Miss Congeniality (16 page)

“I
think I’m dying.” Brea chuckled at Lance’s statement, thinking he wasn’t far off the mark.

“My ears are ringing and I’m seeing stars.” He grunted and rolled off her, lying spread-eagle on the foyer.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll help you up.”

She ran her hand up her stomach, feeling gloriously used. “No hurry. I think I could go to sleep right here.” She closed her eyes, drifting off then jostling awake as she was being lifted by Lance. Her hands went around his neck instinctively, and she snuggled into his chest. He kissed her cheek, carrying her upstairs and placing her on the bed. She leaned over and snuggled into one of his pillows which smelled like him. Brea conked out, only waking briefly when she felt him pull her back to his chest, spooning her.

Brea woke slowly, pinned to the bed by Lance. He was laying over her like a blanket, and he snuggled closer when she tried to move. She turned over, pushing him back so she could have some room. He mumbled incoherently, rolling to the other side of the bed while she sat up to get her bearings. She noticed she was wearing one of his shirts. Sometime during the night, he must have thrown a shirt on her because she didn’t remember going to bed with clothes on.

“Where are you going?” She looked over her shoulder to find him trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He looked so cute and sexually rumpled she couldn’t resist climbing back on top of him and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her back, rubbing up and down while she straddled his lap. He lay on the bed with his knees bent, and she leaned back on his legs to look at him. She danced her fingers up his chest, enjoying the way he followed her movement.

“So, what do you want to do today?” she asked playfully when he grabbed her right index finger and gently bit it.

“I want to fuck you ‘til you can’t walk.” She cocked her eyebrow, knowing he wasn’t joking.

“How about you just fuck me blind?” He reached around and grabbed her butt, lifting her so he was positioned right below her pussy. Lance moved her down a little, barely putting his cock inside her, causing her to suck in her breath before he lifted her back up.

“You want it?” he teased, and she nodded enthusiastically, trying to sit down on him. He held her in place, waiting until she was writhing before he pulled her down and buried himself to the hilt. They moaned simultaneously in appreciation, and she slowly began rocking back and forth. She went forward and backward a couple of times before he turned so she was under him so he could pull out of her quickly, his own special brand of torture.

“What the hell?” she screamed at him. He grinned at her before he held her legs apart, pushing back in to set a new pace, pushing in and out rapidly. Brea arched up, allowing him to fuck her. She gripped his back while screaming her release and raking her fingers so hard she knew she was going to leave marks. He followed soon after, collapsing beside her, breathing rapidly next to her ear. She continued to stroke his back, pulling on the back of his hair so he would lift his head and kiss her. She sighed contentedly when he rolled over and gathered her in his arms.

The next two weeks passed by uneventfully. Although Lance and Brea were still followed, and the media still made comments about their relationship, they were thankfully saved from heavy attention when another set of A-list stars were caught in the middle of a cheating scandal. Apparently, he had cheated on his wife of thirty-some-odd years with over a hundred women throughout that time, and there was a big scene, which prompted the media to follow him.
Sucks for you
, Brea thought,
but great for me
. She supposed she shouldn’t rejoice in someone else’s misery, but she couldn’t bring herself to be upset over someone who had been disrespectful to his wife for so long.

Brea could not be happier with the way things were going. Filming was going great. After Brea and Lance resolved their issues, they were able to work together with very little conflict, and she spent that time in bliss. He was caring and attentive, and more often than not, they ended up spending most nights together trying to get to know each other better. She also learned America’s bad boy was not really all that bad.

There were several indications: the time he helped an elderly woman bring her groceries to the car, sending Brea flowers for no reason at all, and making sure she was shielded from the paparazzi when they did come around. If there was one thing she would change, it was how damn bossy he was. It didn’t matter if it was something as simple as where they were going to eat, he always wanted to have the upper hand and get his way. More often than not, he ended up the winner in the struggle, not because she wanted him to, but because he was so damn sneaky about it. But as much as she was falling for her guy, she missed her girls. One of the downfalls of spending most of her free time with Lance was she was neglecting Raquel and Clare, one of the many reasons they decided to have an impromptu margarita night.

