The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance (2 page)

Tori

‘W
e really should be getting back,’ I announce awkwardly, looking at Britney.

Britney turns to her brother, her voice wheedling. ‘Can I go back in your car, Cash?’

‘Sure, I’ll take you home, but I can’t stay for long.’

‘Oh! Why?’ she moans.

‘I’m bushed, Brit. I’ve been up all night. I just want to get back to my apartment and crash. I’ll come around tomorrow.’

‘Well, you can sleep back at ours. We won’t disturb you. Dad’s not in, Cora never comes out of the kitchen. I’ll be real quiet, and Tori here is more silent than a bloody tomb.’

He glances at me interestedly. ‘A silent one, huh?’

‘Say you’ll stay,’ she begs hopefully.

He looks down at her, his expression undecided.

‘Cora’s making your favorite smoked chicken pie tonight,’ she says cunningly.

I know for a fact Cora is doing no such thing. It should have been a silent observation, but I hear words I never intended to say go flying out of my mouth.

‘Actually she’s not.’

Cash trains his starry eyes at me and I feel myself go hot. A wicked smile plays about his lips as he makes his decision. ‘You know what, Britney? I think I might have to take you up on your tempting offer after all.’

Me and my big mouth.

‘Yay,’ Britney yells happily as she bounces up and down and jumps around like she’s a frog in a rainforest celebrating a coming storm.

In a kind of hypnotic daze, I watch Cash pull a beanie from his jacket and jam it on his head. Then he takes out a pair of sunglasses and hooks them onto the bridge of his nose. I hate to be repetitive, but he is one sexy dish. Give me a man in shades any day.

Britney threads her hand through her brother’s and beams at me. ‘I’ll see you at home?’

’Yes, yes, obviously. Of course you will,’ I babble foolishly before I turn around and slam straight into a really fat man. Mortified, I make my apologies. Of course, with my luck, he would have to have a weird sense of humor. He laughs and tells me not to apologize since it’s the best sex he’s had all year. My face burns with embarrassment. I dart a glance back at Cash and the irritating bastard is shaking with silent laughter.

Whatever. With my head held up high I sail towards the door.

Outside the sun is shining brightly on a gleaming black on black Lamborghini parked in front of the surgery. Its macho perfection is spoiled by some heartless parking attendant sticking a yellow and black parking ticket on its windscreen. I am secretly pleased. Laugh at me, will you?

We go down the stone steps and a young woman walking past looks casually at us and then does a double-take.

‘Cash Hunter?’ she asks, her head pushed forward like a turtle, her eyes wide with disbelief.

‘Yup, but keep it to yourself,’ he says, with a magic smile.

She slaps her hands onto her cheeks. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t believe this. I must be dreaming. Somebody pinch me quick. Oh, my God. I’m your greatest fan. Me and my girlfriend have even got tickets to come see you in Milan in August.’ She pauses to take a breath and launches again into another gushing monologue. ‘I love your latest album. I got the CD. It’s really good. I think it’s your best work. I play it nearly every night before I go to bed.’

‘That’s very nearly like going to bed with me,’ he says with a naughty wink.

Oh, for God’s sake. Is this guy for real?

But the fan flushes brick red. ‘Do you mind very much if I take a selfie with you?’ the woman gushes, flicking her hair and patting it.

‘Mind? The pleasure will be all mine,’ Cash drawls suggestively.

Britney unhooks her hand from his and takes a step back. She’s obviously used to this scenario.

‘Anna is going to be so jealous,’ the woman mutters to herself as she fumbles around in her purse. She locates her phone, fishes it out, and stands there with an expectant look on her face.

Cash crooks the fingers of his right hand and she eagerly rushes up to nestle against his butter-soft jacket. I know what that garment feels like because I copped a feel earlier.

She holds her phone up at arm level and asks, ‘Ready?’

