My head knows that this is nonsense, but my heart still pines for my lost love. I know that Steve would want me to move on, to find love again. I just don’t know if I’m ready.
∞∞∞
Samuel Foster
I spent the whole night tossing and turning after my shock meeting with Arielle. I still can’t believe it. The gentle heart that touched me so deeply resides in a body made for sin.
“Quit it, Samuel,” I chastise myself. I can’t think of her that way.
Or can I?
There was no denying the attraction between us. Even as we sat, chatting awkwardly over our burgers, I could feel it lurking there. I sit up, sheets pooling around my bare waist, and rub my hands over my face. The phone rings, and I scowl down at it when I recognize the caller ID. Fucking Cory’s already on my case. I knew he’d never be able to let me take the break we agreed on after the European tour.
By rights, I should be due for a couple of weeks of downtime. I reach for my phone just as Munchkin hops up onto the bed and brushes himself against my chest. It’s probably the only reason I don’t answer the phone with a firm “Fuck off.”
“Yeah, Cory, what’s up?” I ask.
“And a good morning to you, Mr. Colt,” he laughingly greets me. The words set my teeth on edge. When Cory is cheerful, it means he’s planning to drag me into something I don’t want to do.
“Good morning. What do you want?” I ask abruptly.
“Buford wants a show,” he dives straight in. My breath hisses out, and Munchkin stops his happy rubbing and looks up at me quizzically.
“So, what of it?” I snap. This time Cory’s going to earn his keep.
Although, if I’m honest with myself, the man probably earned a bit of a bonus for covering my ass when I ducked out of the Czech tour so quickly. There’s no chance in hell I’ll tell him why I left. That there’s a fortune in Russian Mafia gems circling as stolen goods. And that I stole them, of course. Then sold them off to buy food and blankets for the homeless folk in some of the parks around our hotel.
I’d bolted out of town the moment I saw the news bulletin showing the body of the pawnbroker I’d sold everything to. It was only a matter of time before they put two and two together and made me. My wandering thoughts soften my resolve. I guess I owe him for helping me out of that bind.
“When?” I ask eventually, aware that he’s probably waiting for an answer.
“Soon as you’re available,” he says. “I told him you’re on vacation, but…” he trails off. I know he’s probably told Buford he’ll make it happen yesterday.
I give a sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. But give me a few days to rest up. And tell him not to expect me to stick around after the show.” The last thing I want is to have to entertain the attentions of the blonde bimbo I fucked after my previous run-in with Buford. Though frankly, the chick probably wouldn’t care. She didn’t seem the type to get bent out of shape about a one-night-stand. Though if I read Buford right, he’s no doubt ditched the woman by now and replaced her with another hanger-on. The fucker had a bevy of babes attached to him when we met.
“For the price he’s paying, he’s probably going to want at least a little mingling,” Cory is saying, pulling my attention back.
“What’s he paying?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. Cory recites the figure, and even I find my eyes widening.
“Okay, I can live with that,” I say.
“And some mingling?” Cory presses.
“We’ll see,” I reply, not wanting to give in too easily. If I tell the dick that I’ll stick around, he’ll have me holed up for the night. Nobody lives by the adage ‘give an inch and they’ll take a mile’ more than my publicist. Which is probably half the reason he’s done so well for me, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. I hang up without a goodbye before he gets any more great ideas.
“Come on, Munch,” I sigh, “let’s get our world back on track.”
Chapter 4
Death Wish
Samuel Foster
I’m on top of the world, walking on air and juggling fire…and still the assholes in the front row barely bother to look up from the lines of white powder on the table before them.
Fucking cokeheads…
I grit my teeth and go on with the show. I’m not here for the applause – the five-figure paycheck is all the approval I need. Still, it rankles that the fat cats and giggling girls see me as some sort of performing monkey. The entertainment.
