Collaboration (17 page)

“You’ll see, G. They’re getting ready to show it now,” Trace says, pointing to the large screen that is slowly descending from the ceiling. The desire I just felt quickly becomes apprehension and I begin to fidget in my seat. I jump slightly when I unexpectedly feel a warm hand on my knee and glance over to find that Trace has taken the seat next to me. When I look into the soothing calm of his blue eyes, my body stills almost immediately.

I’m thankful no one can see his hand on my leg under the large wooden high-top table, but I’m even more thankful that he has it there. Especially since his thumb is now rubbing slow circles on my knee, while somehow managing to carry on a conversation with Marcus and Regina. The only thing I can focus on is the way those soft fingertips graze against my skin.

Earl, the head of the record label, steps up to the microphone right as I’m contemplating a return trip to the storage room. After introducing Marcus, he calls Trace and I up to the stage. Trace holds his hand out for me and I accept it, allowing him to help me up. He then drops my hand and follows me up to the stage, and I’m grateful once again for his presence. Earl’s cigarette and scotch-scented breath invades my nostrils when he hugs me and kisses each cheek. After a firm handshake between him and Trace, we join him and the other Backlash executives at a table on a raised platform in the front of the room.

The lights dim even further and the video begins to play. Images taken of Trace and I separately are spliced together, and I’m impressed by his ability to lip-sync the words, considering his verses are much faster than mine. Then again, it’s not like he hasn’t done this many times before. When his deep voice booms out of the speakers with the next verse, he turns his head my way and winks.

It’s always been about me and where I’m goin’

But I can’t ignore the way the winds are blowin’

I can feel the power

It’s like a hurricane

The forces too strong

Gonna drive me insane

That’s it, he has completely unglued me. And if I wasn’t before, the images of us in bed together put me over the edge. I feel my panties get wet—again—as I watch us essentially simulate having sex. It ends at the moment where Marcus first yelled “Action!” when Trace encircled my head with his strong arms, giving me a look that said that everything was going to be okay. I feel that same sense of peace now as the lights come back on and everyone in the club begins applauding loudly. Earl resumes his position on the stage and makes a toast to the “next #1 hit on the billboard charts.”

Trace places his hand on the lower part of my back and we make our way back to the table. Before we get there, however, I feel a tug on my arm and feel myself being pulled out of the room by Regina. As soon as we reach the hallway near the restroom, she spins around to face me. “What the hell was that? Seriously, Taryn, that was fucking hot. What is going on with you guys?” Her voice is almost pleading with me so I pull
her
arm and we head into the ladies’ room. After ensuring that there is no one else is in here except us, I tell her about everything...the texts, phone calls, video shoot, our date, and even the brief storage-room rendezvous. I also tell her that I honestly have no idea what I’m doing but I love it anyway.

“I knew something was going on, but I definitely didn’t know
that.
” Placing her hand in mine, she squeezes it tight.
“
I’m happy for you, T, you deserve it. And Trace is a good guy… just be careful, alright?”

I pull away to stare into the mirror. With both my hands on the edge of the sink, I let my eyes stare at my reflection. I’ve fallen and, although I’m not quite sure how far, I have to be honest with myself. I like him…a lot. But I’m not sure exactly where he wants this to go, if anywhere, so I know I need to heed her advice and be cautious. “I will. Thanks, Gina. And it’s not like anything’s
really
happened, not yet anyway.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to change that, and there’s no time like the present,” she says, her chocolate-colored staring at me in the mirror with amusement.

“Yeah, I’m sure the ‘Wicked Witch’ will
love
that,” I say, turning to face her.

“Girl, you just let me handle your mom and you concentrate on lover boy,” she says, giving me a hug.

When we retreat from our sanctuary a few minutes later, however, it’s obvious that her priorities have shifted. I am instantly surrounded by a number of people, all congratulating me on the collaboration. After I finally come up for air, I look across the room just in time to see Gina poke Trace in the chest before getting in his face. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the content of
that
conversation.

After a few more pokes and some narrowed eyes, they both begin to laugh and I take a deep breath. Trace wraps his arms around her shoulders and winks my way, all while whispering in her ear. She releases him, giving me a small wave before heading off in another direction.

