♫
One ♫
Los Angeles, 1998
Brenden Sparks lay on his bed, asleep. He was on his stomach with his arms wrapped around the pillow under his head, his well-toned arms and back on full display. His rich auburn hair curled just at his shoulders, making him an extremely attractive sight to behold. He woke slightly to the sensation of lips pressed against his shoulder. Then he felt nails on his back, gliding over his skin.
“Mmmm …” he murmured, still half asleep.
“Mmmm …” came the reply in a distinctly familiar voice.
The nails proceeded to move downward until he was fully awake, and he turned over. His eyes were still closed, even as his hand wrapped around a handful of hair. His lips took possession of hers and he knew exactly who he was kissing.
He pulled back, looking into molten gold eyes.
“Good morning, Jordan,” he said, in his clear English accent.
“Good morning, B,” she replied, smiling warmly down at him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, as he pulled her down next to him on the bed.
“I thought you were still in the studio?”
“Yeah,” she said, sighing deeply, “I am, but we’re just about done. Bobby’s being a pain about edits.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? You trying to get rid of me, Beege?” she asked sounding hurt.
Brenden grinned. “Of course not, my love. I just thought you were still hard at it,” he told her.
“Well, I am so quit buggin’ boss,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Fine, then you’re going to hang out with me for a bit?”
“I could …” she said, her voice trailing off as if she were considering her other options.
“You will,” he told her knowingly.
“And you know this how?” she asked, raising and eyebrow at him.
“’Cause I know you,” he said. “You’ve already closed up the beach house, and now you’re just killing time while you wait for Bobby to yell at you to get your ass back there. Then you’re running with your butt on fire to go play for a bit.”
“I don’t consider time with my best friend as killing time, Brenden James,” she told him with narrowed eyes.
“Okay, okay, so that wasn’t the right choice of words,” he said, laughing and holding his hands up in surrender.
“Damned right it wasn’t,” she said, giving him a vile look.
“You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know that?”
“You’re gonna get your cute ass kicked, ya know that?” she replied, slapping his arm.
He laughed unrepentantly. “Yeah, yeah, hurt me.”
Jordan laughed. They had a very casual relationship.
She was in an extremely good mood. Her third album was due to be released in four weeks. And she knew it was going to be great. She trusted Brenden, her mentor, and was using Bobby Nichols to produce her album. Everyone was predicting a hit. Her first album had done well and her second had done even better, making her a household name. But Brenden had known she was destined to do better. He wanted to see that happen for her. He adored the woman and knew that she wanted more than anything to be an extremely successful rock star.
He and Jordan had been friends for a few years. She’d been signed to his label when she’d been discovered. They’d met while Jordan was making her first album. As the studios she was recording in, Wild Irish Silence Studios, were owned by him, it was only a matter of time before they bumped into each other. And they had, by design … by Brenden’s design. He’d wanted to meet her from the moment he’d seen her. She was beautiful and had the most irresistible sexiness that he had to get near. And so he had. He was already the consummate rock star in a band named after him: Sparks. The night they’d finally met, she’d been leaving the studios after a long day, and he’d been heading home as well. They’d run into each other in the hallway. Jordan had been predictably nervous at meeting him, but he’d told her that he’d listened to some of her stuff and that she was a great asset to the label. That had put her at ease; she’d heard what a hard ass BJ Sparks could be.
He had invited her to coffee, and in his usual direct manner, had told her that he that he’d love to find out just how sexy she really was. Jordan, who was usually turned off by such overt sexual come-ons, found herself responding to this charismatic rock icon. She told him she felt like a silly little groupie. His response had cemented the deal and their friendship for good. He’d sat back, looking at her seriously through his light blue-green eyes.
“Jordan, you’re no groupie. You’re going to be a star. I’m going to make sure of that, whether you sleep with me or not.”
She’d been taken back by his directness, but appreciated what he’d said. She’d also believed him beyond a shadow of a doubt. BJ Sparks could have any woman he wanted, he didn’t have to lie to get them into his bed. That night she’d gone to his palatial estate, and had the best sex of her life. In him she’d found a soul mate of sorts. They wanted the same things in life: to be the best at what they did. In the end, they hadn’t stayed together; Brenden wasn’t a one woman kind of guy. He enjoyed the sexual freedom his stardom allowed him.
At thirty-seven, he was one of the hottest singers in the industry. He’d received critical acclaim, which was virtually unheard of in the rock and roll industry. He had Grammys all over his rambling estate in Beverly Hills, for everything from Best Lead Vocalist, to Best Album of the Year, to Best Songwriter. He did it all. Anything Brenden James Sparks touched, turned to gold instantly.
Their sexual relationship became a very deep friendship, and she found that whenever she needed him, he was there without hesitation. Even times when she didn’t want him there, he was there if he thought she needed him. She’d told him her deepest darkest secrets, as he did her. She knew all there was to know about him, and he knew all there was to know about her.
“Babydoll,” Brenden said soothingly, his hand caressing her arm as he held her against him, “you know I enjoy spending any and all free time with you, so don’t give me so much shit, huh?”
Jordan looked up at him, making a sour face, then nodded. “Okay, you win,” she said, grinning.
“I always do,” he replied, still as cocky as ever.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “So what have you been up to, rock star?”
“Doing that album thing,” he said.
“Yeah, how’s that going?” she asked, knowing he worked his ass off when he was in the studio.
She also knew he was probably pushing it once again. He’d just gotten off a yearlong world tour. His last album “Dead of Night” had just gone multi-platinum.
“It’s goin’ alright, gotta stay on top, ya know,” he said, grinning.
And he was still on top. He was in the top five of multi-platinum record holders, coming in just under Led Zeppelin. He was in good company with Elvis Presley and the Eagles. Every concert he’d scheduled had sold out, many of them in mere hours. It was one hell of a statement, considering he’d been in the business for over thirteen years. He was still selling out shows, albums, and any number of memorabilia items.
