Page 118 of Whirlwind

“Tag really makes all this his own, doesn’t he?” she murmured. “All this is about him. He’s the director, star, conductor. He films, he edits. He has the vision. And the vision is…Tag. But how authentic is it anymore with the demands and rewards of social media and having to make a buck to sustain it all at the very same time?”

“I know that Tag will always be genuine in his pursuit of what makes him high. His intention has always been super clear and strong. It’s up to him to not let all the other shit blur the picture.”

“Time to move out, people. We’ve got to get to the yacht!” shouted Lars.

“Ooooh, the yacht.” Violet shook off her towel. “Let’s go, Lanier. Duty calls.”

44

Beck

Violet satin the back seat with Lars, taking photos of Tag driving and yakking with me in the front seat as we flew down the twisty roads to the harbor.

“Violet, make sure to get a shot of the car’s logo on the wheel,” said Lars.

At the harbor Violet helped Stone and Lars with their bags of equipment. We strode toward a line of small and very large, glossy yachts and there were plenty more anchored in the bay. This island was busy. Alessio was on board a smaller yacht, more massive power boat less cruise ship, but no less impressive and luxe, smoking a thin, dark cigarette.

“Whoa.” Violet came up next to me. “This is certainly a far, far cry from my uncle’s fishing boat on the lake.” We laughed.

We got on board and everyone charged into action. Tag and Kaspar had changed into well-tailored slim-fitted suits. “We need a suit for Beck!” shouted Tag.

“Fuck yes! Get him in a suit.” Kaspar laughed loudly. “I want you in this with us, Beck.”

Lucky for me they had extra clothes.

I got dressed in a suit. Two hands smoothed down my shoulders. Violet. I leaned back against her, her warm lips brushed my ear, my earring. “You dress up nicely, Mr. Lanier. So damned handsome.”

“You like me in a suit, huh?”

“Very much.” She fiddled with my shirt front. “Like this—unbuttoned and reckless, the sophisticated bohemian.”

“I’ll get dressed up more often.” I twisted around in her arms and crushed her mouth with mine. Her taste filled me, her small moans music. My hands skidded to her ass and stroked, pulling her in tighter between my legs.

“Lanier, where the hell are you?” Tag’s voice rang out. “No time for blow jobs right now! Later.”

Violet and I laughed. She grabbed a colorful sarong from her bag and tied it around her middle. She smoothed down my jacket, tugged on the ends of my shirt, and we got back up on deck.

Lars explained to us how he saw the shot. “The three of you cat walk to the end of the boat, we’ll take shots of you on the edge, and then you jump off.”

“Jump off?” My mouth dried.

Tag squeezed my arm. “Of course.”

“Problem?” asked Lars.

“No, I just…feel bad for the suit.” I smoothed my hands down the fine fabric of the jacket.

“All for art,” chuckled Tag.

Kaspar only laughed.

“I’ll get the girls ready?” Violet leaned into Lars as he adjusted something on his camera.

“Yeah.”

Violet blew me a kiss as she headed down into the boat.

“Let’s do it.” Lars raised his camera.

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