Ignoring him, I turn the radio up. He’s a haunted soul with demons that tell him we should come up with a passion, but what’s the point?

Some days I feel like time is just passing me by, but I pick up a glass of something strong and that feeling washes away. What am I going to do? Get a job? If I did, I’d have to own the company because no boss is going to want to have
me
as an employee, a constant reminder of how meager his paycheck is. And there’s no company I want to run. We own hotels and restaurants, and a couple of steel mills, but other people run them, people who know how. That’s what happened when our ancestors did the dirty work; they enabled themselves to eventually delegate and let someone else do the day-to-day management. Today, we’re no longer necessary, Sean and I. It’s probably why Mom’s popping pills; she’s got nothing to keep her engaged with life.

And that’s what Sean wants for himself, and for me: a passion. Well, I wanted to make movies. But the producers who come asking us to invest in their projects, they want our money and not our ideas. They want all the glory and all the work, while we pay for it. We invested in a few good ones that we believed in, and I’ll admit, I was more than a little excited to help create the finished product, but when Sean and I showed up to help, they looked at us like we were albatrosses around their necks, rather than a part of the team. We got the message.

Sean’s written some scripts. He won’t show them to me, but he mentioned one night when we were a couple sheets to the wind that he’s got two finished and one he’s working on now. That night under the fog of whiskey, we dreamed about what it would be like to do what Edward Burns does–create our own films and release them how and when we want to. Sean would write them. We’d hire who we admired: actors, crew, composers, all of it. I don’t know if I could trust myself to direct it all the first time out, but we could co-direct, and that could work. Get our feet wet. Find our way, together. It wasn’t until the sky lightened to gray that we realized we’d talked that whole night away.

Passion.

I felt passion for something other than partying and women that night. I could see myself bringing a story to life and showing it to people, to take them on a ride like the ones we go on every time we see a film and leave the theater surprised it wasn’t real. But actually doing it is the hard part. What if the films are shit and we’re laughing stocks? People already love to hate us, and man are they looking for a way to take us down.

But it would be so cool…

As we blow past Mulholland Drive and start the descent on the other side of the hill, I ask Sean, “Remember that night we talked about making movies?”

Sean’s silent for a second. “Yeah. What about it?”

I turn the wheel with the curve of the road. Who am I kidding? We’d make fools of ourselves. The whole world would be watching, not for the movie, but for the failure Sean and Jack Stone must be when it came to having actual talent. I put the idea out of my mind and answer, my tone dead, “Nothing.”

“
T
hese are gorgeous
! Look at these pants!” Stepping out of the dressing room, I extend a foot to show Jenna the wide expanse of black pant-leg. They’re high-waisted and the fabric is incredible, hanging the way only true quality hangs.

Jenna saunters out of the dressing room wearing a sexy, short red dress destined to be worn tonight. It looks fantastic against her tanned, olive skin and long dark hair. She throws her hands up high in the air and spins around, shaking her ample butt. “What do you think?”

My mouth is on the floor. “I love it. You look gorgeous! I’ve got the black one, but I need a jaw-dropping dress like that one, too.”

“Every woman needs a dress that makes her feel like this.” She spins around in front of the mirror. “Look at my ass. Man!” She runs back inside to try on the next item, calling out over the door, “Where’s that long, blue number I held up for you?”

Admiring the black pants in the mirror outside the dressing rooms, I say on a laugh, “I can’t. It’s too…grand. Can you imagine me in that? No way. I could never.” Just as I’m about to go in to try on a yellow tunic dress I’ll probably hate with this new hair, I hear the click of a camera shutter. Surprised, my head jerks to the right. There, not twelve feet away, is a small man with a scarf and several layers of sweaters, snapping yet another picture of me–this time of a pissed off look on my face. He drops the camera, leaving it swinging from its strap as he ditches my questions and runs past the employee. Aghast, she sees him escaping and makes an apologetic beeline for me.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were famous or I would’ve paid more attention to who was coming into the store! We don’t tolerate that here. We’re very discreet with our celebrities.” Her hands are out in front of her like she’s trying to stop me from walking out, but I’m just standing here.

