Frozen solid, all I can do is watch her. She steps forward, slow but confident, a supermodel sashay to a beat of heels on tile.
I’ve bitched about singers like Lexi a million times. About their fake appearance, plastic assembly-line songs, meaningless lyrics. But standing here, in her presence, her intensity has never seemed realer.
“Well well well, aren’t you a cute little thing?” she says, reaching out elegant fingers, tipped with multi-colored nails, toward my shoulder. She trails her hand across my back to the other shoulder as she steps around me, sending lightning bolts of tension throughout my body. “Brando’s new toy.”
The words are out of my mouth before I have time to think about what I’m saying. “Maybe he got tired of playing with dolls.”
Lexi opens her mouth in excited pleasure. She leans back on the sink, the arch of her back pornographic.
“Good. There’s some fight in you. Brando likes that. Not too much, though,” she leans in toward my ear, so close her cherry breath tickles the hairs on my neck, “he’s a big guy, but he breaks easy.”
She keeps her face close to mine, close and dangerous. I glare at her in the mirror, her lips glistening in the bright fluorescent lights.
“Has he fucked you yet?” Lexi says, pulling her head back and stretching out her slender neck. “What am I saying? Of course he has; a pretty thing like you. I’ll bet he can’t keep his hands off you.” Lexi brushes the back of her hand against my cheek. My brain screams for my body to move, but I just watch her in the mirror, encased in the iciness of her touch, trapped in her aura. “I’ll bet he has you right where he wants you: not sure if it’s your body or your career that he really wants.”
Something snaps me out of my cage and I grab her wrist.
“Maybe that dress is too tight,” I say, looking right into her emerald eyes, “your bitterness is showing.”
Lexi jerks her hand away and twists her lips into a semi-menacing, semi-sweet smile. She turns to face the mirror, gently touching the already-immaculate strands of hair that fall lovingly around her striking face. Rolling her hands down from tiny waist to lurid hips. She does it all as if I’ve disappeared, and she’s on her own.
“Just a little friendly advice from someone who knows.”
I watch her study herself intently, like an engineer ensuring her well-oiled machine is tuned to perfection, before turning to leave. She glances at me for a second as she turns, a dark flash in her eyes, then strides toward the door, animal grace and clicking heels. She grabs the handle before pausing.
“Try saying his name when you come,” she says, looking back at me over her shoulder, another cover girl pose, “he really loves that.”
I hear her laughing even after the door closes.
Chapter 9
Brando
“Settling down has made you soft, Jax,” I say, as we carry our boards from the ocean to our towels, panting with the exertion of another ultra-competitive surf.
“What’s your excuse then?”
We dig our boards into the sand and stand for a while to catch our breaths, the glorious LA sun glistening off our wet bodies. I flip open the cooler and pull out two beers, popping the tops with my fingers and handing one to Jax.
“How’s Lizzie?” I ask, as we sit on the towels and gaze out at the rolling sea.
“Excited; I’m taking her to Paris this weekend.”
“What is it with chicks and Paris? I never got it. I mean, what’s Paris got that LA doesn’t?”
Jax gives me a sideways glance and smiles.
“Centuries of complex history and culture? Fantastic cuisine? The biggest art collections in the world? The most sophisticated fashion labels? A beautiful language?”
“Shit,” I say, swigging greedily from the cold bottle. “I’d take a girl with a Bronx accent and a good slice of pizza over that any day.”
Jax laughs and takes a sip. After a few moments he asks, “How are things going with your new protégé?”
“Haley?” I say, trying to suppress the smile I get from saying her name. “Pretty good. Yeah.”
But Jax has been my friend for way too long not to notice. He grins widely when he sees it.
“Damn, Brando. You’re really full of surprises.”
“What?”
Jax shrugs his shoulders, his smile widening a good half-inch.
“You think I’m falling for her?” I boom. “Bro, that’s projection. I mean, it’s good that you settled down, but that shit ain’t ever happening to me. I was born wild and I’ll stay that way.”
“Right,” Jax says, giving me the most unconvinced nod he’s ever managed.
“You don’t believe me? You don’t believe me! Look, she’s great. Talented, sexy, sarcastic as fuck, and she’s definitely a change from the cuties we usually pick up, but bro… Come on! This is me we’re talking about. Brando. Think about it. Brando. Relationship. You can’t even use the two words in the same sentence – they’re like from different languages.”
Jax laughs as he stands up.
“Are you trying to convince me,” he says, as he throws his towel around his shoulders and picks up his board, “or yourself?”
Jax salutes a goodbye and starts walking off, the question hanging in the air like an unconnected cable. Truth is, I don’t have an answer.
After a couple more waves I decide to leave. The sun glints off the chassis of my jeep, obscuring the tall figure leaning up against it, waiting for me.
I recognize her instantly, despite the disguise of a wide straw hat and big, Audrey Hepburn-style sunglasses. She’s wearing a black bikini, teasingly revealed by a lace sarong, and there’s only one girl with a body as poised and as slamming as that.
Lexi.
“I always thought you were hottest when you were surfing. Water dripping between all those muscles.”
I frown at her, wishing I was more annoyed by her presence.
“Where’s Davis? Did they not let him out of the wax museum today?”
“I came alone. I was watching you,” she says, pulling off her glasses to flash me an earnest look. “I wanted to come over and talk…but I hate breaking up a happy couple.”
“You and me were a happy couple,” I say, before my brain can stop the weak, regretful words from falling out of my mouth.
“Were we?” Lexi says.
I look away, trying to ignore the deep thud of pain I get from even seeing her too much. I let the sound of the waves fill my ears, as if it’ll wash away the memories.
“If you came to ask something,” I say, loading the cooler and my board into the back of the jeep, “just come out and ask it.”
She pouts, the way I could never resist. “Can we just sit somewhere and talk?”
I know there are a lot of answers to that question. No. Fuck you. Maybe later. How about next Tuesday? But there’s only one my brain seems capable of giving.
“Sure.”
I take Lexi to a pierside café; it’s got one of the best views in the city, and since I’m good with the owner I know he’ll keep the tables around us empty.
Lexi looks out into the ocean as if she’s seeing it for the first time, or maybe she knows I’ve never been able to resist the taut curve of her neck when her head’s turned. We don’t speak until the cappuccinos are in front of us, as if we both need time to adjust to the other’s presence again. When Lexi takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one, I know shit’s serious. International pop stars don’t smoke in public. I always thought it was a disgusting habit, but I’d forgive Lexi anything. Almost anything.