Tangled Mess (6 page)

Ransom

I stretched my legs out and yawned as I caught glimpses of Tiffany while she cut her client’s hair. I’d been up most of the night again, this time sober, which was rare. But, I needed to clear my head, and figure out how I was going to persuade her to drop out of the competition.

Taff
y.

Seeing her today only s
trengthened my resolve. She was still naïve and much too innocent for Hollywood. I’d witnessed firsthand how tainted the road to superstardom could be, and if she went all the way, I was convinced that like me, she’d lose herself and regret making wrong choices for the rest of her life.

Our eyes met briefly again as she peeked around the partition and I bit back a smile.
From the way she’d blushed, it was obvious that she still had a little crush on me, just like when she was a teenager. But she wasn’t in junior-high anymore and the young doe-eyed girl that I’d remembered had grown into a beautiful, sexy, young woman. One that was off limits.

But
damn
had she blossomed.

It didn’t help that
today she wore a short, yellow sundress that emphasized her toned legs and delicate tanned shoulders. The horny bastard that I was, I pictured her thighs wrapped around my waist, her blond hair fanned behind her head, and my jeans tightened.

Fuck
.

I had to stop thinking of her in that way.
This was Tiffany. I seriously needed to clear my fucking head.

She said something
to the girl and then they both peeked around the partition at me, and giggled. It brought me back to the years when I still lived at home with my sister, and mother. It seemed like yesterday that Tiffany and Remy used to play hopscotch or rollerblade on the driveway while I practiced with my old band,
Soul Bandits
, in the garage. I could usually see the two of them through the window, and it always brought a smile to my face when they’d lip-sync or dance to one of our songs. In those days
Soul Bandits
had been more of a cover band, although I usually slipped in a couple of the songs I’d written at each performance. Eventually, we were playing at parties, weddings, and local dive-bars, until we’d graduated to the larger venues. Then, when I’d entered the American Icon contest on a dare four years ago and had actually won, everything changed, including my friendship with the guys from the band. Instead of being happy and supportive, they blamed me for the band crumbling.

“Can’t you get another singer?” I’d asked Robby, the lead guitarist
, and my best friend. “At least until this thing is over?”

“You just don’t get it, man,” he’d
said. “We’re a team and your voice is part of what makes us what we are. Shit, Ransom, it holds us
together
, bro. You leave, and it will
never
be the same.”

“So, what do you want me to do? Turn it all away? We’re talking about millions of dollars, Robby, and a chance to go all the way
to the top. You seriously expect me to give that up? I would never lay that kind of pressure on you, man.”

Robby sighed.
“No, of course not. Just… don’t forget about us. In fact, force them to sign all of us on now that you’ve won. We’re a team for Christ’s sake.” 

Unfortunately, I’d signed my life away when I’d
originally entered the singing contest. Not only was I appointed a new band hand-selected by the show’s sponsoring record producers, but every decision regarding my career, was taken away from me. I had no control of anything and all because I’d been a cocky, arrogant punk who thought he’d known what he was doing, and hadn’t bothered to read the fine print.

“Hey.”

I’d been staring blindly at one of the magazines when the other stylist, an attractive mocha-skinned woman, with thick false lashes and a blonde weave, approached me. With her hour-glass figure and round booty, she reminded me of one of the chicks in my last music video.

“Hey there,” I replied
, sitting up.

“Hey, Mr. Ransom
,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve got something I want to say.”

I smiled.
“It’s just Ransom.”

She raised her hand and I stared in awe at her long
, blue nails, wondering how anyone could cut hair with those talons. “Whatever, just listen up, okay? I don’t know what kind of game you’re playin’, but my girl, Tiffany, she can sing. With a voice like that, she don’t need to be cutting hair or any of this shit, so quit doing whatever it is that you’re doing, and let her be, you know what I’m saying?”

I cocked an eyebrow.
“Whatever it is that I’m doing?”

