Chapter Twenty-Six
Justin
“I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”- Sleeping At Last
The elevator doorsslide open and I step out. Alone. Free... It’s not that I don’t like Marisa, I do, hell, bits of me love her. She’s gorgeous and sassy and smart, and the sex is incredible, but the chase. The chase is gone. That rush of endorphins from the not knowing has dwindled, and I crave that euphoria. The conquest. The boost to my ego, but I’m going to try my hand at signing celibacy because I like having her. At home. In Manhattan. On Water Street. But here...
I grab a drink from the bar and head right through the sliding glass doors, out onto the warm pool deck. Women watch me. They whisper. They giggle and smile. And I love this. This is why it’s different in New York. In everyday life, I go to the store and no one pays me any mind. I sit on a crowded subway unnoticed. Sure, there’s the girl at the coffee shop. People at bookstores that will notice me, but for the most part, I go undetected. At these signings, I am a rock star. I’m the author of kick-ass books, who just so happens to be in phenomenal shape. In this arena, I have fame. And I eat that shit up like it’s fucking caviar. I flip my shades down, toss my towel onto a sun lounger, and flop back on the hot cushion. The warm California sun basks my skin with its radiant heat and I release a long, relaxing sigh as I take the first sip of my mojito.
“Wild! Fuck yeah, buddy. It’s Wild.”
I glance over the top of my shades at Jarod Pierce, the only model I don’t think is a total douche canoe.
“What’s up, bro,” I say with a grin.
“Not much.” He sits on the empty lounger next to me, stretching out, his gaze skimming the perimeter of the pool. “Shit, there’s some hot babes at this one.”
“Yeah, Cali, man. Cali.” I laugh. “What’ve you been up to? I haven’t seen you in months.”
“Had to fall off the radar for a bit. Took some massive heat for that entire shitshow with Brianna.”
“Ah, yeah, man. Brianna.” Jarod was banging this married chick, an author he shot a cover for. They kept insisting they were just friends, but everyone knew otherwise. Then he started screwing some reader named Gia. Brianna lost her shit. Slammed his name. Got half of her little cliché on his ass. “That’s why you don’t fuck with married women,” I say with a laugh.
“Yeah, but she was just so damn hot and fuck... man, I fell in love with her.”
“And yet... you fucked Gia?”
“I mean,” he shrugs, “shit just happened. We started drinking. One thing lead to another and,” he motions his hand like he’s sliding into home base, “my dick has a mind of his own, what can I say?”
“You’re a sick fuck, you know it?”
“Yeah, we all are.” His gaze follows a trim waisted blonde prancing by. “I paid for it though,” he says. “That shit blew up. I had authors asking me to refund them for covers, saying they wouldn’t support a man who disrespected the ‘sanctity of marriage’. Photographers cancelled shoots. The whole nine yards.”
“Damn, man.”
“Yeah, but it’s calmed down now.” He punches me in the arm. “Anyway, what pussy are you pulling these days?”
“Aw, you know... ”
“Hell, I think you pull more than me and fucking Talon put together.” Him mentioning that name causes my jaw to clench. “How do you do it?” he asks.
“Lines. Just feed them lines. Make them feel special, you know.”
“You dog.”
I shrug and take a sip of my drink. “Nah, what’s it hurting? They feel good about themselves, we have a good time. It’s not like I promise them anything, well, not really.”Except Marisa.
“Play on playa.” Jarod sticks two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistles at a girl. “You only live once, you know?”
“Yep.”
Two loungers down from me, a babe is rubbing herself down with tanning oil. Her toned muscles glisten under the sun. She throws a glance in my direction, smirking as she rolls over onto her stomach. “Aw, shit. That one looks cock hungry,” Jarod says, rubbing over his junk.
I bite down on my lip. The sheen on her ass beckons me, and my blood flow instinctively shifts to my cock. I take another sip of my cool drink, but instead of getting up and walking over to her, I toss my head back and close my eyes. I can do this.
Jarod gets up and dives into the pool before swimming up to some blonde chick. I close my eyes and almost doze off until a shadow falls over me, blocking the heat of the sun. I open my eyes, drag my shades down the bridge of my nose, and stare at the pretty brunette in a tiny bikini standing in front of me. She has two shot glasses in her hand. “I just,” she shifts on her bare feet, her perfect tits bouncing ever so slightly. “You’re my favorite author. The reason I started writing.” She smiles. I smile.
“Really?” I say, dragging my eyes over her body. “Well, that’s a compliment I’ll take.”
“I’m Bella.” She sits on the end of my lounger and hands me one of the shot glasses. “Fireball,” she says. I tip the cup back, letting that rancid taste burn its way down my throat.
“Shit,” I hiss and she hands me the next one. I eye it before lifting my gaze to meet hers. “And you are trying to get me drunk, huh?”
“Maybe... ” she shrugs. Ihaveto slam the shot back, it would be rude not to, now, the other four she gives me... Before long, I’m stumbling into the hotel with her arm looped through mine and we’re in her room. I’m undressing her, she’s undressing me. Her tits in my hand my mouth. She falls back onto the bed, pulling me down with her and my gut knots. Her hair doesn’t smell like Marisa’s. This—this doesn’t feel right so I slink out from under her, grab my pants, and pull them on.
Her face scrunches. “What are you doing?” Her hand slowly snakes down her stomach and between her thighs.
“I, uh... ” I sweep my fingers through my hair, unable to look at her. My heart pounds. My mind is quickly becoming clogged with thoughts of Marisa. And what the hell is this? “I just, uh... ” I lift my eyes, and although Bella looks like a spread to a playboy all sprawled out on those rumpled sheets, I can’t even enjoy it because I feel guilty. “I just, uh... yeah.” I nod, grab my shirt, and walk out of her hotel room, the door banging shut behind me.
She’s not Marisa.
