Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) (31 page)

“Just so you know, I’m not a fairy, but fairy dust is pretty cool.”

—Sebastian Tate

WE STRAIGHTENED OUR clothes and went back to the banquet. After the speaker and meal were over, we took the stage like we’d practiced the week before. She sat on a stool between us. Protected. As it should be.

I took the microphone, gazed out over the crowd, and poured on the charm that came easily to me.

“I’ve been told that so far we’ve raised half a million dollars tonight in donations. How’s that for a successful party?”

Lots of clapping ensued with a few catcalls. A few guests took up chanting—mostly the kids who sat the closest to the stage. I grinned and Spider took a big bow, rolling his hands out to the crowd as he strutted around in his blue mink like a peacock.

I raised my hand and spoke over the applause. “You may not know this, but LA is my hometown. From my heart, thank you for coming out and supporting this great cause. It’s an honor to be here tonight on this stage with the sponsor of the event, Miss Violet St. Lyons.” I cleared my throat. “We have a very special treat for you. V has agreed to play a song with us tonight.”

I took off my mink, tossed it on a stool, and turned back to a cheering crowd.

Spider started in with his bass guitar, the sound deep and melodic. Rich with a twist of grunge. The notes rang clear and slow as V kicked in a few bars later, cutting into me like a knife, the prick of pain in the music personifying
her
.

Elation lit me as I turned to watch her play. There she was, just a simple girl on stage cradling a violin, her music enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.

She wasn’t leaving. She believed in us. She loved me. I loved her.

We played the song and the audience went nuts. Sometimes in your life you just know things, and my gut knew with certainty that that song would blow up the charts and that tonight wouldn’t be the last time V performed with us on stage.

The song ended, and I took a deep bow, grabbed V’s hand and dashed off stage.

It wasn’t the end of our set, but I had to kiss her. I fused our lips together and everything else faded away.

It was the beginning of a thousand stage exits we’d take together.

THE END

AT THE BRIARCREST Academy five year reunion, a rock star, an heiress, a former Hello Kitty lookalike who did
not
wear pink, an Englishman, a prima donna ballerina, a pre-med student, a sexy genius, a gym owner, and a slew of high society people converged in the gymnasium of the prep school in Highland Park, Texas. It was a virtual kaleidoscope of the rich and famous. Limousines, high-octane sports cars and foreign imports dotted the parking lot. More champagne was consumed that night than at any other reunion, guests would later claim.

It was the party of the year—according to Emma Easton, the organizer and local resident who’d never gone to New York and become an actress, but had instead found herself stuck in her hometown, twenty pounds heavier and married to Matt Dawson, the father of her four children.

When Sebastian Tate strolled in the place with a gorgeous violinist on his arm, she peed herself. Literally. She’d never expected him to be the one who made it big and she berated herself for not being true to him. Her husband had recently given her the clap, and when he showed up to the party with the secretary he was banging, they got into a girl-fight with lots of hair pulling and cheek slapping. Emma left the party early with a ripped dress and a pee stain on the back.

When Sebastian saw Emma for the first time in five years, all he felt was a big fat nothing, except regret that he’d wasted a lot of time and energy thinking about her. In truth, she’d done him a favor. If things had been different and he’d ended up with Emma, he likely would have never left Texas. Her betrayal proved that sometimes bad things can turn into the best things in our lives.

Sebastian and Violet danced most of the night, in between laughing with their friends. Magazines and tabloids everywhere had announced that she’d just signed a movie deal for ten million dollars and he’d agreed to star in it. They’d also come out publicly about their relationship. As far as his love for the spotlight and her tendency to hide, they’d learned to balance each other out. They kept a low profile, and V was collaborating with the Vital Rejects on their next album. One year later that album would win the Vital Rejects two Grammys: Song of the Year for the song Sebastian wrote for Violet and Record of the Year.

They continued their work with the orphanage and would later open another facility where most of the kids came from Sebastian’s old neighborhood. You’d often find the couple hanging out by the pool, stargazing, or playing with their dogs.

Blair left the gala that night thinking she was on top of the world. Apparently blackmailing perfectly nice people and being a bitch seemed to work. Later that week, she’d fallen madly in lust with an eighteen-year-old waiter who worked at Java and Me. They got trashed and drove all night to Vegas where they got married in an Elvis Presley wedding chapel. He divorced her three months later. There was no prenup.

One night she went to the movies and watched Sebastian star in Violet’s movie,
Very Twisted Things
. It moved her so much that she repented of her sins and joined a cult of women who only wore white, shaved their heads, and hung out in airports.

Wilson ended up marrying his sexy neighbor, Mrs. Milano who wore sparkly gold bikinis everywhere she went. Without grandkids of his own, he’d often dog-sit for Violet and Sebastian.

Harry deeply regretted being a sorry agent to Sebastian. Once
Very Twisted Things
hit the big screen it would earn Sebastian an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor. He wouldn’t win that year, but he did get to pick and choose his roles after that. Music and V, however, always came first.