He still had women willing to kill each other to get near him too. It was an incredible ego boost to still have women willing to do anything and everything just to say they’d been with him. He dabbled every so often with groupies, but for the most part stuck to women he felt were of a different quality. Jordan had been a staple in his life for over three years. She’d been with him through a lot, good times and bad. And there had been plenty of bad.
They’d done a lot of partying together when they’d first met. As her career had started to take off, however he’d seen her drug use and drinking get out of control. He’d gotten a handle on his addictions a couple of years before he’d met her. He’d just about killed himself when he wrapped his Lamborghini around a lamp post on Hollywood Boulevard. That had been when he’d decided to quit. He’d gotten clean, and then took on the challenge a couple of years later of getting Jordan clean.
She’d fought him mightily, telling him that she wasn’t an addict like he’d been. But he knew an addict when he saw one, and hadn’t let up on her. It had taken a number of physical confrontations, where she’d scratched, bitten, punched, and kicked him to keep him from stopping her. In the end, he’d taken the attitude of “I’m helping you whether you like it or not,” and had given back as good as she’d dished out. His superior strength and fire had quelled hers quickly. Jordan had learned very quickly not to challenge him when he made a threat.
He’d threatened once to put her “ass” in the trunk of his car if she didn’t calm the hell down. She’d been sure he was bluffing and had told him so using a heeled boot to kick at the dashboard. To her shock, he’d slammed the brakes on, skidding to the side of the road. He’d gotten out, yanked open her door, and pulled her out of the passenger’s seat. Ignoring her screams and her nails raking his neck and arm, he’d unlocked the trunk, picked her up in his arms, dropped her into the trunk, and slammed it shut.
She’d spent an hour in his trunk that night, and had learned that challenging him was dangerous. She’d made the mistake a few more times, when she’d been high or drunk, but in the end, she decided challenging BJ Sparks wasn’t beneficial to her well-being or pride. At six foot three and just over two hundred pounds, BJ outweighed her by an easy hundred pounds. He could toss her over his shoulder as if tossing a doll, and they both knew it.
“So do you think you’ll meet the March deadline?” she asked, snuggling close to him, always enjoying the security she felt when she was with him.
“Oh yeah, we’re more than halfway through initial recording,” he said, turning over on his side to look down at her.
His light green eyes, with the slightest hint of blue to them, searched her face.
“You look tired babe,” he said
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I can’t sleep. I’m on edge too much.”
“Well, stay here and rest a bit, you’ll feel better in no time.”
She smiled, nodding. “You always make me feel better.”
They lay together on his bed talking for the next hour. Eventually, Brenden glanced at the clock and started to get up.
“Studio, right?” she asked knowingly.
“Yup,” he said. “Wanna come watch? We can have dinner after, if you want.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
Later in the studio, she watched in her usual awe at the way her friend sang. He took the simplest note and made it sound so incredible. She envied his range. He could hold a note for so long, increasing in intensity to a crescendo. It was something she hoped to learn from him eventually. But he had a God-given talent and there was no denying it. He also involved himself in every aspect of the recording. He would sit with a pad of paper and listen to the playback, making notes about changes he wanted made. No one argued with him, with the exception of Devlin McGregor, the lead guitarist.
Devlin had always been irreverent where Brenden was concerned. Jordan was fairly sure that was because Devlin had a lot of power behind him too. He was the perfect strength behind Brenden’s voice. Brenden told Jordan that Devlin had made the band the way it was now, that Devlin was the kick in the ass Sparks had needed. For that reason, Devlin could argue with Brenden for hours on end, and Brenden would never threaten to kick him out of the band. He would threaten to kill him in any number of ways, but never kick him out. It was a source of amusement among the people that knew them.
Jordan spent the day being re-acquainted with how exactly Brenden could be in the studio, watching take after take. Bobby was a perfectionist, even more so than Brenden, but Brenden wasn’t a producer, he was the artist. He had, however, produced his last three albums, receiving accolades all around.
By the time they left the studio late that afternoon, she could hear Brenden’s voice was ragged. He’d done a lot of voice work that day. Instead of dinner, she took him back to his place and made him chicken soup. She knew he had to keep his voice in top shape, and it was usually easy for him, but he’d been fighting a cold, and she was afraid it was about to down him. That night they ate in front of the fire and relaxed with wine, talking until the wee hours of the morning again. He’d scheduled himself a day off the next day, so they had all day to relax.
They slept in the same bed that night, and as he always did, he laid behind her, holding her to him, his lips against her neck. She smiled in the darkness of the room, knowing this was his favorite way to sleep. It was a habit from his ex, which Jordan knew all about.
It was a source of a lot of misery for him. Jordan wished beyond anything that she could help him through what had happened so many years ago, but he never even wanted to discuss it. He’d told her the entire story one stormy night when he’d had way too much to drink. It proved to her that his life wasn’t quite the great fairy tale everyone had been led to believe it was. Everyone thought he’d come to America when he was twenty-one and had been a rock star by the time he was twenty-three. It was true enough, but not the whole truth.
Brenden was touted as being “Rock’s Baddest Bad Boy” and Jordan was considered his “love interest” and “sometime girlfriend.” She was also known as a “wild child” in her own right, having caused any number of scandals with her outrageous antics. They both lived life on their own terms. They enjoyed each other a great deal, and both were glad they had someone to rely on that knew them so well. It was comforting.
The next morning when they woke up, she got out of bed and glanced down at him as he turned over on his back and stretched. She thought about what most women would do to be able to watch Brenden Sparks wearing no shirt and stretching like some big cat.
“I’m hungry,” she said, her tone matter of fact.
“Aren’t you always?” he asked, moving to get up off the bed.
“No!” she said, giving him a dirty look. “I just have a fast metabolism.”
“Yeah, the metabolism of a gnat,” he replied, grinning as he pulled on a pair of faded jeans.
“Shut up, brat,” she said haughtily. “Can I help it if you can eat anything and everyone and not gain an ounce?”
“Anything and everyone?” he asked, chuckling. “I like the sound of that.”
“You would,” she retorted as she followed him out of his bedroom.
