Disguise Page 3

  “Tanya or Michelle?” he asked himself, debating who was more like to be awake and ready to come over tonight.

  He went with Michelle. She gave better head.

  ***

  Less than two hours later, Sebastian was down in his living room.

  “Yeah. That’s perfect. Just like that.”

  He leaned back in the sofa, tuning out all thoughts except one—how did this woman kneeling between his legs become so good at sucking him off?

  They had been at it for an hour, and he had already had her from behind against the wall, over the side of the sofa, and with her on top. Now she wanted to taste him, she had said. The blonde bobbed her head with more enthusiasm. He wrapped his hand around the length of her ponytail and thrust harder into her mouth. Her throat tightened and relaxed around him. She didn’t slow down at all, but drove his shaft harder in and out of her mouth. The noises from her wet lips, the erotic slurping and sucking rounded out his pleasure.

  The exhaustion of the day started to weigh on him.

  “Hurry up, sexy,” he urged her on. Her hand gripped him harder and her suction increase to a level that was almost painful, but not quite. When she cupped his balls with her other hand and stroked her fingers across them, he was ready. His manhood was swollen and his balls were tight, preparing themselves to release down her throat with a force she was probably not ready for.

  His phone rang. It was definitely not work, so he ignored it. He growled when the phone rang again, but before he could look over to check the caller ID, Michelle did her special move with her tongue on his cockhead—the move that made him come every time.

  “Yes,” he growled, releasing into her mouth as she continued to suck, lick and now swallow what he had to give.

  After a few minutes, the phone rang again. This time, he saw the caller ID in time.

  Shit. It was his older brother Sam, calling from out west.

  “Want me to leave?” Michelle asked, looking up from her spot on the floor.

  “Yes. Let’s call it a night.”

  He answered the phone, but there was no one on the other end. Sebastian watched Michelle stepped into her jeans and pulled on her shirt, covering those magnificent breasts. She licked her lips and gave him me a one-sided smile as she leaned forward to give him a friendly hug before heading out.

  He looked into his contact number to phone his brother, but as he felt the soreness return, he decided to try him in the morning.

  Now I can sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALEXANDRA was exhausted. It was a less-than-satisfying afternoon of retail therapy. She sped up the long, white concrete driveway of her home in her cherry red Maserati sports car. Her shopping trip was less than satisfying because she spent most of the time fending off rabid paparazzo. They all prompted and probed her for a statement about Wilkes’ cheating. By now, she took it for what it was—a neatly executed media stunt by his publicity team, with extra juicy benefits for Wilkes.

  Pressing her remote garage door opener, she parked in the garage. Moments later, she pushed open the door of her Beverly Hills mansion with a sigh of relief. She was happy to be in one of the two places she didn’t have to put on a show. Truth be told, she would rather be with her father at her childhood home in Tucson. For now, this place would have to do.

  Alexandra called out to her housekeeper, Lilly. She was the only other person in the massive, empty house.

  “Did I get any calls, Lilly?” she asked.

  It wasn’t that she was hoping for Wilkes to call her back, but deep down, she was disappointed about how easily he blew her off.

  The short, older woman came in from the kitchen, balancing a glass and bottle of water on a tray. Lilly shook her head. “No, Ms. Lexxi.”

  Alexandra took the bottle and sighed out her frustration.

  Is an apology so much to ask for?

  “You’re home early,” Lilly said.

  The kind woman had a way of knowing how to cheer her up with sarcasm. She had spent the entire day shopping.

  “That’s because I couldn’t find anything I didn’t already have.” She opened the bottle for a sip.

  “Well, you do have it all, love,” Lilly added, smiling pleasantly. “I’m glad I put a casserole in the oven earlier. It’s ready now, if you’d like. Or would you prefer to wait?”

  “Just put aside a plate for me, Lilly. I’ll drum up an appetite at some point.”

  Shaking her head and voicing her disapproval with a “tsk”, Lilly nodded and strolled back to the kitchen. Alexandra smiled as she heard her housekeeper mutter something about her “needing to eat”. She didn’t mind. The woman had become more than her employee over the years.

