Читать книгу Remember My Name - Havana Adams - Страница 14

CHAPTER 4

“Oh my God!”

The squeal of shock laced with a building excitement pierced through Alex’s inebriated fog and he looked up to see two women standing over him, one slim and the other round and curvy. Alex had ventured out of the cosseted luxury of the villa to explore the surrounding town, eventually settling in this small bar, little more than a shack really, where local fishermen and Mexican families seemed to gather to watch cable television, smoke, drink and have dinner. There’d been few tourists to behold and it had amused Alex when one of the locals attempted to sell him a bootlegged copy of his latest film. He’d handed over a few dollars and bought a copy just to get the guy to leave him in peace.

These two women were the first non-Mexicans he’d seen in the bar since he’d been coming there.

“Oh my God.” The tall slim one breathed the words again, more quietly this time. “You’re Alex Golden.” Alex forced himself to focus on them and he readjusted his initial impression. They were young, hardly more than girls. The curvy one stood back, allowing her slim blonde friend to do the talking. Alex swayed slightly as he rose to his feet, with the trademark smile that he’d perfected over the years. He leaned close to the girl.

“Shush,” he said. “That’s our little secret.” The girl seemed to be holding her breath, her eyes drilling into him as they stood toe to toe. Alex stared at her flawless youthful skin. She was tall, he realised, able almost to stare straight into his eyes. He smiled again as unthinkingly he laid his hand on her shoulder, to give her a reassuring pat. He’d grown used to this over the years; young girls, women and sometimes even men, who looked ready to faint at the sight of him. Sometimes it still amused him but now craving anonymity, he simply wanted them to get their picture and go. The hand on her shoulder seemed to reanimate the girl and she turned to her friend and then back to Alex.

“Can we get a picture?” she asked. Alex heard the twang of the American Midwest in her surprisingly husky voice.

“Sure,” he replied, and the girls immediately stepped either side of him. One of the Mexican fishermen quickly obliged, taking the photo with a knowing wink at Alex that made him realise that perhaps he had not been quite as incognito as he’d thought.

“Thanks,” the blonde girl said. Her dark-haired friend smiled shyly at Alex, chiming in with her own thanks. Relieved, he sank back down into his seat, watching as the girls wound their way through the tables and chairs and out of the bar. He would finish this beer and then head back to the villa. But before he’d taken even one sip of his rapidly warming beer, he felt a shadow once again fall across him. He looked up; it was the blonde girl again.

The unfocused desire he’d seen in her eyes had crystallised now into intent. Alex watched her idly. She really was stunning. Her face was free of make-up and those legs, which seemed to go on forever, were encased in the briefest of khaki shorts that revealed slim tanned thighs. How old could she be? Youthful innocence seemed to shine off her but Alex wasn’t fooled, he’d met too many starlets, pin-ups and porn stars that channelled that same look. He watched her silently, curious about how far she would go. What had she done with the friend, he wondered? Slowly she leaned down until her chin was level with his and she stared into his eyes. No doubt she knew that he had a direct view down the thin white vest that she wore. He could see her small breasts, which hung free under the thin tank top. She stared at him and against his will he found his interest stirring. It was two days since Isabella had left in a fury, finally realising that she was on her way out. The fact that Page Six had run a story about his fling with her Pilates instructor had been the final straw. There had been righteous anger and indignation but no tears and certainly no begging; Alex admired Isabella for that. She’d packed her bags and simply left. Though he’d got the outcome that he wanted, Alex suddenly realised the truth of that statement that women bandied about: There’s no better way to get over someone than to get under someone else. Not that he needed to get over Isabella but being in this hot, steamy climate without anyone in his bed was a less than satisfactory outcome. He stared at the coltish blonde, watching the desire in her eyes grow.

“It’s not every day…” she pouted and then stopped, biting her lip nervously. He decided to take pity on her.

“It’s not every day…?” he questioned lightly, watching as a flush of colour flooded her cheeks. Their eyes connected in a shock of electricity. The girl took a deep breath and expelled it.

“It’s not every day that you walk into the man who stars in all your sexual fantasies.” She might not be an innocent but there was a nervous naivety about her that Alex liked. She didn’t do this every day and the last words had been whispered out in a rush of embarrassment. Her face was red, as though saying the words had over-exerted her. She watched him with a mixture of hope and fear and defiance and Alex suddenly wanted very much to see how badly she wanted to play. He rose abruptly and she backed away like a skittish horse but his arm shot out to pull her back towards him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We’ll see about turning some of those fantasies into reality.” She swayed close to him as though waiting for a kiss, perhaps to seal the deal. Alex stared at her pink lips for a moment and then he turned his back on her, hearing the sigh of frustration on her lips, knowing that she fell into step behind him. She’d get what she wanted and more besides, but only when he was ready.