She glared at me. “Don’t play me,
Mr. Rock-star, okay? I’m not twenty-one, and I’m not wet behind the ears. Stay out of Tiffany’s way in this contest. You got yours, and now it’s her turn to get hers.”

“But-,”

“Na… na… na… ” she said, shaking index finger at me. “No buts. Just let the girl reach for her own stars, and keep your ass planted on the ground, far away from her. You feel me?”

“
Ah… I guess.”

She pursed her lips
, and glared at me. “You guess? Let me tell you something-”

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” ask
ed Tiffany, coming up behind the other stylist.

“
It’s all good, I’m just welcoming Mr. Celebrity into our salon, Tiff,” said the woman, turning away. She walked back to her customer, hips swaying with attitude. “Make sure he understands a few things.”

Tiffany
raised her eyebrows.

I
shrugged.

“Cou
ld you do me a favor?” asked Tiffany.

“What?”

“My customer, Eve, wants your autograph, but she’s too shy to ask you herself.”

I looked over at
the young girl peeking around the room divider, and winked at her, making her giggle. “Of course.”

Tiffany
handed me a note pad and pen. “Thanks Ransom.”

When
I finished writing, I handed the notepad back to Tiffany, and she read it. “To Eve, dream big, and never lose sight of yourself. Ransom,” she smiled. “Oh, that’s very sweet.”

“Yep, that’s me. S
weet,” I replied, dryly.

She chuckled.
“So, I’m almost done with Eve. You still doing, okay?”

I cracked a smile
, and stretched my arms behind my head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine here.”

I was actually doing better than fine. For the first time in a while, I was doing something
completely normal – waiting to get my hair cut without bodyguards or media annoying the fuck out of me.

“Well, good.”

“Just take your time,” I said, closing my eyes. “I don’t mind waiting.”

Tiffany

“So,” I said when
Ransom planted his butt into my chair, ten minutes later. “How do you want it?”

He raised his eyebrows
, and stared at me in the mirror. “How can I get it?” he asked with a wicked grin.

I groaned.
“For thirty dollars, not the way you’re thinking.”

He laughed
, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile of my own as I draped the plastic cape around his shoulders.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About two years,” I replied, noticing that my hands were trembling a little again. The affect he had on me was unnerving.

“Do you like it?”

“I really do. It’s fun improving people’s images.”

He rubbed his chin.
“Hm...”

“Seriously,” I said, running my fingers through his hair
, enjoying the softness. “What do you want?”

“
Hell, just cut it all off,” he said, waving his hand. “Well… not all of it… just make it short. I need a change.”

“Okay,
if you say so,” I said. “Why don’t you follow me and we’ll wet your hair down?”

He stood up,
followed me over to the sink, and then sat down on the brown leather reclining chair.

“Lean back,
please,” I said, turning on the water.

He did and
then looked up at me, his eyes studying my face intently.

“What?” I asked
, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

His lips curled up
. “Nothing.”

“
You know, you
can
close your eyes.”

“Does
my staring bother you? Hell, most girls would be thrilled,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m not
most
girls. Besides, we’ve known each other for years, and I’m not going to fawn over you just because you’re famous now.”

“No?”

I grabbed the hose and began rinsing his hair with warm water
. “No. Now, close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes
, and smirked. “I never knew you were so damn bossy, Taffy.”

I deliberately sprayed his eye
lids with water and he frowned. “Oh, sorry,” I said, smirking.

He wiped the water
from his eyelid with his fingertips, and pursed his lips. “Right.”

“So, um, is the water temperature okay? Not too hot or cold?” I asked, fighting the urge to touch his five-o’clock shadow with my fingertips, and press my lips against his.

Crap, why did I still have to be so attracted to this man?

Even now I pictured myself sitting on his lap in the damn recliner.

H
is grin was dark and sexy. “It’s pretty good but if you want to go hotter, damn girl, I won’t object one bit.”

I swallowed hard.
“Actually, I think we’d better cool you down,” I said, meaning myself more than anything.