“It’s okay. I’m not famous,” I assure her, still staring toward the front door, wishing I could grab that guy’s camera and make him eat it. Jenna peeks with naked shoulders out of the dressing room. “Some guy just took my picture.”

“Again? That’s so weird! She’s not famous. She’s really not,” she half-lies, throwing me a helpless look.

“I guess you look like someone else. I’m Susan, if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Her shiny black bob fans out as she spins to walk back to the sleek counter she was standing behind. She’s looking very Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, but I’m sure she hears that all the time, so I stick to the point. I’m angry and when I’m angry, watch out. “Oh, Susan? Can you please get me that blue dress, the drop dead gorgeous one in the window?”

She smiles and heads for it. “You got it!”

Gliding out of the dressing room minutes later, I emerge in the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. There’s a low cut V-neck dipped below my breasts with two sheaths of gathered fabric covering them. The full-length hem floats out like blue water when I walk. There’s something intensely satisfying about wearing this.

Jenna, with a pile of gorgeous clothes of her own in her arms, watches me, eyes brimming with awe. “Holy cow, Ruefus, you look like a star!”

Susan nods. “You’re stunning.”

“Really?” A thrill passes through me. I’ve never been called stunning before. Not ever. With them on either side of me, we gaze at the dress in the mirror. “It’s the dress. It’s not me. This dress is magic.”

“I hate to say you have to get it, because I don’t want you to think I’m just saying it for the hefty commission. But seriously.” She and Jenna both say it together: “You
have
to get it.”

I gather handfuls of blue and turn from side to side. It’s hard to believe that’s me in the reflection. A dress like this can really change a person. Is this how Cinderella felt? “I think you guys are right. I have to have it. How much is it?”

Casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Susan says, “Sixty-five hundred dollars.”

Jenna and I both yell, “WHAT?!!” Susan tries not to jump in her skin but fails miserably. “I’m sorry,” I offer, holding out my hands as Jenna and I look at each other sheepishly. “That’s a lot of money.” I sigh, staring at the dress. In the mirror Jenna meets my eyes and her shoulder rises in a barely perceptible shrug, trying to tell me I can afford it.

An easy decision this is not.

Feeling like a fraud–and someone who should be ashamed of herself for even thinking of spending almost seven months of rent on a dress, magical or no, I head for the dressing room. I can’t meet Susan’s eyes as I say, “I’m sorry, I need to think about it.” As I swing the door open, I hear footsteps running in the store, the hurried sound echoing against the walls and ruining any surprise their owner may have intended. The three of us turn our heads and see yet another paparazzi motherfucker with a super long lens, snapping a picture of what has to be my flaring nostrils. Susan leaps in the air and rushes after him, but he takes off running and beats her to the door. Exasperated, she turns to us.

Now I’m furious. Really furious.

I yell over to Susan, with attitude, “I’ll take the dress!” My hand even flies in the air on a saucy neck swivel. “And the pants. And allllll this stuff, too.” Jenna squeals, and I shoot her a look. “Don’t ever make that noise again.”

She lowers her chin. “Yeah. I don’t know where that came from.”

Susan’s looking at me now like she knows I’m lying about not being famous. Still propelled by annoyance, I sigh and admit loudly, “Yes, They think I’m someone, but really I’m not. It’s stupid. I’m related to the Stone family. I’m Jack and Sean’s sister. Well, half-sister.”

Nearly falling out of their sockets, Susan’s big blue eyes get even bigger. “
The
Jack and Sean Stone? They don’t have a sister!”

Jenna and I exchange a look.

“They do now.”

S
winging
my hips with my feet bare so I don’t fall, I gather up swaths of blue magic so I can really move. “The room looks so much bigger from up here!” I yell over to Jenna who’s dancing her ass off, the glowing white bar lighting us from the feet up.

“I know, right?!” she calls back, cupping her hands around her mouth over the music. “Look at all these people!! And look! Your dress matches the candles!”