“So, how are you and Lance?” Raquel asked as she bit into a chip.

“Great, wonderful, amazing.” Brea couldn’t stop smiling as she poured herself a margarita from the pitcher they had ordered.

“Awww, the blush of first love. I’m so happy for you!” Clare said enthusiastically, digging into the basket of chips.

Brea crinkled her nose. “I know it’s crazy; I’m becoming the cheesy person we used to make fun of. But I seriously want to pinch myself because I am that freaking happy. I can’t stop smiling.”

Raquel put her hand on her arm, speaking from the heart. “You deserve it. You’re one of my best friends, and one of the greatest people I know, so I hope everything works out for you guys.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

Clare pointed at Raquel. “Ditto what she said.”

“So, what have you guys been up to?”

“I think I have a lead on a spin-doctor,” Raquel said. She had been looking for someone, but Brea didn’t know if she had been able to find the right person.

“Who is it?” Clare asked curiously.

“Some guy named Clayton Cox. Apparently he’s one of the best and let’s be honest, I need the best.”

“Have you talked to him yet?” Brea wondered while she refilled Raquel’s glass.

“Only on the phone. He sounds hot as hell, and young, too, but my agent said he helped Garfield Ryan last year when he went crazy and ran down the street naked. So we’ll see.”

Garfield Ryan caused a big scandal when he was high on meth and decided to run down Hollywood Boulevard naked. He checked himself into rehab, and by the time his media blitz was done, he was hailed as a hero and a symbol of what not to do when famous. He had gone on several speaking tours, and his career was doing better than it had been before he went streaking. If Clayton was able to fix him, then he probably was good enough to help Raquel.

“He said he’s currently on another assignment, but he has met with my agent a couple times and said he will fly me out for a meeting in a couple months to try to develop a plan of action.”

“Do you know what his plan is?” Clare asked when she signaled for another pitcher of margaritas from the waitress.

“No clue, which worries me a bit. But my agent said it won’t be anything too horrible, or that I won’t mind doing.”

“I’m sure it will work out, and it’s something you definitely need.” Brea refilled everyone’s glasses.

Raquel shuddered before taking a drink. “Tell me about it. If it gets any worse, I am going to have to hide out in my house and take a vow of celibacy.”

Two hours later and Brea knew she was drunk. They kept ordering pitchers of margaritas, and their plan to have a quick dinner and drink had quickly turned into ‘call a cab ‘cause you’re lit’ night. Brea stared at her phone, trying to figure out if she wanted to text or call Lance to come get them. She figured if she called, he would at least get it, and waved the girls off to stumble outside and make the phone call.

“Babe…Can you get me?”

“Brea? What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, knowing she was with Clare and Raquel and had told him she wouldn’t see him tonight.

“Drunk,” she said, because that was all she could say.

“How drunk are you, babe?” he asked, knowing she didn’t normally overindulge.

“Yes, come get me. Goodbye.” She hung up and walked back inside to see Raquel and Clare singing a scary rendition of “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, although the song wasn’t playing through the restaurant speakers.

“Your phone is ringing.” Raquel pointed at the offending device and laughed, Brea not even knowing it was going off.

“It’s Lance,” she said before she answered. “Hey...baby,” she answered enthusiastically. “You coming to get me?”

“I can if you tell me where you are.”

“Oh, I forget.” She pulled her phone down. “Where are we ‘cause I forgot and Lance called back.”

“Tell him we’re having girls’ night! He can’t come!” Raquel screamed.

Brea looked upset. “Lance, I don’t think you can come; we’re having girls’ night.”

“You called me to come get you.”

“I did?” she asked, surprised.

