Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance (23 page)

Jayne stood outside her building, waiting for the car to come get her. The job her agent had offered her the night before wasn’t the role of Ariel, but that wasn’t strange. What was unusual was the offer she
had
been given.

It was just a simple something for one night, just a gig, where she would accompany the client to a dinner at an arts gala. “You’re gonna want to take this,” her agent said, “because the guest list is incredible. All people you want to meet.” Besides, the pay was great, and she was assured the dinner was all that was required. It would also cover her rent for the month, so finally Jayne reluctantly agreed. Even if she did get the Ariel gig, or maybe especially, times would be tough for the next few months. Great acting jobs often didn’t pay.
What Carson Weeks had said was true, that artists supported the arts more than anyone else, in a sense.
But nothing to be done about that aside from do the occasional weirdo gig.
In any case, she was told to dress formally, be ready by six, and she would be home by eleven or midnight.

Her dress was simple taffeta, black, with one large strategically placed hip ruffle over a short skirt. Catching her reflection in a store window, she hoped she looked nice enough. Ella had done her makeup, giving her a nice mauve lip and lots of mascara. She also lent her a beaded purse she had picked up one afternoon from Soho – with butterflies in its mosaic pattern. Pretty. Her eyes drifted up.
Whoever hired me for this better not try anything,
she thought, looking at the sheer panel that covered the top of her chest, revealing a hint of cleavage.
I am an actress, not an escort.

Just then a car pulled up: a black Bentley limousine, with its unmistakable grill and smooth lines. The driver jumped out.
What, is this for me?

“Hello Jayne,” he said in a distinctly British accent. “Lovely to see you. My name’s Wilbur – I’m Mr. Weeks’ driver.”

Mr. Weeks!? He’s my date!?

“Thank you Wilbur,” she managed. He swiftly opened the door for her, taking her hand to help her into the vehicle. The interior was luxury defined, smooth leather, soft lighting, gentle music. A softly lit bar.

“Hello, Jayne,” said the voice from the night before. She turned her head to see him again. Somehow he looked even more gorgeous and sleek close up than he did crossing the street in NYC. Young, tall, dark and handsome, and wearing a tuxedo. Wow.

“I’m Carson Weeks. It’s so nice to meet you.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, a bit bashfully, his smile winning. “Thank you for agreeing to come to me to the arts benefit tonight. It was a bit at the last minute, but I think you’ll be happy you came. There will be a lot of people there who you’ll enjoy meeting, and some who might be able to help you with your career.”

“Hello,” she said a little hesitantly. She wanted to make a good impression on him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to give him the
wrong
impression, that was for sure. “Happy to come, I’m sure.”
“Great.” He smiled, revealing beautiful white teeth. “You look lovely. Can I offer you a drink?”
“Sure, thank you,” she couldn’t help but smile back, seeing him look so genuinely warm and open. She relaxed a little. But just a little.

“Champagne to your liking? Or?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” She saw him reach into the bar and pull out a small bottle of Krug Grande Cuvee.

“I always get the small bottles for quick car trips. You don’t want flat champagne, do you,” he smiled.

“Kind of defeats the purpose,” she ventured.

“You said it!” he laughed and poured them both a tall flute of bubbles.

When she tasted it, she nearly gasped. It not only disappeared in a flash but it left what she could only describe as a fine sheen of bubbly sensations on her tongue. Like it wasn’t just a taste but a texture. A feeling.
“You like?” asked Carson.

“It’s very good. Better not drink too much.”
“Yes, you’re so right. This is better savored, not gulped, but the temptation is there, when it’s so tasty.” His manner was so easy. But why had he asked her to go with him? Was it rude of her to want to know? And did it have anything to do with the Ariel role?

“So I was surprised to get a call from my agent regarding a dinner. I suppose if it were anything else but a career event she wouldn’t have sent me the offer at all, nor would I have thought it appropriate to accept.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Forgive me for that. I do need someone to come with me to this function. And I was quite swept away by your performance at the audition for Ariel at The Tempest.” He gave her an impish look. “…And might I add, your performance at the restaurant afterward.”
 

Her blood ran icy in embarrassment.
“You…what do you mean?”

“Well I could see you in the reflection.” He smiled wide, now. “Don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t let on and none of the others could, I’m sure. When you put on that rain poncho and snuck out, your face all hidden, I thought I would die of laughter. But it was smart, and really it was our fault. We put you in a bad position, coming to the very place you were trying to relax after such a stressful audition! You did fantastically well by the way,” he added. “They loved you. Anyway, I thought a great night out of nice food and hopefully not too many speeches, with some contacts you’d like to meet would be a good way for me to make it up to you.”
“I never go in places like that bar across from the theater. Too expensive!” She felt her cheeks burning. “What are the chances…the one time I do…” she groaned and put her head on her knees, champagne glass sticking up past her head. He reached over and patted her hand.

“Well never mind. It was adorable, honestly. In any case, I am so glad you accepted to come with me to this gala,” he said. “I just have to say, you were luminescent that night. You’d be a wonderful Ariel. Now I want you to know that I don’t know the results of the audition, so I can’t help you there, but I believe that tonight, meeting the right people, will be of help to you if you want it to be. No obligation to you, honestly - just for pure love of the art.”
“Why do you love theater so much? Or is it art in general?”

