Chapter 7
Claire
Maynard took the stage looking a little disheveled. He had brushed his short hair back, but hadn't gotten the wind completely out of it. His shirt was tucked in and vest buttoned, but he didn't have those laser straight, clean lines I'd seen on him at the beginning of the night.
“Greetings, friends. And thank you for coming tonight.” Maynard held the mic with the ease of a professional orator. If this was just a toast, I guess he didn't need to look immaculate. It wasn't like he looked bad, or anything. All the women around me fawned at the way his muscles filled out the arms of his long sleeve shirt.
“I won't take up much of your time this evening, and I'll do my best not to throw another temper tantrum.” Even in self-deprecation, Maynard's smile still melted every set of the panties in the room. “But I make no promises.”
It was only now that he was away from me that my heart had begun to slow down. I still wasn't sure exactly what happened on that balcony. The brightest flashes in my mind weren’t memories, but feelings. The warmth in his hand as it slid down my thigh, the strength in his arms as his caught me... The way he carried me through the broken glass threshold still made my knees weak and my body warm.
I couldn't stop myself from falling into his touch. With the heat of his breath on my skin, I didn't care about my warning earlier about us not having sex. I was a hair's breadth away from making myself into a liar.
Then there was his cock. It was rock hard and pressed against my thigh, slowly sliding toward my pussy. My nipples tried to cut through the front of my shirt and my breathing shallowed.
Agh! I could almost still feel him and it was driving me crazy!
“I don't see people when I look around this room tonight.” Maynard's glib tone evaporated, he now spoke with authority. “I don't see musicians, I see music. I don't see artists and actors, I see culture and expression. Everyone in this room tonight is so much more than just a person. To our fans, we are inspiration and hope. We give them the drive for social change. We give them love, and dreams and rage!
“We are their symbols and concepts.” Maynard continued. He paced the stage with the determination and poise of a man leading troops into battle. “Well those of us that aren't just bored socialites.”
Laughter. Maynard smiled, letting the room's laughter run it's course.
“In this one room, I see a whole generation. With every album or box office sale our fans rally behind us, raise us up and encourage us to keep creating, to keep giving them what they need.”
In the clear skies of smiles and bright eyes that beamed throughout the room, Bianca was the lone, angry rain cloud. She scowled, standing at the back of the room as if perpetually deciding whether she wanted to leave or not. Her folded arms and disapproving glare blatantly displayed how little she thought of her brother's speech.
“This year is over, and you've all done incredible things. Tonight, I'm here to tell you that it's not enough.” Maynard took a few long pulls from a bottle of water, letting the crowd soak the statement in. When he didn't provide an immediate follow up, the sea of confused faces turned to each other for answers.
What was Maynard's game here? Was this what he was getting at when he told me that he felt like mixing it up this year? Then there was that bit about making history, whatever that meant.
Maynard used all the right pretty words to get everyone's attention, but if it wasn't just the yearly obligatory toast about how great the audience, then what was it? Maynard was a conductor, and we were his orchestra. He rioted and soothed our emotions, bringing us high, only to leave us wondering.
“You may have heard the news by now.” Maynard finally resumed. The change in subject was abrupt but it still drew everyone's attention. “This will unfortunately be our last party here at The M. In fact, tonight will be the last night I own the hotel. My sister will be buying it from me.”
I glanced back at Bianca to see if I could read her expression. Her cold eyes had narrowed slightly, but otherwise remained unchanged. She was too much of a hardened business woman to show any emotions that she didn't want read.
“Bianca took care of me as best she could after our parents died.” Maynard took a moment to search the crowd for his sister. When he found her, he addressed her directly. “For as much as we bicker, I want you to know that I care about you, Bianca. I don't think I've ever told you that. And I hope you can honor our parents with this hotel in a way that I never could.”
The crowd shifted their attention to where Maynard was looking. Bianca was in the spotlight now. Not even she could contain her surprise at the turn of events. In the movies this would've been the moment where everyone cheered as the estranged brother and sister reunited.
Embarrassed, Bianca said nothing in response. She simply walked out of the room. I'd never seen so many people, so quiet before. A pin could've dropped and everyone would have heard it. Was this genuine? Could a self absorbed man like Maynard truly change that much?
“Like I said,” Maynard broke the uneasy silence. “Whether it was something as big as winning an academy award or something as small as a brotherly gesture, we've all done great and difficult things this year. We could stop there and be proud of our accomplishments. Or we can do a little bit more and be proud of others accomplishments.”
