Authors: Callie Harper
What really had me
worried, though, was that bout of bronchitis that had laid me out in
Italy last month. I hadn’t been able to shake it. Doctors and vocal
coaches and lots of other people who liked to wag tongues and point
fingers had been telling me to lay off the cigarettes since the
second I picked one up. I’d ignored their cautionary tales and
common sense nonsense. That was my specialty as Ash Black. But
apparently at 26 I had the lungs of a middle-aged coal miner. I could
lay off or look forward to my famous rock star vocals fading to a
raspy wisp in the next five to ten years.
So, no cigarettes. I’d
just have to rely on my many fond memories of past years’ annual
Waldorf Astoria holiday party to keep me company. Smoking weed with
the kitchen staff, making out with one of the caterers. And let’s
not forget flipping my father the bird in front of the president of
his board of directors. Priceless.
Tonight, I’d have Ana
for entertainment. It seemed a promising addition to the list,
bringing a girl I’d just met and introducing her to everyone as if
she were The One, as if I’d propose to her in a mere two weeks.
That part was true. It was also true that I had a hard time
remembering her last name, and I knew absolutely nothing about her
other than that she smelled like warm honey and vanilla, responded
hot and fast when I stroked her and made the most incredible sounds
when she came. Did I really need to know more than that? Lola had
given me a cheat sheet, a long list of Ana’s likes and dislikes.
I’d stopped somewhere after chocolate chip ice cream. I wasn’t
much for reading and memorizing long lists. And who would even
believe that Ash Black knew all these mundane little details about
some girl? Not me.
Only I had found myself
thinking about her a lot today. Not wondering what her favorite ice
cream was, though. The only time ice cream might have entered into my
train of thoughts was imagining her licking a cone, that sweet
innocent mouth and tongue sucking and licking, her flirty eyes
watching me as she did it. Or dripping cold ice cream on her
stripped-naked skin, just a drip here, a drop here, and I’d lick it
up, taking my time. I’d like to make her squirm. She’d have to be
blindfolded, of course, so she wouldn’t know where the ice cream
would drip next. I’d like to make her drip.
Damn it. I adjusted
myself. This tux fit me like a glove, in all the right and now wrong
ways. Slim cut, like a tux out of
GQ
.
It probably was. I had stylists to take care of all that, thank God.
I liked looking good, but I sure as hell didn’t want to spend any
time getting that way.
I knew my PR team had
kidnapped Ana and spent the whole day running her through the whole
Cinderella thing. Lola had assured me that it had to be done, and
they wouldn’t change too much. I’d told her Ana didn’t need a
hair messed with on her head. First of all, the whole point of this
was to hook me up with an average girl, the type my fan base could
identify with. If they sent me some tweezed, plucked, dyed-blonde
thing caked in makeup, she’d look way too Tinsel Town.
And then there was the
fact that I found Ana immensely appealing exactly as she was. She
didn’t need any improvements. I didn’t mention that to Lola. She
didn’t need to know my inner thoughts. And it wouldn’t register
with her since it didn’t have anything to do with the bottom line.
My preferences mattered only so much as they related to my
marketability.
My phone buzzed. The
chariot approached. Prince Charming needed to straighten out his tux,
run a hand through his famously thick and sexy black hair and go make
an appearance.
It was cold outside but
not too bad, about 30 degrees. I clapped my hands together and blew
on them for warmth. I didn’t want to freeze out Cinderella before
the ball even began. A limo pulled up. First Lola got out, my cue. I
rushed to the door, hand outstretched, hoping please don’t let a
plastic blonde Barbie doll step out next.
A toe emerged, in
suitably shimmering shoes for a ball. Then a slender calf followed by
some glittering silvery fabric and then I forgot just about
everything. I didn’t look to see if the cameras were catching the
moment. I didn’t have to prompt myself to act gallant or awestruck
by her beauty. I simply was.
Ana looked up, saw me
and smiled. It was a whole-body smile, lighting her from the inside
out, radiant. No makeup could achieve that glow on her fresh face,
her soft skin. She tossed her hair, her gloriously chestnut hair,
still the same color as before only glossier, moving and catching the
light of…oh yes, there were flash bulbs going off. An armada of
paparazzi capturing the moment.