They spent the next two hours getting lunch, and sitting out by his pool.
“When will Tabbie be back from her trip?” she asked him, taking another bite of her salad.
“Not for another month,” he said.
“Bummer,” she said, knowing he was missing her.
Tabitha was Brenden’s eighteen-year-old daughter. She meant the entire world to Brenden. He’d sacrificed a lot to raise her, and she’d been the reason he’d gotten off drugs. The accident that had almost taken his life, had almost left his daughter an orphan. It had been too much for him to bear.
Tabitha had been in New York for six months. After graduating from a private high school in Los Angeles, she’d gone to New York to explore and decide what she wanted to do with her life. Brenden hadn’t been happy about the trip, but he also knew that Tabitha needed a little bit of independence.
“She informed me,” he said, grinning, “that she’s coming home to whip my ass into shape.”
Jordan laughed. “Does she have any idea how impossible that is?”
Brenden gave her a narrowed look, throwing a cherry tomato at her. Jordan ducked the flying fruit, and laughed again.
“She wants to be my assistant,” he told Jordan. “I think it’s rather sweet, myself.”
“Sweet?” Jordan echoed. “Beege, she will have to work her ass off, if she tries to get you organized.”
“I’m not that bloody bad!” he growled.
“Like hell you’re not!” she growled right back. “You forgot to show up on the Tonight Show, Brenden!”
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ that was three fucking years ago, am I ever going to live it down?”
“Nope,” Jordan replied with a grin, her eyes twinkling with humor.
“Bitch.”
“Bastard,” she shot back.
“Still love me?” he asked.
“Yep,” she replied promptly. “Still love me?”
“Nope.”
They both grinned at each other. It was a litany they did often.
“So are you going to pay her?” Jordan asked.
“No,” he said. “I thought I’d make her work for free, just to get the experience.” His tone was sarcastic and Jordan gave him a sour look.
“I’m just asking, because I’m sure she could get lots of experience elsewhere, without the stress of your busy life to organize,” she said, giving him a stern look. “You have to admit, Beege, that you’re busier than the average musician.”
“Yeah, so?” he said defensively.
“So, maybe she should get her feet wet with someone less complicated,” she suggested gently.
“Like who?” he asked.
“Like,” she said, trying to think of someone, “oh hell, I don’t know, like someone like me.”
“FYI, you’re famous, love,” Brenden pointed out.
“Yeah, but not like you, Beege,” Jordan said, shaking her head. “You’ve got your hands in so many pots at once, is she going to be able to handle all that?”
“Look,” Brenden said, putting his hand down on the table between them, “she wants to be my assistant, I’m going to let her, okay?”
Jordan looked back at him for a long moment, sensing the undercurrent of tension. Finally, she nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said, not willing to question his judgement more than she already had.
Jordan knew that Tabitha was dedicated to her father. She had every reason to be; Brenden had struggled to raise her on his own, and had done everything in his power to make sure she received the best of everything. He gave everything of himself to his daughter. Even when things were the worst with him, he gave Tabitha nothing but the best.
It was something Jordan had witnessed a number of times. Brenden was given to bouts of depression. There would be whole days when he wouldn’t get out of bed. He’d sleep and drink, and that was all he’d do. Even then, if Tabitha was home, he’d put on the best act of his life to make believe everything was fine. Tabitha hadn’t even known about the depression until she was fourteen, and only then because she’d come home to surprise him for his birthday one year and had found him curled up in bed at four in the afternoon.
Jordan and Devlin had been the ones to tell Tabitha about Brenden’s depression. And it had taken all three of them begging Brenden to get him to see a doctor about it. He was given medication to take when he felt the depression coming on. Sometimes he took the meds, other times he allowed himself to sink into the depression. He told Jordan that he needed times like that to regenerate himself. Jordan couldn’t argue with him on that point. It was true that creative personalities needed down time. As long as the downtime didn’t last for weeks on end, ending with the sufferer in the hospital with malnutrition or dehydration or worse. Brenden had landed himself in the hospital a few times, but Jordan and Devlin had helped cover it up.
Jordan was, however, sincerely worried that Tabitha wouldn’t be able to handle the chaos that was Brenden’s career. She also knew better than to try to talk Brenden out of something he’d already decided, so she left it alone.
They spent the rest of the day relaxing and Brenden saw her off, hugging her tight before watching her drive off in her blue Corvette Stingray.
****
A couple of days later BJ sat in a coffee shop down the street. He was sipping his coffee, when a tabloid newspaper was dropped next to him on the table. He grinned, knowing it could only be one of three people. The coffee shop he went to was a tiny hole in the wall, and he sat far in the back corner. Most of his acquaintances didn’t even know he went there. Only Jordan, Tabitha, and Devlin McGregor knew where he went when he went “for coffee.”
“Mornin’ Dev,” Brenden said, grinning.
“How the fuck do you do that?” Devlin asked. He motioned to the blond-haired waitress.
“Only you, Jordan, and Tabbie know where I get my coffee,” BJ explained. “Tabbie’s in New York and Jordie is probably in London by now.”
“Ah,” Devlin said, nodding, his deep blue eyes going to the waitress as she walked up.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Devlin told the waitress.
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling provocatively, “anything you want Mr. McGregor.”
“Ohhhh …” Brenden said as she walked away with a highly attractive sway of her hips.
Devlin’s eyes watched her, even as he reached over to pick up Brenden’s cup and take a sip. He sat back and lit a cigarette, glancing at the “no smoking” sign as he did.
“So, you give up on that bridge or what?” Devlin asked.
“Nah,” Brenden said, shaking his head, “I just need to get my head back into it. So what’s this for?” he asked pointing to the tabloid.
“Ah, shit in there about Stone again,” Devlin said.
“And that’s new?” Brenden asked, grinning.
“No,” Devlin said, laughing, “but he’s talking shit about you again.”
“That’s not new either, man,” Brenden said.
“True, but he’s saying you attacked him in London when you were there a few months back.”