Both of them grin like Cheshire cats and she snaps a few shots. The selfie excuse is over and she lowers her arm, but the silly bitch doesn’t move and remains cuddled up against his gorgeous body. Smoothly, Cash steps away.

‘Just one last thing. Can I please have your autograph? For my flat mate. She’s also my bestie. She’ll be so annoyed if I don’t,’ she chatters on, her face beaming.

‘Why not?’ Cash says, a glint in his eyes.

‘Oh, thank you. Thank you. She’ll be so pleased. Her name is Anna.’ She roots around again in her bag, and comes up with a pen and a crumpled piece of paper.

Cash takes the pen from her and ignores the scrap of paper. ‘We can do better than that,’ he says with a smug grin.

Her eyes widen. ‘Oh!’

‘May I?’ he asks.

Her head seems to waggle dangerously on her neck, but she is game. ‘Of course.’

He steps forward, reaches out a hand and expertly unbuttons the top button of her blouse. Her mouth hangs open with shock, excitement, and pleasure. Not a good look. Then he moves in and autographs the soft swell of her breast, just above her bra.

‘Have fun,’ Cash says, as he returns her pen. Giggling and simpering like a fool, she takes it.

Yeah, that will please your bestie for sure. Carry that home to her. I look at Britney and she rolls her eyes at me. I try not to show any expression.

‘Well, it was so fantastic meeting you. I guess I should let you get on. OK, bye. See you in Milan,’ she babbles, holding onto the edges of her shirt collar.

‘Yeah, cool,’ Cash calls moving away from her.

I see a black Bentley start inching towards us from its parked position a few cars down and I turn towards Britney. ‘See you at the house then.’

She grins at me happily. ‘Byeeeeee.’

Without looking at her brother or the crazed fan, I walk down the pavement and get into the Bentley.

‘Hey, Victor,’ I greet, closing the door after me. ‘It’ll just be me. Britney’s going home with her brother.’

‘Right, love,’ he replies, and pulls out into the street.

In my peripheral vision I can see that the fan has walked off, Britney is bouncing on the passenger seat, and Cash is unconcernedly ripping the penalty ticket off his windscreen. In the light of the noon sun, their hair glows like antique gold, and their beauty makes them look like gods, or fallen angels. All that is missing are the white wings.

I sink back into my seat.

Wow! I didn’t do very well back there. It hits me hard that I’m going to struggle to stay with the plan. The thought is totally depressing, but I cheer up by telling myself it’s only the beginning. Yes, he won this round, but in my defense I have a few redeeming factors on my side.

a)
Even I didn’t quite expect him to pack such a powerful punch. 

b)
I was naturally blindsided by the element of surprise as I was not anticipating his arrival before the end of the month.

I remind myself not to be so hard on myself. After all, I’ve been crushing on him forever. For as long as I can remember, and I’m talking about the kind of all consuming crush where I even refused to look at other boys. Yup, that was me.

When it first started, my parents were all for it. Why wouldn’t they be? I was twelve and Cash was sixteen.  Awww … sweet. Thinking about it now, my father actually thought it was a great development. Cash was part of a boy band called Alkaline in a faraway land called England. A quaint place still ruled by a Queen. Quite simply it meant he wouldn’t need to invest in a shotgun for at least a few more years.

For years they used to buy me Cash memorabilia. I had everything and anything with Cash’s name or face plastered on it. Bedspreads, pens, pencil cases, T-shirts, life-sized posters, cushions, mugs, plates, shower-curtains, even a toilet seat with Cash’s face and naked torso. My brother, Brad, bought it as a joke, but I loved it so it stayed. My room and my bathroom looked like shrines to Cash or the big publicity machine for Cash Hunter had just vomited all over my living space.

By the time I turned sixteen, my family didn’t consider my crush so peachy anymore.  I came home from school one day and my mother claimed she had accidentally broken my toilet seat while she was cleaning it. Wonder of wonders my father already had a replacement toilet seat handy. My mother took the opportunity to persuade me that the shower curtains were looking old and worn and no longer matched the toilet seat.