He opened his eyes
, and grabbed my wrist to stop me from adjusting the water. “Hey, I’m not ready to be cooled down. Now, unless you’re prepared to get wet
with
me,” he said in that deep, silky voice of his. “I’m going to request that you keep that water the way it is, and no funny business.”

“I’ll leave it alone,
” I replied, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks. I wasn’t sure which was crazier- the fact that we were arguing about the water or that it was turning
me
on.

He released my wrist
, and closed his eyes, again. “Too bad. I kind of liked the idea of seeing you wet.”

This time my cheeks weren’t the only thing
s hot.
Thankful that he’d closed his eyes, I shoved all kinky thoughts of him out of my mind, and quickly changed the subject. “So, um, what’s it like being famous?”

His lips tightened. “Not nearly as thrilling as you think.”

“Oh
, why is that?”

Before he could answer, Felicia
peeked her head around the corner. “Tiffany, Justin is here.”

My stomach turned
sour. “What?”

Her eyes narrowed
. “Yeah, you want me to get rid of him?”

That was one thing I loved about Felicia, she
wasn’t afraid to bust anyone’s balls.

I sighed. “No, I’ll
just see what he wants.”

Justin was my ex-boyfriend, my slightly-psychotic ex-boyfriend who had a temper
, and a jealous streak that had snuck up on me right after I’d turned twenty-one, and had become of legal age to drink. We’d been dating for two months, and he’d actually been an amazingly attentive boyfriend until my very first ‘girl’s-night-out’, where he ended showing his true colors. I still felt nauseated as I thought back to that night, which had started out awesome but ended so horribly.

“You went clubbing
in that?” he’d asked after my friends had dropped me off at my apartment, where I found him sitting alone in the dark, obviously waiting for me.

I
’d stared down at my faded blue jeans, white camisole, and mini-jean jacket, wondering what had gotten him so riled up. All of my skin had been covered, save for a little cleavage, but that was only when I’d bent down. In fact, most of the girls in the bar had been naked compared to what I’d been wearing that night. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

He
’d chugged down the rest of his beer and set it on the glass coffee table. “Your jeans are too tight, and everyone in the club was probably leering at your tits, which are barely covered in that little top,” he’d slurred. “It’s not really appropriate, unless you’re trying to draw attention to yourself.”

Shocked at his
behavior, I’d laughed nervously, “Justin, there’s nothing wrong with this outfit. You know that I dress like this all the time at work. Besides, if someone had been checking me out, who really cares? You’re my boyfriend, and the only one that matters.”

He‘d
stood up, swaying slightly. “That’s right, you’re
my
girl. So why are you going out advertising something that belongs to me, unless,” his eyes had hardened. “It’s still up for grabs?”

I
’d stared at him in shock. “That’s totally unfair. What is
wrong
with you? Why are you getting so bent out of shape over my clothes?”

H
e’d lunged towards me and grabbed both of my forearms, squeezing them painfully. “Look,” he’d growled, his fingers digging into my skin, “from now on, you’re not going out with any of these so called ‘friends’ unless
I’m
invited, too.”

I
’d shoved him away and took a step back. “Justin, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

He
’d stared at me for a minute, rigid and ready to explode. But then, as if someone had pulled a switch, he’d smiled and turned on the syrupy charm that had made me fall for him in the first place.

“
God, I’m sorry, babe,” he’d said, his brown eyes softening. “I guess I’ve just had a little too much to drink tonight. If you want to dump my ass for being a total prick, I’d totally understand.”

“No, just don’t ever grab me like that again or act so crazy,” I’d said, feeling a little dizzy from drinking. “Wow, I really don’t feel so good.”

“Come on babe,” he’d said
, putting his arm around my shoulders, and guiding me towards the bedroom. “Let’s just go to bed. It’s late.”

Tired, dizzy, and still tipsy from
all of the shots my girlfriends had given me, I’d agreed. Unfortunately, that’s when things had turned even uglier.