“He could be so lucky,” Brenden said, making a sour face. “He got into my face and I shoved him back. Not exactly attacking him, is it?”
“No, not exactly,” Devlin agreed, grinning. “Well, you know Stone, he’ll do anything to make himself look like the victim.”
“He’ll do anything to get his face in print, Dev,” Brenden said.
Los Angeles, 1984
Brenden met Jeff Stone two years after he moved to California, having emigrated from England. Jeff was the lead guitarist for the band Hot Rock, and they were playing at Gazarri’s on the Sunset Strip where Brenden tended bar. At the age of twenty-three, Brenden had his five-year-old daughter Tabitha depending on him. So he was doing whatever it took to keep food on her plate and clothes on her back. Jeff was in a band that hadn’t really gotten off the ground. He was an easygoing guy, who was apparently from a rich family. So he just played at being a rock star, as the guitarist for Hot Rock. He enjoyed the limited fame that playing in a bar band gave him; it got him women and some extra cash he didn’t have to beg his dad for.
Jeff noticed quickly that the bartender seemed to attract women like flies to honey. Jeff liked to be where the action was, and Brenden got a lot of action. They took to hanging out together when the bar closed. Brenden, with his rich dark auburn hair and blue-green eyes got women in droves, band or no band, and Jeff was happy with Brenden’s cast offs.
A year later when the lead singer of his band quit, Jeff asked Brenden if he could sing. Brenden shrugged, and said he’d give it a shot. Brenden had a voice that, with some practice, would blow any talent scout away. He honed it over the next year in the band, pushing Jeff to write better new material. Jeff was happy just sticking with cover tunes. He didn’t really care if he ever made it, sure of his daddy’s money and not worried about making anymore. Brenden was serious now about the music. He’d learned to read and write music on his own, and taught himself how to play guitar, although never expertly. He was constantly writing down music ideas and lyrics in a mountain of notebooks he kept everywhere. They were his creative genius in progress.
At twenty-three, however, Brenden had a five-year-old daughter he was struggling to raise. The babysitting costs were eating up a lot of his money. He’d brought as much money with him as he could scrape together before he’d left England, selling everything he had, but he didn’t want to touch the precious savings if he didn’t have to. His daughter’s security was paramount to him. He wanted to make sure if something ever happened to Tabitha, he’d be able to take care of her. Making it in the music business had become a necessity to Brenden. He was a good singer, he’d realized that early on. His voice had a very rich quality that was lacking in a lot of rockers in the business. He thought he honestly had something unique. If he could just get Jeff off his lazy ass long enough to give him the power behind his voice that he needed.
One night, while tending bar, as he had to on his nights off from the band, Brenden saw another band play. He also heard the power he needed. It was in the form of a guitar solo played by a then eighteen-year-old kid named Devlin McGregor. After talking to him at a break, Brenden found out that Devlin had been playing guitar since he was six years old.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do,” the younger man said, his eyes shining brightly.
Brenden knew what he needed; he needed Devlin McGregor’s style behind his vocals. He called Jeff that night and told him to get his ass down to the bar. When Jeff walked in, Devlin was back on stage with his band. Brenden pointed to Devlin up on stage, playing the shit out of Def Leppard’s “Switch 625.”
“That’s what I need you to sound like,” Brenden told Jeff in a no-nonsense tone.
Jeff looked at the other man, then back at Devlin. He couldn’t do it, he knew he couldn’t. He’d never been that good on guitar. But he knew that if he didn’t, Brenden, who had quickly become the band’s leader, would see that he was out. It pissed Jeff off, because he’d started the damned band in the first place! But, he knew he had to try to give Brenden what he wanted.
Over the next two months, he did try but to no avail. Brenden made an attempt to be patient, but nothing helped. Finally, he called Devlin McGregor down to the rehearsal room they were using. Devlin came down, and when Jeff walked into rehearsal that day, he heard Brenden and Devlin doing a song the band had been working on for months. It pissed him off no end that it sounded really good, better than it ever had.
“What the fuck, man?” Jeff asked.
Brenden looked back at Jeff, then pointed to Devlin. “That’s what I want you to sound like,” he said simply.
“I can’t, man. I’ve been trying, damn it!” Jeff yelled.
“Then we have a problem,” Brenden said simply.
“No, you have a problem,” Jeff spat.
Brenden looked back at him calmly, then looked at the other members of the band. The rest of them weren’t rich kids like Jeff either. They were all hungry to make it, and they all knew Jeff wasn’t. Jeff could read total agreement with Brenden in their looks. He knew he was screwed.
“Fuck this shit,” Jeff said, walking over to pick up the cords he’d left for his guitar.
He retrieved a few other items in angry silence. The band went back to rehearsing ignoring his angry grunts and stomping. Brenden didn’t notice that Jeff shoved one of Brenden’s many notebooks into the bag with his stuff.
Brenden didn’t find out about the missing notebook until a year later when Jeff Stone put out his first album. It was financed by his father and two of the songs from the album that actually made it into the top ten on the charts sounded distinctly familiar to Brenden. As well they should have, they were his. That was when the long-standing feud with Jeff Stone had begun. It had escalated a number of times over the years even after the now renamed Sparks had made it in the business. Brenden and Jeff Stone were always trading barbs through the press. Whenever they met face to face, things got violent quickly.
Brenden told the press that Stone was just posing as a rock star, and that he didn’t have the balls to back it up. Jeff was always telling the press anything he could think of to make BJ Sparks look bad. It was endlessly annoying to be lied about, but Brenden learned quickly to take it in his stride and he figured any press was better than nothing. Unlike Jeff, he didn’t have to lie to get into the news. Whereas Sparks did nothing but hit multi-platinum with every album, Jeff Stone remained consistently mediocre. His albums sold just enough to keep him in the business, but never an outrageous amount. Brenden frequently joked that Stone himself probably bought the albums, just so he’d look like he was popular.