Geoff went back to New York. He’d loved Violet since he was twenty and losing her to some rock-and-roll dude was depressing. He dated Paris Hilton for a while, but no one stirred his heart. One afternoon while at his Hampton beach house, he saw someone caught in the riptide and dashed out to save her. Turned out she was a bassoonist with the New York Symphony who lived in the Upper East Side and wore cardigans everywhere. It was a match made in Manhattan. They married and lived happily ever after.

Spider and Mila … their story is yet to be told.

The End

This scene was written for
Shh, Mom’s Reading Book Blog
and fans of
Very Bad Things

Leo and Nora and Baby #1

(Takes place before the events in
Very Twisted Things
)

WE WERE LATE and I was antsy as hell.

I called up to Nora who was upstairs in the loft area of Club Vita. “Let’s go, woman. We have an appointment to keep.” I pictured her surprise when she realized where we were going and what I’d planned.

Giving her a few more minutes, I walked into the office and grabbed up the 35 mm camera I’d bought last year when I’d surprised her with a trip to Paris—her favorite city. That had been the best trip of my life, not only because I’d stood underneath the Eiffel Tower and kissed the hell out of her, but it had been our honeymoon. Our wedding had been a small event, held at a small church in downtown Dallas. Mila had been her maid of honor and Sebastian had come off the road to be my best man.

I’d finally gotten the girl I never knew I wanted.

I’d finally nailed down the only woman who held my heart in her hands.

Thank God.

I gazed around at the gym. Club Vita had been doing well lately, which meant it was time to get a real home, somewhere closer to Dallas so Nora didn’t have to drive as far to get to her classes at the University of Texas at Dallas. Although I wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be there when her clothing line was doing well. With her dad and Aunt Portia backing her, she’d designed a line of leather and lace shorts and vests that high society girls went nuts over. She’d started out in a couple of Highland Park boutiques and it had grown to include over twenty different exclusive retail places in the Dallas area. Now she had her own web business and was busy working on a floral summer line. I chuckled. Yeah,
floral
isn’t a word I said very often. She didn’t think I listened to her when she’d talk about her designs, but I hung on the woman’s every word.

“Still waiting,” I called back up, checking my watch. “This place is staying open just for us, Buttercup.”

Her voice drifted down the stairs from the bedroom. “If you’d tell me where we’re going, I could figure out what to wear. Do I need a dress or jeans?” A drawer slammed shut. She was miffed. I guarantee she was up there, trying to suss it out with that big brain of hers.

Earlier we’d been making love upstairs and she’d begged me to tell her what the secrecy was about. I’d come close, especially when she’d promised to put on her Wonder Woman outfit for me. My cock hardened just thinking about her in those red boots and nothing else. Truth was all she had to do was walk in a room and look at me and I’d get this itch to kiss her and make sure she knew she was mine.

“Just wear something I like.” I leaned against the staircase and crossed my legs.

Footsteps came across the floor. “Like this?” She leaned her head over the balcony wearing a white towel draped toga style around her torso. She gave me a low-lidded look and dropped the towel. Her breasts were high and tight, her pink nipples erect, begging for my mouth on them.

“No,” I growled.

“That’s funny. I thought you preferred me in nothing at all. Round two?” she asked, striking a sexy pose against the rail.

“Someone’s waiting on us, Nora. We don’t have time,” I groaned. “Later.” My voice held promise.

She pouted, picked the towel back up and sashayed out of my view. “Your loss. Be down in five minutes.”

I grunted. It’d be more like fifteen.

Later, she came down the stairs, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a tight Vital Rejects shirt that featured a picture of the band along with the cities they’d booked on their last tour. Sebastian, Spider, and I had designed the shirts and collaborated on most things Vital Rejects. Maybe someday I’d change my mind about not being part of the band itself, but for now, I was good.

Nora consumed me, not music.

Teddy, our old piano player, had left the band as well. With his Asperger’s, he craved routine, so he was back at the piano bar on the weekends, keeping the place packed. Nora and I had just been there last night to see him.

She reached the landing and flew into my arms. I wrapped her up and kissed her, our tongues dueling as we consumed each other. She reached around my waist and cupped my ass and tugged me tight against her. I groaned as I kissed down her neck and made my way to her breasts. I lifted her shirt and tongued her nipples through her black lace bra. “You make me crazy, Nora.”

She hissed and tossed her head back as she palmed my crotch, the press of her hand enough to nearly send me to my knees for her. Lust—and then later love—had always burned hot between us, since the moment she’d showed up at my club with a can of yellow spray paint in her hands. She’d been sexy as hell, a blond-haired princess on a mission to be a bad girl. We’d had a rocky beginning, especially when I’d thought she was seeing Sebastian and then Cuba, but in the end, she’d found her way, and I’d come to my fucking senses and told her that I loved her.