Authors: K.L. Middleton,Cassie Alexandra,Kristen Middleton
Tiffany
“So,” I said when Ransom planted his butt into my chair ten minutes later. “How do you want it?”
He raised his eyebrows, and stared at me in the mirror. “How can I get it?” he asked with a wicked grin.
I groaned. “For thirty dollars, not the way you’re thinking.”
He laughed, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile of my own as I draped the plastic cape around his shoulders.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“About two years,” I replied, noticing that my hands were trembling slightly. The affect he had on me was unnerving.
“Do you like it?”
“I really do. It’s fun improving people’s images.”
He rubbed his chin. “Hm...”
“Seriously,” I said, running my fingers through his hair, enjoying it more than I probably should. “What do you want?”
“Hell, just cut it all off,” he said, waving his hand. “Well… not all of it… just make it short. I need a change.”
“Okay, if you say so,” I said. “Why don’t you follow me, and we’ll wet your hair down?”
He stood up, followed me over to the sink, and then sat down on the brown leather reclining chair.
“Lean back, please,” I said, turning on the water.
He did, and then looked up at me, his eyes studying my face intently.
“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
His lips curled up. “Nothing.”
“You know, you
can
close your eyes.”
“Does my staring bother you? Hell, most girls would be thrilled,” he said with a shit-eating grin.
“I’m not
most
girls. Besides, we’ve known each other for years, and I’m not going to fawn over you just because you’re famous now.”
“No?”
I grabbed the hose and began rinsing his hair with warm water. “No. Now, close your eyes.”
He closed his eyes, and smirked. “I never knew you were so damn bossy, Taffy.”
I deliberately sprayed his eyelids with water.
He frowned.
“Oh, sorry,” I said innocently
He wiped the water from his eyelid with his fingertips, and pursed his lips. “Right.”
“So, um, is the water temperature okay? Not too hot or cold?” I asked, staring at his lips, remembering how I’d been there before.
Crap, why did I still have to be so attracted to this man?
Even now I pictured myself sitting on his lap in the damn recliner, straddling him. I’d be lying if I said that watching him perform onstage hadn’t made me all hot and bothered, along with most of his other female fans. Now he was here, in my shop, and I still wanted to jump his bones.
His grin was dark and sexy. “It’s pretty good but if you want to go hotter, damn girl, I won’t object one bit.”
I swallowed. “Hotter?”
“Yeah, think you can handle that?” he teased, sending a wave of heat directly to my pelvis.
“Actually, I think we’d better cool you down,” I replied in a husky voice. Obviously I was the one who needed to be cooled down.
He opened his eyes and grabbed my wrist to stop me from adjusting the water. “Hey, I’m not ready to be cooled down. Now, unless you’re prepared to get wet
with
me,” he said in that deep, silky voice of his, “I’m going to request that you keep that water the way it is, and no funny business.”
“I’ll leave it alone,” I replied, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks. I wasn’t sure which was crazier, the fact that we were arguing about the water or how excited it was making me.
He released my wrist and closed his eyes, again. “Too bad. I kind of liked the idea of seeing you wet.”
Oh, hell, if I wasn’t wet already…
Needing to compose myself, I shoved all kinky thoughts of him out of my mind, and changed the subject. “So, um, what’s it like being famous?”
His lips tightened. “Not nearly as thrilling as you think.”
“Oh, why is that?”
Before he could answer, Felicia peeked her head around the corner. “Tiffany, Justin is here.”
My stomach turned sour. “What?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you want me to get rid of him?”
That was one thing I loved about Felicia, she wasn’t afraid to bust anyone’s balls.
I sighed. “No, I’ll just see what he wants.”
Justin was my ex-boyfriend – my slightly psychotic ex-boyfriend – who had a temper and a jealous streak that had snuck up on me right after I’d turned twenty-one, and had become of legal age to drink. We’d been dating for two months, and he’d actually been an amazingly attentive boyfriend until my very first ‘girl’s-night-out’, where he ended up showing his true colors. I still felt nauseated as I thought back to that night, which had started out awesome but ended so horribly.
“You went clubbing in that?” he’d asked after my friends had dropped me off at my apartment, where I found him sitting alone in the dark, obviously waiting for me.
I’d stared down at my faded blue jeans, white camisole, and mini jean jacket, wondering what had gotten him so riled up. All of my skin had been covered, save for a little cleavage, but that was only when I’d bent down. In fact, most of the girls in the bar had been naked compared to what I’d been wearing that night. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
He’d chugged down the rest of his beer, and set it on the glass coffee table. “Your jeans are too tight, and everyone in the club was probably leering at your tits, which are barely covered in that little top,” he’d slurred. “It’s not really appropriate, unless you’re trying to draw attention to yourself.”
Shocked at his behavior, I’d laughed nervously. “Justin, there’s nothing wrong with this outfit. You know that I dress like this all the time at work. Besides, if someone had been checking me out, who really cares? You’re my boyfriend, and the only one that matters.”
He‘d stood up, swaying slightly. “That’s right, you’re
my
girl. So why are you going out advertising something that belongs to me, unless,” his eyes had hardened, “it’s still up for grabs?”
I’d stared at him in shock. “That’s totally unfair. What is
wrong
with you? Why are you getting so bent out of shape over my clothes?”