Los Angeles, 1998
Across town, Allexxiss Ramsey-Putnam was having breakfast in her dining room. The maid had just brought the morning papers. She still got the London Times, just the banner of the paper still tugged at her heart. She saw that Brenden had once again made headlines. She turned the page quickly, but not before her heart turned over at the picture of Brenden on the front page. She refused to read anything about him. She did everything she could to avoid thinking of him at all. It did nothing but make her heart ache every time she did.
She didn’t need thoughts of him to cloud her thinking. She had enough in her life now. She was an actress, a “movie star.” Everyone knew her as simply as Ramsey. She was world famous. Her first movie Slow Burn had done anything but a slow burn at box office. It had sold millions in a mere week and Ramsey had quickly become a household name. Her second movie had done just as well, and after five years, Ramsey was still on top. She was just finishing up her eighth movie, and the next one she planned to produce herself. It was a brave leap for her, but she welcomed the challenge.
She was doing everything she could to fill the gap in her life. She was married, with no children. Her husband was an executive at the movie studio she had her contract with. Artisan Pictures was where Maxwell Putnam put in a lot of his time. He had the token wife, who interestingly enough had made him and his company a lot of money. It wasn’t something he’d expected, but of course the fact that she was beautiful didn’t hurt. Of course she was beautiful, he wouldn’t have put up with her past and married her if she wasn’t.
London, 1979
Allexxiss seated herself at the bar. Her best friend had gone off to the “loo” as she’d been calling it since they’d gotten to London. They were on Allexxiss’ sixteenth birthday trip. Allexxiss’ parents had surprised her with the two-week trip for her and Sherry. Allexxiss was looking around in her purse for her wallet, when she sensed someone standing in front of her. She looked up and was caught by the most beautiful light blue-green eyes staring back at her. His handsome face wore a sardonic, knowing grin.
“You got ID, love?” he asked. His English accent was thick, but his voice was warm and sexy.
“I …” she’d stammered, unable to look away from his eyes, as her hand fumbled in her purse trying to locate her wallet. “Yes, I have ID.”
He didn’t reply, simply stared at her. Her hands were shaking as she finally looked away from his eyes to locate the fake ID Sherry had given her. If this handsome young man busted her with this forgery, she knew she’d just melt into the floor. Sherry had assured her that the ID was well done and no one would figure it out. She handed him the ID, and bit her lip nervously.
The young man had looked at the ID for a long moment, then his blue-green eyes met hers again. After a long hesitation, he tossed the ID on the bar in front of her and said, “What can I get for you?”
“A screwdriver,” she said, feeling confident all of a sudden.
The young man’s eyes bore into hers. “What about a slow comfortable screw up against the nearest wall?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
Allexxiss’ mouth went totally dry. She had to swallow a few times to get her voice to come back. “I … um … what’s in that?” she asked, feeling like a total idiot.
The young man had thrown his head back and laughed shaking his head. “It’s orange juice, vodka, Southern Comfort, and Sloe Gin.” He looked at her considering, then said, “Might be too much for you, though.”
“I’ll try it,” she replied immediately.
He grinned, nodding. He made her the drink and handed it to her. She tasted it and grimaced at the amount of alcohol. He offered to take it back and make her something else but she refused, saying she liked it. She attempted to drink it for the next few minutes, frequently catching him watching her with a grin on his face. Finally, he slid a coke to her, grinning as he’d turned back to the customer he was waiting on. She took the Coke gratefully, and set the drink aside. She caught that blue-green-eyed stare again a few minutes later, as he once again grinned knowingly at her.
When Sherry returned, she noticed the handsome bartender right away. She elbowed Allexxiss who was sipping the Coke he’d given her in place of the alcohol.
“Oh my God, Allex look at that guy!” Sherry said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I saw him, Sherry,” Allexxiss said, feeling the slight prick of jealousy that Sherry had now noticed him too.
Sherry was the more outrageous of the two of them. She was the one that would get up and dance on the bar, or go around kissing all the guys, telling them it was a bet between her and her friend. She was also a fiery redhead, with brown eyes and a body that wouldn’t quit. She was tall with slim hips and big breasts, and at seventeen men were already falling all over themselves to get at her.
Allexxiss was the blond-haired, blue-eyed, softly spoken, quieter one. She was small, only five foot three, and less than a hundred pounds, compared to Sherry at five foot nine. They were an intriguing pair and the men in the pub often noticed them. Many times Allexxiss would look away, embarrassed at something outlandish Sherry had said to some man, and she’d catch the good looking bartender’s eyes on her. She would smile at him, and he’d cant his head to the side, grinning at her. She was sure he was trying to figure out what she was doing with someone like Sherry.
She and Sherry had been friends since grade school, having attended the same dressage classes for horsemanship. They’d become fast friends, and it had been Sherry who’d taught her everything about boys. It had also been Sherry who had encouraged her first, second and third experiences with sex. Allexxiss had yet to see what the fuss was all about. Her first time with a boy, had been with a boy at the club. He was fifteen like her, and so excited about being with her that he sweated profusely. Allexxiss had done her best to ignore the annoying wetness of his skin, but as he had taken off his clothes and laid over her, the smell of his sweat had hit her. Any stimulation he’d caused with his limp kisses, and unsure hands had left her instantly. When his body had entered hers with unnecessary swiftness, she’d bit her lip to keep from crying out from the pain. She’d lain there, just waiting for it to be over. He’d finished his business moments later, and had kissed her on the lips, making her feel even dirtier than she had minutes before.
Later she’d told Sherry that the deed was done, but “no” she wasn’t interested in doing it again. Sherry had cursed a blue streak about stupid incapable boys, and assured her that she just needed a “man” with more experience.
The second experience had been with another boy from the club, visiting for the summer. Sherry assured her that this boy knew what he was doing, since he was eighteen. This time, since she had been less nervous about the whole thing, she’d become more excited by this boy. At least he didn’t sweat, and his kisses were nice, making her feel warm. He had caressed her breasts making her warmer still. But then he stopped, and took his pants down, and put his thing inside her. There were no more kisses, no more caresses, just his body pushing into hers. Once again, she was let down by the whole experience.