“Well, my mother and father were from NYC and they were devoted to it. We were, as a family – used to attend productions all the time. When she died, I thought I would do my best to help her love stay alive. I can’t pretend to know what someone like Grant, the director, knows, but I have seen more than my share of productions, and I can tell when someone has it, and when they don’t. I know he saw it too. But…We’ll just have to wait to find out who is the callback list. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with the artistic vision of a director anyway – I am sure you understand.”
As he spoke, she couldn’t help but admire his manner, his voice, and his incredibly cut body, visible even in a suit. His crinkly blue eyes were not only beautiful, framed with dark lashes, but also intelligent. Sensitive, kind. And there may have been something more in them. Was it desire? Attraction?
For me?
Jayne wondered.
Is it even possible?

For his part, Carson was charmed by her. Her legs alone were something to behold, and the short dress made them seem endless. But good looking women in NYC were a dime a dozen. What was so compelling to him was her honesty, and her unspoiled nature. Somehow, she was an innocent, and that was not a large supply among his circle. Even if she never saw him in a romantic way, he wanted to help her, to nudge her along to the next level or beyond, since she was one of the few that seemed made of pure light.

Little did Jayne know but banquet that night was to honor patrons of the arts and –Carson was the guest of honor. That meant her visibility was very high, but she wondered how she felt about being on a first date at such an event, if that is what it was.
And what if it wasn’t even that? What if every time he had a function to go to, he found an up-and-coming actress to accompany him?
It was hard not to worry, even a little.

There were swarms of paparazzi, all taking their picture as they got out of the limo. She was thankful that Carson took her arm as they strode into the gorgeous venue, as her heels were very high and even that little bit of champagne wasn’t for nothing.

It was an old New York ballroom. Marble, wood carving, grand paintings. As far as the eye could see, there were women in fancy dress and jewels, each one more fabulous than the last, and tuxedos on the men. In her little black dress, she was not the belle of the ball, but even so, she seemed to be catching a lot of eyes. She hoped it wasn’t for something negative. Maybe she had something stuck in her teeth, or maybe they thought that she didn’t fit in.
And I don’t. This crowd is beyond me.

As if sensing her apprehension, Carson looked down at her. His blue eyes were kind. “You’re the most beautiful and talented woman here,” he said softly in her ear. She didn’t know what to say. “So knock ‘em dead.”

“Ok. Ok, will do.” A smile came upon her face.
He’s right for hiring me - this is an acting job. This is just another performance. And I have been learning to perform all my life. But this time I am performing for my own career, improvising for an audience who can take me to the heights I need to reach as an actor.
“Thank you for bringing me.” She smiled with a genuine warmth.
Perhaps his intentions are pure.

“It’s my pleasure. Please believe that.” They walked over to their table, at the front of the room near the dais. “Hey, did I mention I have to give a speech? Believe me it’s one of the ones that I am hoping will be short.”
“You don’t know what you are going to say?” She looked at him wide-eyed, yet somehow sternly. He laughed in response.
“Well not exactly. I have a speech written out but I really want to cut out about half of it. Brevity is the soul of wit, as they say.”

“As Shakespeare said,” Jayne gently corrected him, “in
Hamlet
. But it’s a bit ironic –that guy was the least brief of all! Talk about a prolific writer of his time, and of any time.”

“Good catch,” Carson looked impressed. “You’re fast. Where did you go to school?”

“For drama? Nowhere, really. I just studied on my own, and went to Community Theater. It’s always been in my blood, but we didn’t have the money to send me off to college, and I had to help my mother with my brother and sisters so there wasn’t much chance of me getting a job to pay for it myself. So I just did what I could, got all the experience I could, and then went from there.”
“That’s impressive.”

“Thanks.”
“I really admire that kind of drive, passion. Determination. Where are you from originally? You don’t sound Brooklynese.”

She laughed. “East coast.”
 

“Got it. I won’t press,” he winked. “Well it looks as though they are going to start the dinner anytime now. Would you like to sit down?”

“Love to.” He firmly put his hand on the small of her back and directed her to her chair, pulling it out for her. His touch made her a little lightheaded, and if she were honest, a little aroused. But she was there as a companion, an acting job.
No need to get excited
, she told herself as sternly as she had faced him about his speech.
He loves the theater, and young talent. And that’s it.

In the morning, she laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, aimlessly watching the ceiling fan as it rotated. “This is Jayne Massie,” she remembered him saying. “A very talented young artist. One to watch. She works through FG Agency…” “I’d like to introduce Jayne Massie. An up-and-comer to remember.” He brought her around to each of the biggest impresarios in the city, making sure they knew her name. For a young black actress, this was invaluable. He must have known that. It was hard enough to get roles in plays that were for black actors, never mind breaking into predominantly white works. She wondered how much influence he had, if it would lead to anything. And if so, what he might expect in return.

And what she might want to give him, out of desire. He was really handsome, and the look in his eye as they talked, of genuine attention, interest, sometimes even bordering on devotion, gave her a bit of a chill. It was so nice to be heard, to be taken seriously, but someone whom you had become to admire.  

By the end of the night she had almost felt like a fairy tale princess, being escorted around the ball by the handsome suitor, except she knew that there was a big probability that this was all business. Still, he was the richest person in the room. What did he need with more? Could it be, though, that he had liked her, in that special way, and that’s why he wanted to take care of her? Her thoughts grew dark. Of course it’s also possible that he liked her in a very un-special way, and wanted her to become obligated, indebted to him, so that she would be forced to appease him if she wanted to work. It was difficult. One minute she was over the moon, the next she was six feet under, it felt like.

The phone chirped beside her. It was a text, from her agent.
“You got it! You’re Ariel in the all-black Tempest! You are the storm bringer!”
Tears leaked down the sides of her face, as the ceiling fan turned round and round.