Authors: Christina Brunkhorst
Torn (26 page)
“You’re welcome, sugar,” the queen replied, her voice hot and low, like caramel. The long, eyelashes of one immaculately made up eye raised and lowered in a flirtatious wink.
Julie rolled her eyes. “Well, Romeo?”
Tyler took another drag from the cigarette. It was amazing how good that felt. Sad, really. But, it was times like this that made him glad that he’d only stopped smoking, as opposed to having quit smoking. Less guilt to deal with when one
really
needed a smoke… like now. “I have no fucking idea.”
He sat down on a barstool, abandoning his pool game. Julie joined him and watched as the empty, maroon billiard table was soon claimed by other players.
The ice clinked together in his glass when Tyler brought it to his lips for a long slug. He drew on the cigarette, watched the smoke swirl in the air above his head.
“Shit.” Tyler frowned at his drink, stuck a finger in the glass and twirled the frozen ice balls around in the glass. “You’re a director for chrissakes. Give me some direction.”
Julie’s laughter was gentle and compassionate. “I’d love to, chum,” she said, and puffed from her cigar, “but I don’t have a copy of the script either.”
Slumped against the back of the barstool, her partner-in-crime groaned as he tipped his head back. “So, now what?” Hey, look at that… The ceiling had gay sex murals on it. He’d never noticed.
“Ty! Did you hear what I said? Quit marveling at the nekkid people and pay attention!”
“You knew those were up there?”
Julie’s lips parted into a sly grin and she looked pointedly at the bartender, who was serving someone else. “She showed me one night after closing, about a year ago. Had me spread-eagle on top of the bar. I saw a lot of fun things that night. The mural being one of them.”
What started out to be another groan turned into a laugh as Tyler sat up. “Lord, Woman!”
Her grin grew wider. “That’s what
she
said.”
C
helsea smoothed the burgundy silk of her dress over her greatly extended abdomen and frowned at her reflection. It wasn’t because she didn’t like her appearance –– the contrary, she knew she looked good. Gigantic, mind you, but good. It was simply amazing what silk and several hundred shameful dollars could do for a whale. The frown, on the other hand, was on behalf of her nerves.
Her first, and as far as she was concerned,
last
movie premiere would start in the next few hours. If there was anything this entire venture had taught her, was that she definitely preferred to be “behind the scenes”. Fame was, as she always suspected,
weird
.
The flight to Los Angeles had been uneventful. Chelsea was thankful for the first class tickets –– she had serious doubts about her ability to sit in the narrow coach seats. And the limo that picked her and Jake up at the airport had delivered them safely to their hotel. Not just
any
hotel, but
The Beverly Hills Hotel.
Oooh-woo-hoo.
But the time remaining to tell Jake the truth about the twins she carried shrunk with each passing minute. When she’d sent Tyler the video and photographs of her ultrasounds, she was trusting him with her future… and that of her children. All four of them. Not to mention the bomb with which to rock Jake’s world if Tyler spilled the beans before she did.
More than once, more than twice, the opportunity to come clean had presented itself and each time, Chelsea chickened out. She fortified her cowardice with excuses, but the real reason she kept mute was Jake and their girls. This news would blow their tight-knit family apart and Chelsea wasn’t certain she could bring herself to do that.
Jake –– who’d simply been a gift from the pregnancy goddess through the last thirty-six weeks –– would be devastated. And their girls, now with their grandparents in Bozeman, Montana, would not only be devastated because they were such empathetic creatures, they’d be totally confused. What kind of mother would do that to her kids? She’d become the very type of person she’d despised, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“You ready, Chelsea?”
She turned and smiled at her husband. His waist-length blonde hair was banded in a neat ponytail. Foregoing a tux, Jake was dressed in Northern Cheyenne chic –– black Levis, black Georgia boots, and a resplendent ribbon shirt in the Morning Star tribe’s colors of turquoise and white. Chelsea loved Jake in turquoise. The color did all sorts of wonderful things for his sky blue eyes, made them darker, almost violet. “Jake, you look… Incredible.”
He grinned, his sky blue eyes glowing with warm appraisal as he looked at his wife. He had to admit –– there wasn’t a woman on the planet who did pregnant better than his wife. Chelsea, basking in the blessing from Creator, was nothing short of a vision. She was exquisite.
The long-sleeved, mock-turtleneck, dark wine gown hung in soft, silk folds to her knees, and did nothing to hide the fact that she carried life within. Black, translucent hose covered her legs, and her feet were tucked into modest black suede, pumps, the wide heels stacked about two inches high.
Her dark hair, gloriously thick as it often became during pregnancy, had been pulled up into a casual twist, held in place by a sterling silver and clear quartz clip. Her lips matched her dress, and other than some mascara, he knew she wore no other makeup.
“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, rifling through the hall closet for her coat.
“I’ve got it.” Jake held it up and helped her find each sleeve. Her grumble made him laugh, and she looked at him, her gaze curious.