The third boy, although older like the second had been, hadn’t been much better. His kisses were kind of nice, but he didn’t caress her at all. Instead he told her what a sexy little body she had, how her “boobs” were nice, a little small for his tastes, but he could “make do.” Naturally, by that time Allexxiss was totally turned off. She even told him she’d changed her mind about the whole thing, but he’d told her that he “needed” to do it, because it would hurt him if he didn’t. Like a fool, she’d believed him.
Sherry had walked up to that particular young man and slapped him the next day for telling Allexxiss that. She’d had a few choice words for the young man as well. Allexxiss was sure she just wasn’t meant to have sex. She’d decided she must be frigid or something.
Sitting watching Sherry with all the men dancing attendance on her, Allexxiss wondered what she’d been thinking coming to a bar with Sherry. She knew by the end of the night, she’d end up feeling like the ugly duckling again, and she didn’t want her birthday trip to London spoiled like that.
Allexxiss sighed out loud at the thought.
“Try this,” said the handsome bartender, who was now right by her, pushing a glass at her.
Allexxiss looked at him for a long moment; his grin was back, his green eyes on her again.
She gingerly sipped the drink from the miniature brandy glass. Her eyes widened at him, it tasted wonderful!
“What is it?” she asked.
“Häagen-Dazs Dutch Vanilla,” he told her, his eyes twinkling as he smiled down at her. “I figured it was a little more your speed.”
She bit her lip as she smiled at him, thinking how very sweet he was being. He had a pub full of people to tend to and he was taking the time to find her a drink she could handle.
“Thank you …” she said, her voice trailing off, hoping he’d give her his name.
He didn’t.
“You’re very welcome,” he said, giving her a wink as he walked over to take care of another customer.
Allexxiss sat drinking the drink he’d given her. When her glass was empty, he appeared at her side, handing her another with a wink.
Within the next hour, she was feeling quite tipsy, and brave. When she looked up to find him behind the bar again, she found to her utter dismay that he was gone. She shrugged to herself, assuming he’d gone on a break or something. When he didn’t reappear in the next hour she started feeling depressed. The second bartender noticed her dejection.
“What’s the matter, love?” he asked.
Allexxiss looked up at him. He had brown hair worn to his collar and blue eyes. He was nice looking but nothing like the handsome man who’d been giving her drinks all night.
“Where did the other guy go?” she asked, the alcohol giving her more nerve than she’d normally have.
“Oh, he had to go take care of something,” the other man said airily. “I’m Josh, can I get you something?”
“Yes, Josh,” Allexxiss said, feeling depressed suddenly, “can you get me his phone number?”
Josh smiled brilliantly, then bent down to whisper next to her ear. “I can do better than that, I’ll take you to him,” he whispered. “Hang out here after we close.”
With that, Josh went off to help other customers.
Two hours later the bar closed, and Allexxiss and Sherry waited in their same seats. By this time Allexxiss was sobering up, and thinking she was probably crazy for trusting this other man. Did she know that he was telling the truth? What if this Josh was some kind of nut? What if the other bartender was too? What if … Her mind kept throwing questions at her, they halted when Josh walked up behind them, putting on his jacket.
“Come on then,” he said, sounding very English.
Sherry giggled, thinking that Josh was nice looking and she wouldn’t mind following him. Sherry realized that Allexxiss was interested in the really gorgeous bartender, and she was nothing if not a loyal friend. This was Allexxiss’ birthday trip and Sherry wanted her friend to have the best time humanly possible. If that meant a little tête-à-tête with a handsome bartender, then why not?
On the short walk down the street, Allexxiss sobered more, and by the time Josh was opening the door to his apartment, she was sure he was crazy and that they were walking into some kind of death trap. She couldn’t get her mouth to say the things she knew she should though, so she dumbly followed Josh inside. He motioned to her with his head to follow him. Once again she did, knowing she was being so stupid, but the alcohol still fogging her senses just enough to keep her from saying no.
Josh walked down the hallway of the apartment, stopping at a door at the end. He knocked and Allexxiss heard a “Yeah?” from the other side.
“Beege, you got company,” Josh said, then he opened the door, motioning her inside. With that, Josh walked back down the hallway.
Allexxiss stepped through the doorway. Her eyes went to him instantly. He was lying on the bed, bare chested and barely covered with a sheet on his lower half. His long hair that he’d had in a ponytail at the bar was loose and flowed around his shoulders. Her senses went wild at the sight of him.
He was grinning at her again. He sat up, pulling the sheet with him to keep his lower half covered.
“We meet again, little one,” he said, his voice a caress.
Allexxiss could almost feel it in his voice. She began to tingle at the thought.
“I,” she stammered, “I asked your friend for your, uh, phone number.”
He looked surprised, pleasantly so. “Why did you do that?”
“I…” she began hesitantly. “Well I just sorta felt like we connected and I didn’t want to not talk to you again,” she said, biting her lip in her sudden uncertainty.
“C’mere,” he said simply.
“What?” she asked, her mouth going dry at the implication in his word.
“Come here,” he said in a measured voice, emphasizing the word “here” by putting his hand on the bed next to him.
Allex hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the bed. She sat down looking at him. He leaned forward, his body within inches of hers, his eyes staring down into hers. She could smell his cologne, it had a strong masculine feel to it, but she had no idea what it was. She felt the desire to reach out and touch his chest. It was so nicely defined, not too muscular though, with just a dusting if hair.
“There wasn’t a chance of us not talking again,” he told her, his tone sure.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Josh was told to get the name of your hotel at all costs before the end of the night.”
Allexxiss felt warmth spread through her, he did want her. She hadn’t been imagining things. But she knew she needed to play this game properly, lest he be put off.
“Why would you want my hotel name?” she asked coyly.
“So I could find you,” he replied simply.
“And why would you want to do that?”
“So I can have you,” he countered. The tone of his voice and the fact that he moved a few inches closer to her left no doubt in her mind what he meant.