I wanted to growl at
them all, shield her from view, keep her to myself. But that wouldn’t
do. That wasn’t the point of this, now was it?
I clasped her hand in
mine and helped her out of the limo.
“You look amazing.”
It felt fake coming out of my mouth with that audience surrounding
us, even though I absolutely meant it.
“Thanks. Wow, this
is…wow!” She looked around, taking in the ornate entrance to the
grand old hotel, the legions of press there to photograph her,
calling out to us.
“Ash, is she your new
girl?”
“Over here, gorgeous.
What’s your name?”
“Ana,” she offered
with a demure smile. She was a natural. I placed my arm around her
waist and damn but it felt good there.
“Are you going to
break her heart, Ash?” a voice called out, hoping for an angry
reaction he could capture. So I smiled. Ana leaned into me, and the
smile grew genuine.
“Ana! Ash!” We made
our way up the gauntlet, Ana moving slowly, turning and smiling like
a pro. She’d either been lying about her background, or we’d hit
the jackpot in someone who took direction so well. The natural
reaction in this kind of onslaught was to run and hide. Only an
arrogant ass like myself or someone who’d been highly coached would
do otherwise.
Inside, she let the
façade drop.
“Wow.” She brought
her face to her hands, clearly a newbie running the risk of smudging
her look. With more practice, she’d remember Makeup First, Emotions
Second. I hoped she’d never get more practice. I liked Ana exactly
as she was.
“Are you OK?” I
rubbed my hand along her back, reassuring. It shouldn’t have made
me think about reaching it lower. But it did.
“Is that, like,
normal to you?” She looked up at me, wide-eyed.
I shrugged. “I’m
used to it. But it still sucks.”
“Do you like it? All
that attention?”
Huh. Of course I liked
it, didn’t I? I was Ash Black. And at first, it had all been such a
rush, so crazy and intense and I thrived on that, always something
new, always reaching another high. Lately, though? I kept thinking
about the type of cabin my younger brother Health reportedly lived
in, not even a decked-out one, but something basic and quiet and
snowy. Someplace far away from prying eyes. Somewhere I could drag
Ana and have her all to myself.
“There you are!”
Gram swept toward me in cream satin gloves and a burgundy
floor-length gown with a train. She looked positively regal.
“Does the Queen
Mother know you’ve raided her closet?” I kissed her on the cheek.
“Of course she does.
We’re besties.” I loved my 83-year-old grandmother. “And who is
this charming creature?” She turned to Ana who truly shimmered, and
it wasn’t just the dress, though that was breathtaking in and of
itself. One shoulder draped in fabric, the other laid bare, it wound
around her curves, ending in a dramatic asymmetrical hemline. I liked
the short side better, the one that grazed her mid-thigh. What kind
of panties had they put her in? Last night I hadn’t even gotten a
good look, and I was a visual kind of a guy. But what guy wasn’t?
The sight of a beautiful woman in sexy lingerie, that was the type of
pleasure that made life worth living.
“Hello.” Ana
snapped me out of my reverie, gracefully extending out a hand to my
grandmother.
“Gram, I’d like you
to meet Anika Ivanov. She’s a new friend.”
“Anika, so very
pleased to meet you. Welcome to our little holiday party.”
“Thank you for having
me.”
“You must meet me for
tea next week.” If I’d been sipping on something I would have
done a spit-take. Gram had met a hell of a lot of my arm candy over
the years and not one of them had received an invitation to anything,
never mind high tea. For an Englishwoman of a certain generation and
class, that was tantamount to writing Anika’s name in the family
bible. In calligraphied ink.
“That would be
lovely.” Ana glowed.
“Now tell me, dear,
what is it that you do? I have a feeling it’s fascinating.” Gram
offered Ana her arm and together they began walking toward the
ballroom. Wait, wasn’t I supposed to make the entrance with her?
“I’m a children’s
librarian. And a piano teacher.”
“Just think of all
those lives you enrich each and every day.”
Oh, Anika was in the
club. Big Time. I almost felt a little jealous. With a quick step, I
caught up and took her other arm in mine.
“Excellent, Ash.