Alex woke with the beginnings of a hangover as brilliant sunshine slashed into the bedroom. He was sprawled on the floor, on a thick rug next to the bed. He stretched the kink out of his neck as the night before flooded back. He moved gingerly as the girl next to him stirred before settling back into her deep sleep. Alex had been right about her, what innocence she might once have had was long gone and the wide-eyed enthusiasm that had bounced off her was probably brought on by her happiness at the good luck that had thrown her into the path of a movie star. Her name was Nikki, she was from Chicago and she and her friend, whose name now slipped his mind, were travelling after their freshman year at college. After her initial shyness, the words had tripped off Nikki’s tongue. She’d talked non-stop until Alex had shut her up by sticking his tongue practically down her throat. Most of what she’d said had left his mind even as she was still speaking. She was pretty, there was no denying that; almost model pretty. Alex rose silently to his feet and walked towards the shower. He wasn’t one for talking in the morning and he hoped she’d get the message and get the hell out once she was awake.

Alex stepped into the opulent shower, which Milo had proudly told him could fit an entire basketball team. He allowed the pulsing hot water to beat down on him and then he flicked the dial to cold, to pound away the hangover that threatened. These last ten days, Alex had drunk, smoked and eaten with impunity and he grimaced as he imagined what Seth and Maryanne, his nutritionist and personal trainer, would think when they next clapped eyes on him. The water cascaded down his taut, lean body, which showed little of the week’s excesses but merely OK was not good enough for Alex. For the man who had held the crown of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive for three of the last six years, his physique had to be god-like. Alex switched the water off. Still naked, he padded towards the living room, drying his hair, when the sound of the television stopped him short. The friend, he remembered. He secured the small towel around his hips and moved forward to see that Nikki’s friend lay on the couch, the remote control in her hand as she zipped through the channels.

Last night he’d been surprised when she’d turned up after Nikki. Their intended guesthouse had been fully booked apparently, and Nikki had asked him if her friend could stay. Alex had briefly wondered if this was some sort of ploy that would end up in a threesome but the friend had disappeared into the living room and stayed there. Now she turned as she spotted Alex at the end of the sofa. Alex saw her eyes widen as she took in the brief towel around his hips, which left little to the imagination.

“I’m, I’m…” she stuttered. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” She flicked the TV off, looking anywhere but at him.

“It’sOK, I was up anyway.” Alex gave her a small smile, watching as she tried to reach for the blanket, which had fallen off the couch. Seeing her now clad only in a bra and a sarong, he realised that he’d misjudged her the night before. By Hollywood standards, she was big, there was no denying that, but rather than fat, her body was full and voluptuous like that of a pin-up from the forties. As though sensing his scrutiny of her body, she sat up abruptly, her breasts threatening to spill out of the plunging balconette bra, which barely concealed the heavy mounds of flesh. “I hope we didn’t keep you up, last night.” The desire to see her blush rose up in Alex and he watched as her cheeks reddened.

“It’s fine.”

He noted that she didn’t deny that they’d kept her up. He wondered if that was the deal; that she got off on listening. She rose to her feet and swung the sarong fully about her body, covering up those magnificent breasts much to his irritation.

“I guess you must get a load of girls throwing themselves at you.”

Alex shrugged. He moved towards the kitchen, hearing her feet on the stone floor as she slowly followed him. From somewhere in the room he heard the insistent metallic chiming of his phone vibrating. The girl cocked her head as she listened and then she reached up to one of the bookshelves, picking the phone up to hand it to Alex.

“Do you want this?” Taking the phone from her, Alex glanced at the display and then shook his head, depressing the call reject button.

“It can wait. Coffee?” he asked. She nodded as she reknotted the sarong around her neck in a style that cupped her breasts, crossing over her chest, leaving the rest of the sarong to fall to just above her knees.

“When Nikki wakes up, I guess we’ll get out of your hair.” Alex had barely noticed her the night before but now, objectively, he noted that she had a pretty face, prettier than her friend. The softness of her cheeks only served to accentuate the wide generous curve of the self-deprecating smile that she gave now. With some surprise, Alex noted that she wasn’t nervous with him. Cautious yes but she’d met his gaze head on; there was a confidence about her that was so often lacking in the women he met.

“So what’s a nice girl like you doing backpacking…” He trailed off as the snort of laughter escaped her and she covered her mouth with her hand. He smiled ruefully. “Can’t believe I said that.”