“You want me?” she asked, dropping all pretext of being coy, her blue eyes staring up into his with astonishment.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life,” he replied with intensity.
With that, he leaned forward again, closing the distance between their bodies, and his lips claimed hers. His hands slid around her back to pull her body to his. Allexxiss was sure she was going to melt. His lips were so strong and demanding she found herself responding with a lot of her own demands. When his tongue slid between her lips, she groaned deeply. Her body was going up in flames and he was fanning them with his hands that were now unbuttoning her shirt. Within moments he had the garment open, and his hands touched her bare skin, making her gasp against his lips.
He went on undaunted, his hands moving over her skin, moving up her stomach, his thumbs brushing over her breasts through her bra, making her moan again. She pressed closer to him, wanting to take everything he had to give her. His mouth left hers to move seductively down her neck. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin as his lips moved sensually down her neck. He slid his hands her skirt, making simple work of removing it. Within minutes, she was willing to do anything to get him to make love to her. But he took his time, touching her, caressing her, kissing her. His hands touched her everywhere, finally settling between her legs, caressing her and making her gasp. Before Allexxiss knew what was happening her body was consumed with flames, and she cried out over and over as the orgasm overtook her. She’d never felt like this and he hadn’t even made love to her yet.
As she trembled, he pulled her to him, pressing her against him, she felt his heartbeat against her chest. His lips moved to her shoulder, his hands caressing her back, making her senses start to tingle again. She pulled back to look up at him. His blue-green eyes burned into hers. She kissed his lips, then moved to kiss his neck, and he groaned immediately. His response fueled her courage. She began kissing his neck, his chest, touching his body, and feeling him respond passionately.
Before long, she found herself under him, his body sliding inside hers, making her cry out at the feeling. He was bigger than the boys she’d been with before, but it didn’t hurt. He seemed to fit her perfectly, filling her and making her feel as if he’d just completed her. The thought struck her, but then was shoved aside by the torrent of sensations that followed. She orgasmed no less than three times before he finally gave into his need, giving an impassioned yell that sent her over the edge once more.
Afterwards they lay together, both panting to try and catch their breath. He lay over her, but slightly to the side, keeping his full weight off her. His lips were pressed to her shoulder, as his hands still stroked her stomach rhythmically.
“You were meant for me,” he whispered against her skin, his tone sounded like he’d just amazed himself with that statement.
“What?” Allexxiss asked, her voice still breathless.
He raised his head, and looked down at her. “You were made for me. You didn’t feel it?”
Allexxiss looked back at him for a long moment, staring up into his beautiful blue-green eyes, and remembering her thought that he had completed her when he was inside her.
“Yes, I did,” she answered, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile, his eyes lighting up like green firelight.
He leaned down then kissing her deeply, making her body sing again instantly.
When their lips parted Allexxiss stared up at him, then shook her head slowly.
“What?” he asked, grinning.
“I just realized I don’t even know your name,” she said, her voice reflecting her chagrin.
His grin widened.
“Josh called you Beege …” she said, her voice trailing off as she looked up at him.
“BJ,” he supplied.
“And BJ stands for?” she asked.
“Brenden James,” he told her, grinning again.
“I guess you already know my name, right?” she asked.
“If that was your real name on the ID, yes,” he replied.
Allexxiss stared back at him for a long moment. “You knew it was a fake?”
“Of course,” he said.
“But you served me anyway.”
“I had to keep you in my bar.”
“I would have stayed even if you wouldn’t serve me a drink,” she told him.
“I couldn’t take the chance that you’d run if I called your bluff.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if I hadn’t been just a bit drunk, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to ask Josh for your phone number.”
“Ah, but I had that covered,” Brenden replied again, laughing.
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” she said, smiling.
“So,” he said, his tone growing more serious, “how old are you really?” His eyes searched hers critically.
Allexxiss bit her lip, nervous all of a sudden, and almost afraid to answer him. What if he wouldn’t see her anymore? She was under age after all. What if he was disgusted? What if …?
“Allexxiss,” he said, saying her name for the first time and interrupting her worried thoughts, as if reading her mind. “I already know you’re under eighteen, otherwise why would you need a fake ID?”
Allexxiss took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re right. I’m sixteen.”
Brenden nodded, looking like he’d suspected that already.
“I know I’m really young …” she began, trying to think of something to balance it with.
“How old do you think I am, Lex?” he asked, shortening her name in a way no one had before.
She grinned at the name, then looked up at him. She wasn’t sure how old he was, but was at least sure he was older than twenty.
“I’d say about twenty-three.”
Brenden grinned widely. “Try eighteen, babe.”
“Eighteen!” she exclaimed, shocked. He nodded. “You seem a lot older than that.”
He shrugged. “Probably because I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen.”
“Wow, really?” she asked, surprised by his admission.
He nodded.
“That would explain your maturity,” she said.
“Yes, it would,” he replied.
In the end, they spent days on end together. She spent almost every one of her two weeks in London with him. Sherry could have chewed nails. She was jealous that first of all Allexxiss spent all of their vacation with some guy, but worse still, the guy was incredibly gorgeous. Allexxiss spent every night curled up in Brenden’s arms, she was sure she’d discovered heaven. He was funny, sexy, handsome, and generally wonderful. He told her that this wasn’t his normal behavior with women, and that he’d gone and broken up with his girlfriend the night he’d met her. That he’d “known” Allexxiss was “the one” the minute he’d met her. That had been what he’d had to “take care of” that night when he’d left the bar.
He told her over and over again, that she was the one he was meant for. That they’d been made for each other. She believed him. Lying in his arms at night, she didn’t think about anything but him. She didn’t think about home, or her parents, or school. She just thought of being with him, all the time. She didn’t even want to think about going home and leaving him.
But two weeks later, it was just what she had to think about
She showed up at his apartment late in the evening. He’d been worried he wouldn’t get to see her before she left. She was due to leave for home the next day. When she walked into his room, he knew something was wrong instantly.
He sat up, having been lying back on his bed listening to music.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.
