The Stars Trilogy (43 page)

“You have plans after that?”

“Why?” she asked Carlos.

“I have a gig at the Key Club tonight. If you have no plans after dinner, our show will start at around 8PM. My treat. John Meyer after us.”

“Wow, that’s great, man! But I need to—”

She cut Rocky. “We’re going!”

Carlos beamed at her. “Cool! I’ll see ya later! Sunset Boulevard, okay?”

“Okay, later, Carley.”

Carlos happily jogged back to his car.

Rocky was looking at her with curiosity. “In the party mood, huh?”

She shrugged. “Let’s go!”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Cruz. Find out!”

Dare cut the call.

His phone rang barely minute later.

“She went out with Rocky,” Cruz reported.

“How do you know?”

“How else? I called her. Which you should be doing.”

He gritted his teeth. “Where are they?”

“Dining at Asia de Cuba.”

He cursed under his breath.

“So...you want to drive downtown, too, somewhere around the Mondrian, perhaps?” Cruz asked with the slightest sarcasm in his tone.

He was tempted to say yes. “Meet me at the poolside. Tell Yves to cook something hot. And Firestones, man.”

“What am I, your shoulder to cry on now?”

“The fuck! Just do as I say!”

He heard one of Cruz’ rare chuckles.

They hit the Key Club at fifteen past eight.

Just as they were seated at their table at the mezzanine overlooking the stage, Carlos’ band started playing.

The club wasn’t full yet but people were quickly packing the place as the main event was John Meyer at ten.

Celine was glad she came to see Carlos. She didn’t know the guy was already playing at famous clubs like this and had quite a following, too, based on the cheers he was getting from the early birds. Carlos was just too humble, and he was really good, too. His voice had a Jim Morrison timbre.

Incidentally, he sang Light My Fire in a whole new arrangement and dedicated it to her.

She was blown away.

“Is she home yet?”

Cruz sighed but picked up his phone and dialed. “Rocky...yeah...Where are you at?...The Key Club…Carlos is playing? Yeah...okay...nothing...have fun, man. Thanks.”

Cruz dropped the phone back on the table. “I swear, man, if you make me call him one more time, I’ll—”

“Sir,” he cut Cruz.

His bodyguard threw him a rare exasperated look.

“The Key Club? Carlos is playing? What does he do?”

“Didn’t you know? The kid’s got aspirations of becoming the next Jim Morrison. He has a band. Quite good, too.”

Dare mulled on that. Carlos had been working for him for a few years now but he didn’t know the kid had musical inclinations. He had not been paying attention to the people working for him, self-centered bastard that he was.

Carlos joined their table after his gig.

Celine gave him a quick hug. “I didn’t know you were that good!”

He smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah! Right, Rock?”

“Man, you should be recording already!” Rocky agreed.

“Actually, I have some demo tapes now, good for an entire album.”

“So, what are you waiting for? Go for it!” she said.

“Record industry’s not as what it used to be. It’s harder to sell rock ‘n roll nowadays. Pure music is almost dead. The producers want engineered performers like those pop stars these days.”

“I know, but...have you talked to Dare about this? He can help you. He is friends with those record producers.”

“Hell, no! He’s my boss. I’m his chauffeur, not his protégé. I don’t want to cross the line, you know? It’s not ethical.”

Well...but you’re really good!” she insisted.

“Coming from you, Cee, that’s enough for now. Thank you guys for coming.”

“Come on, let’s order more beer.”

Carlos was looking at her with amusement. “I didn’t peg you for the beer type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Carley.”

“I’m stuck with that nick now, ain’t I?”

“But it’s cute! Imagine those girls screaming, Carley, will you marry me? It has a nice rhyme to it.”

“I can’t wait for my band mates to meet you.”

“Bring in more beer first.”

Carlos chuckled and called the waiter.

“Is she still there?”

After five bottles of beer, Cruz was more amenable to do his bidding. He picked up his phone again without complaint.

“Carlos, where are you?...Where’s Rocky? It’s okay...Bring her home safe, okay?...It’s fine...okay...Bye.”

“So...?”

Cruz drank from his bottle. “I’ll have to tell you, I’m not driving you anywhere now.”

“Spit it out.”

“She’s still with Carlos at the Key Club.”

He frowned. “It’s near midnight.”

“She’s an adult. She can party all night if she wants.”

“What about Rocky?”

“He went home ahead to work on your video.”

“He left Celine with Carlos?!”

Cruz shrugged. “He’s been her chauffeur every day.”

“But it’s very late!”

“What the hell do you want me to do? It’s their day off!”

He was taken aback by Cruz’ louder than usual tone, an indication that he was pissing the hell out of his bodyguard now. Cruz never raised his voice.

“Call Carlos. Tell him to take her home. Now.”

“No. You call him.”

They stared at each other.

Cruz drank from his beer. “I’ll die for you, man, but I draw the line at stalking a nice, harmless, young woman for your perverse entertainment.”

Harmless? Hah! “By the way, do a background check on her.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“If I smell something fishy about her, she won’t be around anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

Cruz shook his head. “Don’t vent your shit on the young woman, Dare.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes. You should do something about your fucking itch, man. Use your fucking black book full of kitties you haven’t scratched for almost a month now.”

“Sir.”

Cruz grunted and took a hefty swig of his beer.

