Go Big (55 page)
Authors: Joanna Blake
Chapter Twenty-Four - Heartfree
Chapter Twenty-Six - Matrimony
Chapter One
Joss
I scratched Kitten behind the ears. He was lolling around on his back, begging for a belly rub. All two-hundred pounds of him.
Kitten was a highly trained German Shepard. He was scary as fuck when he was working. But you would never know it from the way he was wiggling around like a house cat. Technically you weren’t supposed to be overly affectionate with task animals but for once we were off duty.
Both of us.
I stood up. Enough playtime for the day. We had things to do.
“Come.”
Kitten responded immediately to the commanding tone of my voice. He knew it was nothing serious, but he responded as if my word was law. Always.
We were very much in tune.
In fact, other than Kitten, nobody ever got this close to me. Nobody had been to my house for years. This place or my old place in Miami. Not my friends, who were scattered all over the world. Not an acquaintance. Not a woman.
Especially not a woman.
Well, other than my housekeeper.
On the rare occasion that I took a woman to bed it was extremely compartmentalized. Her place or a hotel. Sex and that’s it. No small talk. No cuddling. No do overs.
I was far too busy for anything more than that. And I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. So I had no reason to change.
I was at the top of my game, running one of the best private security firms in the world. The job required more than 24/7 dedication. It required everything you had and more.
And I was more than happy to give it.
I took my job very seriously. Taking care of someone’s safety was a very big responsibility. I’d learned that in the service. It didn’t matter if it was almost exclusively high rollers and bratty celebrities.
It was still important.
Speaking of brats… I had to clear my head before my next assignment started. Take some ‘me time.’
Jan would be proud.
I pulled on running pants and sneakers. Kitten didn’t need a leash where we were going. Not that he ever really needed one, but in certain areas of the public, he had to wear one.
Off-duty anyway. When he was on the job it was a different matter altogether. Once I took the clip off, he could bring down anyone. And he had.
Stalkers, paparazzi, crazy ex-boyfriends and girlfriends… anyone. When he was working, Kitten was a machine. Just like I was.
I had to be. I’d learned that early, way before serving. My training had only reinforced what I already knew. Keep your eyes open. Stay frosty. Take one thing at a time.
Zero distractions.
I stepped out of my house onto the porch with sweeping views in every direction. I loved this place. I’d moved here from Miami because I wanted space.
Well, I got it. And then some.
High on a cliff overlooking the Pacific, my house was rugged and remote. It was mid-century rustic, tastefully renovated by my contractor. I’d given him full reign and he hadn’t disappointed. But that wasn’t the main appeal for me.
It was the private path that wove its way down to the water. It was steep as hell, rocky and difficult to climb.
Up or down.
Of course, I was going to take it at a full run.
I did a cursory stretch and set off, blazing down the path. Kitten was by my side, managing to stay as close as possible without tripping me up. I knew he would be in perfect tandem.
I trusted him.
And that was more than I could say about anyone else. Except the guys I’d served with. Those guys were in a separate category from the rest of humanity.
And Candy. He was too goofily optimistic to lie. He did manage to get himself into trouble more than anyone I’d ever met.
I’d seen too much to trust anyone completely.
I cleared my mind. I’d been prepping for this assignment for weeks. It was going to be a doozy. I was taking over for a well known security team.
Well, they would still be there, but I alone would be responsible for
her
safety.
Trista.
No last name. She didn’t need one.
She was only the biggest pop star in the entire world. And she had some major flaws in her protocol. They’d figured that out when a man showed up on the balcony of her hotel room a few weeks ago in Shanghai.
He’d scaled twenty feet of sheer metal and glass to get up there.
And he was the least of their problems. That had been an isolated incident. There was another creep out there who was far more dangerous than the lust crazed fan in China.
I shook my head. It wasn’t going to be easy. The girl was known for being high maintenance. To be honest, she seemed like a massive pain in the ass.
But I would keep her safe.
Today was my last day of freedom before I went on tour with her. My last day to myself for six months at least. I was going to spend it outdoors, sweating it out and chilling with Kitten.
Like I said, I didn’t have time for anything else.
Trista
“Ow, Shast that hurts!”
I reached up, holding onto my ginger colored roots. Shast was busy removing clip on extensions from my already long dark red hair. My hairdresser and head stylist (who also happened to be my best friend) just smirked at me in the mirror. All 6’2” of her.
“Beauty is pain Your Highness.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Give me a break.”
“Not all of us were born beautiful, Miss Tristalicious. Some of us have to work for it.”
Shast made a clucking sound in the back of her throat and snapped her fingers at me. Today her hot pink hair was pulled back tightly into a high ponytail that reached all the way down to her bottom. Her outfit was a skin tight silver mini dress with a zipper down the front.
She pretty much looked like she was ready to go clubbing. Or deep sea diving. Or to outer space. Either way, it was a lot of
look
.
But, as she liked to point out, she
was
the best stylist in the business. She had a reputation to uphold. Even if we were just going to the airport.
Wherever we went, we put on a show. The studio demanded it. The fans expected it.
I even used to enjoy it. But lately I’d started to get a little bored. More than bored.
Annoyed. Resentful. Angry.
I couldn’t even take a car ride without being swarmed. We knew the paparazzi would be waiting at the airport. They were always there. Especially in Shanghai. It would be even worse than when we landed in LA.
And that was saying something.
“Let me see those shoes.”
She extended one of her long legs with pride. She was wearing over the knee platform stilettos of her own design. In fact, they were so high it looked like she was almost on her tiptoes. Now it was my turn to shake my head.