Please do escort Anika properly tonight.” Gram softened her warning
with a quick wink. “And I’ll send round an invitation to tea.”
She left us to meet and greet.
“She’s wonderful.”
“That she is,” I
agreed. “And she loved you.”
She chuckled, pleased.
“Well, welcome to our little holiday party.” I walked her into
the grand ballroom and even jaded old me, the bored rich kid turned
mega rock star, I had to admit it was a sight. Thirty-foot ceilings,
chandeliers dripping with crystals, holly boughs and mistletoe and
little white lights making everything glow.
Ana gasped and I could
practically feel her intake of breath. “I’ve never seen anything
so gorgeous!”
It was fun to show it
to her. I couldn’t remember who I’d taken last year…no one, I
realized. The year before that I’d made the mistake of taking a
young screen queen who’d hated every second of the party because
she wasn’t the center of attention. She’d wanted to leave after
fifteen minutes and I’d agreed after about thirty. Fun stuff.
“Who are all of these
people?” Ana looked out, amazed, at the glittering array of guests,
all done up top-to-toe in black tie reverie.
“Some are family. The
ones with bad teeth are from England.”
“I love your
grandmother’s accent.”
“And I don’t mean
her,” I quickly clarified. “About the teeth.”
“I know.” Ana
laughed softly. As a musician who appreciated sounds, I wanted to
hear it again, and again.
“Then there’s a lot
of friends and business associates, some of both.”
“Is your lawyer
Nelson here?”
“He usually makes an
appearance.”
“I’ll have to meet
him. We’ve already spoken about fifty times over the last 24
hours.”
“He looks exactly
like you’d expect.”
“Trim, tidy,
organized.”
“Exactly.”
“OK, kiddos.” From
behind, Lola swooped down on us, literally extending her arms around
both of our shoulders like the wings of a giant hawk. I knew Gram
wasn’t happy about her appearance here tonight. Gram was a warm and
welcoming woman, if she liked you. Lola and she had met a couple of
times. Lola hadn’t gotten the invite to tea. I’d promised that
her stay tonight would be brief.
“Great job out there
exiting the car. You gave them some great shots.”
I nodded, already
annoyed. I was used to Lola’s constant, intrusive management, but
not right now. Right now I wanted to get my girl a glass of champagne
and see where the night might lead. I could be convinced to take her
out for a turn on the dance floor. I bet Gigi would like to meet her.
And then I knew of a couple of choice dark corners and hallways. I
could give her a private tour.
“Two o’clock,
mistletoe,” Lola told us in the hushed whisper of an army sergeant.
“A guy’s in place. Go give him something to shoot.”
“OK, then.” I
caught hold of Ana’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Do you know what
she’s talking about?” Ana whispered to me. I liked the feel of
her leaning in to me, her light fragrance.
“She wants us to kiss
under the mistletoe while someone videos it.”
“Oh.” She nodded.
“Half the time I have no idea what she’s saying.”
“She has her own
language. You’ll get used to it.”
Ana shuddered. She was
right, it wasn’t something she should get used to. I had a moment,
brief, of wondering what I was doing here, dragging this innocent,
sweet woman into my world of using and getting used. Then I dragged
her over underneath the mistletoe and used her to get some good pics
to rehab my image.
Under an archway, a
strategically-placed dangling piece of mistletoe was a must at any
holiday party. The Waldorf Astoria certainly wasn’t going to stint
on traditional details. It dangled above us, a bright red ribbon
offering it down, giving us not just the excuse, but a mandate to
kiss. In the corner of my eye I could see Lola giving me subtle stage
directions, nodding her head to the man in place, wanting me to shift
my angle so he could be sure to perfectly capture the candid moment.
I shifted. I angled. I
wrapped my hand around Anika’s waist. She looked up at me, her hand
resting lightly on my chest.
“Thank you for coming
tonight,” I said.
She smiled, as if I
were the one giving her a gift. “This party is amazing.”
“You look gorgeous.”
“I don’t think the
stylists enjoyed working with me today.” She bit her lip, actually
looking like she felt bad. “They tried to do a whole bunch more to
me, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“I’m so glad.”
Admiring, I stroked her silky hair feathering down her back. “You
didn’t need a makeover.”