I give Trace a smile and venture back to the bar, where I order myself a San Pellegrino with lime—I’ve had enough alcohol. If something does happen with Trace tonight, I want to remember every second of it.

A few of the execs and some I recognize from the video shoot join me and we make small talk while we drink. After a bit, I hear my phone buzz in my purse and I’m curious who it might be since just about everyone I know is here. Except Ryder, who is noticeably absent from the party. I check to see if it might be him but I’m surprised to find it’s my dad, telling me he needs to talk. I’m about to hit ‘reply’ when my thumb accidently presses the wrong button and my message log appears. Damn, I’d forgotten about the text that Weston sent the other night when Trace and I were on our date. Not that I would have answered him anyway—just seeing the bastard’s name makes me want to throw up. Or cry.

I sincerely hope that these two texts aren’t related to one another, but something in my gut tells me they are. Before I can find out, I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. A smile creeps across my face and I quickly toss my phone in my purse before whirling around, surprised to find Dre standing there, looking at me curiously. “Make your way to the parking garage—second floor. There’ll be a black Benz waiting,” he says quietly, leaning in close. “Oh, and don’t fuck around with my boy.” He winks before turning around and walking back to the others.

I stand up and straighten out my dress, toss a few bills on the bar, and scan the room. Gina waves to get my attention and I walk toward where she’s talking with my mom, who is slouching a little and seems like she’s enjoying Gina’s company for the first time ever.

“Oh Taryn, you’re mom says she’s going to head home. She’s suddenly not feeling well,” Regina says when I approach, sounding unnaturally concerned and giving me a thumbs-up behind my mom’s head.

“Yesss…Taarryyn. I…” she stops mid-sentence as though she forgot what she was saying.

I quirk my eye to Regina and she giggles. “I’m going to make sure she gets home okay.”

“Great job on the video, sweetie. It looked so….real.” The fact that my mother is complimenting me confirms that she is indeed drunk. “Aren’t you glad we fixed that little prob—“

“Mom!” I interrupt her. Regina looks at me curiously so I quickly quiet my voice. “Just go with Regina, okay?”

Regina holds my mom out on one side of her before leaning over to me. “I believe your black knight is waiting for you,” she whispers. When I give her a quizzical look, she says, “She’ll be fine. Who knew your mom liked all the different-flavored vodkas.” She shrugs her shoulders and grins before escorting my mom through the side door.

I ask a waitress for the best way to get out of here without being seen, handing her a fifty for her help. When I reach the parking garage without a hitch, I think I should have given the girl more money. But that thought is quickly forgotten when a black Mercedes SL550 pulls up and a heavily tinted window rolls down.

“Hey beautiful, lookin’ for a ride?” Trace is leaned back with one hand on the steering wheel and a wide smile across his face. I don’t hesitate before slipping into his car, which has a new leather smell, softened by his cologne.

“Wait, didn’t you arrive in a limo?” I ask him as he makes his way down the ramp.

“Dre and I dropped it off earlier,” he says with that heart-thumping wink. ”So…your place or mine?”

Chapter 12

Trace

“Really, Trace? You’re gonna give me the biggest line of them all?” she teases.

Shit, she’s right. It doesn’t get any more cliché than that. “I’m sorry, Peaches,” I say, reaching over and patting above her knee with my free hand. She doesn’t take a hold of my hand so I return it to the wheel.

“Mine, I guess,” she replies, sounding unsure. I don’t know if that hesitation is because she’s not certain about going with me or about me having me at her house. Either way, I’m not going to give her a chance to change her mind.

“Alright, Studio Hills it is,” I say, pausing at the garage exit. I glance over in time to see her cross her arms, cocking her head to the side.

“What, you’ve never taken the celebrity homes tour?” I ask.

She laughs and then gives me the address so I can input it into the car’s GPS. While I’m doing it, she groans, “God, I hate those tours. Even though my house is set back from the road and there’s a gate in between us, it’s still creepy to see busloads of people pull up out front, waiting around for a picture. I never go out when they’re around—obviously—but sometimes I feel like I’m disappointing them by
not
going out,” she explains.