My chin tucks so I can see below me and I laugh and step around one, dropping my swirling hips low. “You’re right! Ha! Hey Susan!” She grins with her hands above her head, laughing on the other side of Jenna. “Where would we be without you?!” She locked the store up early to come with us, insisting it wouldn’t upset her boss. Since then, we’ve bought bigger luggage to carry our new clothes, bought coats, checked into the Grand Hyatt and are now dancing on the bar
in
the bar, which is on the rooftop with the most amazing view. I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life.

I hold my arms out like I’m going to fly, and call out to the room, for the fourth time, “Hey New York!” The room cheers. “Another round on me!!!” They go wild and the bartenders gear up for another mob. Jenna yells a victorious scream and Susan laughs from her gut as the room goes spinning. Steadying myself, I squat down and wave to the handsome bartenders grinning up at us and shaking their heads. “Hi!”

“You’re amazing!” one of them calls up through cupped hands.

“No, YOU’RE amazing!! Can you help me down?” He raises his hand up and I balance myself against its strength to climb down, not forgetting to grab my precious drink. Jenna and Susan follow and we dance our way through the crowd, receiving claps on the back, grins, and the random fist-bump. “Thanks for the drinks!” “Aww… you’re getting off the bar?” “Where you guys from?” We just smile and keep going until we’re outside in the chilly night air. Finding a spot we’re happy with, the three of us dance in a tight little circle.

Another redhead standing nearby steps over to me, holding a drink I bought, and picks up a lock of my hair. “I love this shade.”

“Thanks! I love yours, too!” I look over to a tiny, pale, pretty blonde, and a very tall, dark-skinned beauty. “Hi! Are you having fun?”

The blonde grins, “Thanks to you! What is it, your birthday or something?” I shake my head and she holds out her hand. “I’m Amber. And these are my friends. Jessica and Nicole.”

“Hi! You guys live here?” They nod. “We don’t! Well, she does. This is Susan. But Jenna and I are visiting from L.A. I kinda want to move here now, though!”

Jessica leans in to be heard, her doe-brown eyes mischievous. “It has that effect on people.”

“You’re stunning!” Jenna says to Nicole. Nicole is obviously a model; tall, thin, and drop dead gorgeous. Mahogany skin. Great style. She smiles at Jenna, but doesn’t give the compliment much mind.

In a smooth voice, she asks, “Aren’t you guys cold? Thanks for the drinks, by the way.”

“You want another one? I was just going to order another one! Oh… wait. I have one in my hand. Am I cold! Where’s my coat? Oh no! My new coat!” Covering my face with my hands, I laugh and peek through my fingers. “I’m sorry. I must look very drunk.”

They just smile like it’s no big deal and Jenna runs inside to find our new coats. Forgetting all about it, I let the music take over my body, not caring about the cold air or everyone around me. I close my eyes and move to the beat, the glass tilting in my hand. I am the music. Liquid heat fires into my veins, taking me over. The bass is my master, the words my own thoughts. This is all there is, all there ever has been. Song, dance, and me.

I feel a poke in the arm and open my eyes to see Jessica standing close. She jogs her chin to my right. “I think you’ve got an admirer.”

“What?” Confused and pulled out of my reverie, I peek over my shoulder and lock eyes with a Brazilian guy staring at me with bedroom eyes. He looks like he wants to talk to me. Or drag me to the nearest bed. He’s over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and his skin is honey brown chiseled flesh so masculine I want to bite it. “Wow.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, his accent thick and confident.

A slow smile steals across my lips. I glance to see if Jenna’s back. She is, and she’s watching with interest. Her eyes tell me to go for it. I turn back to the handsome beast and catch my breath as he steps closer into my personal space. “What’s my name?” I touch his chest; feel the muscles rigid with no give at all. God help me. “Does it matter?”

He smirks and takes holds of my hand, wrapping his fingers around it, about to pull me away from the others. Realizing this is really happening, I get nervous and turn to my friend, my hand still held captive. “Wait! Jenna!” Whisper-yelling, I ask, “What if Alec sees us?”

She makes a face that I’m being ridiculous. “He’s in Los Angeles. He’ll never know!” Glancing quickly to the trio of women we’ve just befriended, she clears the air before they have a chance to think we’re horrible people. “Alec’s not her boyfriend or anything. It’s just a guy she likes. Should she worry about it? I mean, come on.” She throws a hand at the sexual creature holding my hand prisoner.