“You did. Let me talk to Raquel.” She handed the phone to Raquel, telling her Lance wanted to talk to her. She could hear him talking and Raquel nodding before she gave him the name of the restaurant. Raquel hung up as soon as she was done, so Brea didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“You hung up on my boyfriend.” She pouted.

Raquel handed her a drink. “I’m sorry.”

“What did he say?” Clare asked, amused by their exchange.

Raquel tapped her finger on her lips. “I don’t remember.”

Brea sighed dramatically, pretending to fall in the chair. She brushed her off, saying, “I’ll find out later.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Raquel.” The girls saw Ginger Robinson standing by the edge of the table. Ginger was one of those girls who others hated. She stood there with her perky 42DD breasts, bought and paid for by her second husband, flinging her two-tone hair to one side. Ginger always tried to go along with the latest style, so she currently sported black roots with bleached-blonde hair above it. There was very little about her which was real, including her personality. She hated Raquel, believing she stole her boyfriend three years ago, right after Raquel got a makeup endorsement which Ginger wanted.

“Don’t you have a porn shoot where you’re needed?” Ginger had dabbled in soft porn years ago, something Raquel never failed to throw in her face. If looks could kill, Raquel would be dead.

“Fuck you, Raquel,” Ginger snapped. “Oh, wait, you don’t let any man fuck you, do you, tranny?”

Raquel stood up, laughing. “That’s rich, bitch. Your comment is worth more than your last movie contract.” Ginger shrieked, grabbing the closest glass and throwing the margarita on Raquel. Brea and Clare moved out of the way, not wanting to be hit with the sticky liquid. Raquel looked horrible, her mascara running down her face with the margarita, her clothes clinging where the drink had soaked through. She shook out her hands and went after Ginger, who stood there looking smug.

“You fucking bitch!” Raquel screamed, knocking over a chair in her quest to get to Ginger. Ginger, realizing she was about to be pummeled, tried to run but Raquel was quicker, grabbing her by the hair. They slipped on liquid, rolling around on the floor, each one getting in a couple of good slaps. Brea and Clare stood by, too intoxicated to get Raquel and Ginger apart. Raquel gained the upper hand, sitting on top of Ginger and holding her down while Ginger tried to buck her off.

“Get off me, bitch!” Ginger screamed, clutching Raquel’s arms. Raquel held a chunk of her hair in her hand, fist poised to hit her before she was lifted by her underarms. Raquel reared back but Lance was quicker, holding her head to his chest and screaming for her to calm down. She nodded, but as soon as he let her go she went after Ginger again, who had just gotten into a sitting position. He grabbed Raquel again, this time not letting her go, before he set his sights on Brea and Clare.

“Get your stuff and let’s go,” he told them, half-dragging Raquel from the restaurant. For once, Brea didn’t argue and grabbed all of their stuff, noting all the people standing around with their phones pointed, videos rolling. Brea held her head down and followed them out of the restaurant, knowing it was too late but taking precautions anyway as she moved into the chaos in the parking lot.

“Raquel, I’m not telling you again, you need to get in the car.” Lance was gesturing her into his car, door open while Raquel stood by. His jaw clenched, and Brea knew he was about to lose it. No one could blame him, either; who knew coming to get a drunken pickup would turn into a media nightmare? It was as if Raquel couldn’t get away from it. Or Brea either, recently.

She pushed Raquel’s drunk ass in the car, knowing Raquel would go if forced. She did, but she crossed her arms on a huff. She got in the back with Clare, who leaned back about to pass out.

“I can’t believe you three...” Lance laid into them.

“Shut up, Lance!” Raquel rounded on him. “I’m not your damn girlfriend. You’re not my fucking keeper, and that bitch threw a margarita on me!”

“I’m not your fucking keeper, but I am the guy who is going to have to help you deflect whatever backlash you will get from the producers. So, I suggest you pull out your fucking phone and call whoever the hell you need to call who handles your media, and pretend like you didn’t just get in a drunken fight in the middle of a Mexican restaurant.”