He’d lunged towards me and grabbed both of my forearms, squeezing them painfully. “Look,” he’d growled, his fingers digging into my skin, “from now on, you’re not going out with any of these so-called ‘friends’ unless
I’m
invited, too.”
I’d shoved him away and took a step back. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
He’d stared at me for a minute, rigid and ready to explode. But then, as if someone had pulled a switch, he’d smiled and turned on the syrupy charm that had made me fall for him in the first place.
“God, I’m sorry, babe,” he’d said, his brown eyes softening. “I guess I’ve just had a little too much to drink tonight. If you want to dump my ass for being a total prick, I’d totally understand.”
Obviously
, he’d been drunk. “No, just don’t ever grab me like that again or act so crazy,” I’d said, feeling a little dizzy from drinking. “Wow, I really don’t feel so good.”
“Come on, babe,” he’d said, putting his arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the bedroom. “Let’s just go to bed. It’s late.”
Tired, dizzy, and still tipsy from all of the shots my girlfriends had given me, I’d agreed. Unfortunately, that’s when things turned even uglier.
“I can’t… I don’t feel very well,” I’d mumbled after we’d gotten under the sheets, and his hand had moved between my legs.
He’d tensed up. “Excuse me?”
“Justin,” I’d pleaded, feeling queasy. “I drank too much, and I don’t feel good… I just can’t do this right now.”
“Not in the mood, huh? Why, did you
already
fuck someone else tonight?”
I’d stared at him in horror. “What?”
“I bet you’re still thinking about the guy right now, aren’t you?”
Groaning, I’d rolled away from him. “You’re talking crazy…”
“You’re
mine
,” he’d growled, grabbing my arm, “and I’m going to make sure you don’t
ever
forget it.” Then, he’d forced himself on me while I lay there, sobbing underneath his hard, cruel thrusts. When it was over, he’d said nothing, just rolled over, and passed out into a drunken stupor. The next morning, he’d tried to apologize, but it had forever changed the way I’d viewed him. There was no way I’d wanted someone like that in my life. I’d told him to leave, and then spent the next month trying to avoid his calls, his flowers, and his excuses. Eventually, he’d given up harassing me, and I’d heard that he’d starting dating someone else.
“Okay,” I said, turning to Ransom. “I’ll get you back to my station, and then I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
He stood up, and stared down into my eyes. “So, who’s Justin?”
“Just this guy I dated a little while back.”
“You don’t sound very happy to hear from him.”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say that our relationship didn’t end well.”
His face darkened. “Does he need to be reminded that you’re not together anymore? I’d be happy to set him straight, if you’d like.”
The look on his face was totally serious, and I couldn’t help but smile. “No, but thanks.”
“If you need any interference from me, just say the word.”
“Right,” I said, as he followed me back to my chair. “You get into a fight and the media finds out…”
“Screw the media,” he answered, sitting down.
“Ransom, I’m pretty sure that you shouldn’t even be here. You have much more to lose than I do.”
He looked in the mirror and ran a hand through his damp hair. “So, let them fire me. I really don’t give a shit.”
“Seriously?”
Our eyes met. “Hell, being a judge on this show wasn’t even my idea. My manager set it up, thinking it would be good for my career.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why, is it in trouble?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem that way. I’m selling plenty of records, I’ve got a tour set up, and the money is rolling in faster than I can spend it. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing dying in my career is my interest.”
“How could you even say that? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Fame and fortune? Platinum records?”
“Taffy, this gig isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when you’re dealing with ‘American Icon’. You win on that show, and you ultimately lose, because when it’s all said and done, they
own
your ass. Hell, I’m locked in with them for the next few years.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Sorry, but forgive me if I’m not playing a violin solo for you. Most artists would give their souls for what you have.”
“I already did, and let me tell you, it wasn’t worth it.”
“Pussy-whining-wiener-head,” belted out Mrs. Conway from across the room, as Felicia teased her hair.
I bit my lip, and Felicia turned her head away, trying to control her laughter.
Ransom cocked his eyebrow, and turned towards the old woman, who stared back at us with a straight face.
I bent down, and whispered. “Tourette’s Syndrome”
“Likely excuse,” he grinned.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Try to ignore her. She can’t help it, and gets embarrassed if you comment about it.”
“She didn’t look too embarrassed when she called me a pussy-whining-wiener-head,” he chuckled.
I glanced at her as I walked towards the front of the salon, and from the satisfied look on her face, I had to agree.
“Tiffany,” said Justin, as I approached him. I had to admit, asshole or not, he was still handsome with his windswept styled hair, and deep brown eyes.
I forced a smile. “Hi, Justin. Are you here for a trim?”
“No,” he said. “I just wanted to stop by personally and congratulate you on getting into American Icon.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears. “Oh, you heard about that?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I ran into Jesse at Geno’s, and he mentioned it.”
Geno’s was a pizza place a few blocks away.
“Thanks,” I said, glancing towards the clock, wishing he’d take the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for talking, and would just leave.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
He sighed. “I… I miss what we had. Don’t you?”
I only missed the man I thought he was, not the paranoid lunatic who basically raped me. “Look,” I said. “I’m really busy right now. It’s not a good time.”
“How about we have dinner at that restaurant you used to love, El Sinada?”
“Justin, I really can’t,” I said. “And if you want to know the truth, I think it would better if you just forgot about me and moved on with your life.”