“I can’t…
I don’t feel very well,” I’d mumbled after we’d gotten under the sheets, and his hand had moved between my legs.

He’d tensed up. “
Excuse me?”

“Justin
,” I’d pleaded, feeling queasy. “I drank too much, and I don’t feel good… I just can’t do this right now.”

“
Not in the mood, huh? Why, did you
already
fuck someone else tonight?”

I’d stared at him in horror
. “What?”

“I bet you’re
still thinking about the guy right now, aren’t you?”

Groaning,
I’d rolled away from him. “You’re talking crazy…”

“
You’re
mine
,” he’d growled, grabbing my arm, “and I’m going to make sure you don’t
ever
forget it.” Then, he’d forced himself on me while I’d lay there, sobbing underneath his hard, cruel thrusts. When it was over, he’d said nothing, just rolled over, and passed out into a drunken stupor. The next morning, he’d tried to apologize, but it had been much too frightening for me to let it go. There was no way I’d wanted someone like that in my life. I’d told him to leave, and then spent the next month trying to avoid his calls, his flowers, and his excuses. Eventually, he’d given up harassing me, and I’d heard that he’d starting dating someone else.

“Okay,” I
said, turning to Ransom. “I’ll get you back to my station, and then I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

He stood up and stared down into my eyes. “So, who’s
Justin?”

“Just this guy I dated a
little while back.”

“You don’t sound very happy to hear from him.”

“Our relationship didn’t end well.”

His face darkened
. “Does he need to be reminded that you’re not together anymore? I’d be happy to set him straight, if you’d like?”

The look on his face
was totally serious, and I couldn’t help but smile. “No, but thanks.”

“I
f you need any interference from me, just say the word.”

“Right,” I said, as he followed me back to my chair.
“You get into a fight and the media finds out…”

“Screw the media,” he answered, sitting down.

“Ransom, I’m pretty sure that you shouldn’t even be here. You have much more to lose than I do.”

He looked into the mirror
, and ran a hand through his damp hair. “So, let them fire me. I really don’t give a shit.”

“Seriously?”

Our eyes met. “Hell, being a judge on this show wasn’t even my idea. My manager set it up, thinking it would be good for my career.”

I raised my eyebrows.
“Why, is it in trouble?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem that way. I’
m selling plenty of records, I’ve got a tour set up, and the money is rolling in faster than I can spend it. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing dying in my career is… my interest.”

“
How could you even say that? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Fame and fortune? Platinum records?”

“Taffy, this gig isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when you’re dealing with
‘American Icon’. You win on that show and you ultimately lose, they
own
your ass. Hell, I’m locked in with them for the next few years.”

I stared at him incredulously. “Sorry but forgive me if I’
m not playing a violin solo for you. Most artists would give their souls for what you have.”

“I already did
, and let me tell you, it wasn’t worth it.”

“Pussy-whining-wiener-head,” belted out Mrs. Conway,
from across the room, as Felicia teased her hair.

I bit my lip
, and Felicia turned her head away, trying to control her laughter.

Ransom cocked his eyebrow
, and turned towards the old woman, who stared back at us with a straight face.

I bent down
, and whispered. “Tourette Syndrome” 

“
Likely excuse,” he grinned.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “
Try to ignore her. She can’t help it, and gets embarrassed if you comment about it.”

“She didn’t look too embarrassed when she called me a pussy-whining-wiener-head,” he chuckled.

I glanced at her as I walked towards the front of the salon
, and from the satisfied look on her face, I had to agree.

“Tiffany,” said J
ustin, as I approached him.  I had to admit, asshole or not, he was still handsome with his windswept hair and deep brown eyes.

I forced a smile. “Hi, Justin.
Are you here for a trim?”

“No,” he said. “I just wanted to stop by personally
, and congratulate you on getting into American Icon.”

I pushed my hair behind my ears.
“Oh, you heard about that?”

He nodded. “Yeah
. I ran into Jesse at Geno’s and he mentioned it.”