A trip to Target sorted that out.

Then the Cash sheets somehow got snarled up in the dryer and my best Cash T-shirts were dyed grey when an old, black sock got into the washing machine by mistake. The mugs started breaking and were never replaced. Brad ordered life-size posters of Nine Inch Nails since they were the other group that I liked. He insisted on hanging them up for me after taking down Cash’s posters.

‘They’re really worn around the lips and cheeks aren’t they? Want me to trash them for you?’ he asked innocently.

Even though it was like a knife through my heart to see my beloved Cash posters being taken down, I knew my family was right. My obsession was bordering on crazy. I was two mugs away from being a stalker. Still, I couldn’t bear to throw my posters away. I’d been kissing them goodnight since I was twelve, so I rolled them up carefully and stored them away in the attic together with my ninety-six scrapbooks of Cash.

From that day onwards I stopped obsessively buying magazines he was featured in, and I forced myself not to go to ILoveCashHunter.com where I normally got the latest and breaking news about him. I even deleted his official website from my bookmark list.  

Then when I was seventeen we heard that Alkaline was coming to Georgia. Cash Hunter was going to be performing at the Dome. My parents thought I was over him so they were quite happy for Leah and I to travel to Atlanta to see the concert.

We had to pay $30.00 for parking, wait more than an hour to check in our purses, and the Cokes were $7.00 each, but as I stood there with 70,000 other crazed fans, none of it mattered anymore. I felt more alive than I ever had. It was not like watching it on MTV or YouTube. A live concert was like nothing I could have imagined. Indescribable, really.

The very air was electric. Hundreds of roving spotlights moved over us adding so much heat to the evening that we were all bathed in sweat even before the performance started.

The massive stage suddenly lit up with winking, flashing blue lights and the music started. Nobody told me the vibrations would travel through the concrete under my feet, into my shoes, and up into my flesh and bones. It drummed into my blood and made my heart thump faster and faster. I was so excited the hair on my body stood on end.

Then the stage began to fill with smoke-like fog.

I could hardly believe I was finally going to see Cash Hunter. I thought I would stop breathing when five steel platforms began to rise out of the floor of the stage. The smoke began to clear and the crowd went crazy. My eyes found him immediately. It was unbelievable, but he was on the platform closest to us. The bright light made his hair glisten and his face glowed like an angel. He blew across the microphone.

‘Are you ready to rock Atlanta?’ he yelled into the microphone.

The crowd went wild.

‘Let’s hear that again,’ he shouted, and we screamed until we were hoarse.

Exploding Flash Pots went off as the drums and guitars began the intro. Cash raised up both his hands as if he were a god. Tears flowed from my eyes when his voice filled the stadium. I stared at him, mesmerized.

It was my favorite song.
The Girls Who Don’t Say No.

The crowd started pulsing with the energy coming from him. The platform he was standing on grew into a kind of walkway, and to my shocked delight it was bringing him closer to us. He strutted along the expanding metal walkway in my direction and I screamed hysterically.

As he was right over me he suddenly looked directly into my eyes and sang, ‘I’ve been waiting for you all my life.’

I froze. I felt as if he had zapped me with a cattle prod. Fine, I don’t know what that feels like, but it was what I imagine it would feel like. I lost the feeling in my legs.

He moved on and sang the next line looking into the eyes of another girl, but my girlhood crush had just become love.

I was in love with Cash Hunter.

Tori

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tQLIyqtDx0

A
t that time Leah was going out with a guy from a rock band called Roll Over Beethoven. The drummer was single and she thought we might make a good team.

‘Everybody knows the best way to get over someone is to go out with someone else,’ she declared.

It seemed like a sensible idea. More sensible, anyway, than the fantasy love affair I was having with an unattainable pop idol. His name was Colton and he was sexy in a moody, grungy sort of way. The exact opposite of Cash. He dressed only in black, and I think he probably colored his hair jet black too, but he was a sweet guy underneath it all, and he made me laugh.