“A little bit clichéd,” she agreed.

“Right.” Alex nodded. It was, he realised in a blinding flash of insight, the first time in years that anyone had told him the truth. His usual crowd in LA would laugh at his joke no matter how lame it was. “I’m sorry, what was your…” He trailed off, embarrassed to admit that last night he’d been much more interested in getting into Nikki’s pants than in remembering her friend’s name.

“Oh right. Deanna.” She nodded, unsurprised.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names,” Alex felt moved to explain.

“Don’t worry about it.” Deanna smiled at him without censure. “I’m used to it, people tend to forget everything when Nikki’s around.” She seemed genuine in her words and yet Alex felt like a heel. This girl seemed nice, real, and he wished somehow that he were a different kind of man, that he had seen past her lush, unfashionable curves and seen the prettiness in her face and the easy femininity. He wished he’d not fucked her friend in her earshot.

“Here.” Alex handed her the mug of coffee and together they moved back to Milo’s oversized white Versace sofa. “You two are at college together?”

Deanna nodded as she sipped from the mug. “Yep, I’m studying English Literature, with French.”

“Ah oui?” Alex smiled at her. “Have you been to Paris?” She shook her head.

“Not yet but that’s the plan, to go to Europe, if I don’t blow all my money here.” She reached for the remote and began to flick through the TV channels again. Alex shifted easily to his feet.

“I’ll go check on Nikki,” he said still watching her. She nodded as she watched the tickertape of reports that scrolled along the bottom of a news channel.

Something about her bothered him and for a moment he watched her, the sunlight picking out stray wisps of gold in her curly dark hair. It was a long time since any woman had spoken to him without an agenda, and he wondered how she and Nikki could be best friends. How two such utterly different people had come together. There was a quiet, wholesome caution about Deanna; she was the type of girl, Alex imagined, that one could count on. By contrast Nikki, beautiful as she was, simply wasn’t the real deal. Nikki was like every starlet, every model, every wannabe, every scenester that had ever crossed his path in his years in Hollywood. Nikki was one of those girls who played the game – who danced like everyone was watching, who fucked like there was a camera on them, who lived every moment like it was a money shot.

“What?” Her question broke into his internal musings and Alex realised that he’d been standing there staring at Deanna. “Is there something on my face?” She looked quizzically at him and he realised that he’d moved to stand almost in front of her, looking down at her. She rose slowly as he spoke.

“You’re a nice girl,” he said and she looked oddly at him, cautious as she stared up into his eyes.

“Some people say that nice girls wind up with nothing.” She said the words carefully, watching as he leaned in close and kissed her. She was still for a moment and then she pulled his head down towards her. Her mouth opened beneath his and she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, even as his hands grabbed at her fleshy hips to pull her tight against him. His hand moved higher to her waist, which was unexpectedly slim, tiny even. He pulled her against him, grinding his erection into the soft curves of her stomach. His hands slid slowly down to grab and knead the lush curves of her bottom and he deepened the kiss. Even as he fell into her, surrounded by her unexpected spell, he felt her pulling away from him. He tightened his grip but she pulled harder and reluctantly he let her go. Now she looked embarrassed, her eyes darting away.

“Does it happen all the time? Girls falling at your feet.”

Alex smiled at her, unsure of what to say, surprised that she’d been the one to call time on their kiss.

“Sometimes. A lot,” he admitted wryly as he pushed his hand through his hair. She smiled slowly at him. “But,” he continued, “you didn’t fall at my feet.” Deanna stared unblinkingly at him before she spoke.

“Doesn’t it get boring?” She asked the question seriously, expecting an answer from him. And for the first time, Alex considered the question, he considered his life in LA, and for the first time in ten years he answered honestly.

“Yeah, it gets really boring.” Deanna nodded as though something she’d always thought had been confirmed. “But…” And now Alex trailed off. Deanna continued to stare at him, waiting for him to finish the sentence. “But sometimes, it’s just easy, convenient to say yes.” Alex stared into the deep brown eyes and recoiled at the pity he saw in her eyes. He was Alex Golden, superstar, who was she to pity him? And yet as she stared unflinchingly at him, he knew she had seen past the glamour.

“I’d better get Nikki, so you can get on with…” She trailed off, already heading into the bedroom to find her friend.

Alex watched her go and a wave of melancholy spun through him. That one kiss had laid bare the truth that he had so assiduously ignored. He was bored. He’d been coasting now for so long that he no longer remembered what it felt like to be fully engaged with anything. And more than anything he didn’t want to get on with stuff, not the way they’d been. Things, he realised, would have to change.