  She climbed the stairs and walked the long hallway to her bedroom. Once inside, she went over to the center of the room and threw her body back across the massive bed. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong. By all accounts, she had it all, except where it mattered—on the most basic of levels. This was why she wasn’t completely happy with what others saw as her glamorous, flashy life of a rock star. It was because love hurt, and she was sick of being a casualty.

  Only four years before, she was just another girl with a guitar and a notebook full of hokey songs she would sing in coffee shops and at any open mic night that would have her. Now, she was Lexxi Rock, the world-renowned recording artist and songwriter, playing in sold-out arenas all over the world. A row of seven Grammys lined the mantel in her third floor entertainment room. There were two framed platinum albums, and numerous photos taken with her childhood music icons. Some said she was quickly becoming a legend in her own right.

  Popular rock and celebrity magazines had named her Most Prolific Female Rock Performer of the Year, and she had more than a cult following. It was the stuff of her sixteen-year-old fantasies, but she had never imagined it could really happen. At twenty-four now, sometimes she still couldn’t take it all in. Her dream of making it in the music world had come true right before her eyes. Now, she had no good reason to be a brooding, moody artist holed up at home—except for this recent Wilkes chaos.

  Back then, she was the one in her circle of artistic Tucson friends who would speak out against such ungrateful celebrities, portraying fame and fortune as hardship. It turned out she had been wrong. Everybody had their share of problems. People in the public eye were no different. She had been wrong about so, so many things, and so many people.

  Like Wilkes.

  The cold-hearted, cheating bastard.

  “Ugh!” she groaned painfully, taking a pillow and dragging it over her face.

  She didn’t bother turning on the TV. All the mainstream gossip networks were covering her breakup and Wilkes’ cheating. It was hard to believe that after more than a year of dating her, the seemingly wholesome, dreamy-eyed cowboy had the capacity to be this cruel. It wasn’t that he had cheated on her with starlet Lydia Daniels. No, that fact had its share of initial embarrassment, but what got her in the gut was he had orchestrated the breakup just for the media hype. It meant he had likely been dating her for the same reason.

  Just thinking about it made her want to throw a full-fledged tantrum, and crawl into a hole to wallow in depression and angst for a few months. Alexandra had never stooped to that level in her career or dating history. Yet here she was, with another broken heart, now that the fantasy of what she thought was a decent relationship fell apart.

  “This is ridiculous,” she huffed.

  She swiped the waves of purple hair out of her face and sat up. It was time to get over this.

  Not another evening sulking, Lexxi.

  If she took an objective look at what had happened, it was probably for the best. Maybe she was turning into a drama queen. Her best friend would agree.

  Grumbling at the realization, she dug around for her smartphone in the ridiculously large bag she referred to as a purse. What she needed was straight up girl talk. The only problem was her best friend was stuck in some sma
ll town, filming an upcoming movie. She had been out of touch for the past three weeks. Alexandra had tried phoning her all morning, just like she tried all of last night. Still, it didn’t hurt to try face-time with Vivienne again.

  “Please pick up,” she begged, listening to it ring.

  She gnawed at the corner of her nail, staring at the wall as she waited. Just before she gave up again, Vivienne answered.

  “Hello, darling.” She had a characteristic flare for the dramatic, and Alexandra loved it.

  She squealed with excitement at finally connecting with her best friend, whose face now filled the screen. Twenty-six-year-old Vivienne Reese was from London, England. She had a roasted chestnut brown complexion from head to toe, jet black hair, gorgeous bedroom eyes, a button nose, and plush, full lips. In a word, stunning, and was proudly every bit the diva the media had made her out to be. Her fans adored her for it.

  “Viv!” Alexandra shouted. “I’ve been trying to call you forever, you lousy phone-answerer. Where the hell is your assistant to take my calls when I need you, woman? I mean for Christ’s sake.”

