“Shit,” she says. “Jamie’s with her dad this weekend, so I made plans.”
My spirit plummets at her words. “Oh well,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“Why don’t you ask Lisa?” Anna suggests. “Austin gets on well with her, doesn’t he?” Lisa Massey works at the hospital with me. She has looked after Austin a couple of times, but I know it’s not her favorite thing to do. “I’ll see if she’s free,” I say.
“Or I can give you the name of the girl who looks after Jamie sometimes. But she’s not cheap.”
Even with my new job as Munchkin’s caretaker, I’m not rolling in spare cash. But at least I have options. “I’ll have to see if I can swing it. I’ll let you know.”
I hang up as I pull up outside my house. Tim’s car is parked out front, and I take a deep breath as I prepare to see him.
Chapter 7
Pull me Closer
Samuel Foster
My heart is thumping in a way that makes me feel like a kid again.
No, scrap that. I was a troubled kid. Deep, introspective, moody…probably what you’d call ‘emo’. I guess that’s to be expected when your mother abandons you before your tenth birthday. No idea who my father was either, so it’s not like I landed on his doorstep. If it wasn’t for Atticus, my guardian and the man whose name inspired my stage persona, who knows where I might have ended up. Probably out on the streets – that’s pretty much where she’d left me…the woman who called herself my mother.
I’m sure I would have survived out there – there’s a little bit of alley cat in me if I’m honest with myself. Maybe that’s why I bonded with my little Munchkin. After Atticus died, he’s the only living thing with a piece of my heart. I know Corey thinks it’s freaky, but then, he’s an asshat. He doesn’t understand anything that isn’t directly connected to cold hard cash.
I couldn’t give two fucks about money. In the past decade, I’ve made more than I could spend in one lifetime. Maybe three. I like to give it all away…to the poor, the needy, folks who are barely scraping by. Yet somehow, fortune keeps finding me. Filthy lucre. No matter how hard I seem to try to fuck up my life, I always land on my feet.
Like a cat. Or a cat burglar.
Munchkin is rubbing his head against my cheek and I scratch him under his chin. His purr amps up to ‘locomotive’ level.
“Whaddya think, Munch? Do you like her?"
My heart is doing that thing again.
I’ll think about it!She said she’d think about it… I feel like I won’t breathe until I hear her say yes. I know it’s ridiculous – I’ve never had trouble pulling chicks. It’s part of the celebrity scene. Groupies, fans…call them what you will. They’ll strip off and fuck me before I can blink. And not one of them has any idea of who I am behind the glitter and glamor of the public image I’ve created. Not one of them knows Sam…they don’t want to. They’re all drawn to Atticus…to the idea of the life he represents.
Power. Money. Magic.
Arielle had no idea I am Atticus Colt until a few nights ago. She doesn’t care about the man on the stage. She clicked with the guy who loves his cat. How dorky is that? Munchkin is bumping my chin more insistently and I grin.
“Yeah, I’m a dork. But I think you’re cool with that, hey, buddy?” I have him cradled against my bare chest as I stroll to the kitchen to get something to eat. I set him onto the kitchen table and shake a couple of treats into his bowl. It’s not one of his regular mealtimes, but I can’t help indulging the little guy. I run my mind over what to eat myself.
It’s always unsettling to be back from a tour. When I’m away, it’s a swirl of hotel buffets and meals on the run, no consistency at all. If I didn’t have a daily training routine, I’d never keep the belly fat off. Fortunately, I’ve always run lean, which is handy because my act is pretty physically intense. Sure, I’m hoisted into the air by pulleys and chains half the time, but it’s no mean feat keeping yourself suspended by just your arms.
And it’s useful for scaling walls and shimmying up drainpipes. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I have sticky fingers around those fuckers who flaunt their wealth. The entitled dickheads who pay for love and expect the world to bow to their power. People mean nothing to them. The women they collect are accessories. I guess I should feel sorry for those girls, but it’s not easy. I’ve been on the receiving end of that avarice too. There’s nothing real about them, and they don’t care who they fuck in order to buy their next pair of Jimmy Choos.
So, if I pluck a fat diamond out of someone’s cleavage occasionally, I feel no guilt. Doesn’t bother me at all…
“Jesus, Munch, do you think she’d freak out?” I rub my face with my hands. Who am I kidding? Of course she’d freak out. And though I may not care about the jerks I steal from, I definitely care about what Arielle thinks about me.
Tonight was too close.Fuck!When she saw the diamond, I thought I was screwed. Thank God she seemed to believe my story. I’ve always had to think on my feet…though it bugs me to know that I used it on Arielle. There’s something so clean and wholesome about her.
Doesn’t stop me from wanting to do dirty dirty things with her, though…
That thought stops me in my tracks, and I adjust my sweatpants, which have suddenly become uncomfortably tight. I can’t remember when last a woman affected me like this. Even before I knew she was smoking hot, when she was just a sweet voice on the other side of the line…God, I wanted her already then. Wanted that gentleness in my fucked up world.
Please let her say yes…
My phone vibrates on the table beside Munchkin, and he hits it with a suspicious stare.