“That does suck,” I say, peeling out of the garage. “Makes me glad I don’t have a house they can include on their tour schedule.”

“What do you mean? Where do you live?” she asks curiously.

“I’m at the Chateau Marmont.”

“The Chateau?” she asks incredulously. “You
live
there?”

“Yup,” I respond, hoping she’ll drop it.

“Trace, you gotta give me more than that. You’ve been in LA for years and you haven’t bought a place to live yet? Are you not planning on sticking around?” she asks. Yeah, didn’t think my one-word answer was going to fly.

“Dre and I used to rent a place together and hell, he practically lives with me now, but I needed some space from him, the guys…all of that.”

“Okay, I understand that. I felt the same way about living with my mom, but—“ she pauses, obviously waiting for me to continue.

“But when it came time to buy, I just couldn’t do it. LA isn’t home to me—it never will be. So I don’t really have any desire to buy a place because that would make it seem like it is my home…which it’s not,” I add and then sigh deeply. “Look, I know that’s a convoluted answer to your question so I guess the short answer to both of your questions would be ‘no.’”

I glance over and see the thoughtful expression on her face. “Last question, I promise,” she says. “Where would you live if you weren’t here then? Chicago?”

“Fuck no,” I respond, then quickly say, “Sorry. But no, I wouldn’t be in Chicago. To be completely honest, I have no idea where I’d be.”

I don’t even realize I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel until Taryn’s soft hands begin to peel the fingers of my right hand from their tight grip. She gently places my hand between hers and then sets our entwined hands on her lap. It’s such a sweet, and for lack of a better term,
loving
gesture that I don’t know what to say. So I just continue driving, while thinking about the questions Taryn asked.

It’s not like it it’s the first time I’ve thought about where I would go if I weren’t in LA. Hell, sometimes I think it’s all I
do
think about. There’s only one place where I’ve ever truly felt at home, and it sure as fuck isn’t La-La Land. Or that hellhole in Chicago. Nothing sucks worse than not feeling like you belong anywhere. It’s probably why I’m happy to tour so much—keeps me from dwelling on the fact that I don’t really have a place to call home. But I know that eventually “Trace” isn’t going to be on top and whoever’s left behind when that day comes will need to settle down somewhere.

I pull up on the street in front of Taryn’s house, grateful to arrive before my thoughts can continue further along this melancholy path. You can’t miss her place because, even though it’s as cute as she is, it’s the smallest house on the block. Of course, that’s completely relative, and still probably costs more than most people will make in a lifetime, but still….I know she’s not hurting for cash.

I turn to ask her about it and the glow from the overhanging street lamps reveals that she is sound asleep. The way that the lights illuminate her strawberry-blonde curls framing her perfect pale face, I swear she looks more angelic than any angel ever could. I hate the thought of disturbing her sleep, but I also can’t get her inside her own house without help.

As I’m disentangling my fingers from hers, I spot her clutch on the floorboard. Without pause, I pick it up, find her keys inside, and pull them out. I’m surprised to find an unusual-looking key fob and when I push the button on it, I’m even more stunned when the iron gates in front of me begin to open. What the fuck kind of security is that?

I toss the keys back in her purse, pull the car in, and close the gate behind me, swearing under my breath so I don’t wake her. Once I cut the engine, I shoot off a quick text to Cal—the girl has some serious security issues. While making sure her daughter is half-naked in a music video is obviously important, Taryn’s safety is evidently not high on her mom’s priority list. That ends tonight.

I look over at her again but this time I can’t stop myself from placing a chaste kiss on her sweet, luscious lips. I have no idea whether she intended to just lick her lips or not and I really don’t care, because when her soft tongue snakes out and licks across the seam of my lips, my dick instantly wakes up. I want to make sure
she’s
awake before I launch a full-out invasion of her mouth, so I part my lips and slowly stroke her tongue with mine. In response, I feel her delicate fingers wrap around the back of my neck as she tilts her head and tangles our tongues together.
Yup, she’s awake
.