  Alexandra watched as Vivienne placed her iPhone in a cradle and padded around Studio F. She was in house slippers and a red silk robe, smoking a slim cigarette.

  “Darling, it’s the heat! Oh yes, lovely. I’m in the middle of this place that’s desert on one end, and swamp on the other. I’ve got a pack of sexy-as-sin wild boys on set with me, and I am loving the view, let me tell you! But I can’t believe this sun hasn’t fried every component in this expensive piece-of-shit phone. Ahhh, who am I kidding? It’s the hottest set in the most scenic corner of the States imaginable.”

  She picked up the phone and turned it in another direction to show Alexandra the green screen. Standing in front of it was one of Vivienne’s supporting characters. At one corner, several sexy male actors were lining up for what Viv told her was take seventy-five of a fight scene.

  “Darling, these guys are sizzling hot, but it’s all a big, fat, wicked sham! Not one of these hunks are straight. Not even one! This has to be what purgatory is like, I swear!” She paused, lowering her tone a few octaves. “How are you, my dear? How is the Grammy’s sexiest musical couple?”

  Alexandra took in the entertaining scene on her phone. Viv was swatting away the makeup artist who began to refresh her face, and pulled herself from the hair stylist tugging at rollers in her thick, black hair. After Viv broke free, she gave the finger to the frowning script coordinator who pointed at the cigarette she still had in the other hand. She furrowed her brow and puffed on the cigarette again in defiance.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Alexandra whispered. “Wilkes was cheating on me—with Lydia Daniels. I dumped the bastard.”

  Vivienne gasped, flinging her manicured nails up to her pouty lips, her eyes widening in shock. “You’re kidding, right? I mean, Lydia Daniels? That two-bit, no-talent twat? What a step down, darling.”

  “See? Without you around, my life has become a cesspit of despair.” Alexandra wailed with theatrics to match Vivienne’s tone, and the two giggled together. “Anyway, I really need to vent.”

  “You have somewhere between thirty minutes and three hours, give or take. It depends on how many times this insufferable amateur director decides to micromanage the talent. We’ve been on this one scene since morning. He should be grateful I haven’t thrown a diva fit today.” She turned to the stylist still working on her hair. “That’s enough, Kalise! God, if you put any more hairspray on me, you’ll single-handedly deplete the ozone! You see, Lexxi? He’ll bring it out of me soon if he doesn’t get this show together. I swear!”

  “Sounds like you’re having the time of your life.”

  “Naturally. It’s not every day a girl goes from barista to three-time Best Actress nominee.”

  “How are the Academy Awards shaping up?” Alexandra smiled and rolled over on the bed. This was exactly what she needed. They had known each other since the early days of both their careers. She had been around when Vivienne waited on tables, and Vivienne was Alexandra’s biggest fan when she was playing to an audience of two or three—both of them included. Now that they had both attained stardom and success, they had remained close.

  Vivienne let out a loud guffaw of laughter and walked through a back door. She looked for a spot where she could talk without interruption. Once outside, she dropped the stuffy language, and her British accent softened.

  “All right, so enough of this. I can only hope the awards are doing fine, hun. But how are you? Of course I saw you calling all those times. My schedule has been grueling! We work around the clock sometimes. I’m exhausted out of my mind, but I know you have to really be going through some shit if you were blowing up my phone about Wilkes, of all people. I didn’t even think you liked him that much. What’s really going on, Lex? Spill it. I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t know why I reacted like this, Viv. To be honest, I was over him within the first few months of dating him. I let the feel-good country songs fool me for a minute. He’s not nearly as romantic in person, and I know it’s not him that has me feeling heartbroken. It’s the idea of him, which is even worse, because that means I’m turning into one of those women who get suckered into a pretty face and an empty shell.”

  “Never go for the emotionally vacant, dear. You’re much too smart for that.”

  “Am I, Viv? I mean, am I really? I’ve had the worst string of dating luck. Some of this has to be my fault. Take Wilkes. All he had going for him was a hot body and that southern boy charm! He had no sex drive either, so the sex appeal almost didn’t count.”