It was easy to drink one beer too many, and let him take my V card in the back of his truck. We became an item. The sex was good, but it wasn’t the mind, body, and soul thing I was looking for, which was a real shame because he fell hard for me.

Then, one night I went to one of his gigs and I found him by the toilets with his trousers around his ankles and his dick inside another woman. I didn’t love him, but I was still shocked and hurt.

He looked at me with bitter eyes and said, ‘Now we’ve both cheated on each other.’

Then he turned away from me and carried on humping her. I fled the scene knowing I’d hurt him, but I told myself I would never do that to another human being again. The next time I start a relationship will be when I am well and truly over Cash Hunter.

My thoughts are interrupted by Victor stopping the car outside the house. Cash and Britney have not yet arrived, so I run up to my room and pace the floor. A million thoughts rush around in my head.

The big plan came to me when my aunt mentioned that a good friend of hers who worked in a recruitment agency in London had told her about an interesting job that had just come in. Cash Hunter’s father was looking for a young woman, 19 - 25 who was independent, tolerant, and possessed a strong sense of duty to act as a companion/PA to his daughter. No actual PA experience was needed.

That sounded like a description of me. I was all those things!

The plan was simple. Apply for the job as Britney’s PA, see Cash Hunter up close, and realize that he was just a manufactured, media created, playboy prick, and naturally and effortlessly fall out of love.

But at that time it seemed a very long shot since my aunt’s friend had already warned her there were hundreds of applicants. Imagine my astonishment when I was called for an interview and my shock when I actually got the job. I was convinced it was fate. It had to be. Me, chosen out of hundreds of applicants. I was meant to be here.

So here I am. Close enough to see Cash for what he really is.

Why then am I pacing the room like some caged animal?

I hear the distinct thunder of his Lambo, followed by voices on the street below. I run to the window to stand behind the curtains and watch them. Britney skips up the steps. He says something to her and she laughs.

I think I’m pacing because in spite of everything I’d told myself in the car … Cash Hunter is even more potent in the flesh than I gave him credit for, and it’s already pretty obvious that there’s no falling out of love with someone like him.

I freeze when I hear their voices come up the stairs. They stop at the top.

Then I hear Britney call out, ‘Sweet dreams.’

Quick light footsteps come towards my room.

‘Come in,’ I call when she knocks.

Britney puts her head around the door. She looks happy. ‘Just wanted to let you know that Cash is sleeping in the guest bedroom and Dad just came home so we’re off to buy me a birthday present, but we won’t be long because I know exactly what I want.’

I force a smile. ‘Great.’

‘By the way I’ve already told Cora we’re having chicken pie for dinner.’

‘That’s good,’ I say, stretching out my smile until my cheeks hurt.

After she goes I look at the time. It’s just after one. I had brunch so I’ll skip lunch and save myself for one of Cora’s lovely teatime treats. Unless I am mistaken, I believe she is making scones today. I open a magazine I picked up at the newsstand yesterday evening and go right to the horoscope page at the back of it. Hmmm … Aries.

Acting impulsively is not the best idea this week. Resist temptation. Don’t eat that last cookie in the packet. Instead, take stock, get your ducks in a row, and get ready for the best adventure of your life. Life is about to surprise you.

I read it again. Got it. Don’t act impulsively.  

I flick the pages disinterestedly. Imagine my surprise when I turn a page and see a large picture of a shit-faced Cash in leather pants and silver shirt. A disheveled blonde is snuggled up to him. They are in a nightclub or restaurant. The title of the piece is:

Is Cash Hunter the most

eligible man in the world?