He sighed and gazed at the blinking lights of the city below. Celine was having fun down there with Carlos while he was having an uneventful drinking session with his now surly bodyguard.

Cruz stood up. “I think I’ll call it a night. You should hit the sack, too. Sir.”

He nodded. “Thanks for keeping me company, man.”

“Call her.”

He didn’t reply.

Cruz quietly left him.

He reclined in his chair and passed the next hour drinking alone, wondering how in hell he got into this shitty situation. He was too old to start feeling and acting like a jealous boyfriend. Jealousy was not an emotion he was accustomed to.

He wanted to call Carlos and tell him not to touch her in any way ever. But why would he do that? Hadn’t he decided to stay off of her already? But the thought of another man touching her was simply inconceivable. The thought of not touching her ever again was turning him into something he didn’t want.

The needing. The wanting. The craving. The longing. This new dimension of loneliness and emptiness.

He didn’t want any of that shit.

Chapter Eighteen

Hey, gorgeous! How are you today? I don’t know if my letters ever get to you at all, if you ever read them at all. I never hear from you. Don’t you have a secretary or someone who takes care of your fan mails? But it’s okay. I know you probably receive a ton of mails every week and that’s just the postal mails. I’m pretty sure your official fan e-mail is also high-traffic. I don’t like to e-mail you. It’s so impersonal. I’m conservative. I want you to see my messy hand-writing haha :)) It’s okay if you don’t respond to my letters but I just wish you’ve read even just one of my them, so you would know that someone here is loving you so much and wishing you well every day. Sorry, I’m on emo mode. Shavonne has a BF now. I’m so happy for her but I’m a tad jealous. I wonder when we’ll meet again…”

THEY LANDED IN PHUKET international airport aboard Dare’s Bombardier business jet.

A helicopter picked them up. Celine rode in the chopper with Dare, Ben, Rocky and Cruz while the rest of Dare’s entourage rode in two SUV’s with their luggage.

Dare’s private property in Laguna, Phuket was a resort in itself, composed of a two-story, sprawling villa, several pavilions for gatherings and a dozen or so small cottages dotting the beach front. It even had its own air strip for smaller planes. The estate was run like a five-star hotel by a capable staff.

It was a very luxurious vacation hideaway fit for royalty. Anyone given the privilege to stay for a week in a place like this for free should be basking like a pampered guest under the summer sun with a good book and ice-cold four seasons already, but she had never felt so out of place.

She didn’t want to come but Ken included her in the entourage. Ben and Rocky were so excited for this trip. She didn’t want to kill their buzz so she went with them.

But it was hard. Why did Dare bring her along in this trip? He hardly spoke to her anymore. Whenever she would ask him if there was something she needed to do for him, she would get a passive “No, thanks”. She was walking on thin ice around him, feeling useless.

A few days ago, she and Ken accompanied Dare to the MTV Movie Awards where he received his trophy for Lifetime Achievement. Dare got a standing ovation from the audience. He delivered a very short speech and left the event with Cameron Diaz, who was the presenter of his award. He hopped into Cameron’s limo and they sped off, Cruz tailing them in Dare’s limo.

She was left with Ken and Carlos drove them home. Total dismissal if she ever saw one and she was coming apart at the seams, hanging onto a tiny thread of faith, literally.

Now, here she was in this beautiful place, with the man she’d loved all her life and he was doing all he can to push her away, making her feel as insignificant as a fly on the wall.

She was ready to turn around, walk away and just forget about her stupid love for him.

The sounds coming from one of the pavilions drew Dare out of his bedroom. It was not the noise that disturbed him. It was just rare for him to hear people singing within his property.

Yes, they were singing, alright. Carlos’ and Rocky’s voices were very distinct. He could hear their hoots and laughter in between Nirvana’s Lithium which they were currently killing nicely.

He loved rock music. In his youth, he had languished in the angst of Nirvana, Soundgarden and Pearl Jam, headbanged to Metallica, Rage Against the Machine and Guns ‘n Roses. In prison, angry rock music fueled his hate. Hate helped him survive.

Shit. Why was it so easy for his mind to revisit the past now? One stimulus and the inner sanctum of his brain would open up, issuing vivid flashbacks. And he could do nothing to stop it. He was losing control of his own mind.

The acoustic intro of Stairway to Heaven wafted toward him as he neared the pavilion.

His favorite song in the world. Nobody wrote songs like Led Zep anymore.

Carlos could really sing. Rocky’s voice was okay, but Carlos could really have a career in music. Despite his jealousy —alright, he would concede to that now and no one had to know— he was jealous of Carlos. He was jealous of Ben, jealous of Rocky and Knox and Cruz and Thad and whoever was attracted or drawn to her in anyway. He was jealous of her blanket that got to embrace her when she slept, jealous of the water in her shower that got to kiss every part of her body—

He stopped dead in his tracks when a woman’s voice filled the air.

It grabbed him like a giant fist, holding him immobile.

What the…? Is that…?

The female voice was cool, full and powerful even with the low notes.

As the song progressed, the fist relaxed its grip on him and let him move.

He walked slowly toward one of the open sliding doors of the pavilion and peeked inside.

Celine was standing there, holding a microphone, facing the giant screen bearing the lyrics of Stairway, singing it like a pro.