He took her hand and pulled her down next to him on the bed. Leaning down, he kissed her lips softly.
“Tell me,” he said, worrying about her suddenly.
“Bren,” she said, her voice a desperate whisper. “I can’t, I can’t …” she said shaking her head miserably.
He pulled her close, stroking her hair, soothing her.
When she’d calmed, he asked again what was wrong.
She looked up at him, her face set in a sad unhappy line. “I’m pregnant, Brenden,” she told him.
His mouth dropped open for a long moment. He stared down at her, unable to believe what she’d just said. Then he closed his mouth, and started to smile.
“Marry me, Lex,” he told her.
“What?” she asked, unable to comprehend what he’d meant.
“You heard me, baby girl, marry me. I love you, and now you’re having my child, it’s meant to be. Marry me,” he told her, his tone intense, his hands cupping her face. “I love you, Lex, I love you, and I need you with me. The thought of you being gone, going back to America, kills me, but I didn’t want to stand in your way. But now, now you need me too. Stay with me, Lex, here. Stay, I love you.”
She stared up at him for a long minute, her eyes searching his face. She knew what he was saying. He was saying what she’d been feeling, that this might be a sign that they were meant to stay together. She did love him, he was all she could think of. He was everything to her.
“Yes,” she said, smiling softly, “yes.”
He hugged her close, kissing her deeply.
Within a week, the deed was done and they were married.
She had called her parents, telling them she wanted to stay in England for an extra two weeks. They’d allowed it, but within a week of getting back to America, Sherry had made a point to go over and tell her parents what was really going on.
They were on a plane a few days later. They arrived in London the day after Brenden and Allexxiss were married. After locating the flat where Brenden lived with Josh, according to Sherry’s directions, they marched up the steps and knocked on the door.
A very surprised Josh answered, half dressed.
“What’s this now?” Josh asked, having been roused from sleep.
“We want to see our daughter,” Charles Ramsey gritted out.
“And your daughter would be who?” Josh asked, being purposely obtuse.
“Allexxiss Ramsey!” Jenae Ramsey exclaimed, aghast at the look of the building.
“Ah, Beege’s bird, come on in then,” he said, standing back and holding the door open.
Josh promptly walked them back to BJ’s room, and knocked on the door.
“Beege, you got more company!” he yelled through the door.
“Wot?” Brenden had the time to query before the door was thrown open by Charles Ramsey.
Brenden and Allexxiss were lying in bed, clearly naked. They’d been sleeping in, after having stayed up most of the night celebrating their wedding and making love late into the night and morning.
“Oh my God!” Janae Ramsey said, putting her hand to her mouth.
It was a shock to see her little girl, lying in the arms of what was obviously a much older man. And naked no less!
“Allexxiss Jean Ramsey!” Charles roared. “You get yourself out of that bed and dressed this instant!”
“Now wait a bloody minute here,” Brenden said, sitting up and pulling an already cowering Allexxiss back against him possessively.
“You, young man, have made a big mistake,” Charles railed, turning his fury on Brenden.
His fury was met with a cool blue-green stare.
“Lex isn’t going anywhere,” Brenden told Charles. “And you got the name wrong, it’s Allexxiss Jean O’Malley now.”
“What?” Charles asked, paling significantly.
“Yup,” Brenden said with a wintery smile, “my wife.”
“You bastard!” Charles yelled, curling his hands into fists.
“You go on and try that, man, and I’ll put you down, right quick.”
“You can’t do this, she’s under age!” Janae put in, seeing the situation getting out of control quickly.
“Not in England she isn’t,” Brenden said calmly.
“I’ll take you apart,” Charles snarled.
“Come try,” Brenden said, moving to stand.
Allexxiss mobilized then, turning to Brenden.
“Brenden, no!” she said, putting her hands on his chest. “Please, Bren, don’t,” she said to him fearfully. She turned to her father then, pulling a sheet up to cover herself. “Daddy, I know you’re mad, but you have to know that I love Brenden.”
“You’re too young to know anything about love, Allexxiss,” Charles said, his tone derogatory.
“Daddy, I love him,” Allexxiss maintained. “And,” she said, hesitating, but knowing she needed to tell them all of it, “I’m having his baby.”
“Oh my god …” Jenae said, devastated.
“I’m sorry, mother,” Allexxiss said, looking like she truly was. “It wasn’t something we planned on, it just happened, but I love him and I’m staying here with him.”
“In squalor?” Charles asked.
“Love isn’t about money, Mr. Ramsey,” Brenden said.
“Yes, but love can’t put food on your table, boy,” Charles shot back.
“No, but I can,” Brenden said confidently. “I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen. I can take care of myself, Allex, and this baby.”
“Allex has a lot more going for her than being some drudge housewife to a bartender, boy.”
Brenden narrowed his eyes at the other man. “I don’t plan to be a bartender forever, but even if I am, I love your daughter, and she loves me. It’s not something you can buy for her.”
“Well, don’t expect to get any money from us,” Charles said, drawing himself up.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” Brenden said, his tone snide.
Charles looked at Allexxiss with sad eyes. “This isn’t what we wanted for you, Allexxiss,” he said, his tone sounding something near sympathetic, “but I know you’re headstrong and no amount of yelling will change your mind. You’ll make your own mistakes. You’re about to learn a very hard lesson.”
Allexxiss started crying, and Brenden felt the first prick of guilt. The first prick that would become many stab wounds over the next year of their lives together. It was just the beginning.
Los Angeles, 1998
Allexxiss remembered that first night at the pub, vividly, and so often. So much happened after that, and here she was trying to avoid his picture in the paper. It was ridiculous! She’s managed to avoid running into him the entire five years she’d been in Los Angeles. She was terrified of what he’d say, sure that he would be nasty and sarcastic as she knew he could be. As cold as he had been that last time she’d seen him … Her mind drifted again, but she couldn’t let herself do this. Not here in the dining room with the servants around. She went up to her room and lay on the bed, thinking about that first night again. It had been so incredible at first, so great, so perfect.