“Very practical for an eighteen hour flight. Aren’t you afraid you will fall over if we get turbulence?”
She tossed her head at me.
“Me?
Nevahr.
Come on, let’s get you into your ensemble.”
I moaned. I’d already talked her out of false eyelashes and eyeliner. I would wear my sunglasses in public. I did not want to arrive in LA looking like a raccoon.
Plus, I was tired of being poked and prodded. She was always careful when she applied my makeup not to overdo it. After all, the studio was explicit that my look remain somewhat innocent schoolgirl. But I was getting tired of that too.
I was ready to grow up. I
had
grown up. When the studio wasn’t paying attention I’d gone from teen queen to something else. An almost adult. I giggled.
A semi.
I sighed as Shast tugged my signature mini-skirt into place and handed me my high-heeled sneakers. Dutifully I put them on, rolling my eyes at my reflection.
I looked like I was sixteen. But at 23, I was far from it. Too bad the studio wouldn’t let me dress that way.
“Come on Your Highness, your adoring fans await.”
Chapter Two
Joss
I rolled over, landing against a warm body. A very big, very furry warm body. I sighed. I was
definitely
ruining my attack dog by letting him sleep in the bed. Not that I let him. But he’d taken to sneaking under the covers with me in the middle of the night.
It had to stop.
“Down boy.”
He looked at me, his tail wagging.
“Down.”
He licked my face.
I grimaced at the smell of dog breath. Even though this was the most physical affection I’d had in years. A one-sided hug here and there. A rare sexual encounter.
And not even any of those lately.
I just didn’t have the time or the inclination.
Basically, I was turning into a monk.
I was frowning at the thought when Kitten licked me again.
“I said get down.”
Kitten’s ears perked up and he moved quickly, not hesitating for a moment. He knew my serious voice when I used it. Not that I really had many other voices. Or moods. Or sides.
No one ever said ‘Oh Joss has a soft side’ or ‘you should see Joss cut loose, he’s got a wild side.’
I was one side fits all. What you saw was what you got. I was always serious, and always somber.
Again, a lot like a monk.
The automated coffee maker was already sending the delicious smell of dark roast through the house as Kitten followed me to the kitchen.
I poured myself a cup and opened the file I’d had my virtual assistant put together. Jan lived in LA but she worked remotely. I was always traveling so I didn’t need much face time anyway.
Actually, I avoided face time whenever I could. I attracted too much attention when I preferred to blend in. Women especially seemed to have a strange reaction to my face. It was my eyes apparently. The blue color was unusual in some way.
Speaking of unusual…
I flipped through the file, settling on a photo towards the back. It was a candid shot, unlike the rest of them. Image after image of a beautiful young girl, overly sexualized and posed in seductive positions. It was the last one that kept drawing my attention.
Huge dark blue eyes stared into space. They were so intense they were nearly violet. Her long red hair was pulled back off her face into a French braid. Her full pink lips were free of lip gloss.
Her perfect dancer’s body was hidden by the large sweater she had wrapped around her. She looked beautiful of course, but different somehow from the publicity shots. Calm. Not a cartoonishly sexy young girl. A thoughtful young woman who happened to be extraordinarily lovely.
She also looked lost and alone.
I shook myself. What the hell was I doing? I should be studying her team and looking for flaws. Going through the itinerary. I had already done that a hundred times though. This would make it a hundred and one.
And each damn time I caught myself staring at this picture.
But I wasn’t here to figure out what kind of girl she was. If she was lonely. Or the true depth of her character. Or if she even had one. I was here to protect a very valuable asset for the biggest record company in the world.
A very, very valuable asset.
That’s it. End of story. Protect her, even if I had to drag her around kicking and screaming.
From what I heard, the brat did a lot of that. I guess if I looked like her, I might be demanding too. I decided I would form my own opinion once I met her.
“Get it together Joss.”
I glanced at Kitten who was waiting patiently by his food bowl. He hadn’t made a sound, or begged even once. He just looked at me expectantly with those big brown eyes of his.
Maybe he wasn’t getting too soft after all.
“How’d you like to spend a few days in LA?”
Trista
The music was pumping hard as I worked through the routine, marking out the moves in my head. We were shooting a video for my new song. It would coincide with a round of television appearances and a few limited performances. It was not a full concert tour. Not yet.
The album wasn’t done.
No, this was just a tease.
I lifted my leg into the air and dropped it. Two male backup dancers caught my leg and lowered it to the ground as I bent backwards into the arms of another.
I let the music wash over me, really enjoying the feeling of moving.
I didn’t mind the hot guys pressed up against me either. Even if three of them were gay. Jason was the exception. A straight backup dancer was rare in my act. Jason didn’t count though because he was married.
The first cute straight boy in my crew in years and he was married.
Typical.
I sometimes thought my manager and the studio heads did that on purpose. It certainly seemed like they did their best to keep me isolated from any potential love interests. My entourage was huge and not one of them was even remotely dateable.
Basically, I was a nun. Well, in actions anyway. I was a nun dressed like a teenage prostitute.
I spun in Jason’s arms as they lifted me for the final pose.
“Good Trista. Take five.”
I nodded, catching a bottle of water in the air. I’d been in the studio for hours already. But we only had three days to prep for the shoot.
I was a stickler about having my moves down tight. Everything had to be perfect. I did not believe in slacking. Ever.
My manager Steve waved me over. Steve was okay. He’d been managing me since I was 12. That’s also when he married my mom. So instead of a momager like a lot of teen stars, I had a step-dad-ager.