On closer inspection I note from their reflection in the mirror behind them that his right hand is full of blondie’s butt. Inappropriate and quite frankly tasteless butt grab, but the blonde seems to dig it. She is looking up at him with an awed, stupid expression on her face. I let my eyes move over to his free hand. A sigh escapes my mouth. I’ve always loved his hands. They are big, strong and manly.
Mooning over his hand, God, you’re lame
. I leave the picture and start scrutinizing the next one.

That turns out to be a to-die-for picture of him at a sunny beach. All his lovely, hard muscles are on display and he is with a different blonde this time. This one is curvier and seems more self-assured. She has a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head, one hand is resting on her tanned hip, and the other is placed possessively on his chest. 

He’s always had a thing for blondes.

A stray thought pops into my head
. I’m blonde.

I turn the page quickly and there is a full-page, black and white photo of him in a tux at some kind of award ceremony or music bash. This time I recognize the woman he is with. Octavia Harding, his manager. Except for her fake breasts, that actually look like two halves of a tennis ball shoved underneath her skin, she is two lean nuggets away from being an anorexic.

I don’t like her. I never have.

From the first moment I laid eyes on her I felt that there was something cold and malicious about her. A couple of times I have seen videos of her standing next to the band members, an arrogant smile stretching her crimson mouth; she actually makes my skin crawl.

I could easily have sat there gazing at his picture a bit longer, but I close the magazine with a snap and drop it into the wastepaper basket. Seeing the magazine in the bin makes me feel mildly victorious. I’ll conquer my silly crush if it is the last thing I do. I decide to have a bath. Britney will be at least an hour, and being in the bath always relaxes me. Allows me to think and clear my head.

I run the bath, pour in a whole load of fragrant bath cubes, put my hair into a messy topknot, and lower myself into the scented water. Mmmm … this was definitely one of my better ideas. I lean my head back against the folded towel and close my eyes.

Let’s think this thru
.

I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself. First off, I’ve been in love with this guy for years. Obviously the first encounter is going to be either traumatic, disastrous, or both. It was both. So what? The worst is over. From now on I’m prepared. I’ve read the side effects warning label: This asshole is likely to break your heart.

The good thing is I now know just how hot he is and how strong he comes on and things will be different. If I just stay calm and unaffected, bit by bit he will reveal his true self and I’ll discover that he ain’t all that. Once I see that my memories of him are all flawed and he is far from perfect, I will realize that he is a hero only in my mind.

At that point I will either be put off, or better still, so totally sickened that I will wonder why I ever wasted so many years pining for him. On that happy day I will put in my notice and go on to my aunt’s house in Surrey and wait for Leah to join me for our victory backpacking tour of Europe.

Sitting here in this fragrant steam, I see clearly that I over reacted. There is nothing to worry about. Everything is under control. I’m in charge of my body and my decisions. And in a way it is good, because he has shown his hand. He tries it on with every female he meets. Slut. Manwhore. Womanizer. Prick.

So, now that I have redefined the parameters, I can relax. I wave my arms a little to circulate the hot water and exhale slowly.

‘Mmmm.’

I start to chill.

My mind wanders lazily away. I don’t check it. Whatcha gonna do? I’m in the bath. It goes to … Cash … no, not Cash, of course not Cash, just a man who looks like him. He is in bed. Between white silk sheets, his tan intense, some kind of lop-sided smile on his face. He pats the space next to him.

And I, I’m in a slinky black nightie, my hair’s freshly washed and bouncing like a shampoo advert as I walk up to him with a sexy, totally sophisticated smile. As I reach the bed, he is so eager for me he jumps me and throws me on the bed. Before I can say, ‘You called?’ he has his face between my thighs and starts feasting his heart out.

My fingers move to the hard nub between my legs. Swirl. Swirl. In the silky water. Ohhhh. Oh, Cash. Yes, Cash. Yes. Just like that. Oh, God, yes—

Suddenly everything in my head disappears with a jolt. My bathroom door slams open, and my eyes open wide. Oh Good Lord!

Cash freaking Hunter has dropped out of my fantasy and into my reality.