~ * ~
“Hey, Jules… You seen Chelsea yet?”
Julie rolled her eyes, trying to ignore her friend’s pacing as he tugged on his tie for the hundredth time. Ty never could stand the choking strip of material. “No. They’ll be here when they get here.”
“She did say she was coming, right?”
The impatient sigh that blew past the director’s lips sounded more like a Seven-Forty-Seven taking off. “Ty, for the
last
time:
Yes
, Chelsea –– and Jake –– are coming. They’ve already checked into their hotel suite –– a couple of floors below your own, for your information. Play a few games of ‘Grease the Palm’ and learn for yourself.
Yes
, she knows what time she needs to be there and so does her limo driver.
No
, we are
not
going to call the hotel to see if she and Jake have left yet. And
do
move your ass over. My escort needs to sit there.”
Tyler shifted to the plush, dove gray leather bench opposite Julie in the black, stretch limousine. “Who is this mystery date anyway?” he asked, the corners of his mouth curving up into a slight smirk.
Julie nodded towards the window. “See for yourself. Here he comes now.”
Tyler turned his head to look, but all he saw was crotch as the man neared the limo door. Hastily, he backed away to make room for the new arrival. When he saw who climbed into the luxury vehicle to join them, he didn’t think he could laugh any harder.
“D! How in the hell did Jules manage to convince you to leave Montana for the red carpet?”
An actor who’d come into fame a decade prior but who’d fallen off the Hollywood radar after a near overdose from cocaine ducked into the limousine. Recent dramatic film roles had regained him critical and fan acclaim, and now Dennis Quinn was back in Hollywood’s upper echelon. He looked quite suave in a suit of tan suede and cream shirt that complemented Julie’s satin, bone white gown quite nicely. Dennis shook the younger man’s hand and grinned. “Hey, Ty. How’re you doing?” He sat down next to Julie, gave her a friendly kiss on the mouth as the limo pulled away from the curb.
“Ran into Jules at the Bozeman airport. She caught me as I was leaving to go home to the ranch. Imagine my surprise to see her gorgeous face!”
Tyler sat back against the cool, smooth grain, his black leather blazer squeaking against the seat. He shook his head. “Man, I haven’t seen you in well over a year. What have you been up to?”
Dennis ran a hand through dark auburn locks, smoothed his short beard. He leaned back against the seat, lay his free hand on Julie’s knee. “You don’t even want to know. The usual I guess.” His hand slid up and down Julie’s thigh in an absent stroke. “But nothing, apparently, like what you’ve been up to.”
Tyler’s eyebrows rose somewhat when Julie didn’t stop him. What do we have here? He focused on Julie’s face, and she winked at him.
Tyler’s lips twitched. Julie stepped on his foot –– a light, subtle movement –– that redirected his attention to the conversation.
“D, you’re such a smartass,” but Tyler reached over and shook the hand, as well as his head. “Thank you… Or thank Jennifer, rather. She beat me to the punch, but that was fine with me.”
“I hang out with Julie a lot at
The Pink Triangle.
”
“Oh, sure,” Tyler shrugged. “But that’s no big deal. No different from getting hit on in non-gay oriented clubs. Same schpiel applies. I just say I’m flattered, but I’m strictly hetero. And that’s that. People get such a weird idea about being hit on by someone whose sexual orientation doesn’t match your own. Like they’re going to stalk you into your next lifetime for saying no thanks. What crap. Hell, I’ve had stalkers that were hetero –– remember that girl who somehow snuck into my house that I had to put a restraining order on?”
Dennis nodded, as Julie groaned. “Oh, lord. I forgot about that whack-job.”
“
The Pink Triangle
is laid-back place with songs I like on the jukebox, a few televisions to watch sports on –– because gay doesn’t equate to makeup and fashion twenty-four-seven for chrissakes –– and discreet. That much is obvious, considering, for example, that you didn’t know I hang there.”
“In fact,” Julie straightened, speaking for the second time since Dennis entered the limo, “we’re going there after the premiere for the after-party.”
Dennis sat back, lifted his hand from Julie’s thigh and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Sounds good to me.”
“I may or may not be joining you,” Tyler said. His brow creased. Dennis’ arrival had worked as a distraction, but now his thoughts were focused on her again.
Knowing there was a time to press and a time to back off, one look at the younger man’s rigid jaw line told Dennis which time it was now. Time to live to be nosy another day. He looked over at the tall, slender, exotic beauty smirking in the seat next to him. “So Julie… How was Africa?”
T
yler Benson smiled for the cameras as he stood between Dennis and Julie, when another sleek, black limo pulled up to the curb.
She was here.
He froze in place, Julie and Dennis moving along the scarlet carpet without him, turned to stare at the stretch while the driver got out, and opened the rear passenger door.
Jake Morgan stepped out. The cheering of the crowd softened into a puzzled buzz:
Who the hell is he?
He turned around to offer his arm to the other passenger inside.