  “Ah, not really, hun,” Viv said, her shoulders shrugging. “Actually, I never knew what you saw in him. But don’t judge yourself too harshly, Lex. We all fall for that one guy who turns out to be just a pretty box filled with absolutely nothing. I’ve had my share of those for sure. Sometimes you have to know your limits and cut your credit cards before you leave the house, so you won’t be tempted to buy. Oooh, write that down! That was a good one.”

  “Yes, that was clever. But now I have to deal with an extra helping of media bloodhounds here in LA. God, Viv, I really just want to run away for a while. How lonely and depressing is that, taking a vacation all by myself?”

  “It’s not. I do it all the time.” Viv sucked at the last of the cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, stamping it out with her slippers.

  “Trying your luck at quitting again?”

  “There’s always tomorrow, darling,” Viv declared. “Anyway, you can and you should take a vacation alone, hun. The problem is you’ve been waiting for someone to show up and inject your life with excitement. What you really need to do is learn how to be okay on your own. Enough with the serial monogamy, Lex. It’s so twenty-fourteen. Being single is all the rage. Trust me.”

  “Just to put it out there, I’ve been single since last night, and it’s not all it’s hyped up to be,” she joked.

  Vivienne’s laughter became contagious. “Well, you’ve got to do it a little longer than that to reap the full benefits, love. So, have you finished the album? All kidding aside, maybe you need to take a little break from it all—not just romance—or the lack of, as you say. You just came off a demanding tour, and then you launched right into a big project. With the personal stuff going on, I can imagine it’s overwhelming you. Why don’t you fly home and take some down time?”

  “Ms. Vivienne,” one of the set guys popped a head out the door to get her attention. “The director is ready for you now.”

  “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

  “You go ahead,” Alexandra told her.

  “Oh hell, I guess I better. Lex, think about what I said, okay? Tropical island. Different guy every night. Or not. Seriously think about it. I’ll call you back when I get a free minute. If I don’t get a chance to call, I’ll be thinking about you. Love you, hun.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  Alexandra hung up and considered her options
. She could take a short trek back home to recoup. It was a brilliant idea. Something like that would put enough distance between her and this latest romantic failure. She would have time to put her priorities in order. She would see her father. Most of all, it would probably keep her from drunk-dialing and drunk-texting Wilkes.

  Regardless of what Viv thought, getting over Wilkes would be tough. To Alexandra, he was a Greek god, with a chiseled body and face she had not been able to deny. She needed to stay far away from him. The distance would keep her from having one last go at his bronzed brilliance. As she thought of him, she wasn’t even sure she was through with him for good. That was a bad sign.

  With her album in its finishing stages, she could probably clear her calendar for a week or two. She hadn’t seen her father since Christmas. Maxwell Storme would be ecstatic to have her back home. After her mother had passed, she and her father had been even closer. Only her demanding career kept her away, and with his schedule almost as busy as hers, he never complained about not seeing her enough.

  The more Alexandra thought about it, the more she felt an extended trip to Tucson was a brilliant idea.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SEBASTIAN walked into the bright and colorfully decorated first grade classroom. Behind him were Nate and Rodrick, two other firefighters on his crew. Just before, the three of them had been laughing and joking amongst themselves as they set up for their fourth and final fire safety presentation for the day. He agreed to join them on the visit to McKinley-Brighton Elementary, despite being off the full duty rotation for about two weeks. There was nothing else to do.

  Sebastian had made it out to the orthopedic surgeon for three follow-up appointments. He had started physical therapy. He had spoken to his brother, who invited him to spend a few days out in Los Angeles in a month’s time. He had banged a few girls from his contact list. And that was it. If he didn’t get out of the house for something other than doctor’s visits, he would have gone crazy already. He needed to distract himself from the injury, his inability to work, all the free time he suddenly had, and the boredom. Standing in front of a classroom full of chatty, hero-worshipping six-year-olds was a productive distraction.