Nicole leans in with amusement, assuring me, “If this Alec guy is not your boyfriend, you are free and clear to do
anything you want
. Trust me.”

Jessica laughs, “Take it from the pro.”

“Hey!” Nicole objects, but doesn’t really mean it. Amber laughs and continues boogying with her hands snapping in the air to the beat.

Excited and intoxicated, I turn dramatically and announce, “Take me wherever you want, Hercules.”

“My name’s not Hercules.”

“Can I call you Hercules?” I smile.

He laughs. “Fuck yeah. Come here.”

Right where we stand, he kisses me, opening my mouth with his like a pro, and coaxing my tongue out of hiding. It feels so good that I have no choice but to climb up on him and latch my legs around his hips, my dress a cascade of blue. Jenna whoops loudly, making me smile through the kiss. He holds me up by my ass, massaging it while the music bounces a beat into our skin. Totally into it, we careen over to a wall, running into people. Making out is so incredible, the way my mouth moves with another person’s, how his tongue feels, how it tastes. The way it sends erotic sensations coursing through my body. We’re supposed to do this, human beings. We’re supposed to kiss each other and combine energy and feel the separateness collapsing until we become one. God, I’ve had a lot to drink. “Seriously, what’s your name?” the guy says thickly against my lips.

“Who cares!!” I kiss him hard and he responds, working my ass with his masterful hands, sending tingles pooling in between my thighs. Who needs names when we have this? Life is amazing. I’m alive! So alive and free and…

Two strong hands yank me off him. “Hey!” I yell, opening my eyes, feeling dizzy now. Someone I can’t see is carrying me away! With hands up like he’s saying he’s not going to fight, my Brazilian lover vanishes, devoured by the crowd as I’m pulled away from him against my will. “No!! I want to kiss! All I want to do is kissssssss. Noooooooooooo!”

“I bet you do,” a deep, familiar voice snaps.

Jenna appears in front of me, keeping up with us, her face very worried. “Jenna! You’re so pretty!” Shaking her head, she adjusts the coats in her arms and looks over to a mirage joining her. The mirage looks a lot like one of my new brothers. “You look like Sean! Come party with us! Look! I’m flying!!!” I wave to a camera-phone a shorthaired girl is pointing at me as I pass her. “Hi friend!! Hi new friend!” She waves back, her hand leaving a trail of peach behind it. “Whoa!” Almost-Sean shares a look with someone a couple people over. Bouncing over some guy’s shoulder, I follow his look and call out to Jenna, “Doesn’t that look like Alec?!”

“That
is
Alec, Rue!” she laughs back to me.

Alec and I lock eyes as I bounce in the arms of the only person left in their little circle. Jack. Jack must be carrying me. Jack must have seen me kissing Hercules. Absolutely mortified, I glance back to Alec and see golden embers of anger glow from his eyes, his jaw tight, his lips flattened. He looks away, unable to look at me anymore, and suddenly I feel sick to my stomach. “Uh-oh. Uh-OH!!!”

“She’s going to throw up,” Jenna yells over the music, pointing to my hands over my mouth.

It can’t be Alec.

It can’t be Sean.

And it certainly can’t be Jack.

It’s not possible!

The room swivels. I’m going to puke. It’s too late. It’s coming. A door is slammed open and a bathroom sink magically appears in front of me. I lean over it and hurl. “Ugh! So gross.” Another round comes up and Jenna holds my hair as Susan turns on the sink to wash it down. “You guys are real friends,” I murmur into the porcelain. Wiping my mouth, I look up at the mirror. Jack, Alec, Sean, Jenna, and Susan, plus a couple strangers, are all in the reflection. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Jenna says, dryly. “Oh yes, girl.”

Sean mutters to Jack. “See? You
are
related.”

“Shut it,” Jack growls.

During this mysterious brotherly exchange, Jenna has produced from her purse a travel toothbrush with a glob of fresh toothpaste on it, wrapped in plastic wrap.

I stare at the miracle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”