Page 23 of All That Glitters

Now, she has blossomed into womanhood, and I’d done my best to protect her, to keep my eyes off her like those other assholes who only saw her as a piece of meat. I’m too old to be anything but her parents’ manager, on the periphery of her world and her vision.

I spent almost enough time to convince myself I didn’t want her.

And when I come back to the present moment, I’m still sitting behind the desk. I’m still putting off filing the paperwork for the trust, because those days are just as dead as my friends, and signing away my access to Empire won’t bring them back.

It’s only going to leave me broke and empty.

NINE

With Marcus fully distracted, holed up in Dad’s old office, I make a break for it, sneaking out the front door and making as little noise as possible, though probably too much for my own good. Except if I don’t get out of here, then I’m going to explode.

I’ve already exploded in an utterly different way, and remembering it now brings heat back to my cheeks.

One orgasm hadn’t been enough. I drop down into the driver’s seat of my sweet little convertible. I’d gotten up and somehow managed to put distance between us, making it as far as my bedroom before I collapsed. I splayed my legs open on the bed and touched myself to a second orgasm, and then I had to change my panties because they’d been soaked through.

Damn. I’ve always fantasized about Hot Daddy Marcus, but in a completely untouchable way. He’s been a fixture in my life for as long as I can remember, entirely off limits. What kind of person drools over their dad’s friend? The sick kind, even though he’s a good-looking man. Any normal person would have thoughts about what it would be like to kiss, to touch, to have sex with a man like him. Right?

A lot of women want men who either don’t want them back or aren’t good for them.

Except I’ve memorized the feeling of Marcus fingering me.

I never thought he’d touch me, never thought we’d ever get here, to where every part of me wants every part of him. I knew I’d never be satisfied with a single kiss. His fingers inside me—

I press my foot down harder on the gas, the windows down and the breeze tickling the baby hairs around my face. Everything else is secured in a ponytail at the top of my head.

River has been my bestie for as long as I can remember, a dusky skinned, black-haired beauty who always had a spark of something extra in her personality, the charisma of a girl destined to command attention.

My mother used to make sure the two of us found ourselves in the same circles, telling me when we were alone how much I could use someone like River in my corner, like she is the spark to set me aflame.

Luckily for both of us, we always clicked. The friendship has seen us both through some tough times—and some great ones, too—but I’ve leaned on her hard with my parent’s deaths.

She hasn’t let up on the Hot Daddy Marcus bit, either, pushing and pushing since yesterday for me to tell her exactly what’s going on with him. With us. She means with the audition, but this is the first time I don’t actually want her to know what happened.

I bite my tongue.

Today, River is doing some kind of social media content posting at a local café, and when I texted earlier, she said to meet her there.

It’s hard enough to find time with her busy schedule. I’m the one in a position to accommodate, so I’ve got no choice but to go out. On multiple levels. See River, tell her mostly everything, and get the hell out of the house and away from Marcus for a while.

Support her, I clarify.

She’s consistent in her social media engagement, and it’s paid off for her. She deserves every bit of recognition.

All the bad things have the tendency to evaporate bit by bit behind the wheel of a convertible. With the wind warm on my skin and the California sun bright overhead, it doesn’t matter how busy the streets are. It doesn’t matter what kind of problems I have at home. There is nothing like this place, nothing like Rodeo Drive and the crash of the Pacific Ocean surf nearby. The stars on the walk of fame, the wax museum, the hills and the Griffith observatory…

No better place on Earth.

The cafe offers vegan pastries and pretty good responsibly sourced coffee. River goes apeshit for that kind of thing, and her followers, all one point two million of them, tune in religiously when she spotlights places around the United States where they can follow her lead.

I make it to the cafe at the tail end of her live video, and the crowds gathered to catch a glimpse of River are large enough for me to feel a little awkward.

Once I’m out of the car, they’ll see me, and they’ll know.

There’s no anonymity anywhere.

My reflection screws into a grimace, the dark shades of sunglasses hiding my narrowed eyes.

Knowing the press would be mingled with the crowd and seeing them in the flesh are two different beasts. Not to mention, I’ve let my own social media slide abysmally low over the last few months. No one can blame me, though. Not when I keep getting well wishes from multiple strangers who want to make sure I’m okay after the plane crash.

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