“I'll be donating all profits off the sale of this hotel to charity, in the form of student grants. Our fans and community have given us so much. It's time to give a little back.” By now, Maynard had everyone eating out of his hands. “Let's help more kids go to school.”
I'd only seen Maynard as a playboy, albeit one that was frustratingly difficult to figure out. And yet, this was another side of him that I hadn't expected.
Maynard cooper was full of surprises.
Maynard switched gears to more of a planner and organizer after that. I didn't know if an act like this was large enough to constitute making history, but rallying the rich and entitled to do anything was no easy feat. I wanted to go to him and congratulate him, but he was mobbed with celebrities that either wanted to donate, or wanted to be seen donating.
I was content to just watch him and wait. It was hard to look at him the same way after that speech. He seemed so much denser than he was before, like he was a gray-scale cartoon character that suddenly received rich, and vibrant color.
Was this really hiding within him the whole time? How could I have been so wrong about Maynard?
My cell buzzed, pulling me from my adoration.
It was a text from Chance. It read, 'Back hallway now. Or I make a scene and ruin your boyfriend's jerk off speech.'
My good mood deflated. I couldn't let that happen. Not when Maynard had achieved something so wonderful. Once I saw him with Bianca, part of me knew that I'd have to face him eventually.
Chance texted me the exact area. I didn't bother replying to that message either. It skeeved me out that he wanted me to leave the party. Chance never hit me while we were dating, but he did get rough every once in a while. I would tentatively go, but if it looked like a sketchy, secluded area I sure as hell wasn't staying.
I left the ballroom and opened up the nearest service door. Hotel staff bustled busily along the long, bare corridors, carrying beer or food. There were so many employees running around that it was hard to stay out of their way.
At least I didn't have to worry about being alone with Chance.
Chance leaned against the wall, near one of the kitchens. He was pestering one of the overworked servers to stop and make him a mixed drink. The server had a case of beer in each arm. The man looked exhausted, but he hesitantly agreed to Chance's request, then scurried off.
I shook my head at the exchange. Consideration for others was a foreign concept to Chance. The world was there to serve him.
He was such a stark contrast to Maynard. His long hair was parted to the side and tucked behind his ears, he wasn't as shredded as Maynard, but he was still lean and toned enough to be on the cover of a Men's Health magazine.
Chance was so handsome that it was easy to overlook his flaws. I always felt like he was out of my league, like I was lucky to even be with him. Thinking back I could see now that he made me think that way with little comments that he just wrote off as him being funny or making jokes. That was probably how he treated all his the girls he leached off of.
“What do you want?” I asked him, flatly, when I got within casual talking distance. I wasn't one of those girls. Not anymore.
He smiled at me, rolling himself off the wall in way that kicked his crotch forward. “I never got the chance to apologize to you.” He stepped forward, but stopped when I stepped back. Chance held up his open palms in a gesture that said he came in peace. “I didn't mean to hurt you, Claire-bear.”
Hurt me? “You put me in crippling debt, you son-of-a-bitch!”
“And I'm super sorry for that. Things were crazy when we got together.” His forehead wrinkled in concerned, apologetic lines. His eyes were a mix of sadness and shame. One look at him and you could believe that he was remorseful. “You know about my moms, and how she was sick. Listen I screwed up, OK? I just want to make it right.”
A hotel employee pushed a large cart up the hallway. God, this was the most inconvenient place to talk. Why the hell did he bring me here. To get out of the woman's way, Chance and I stepped to one side. Chance used the opportunity to get even closer to me.
“How could you possibly make it right? Do you have a check for ten-thousand dollars handy?” I snapped the words out.
Chance was close enough for me to pick up his scent, it was a faint musty pine aroma. It was a hard smell to forget, after he left me I slept with a hoodie of his that he left behind. I poured a lot of myself into the relationship to make it work, and when he left I was devastated.
“Not on me. I mean, c'mon, I don't shit money like all these other assholes. Just give me a little time and I'll pay you back and then some. I miss you, babe.” Chance ran a finger down my forearm.
How many times had I folded when he uttered those words? How often had that look he was giving me right now, made me cave and give him one more chance? He would stroll back into my life like no time had past and soon enough he'd have burrowed his way into my heart and into my bed.
I jerked my arm away like there was a snake slithering down it. “And you can keep missing me.” I watched the compassion and remorse in his face slip just a little. I knew now that he was never really sorry, he only said what he thought I wanted to hear. “What? I just forgive you? Then what? You drag me into a storage closet and fuck my brains out?”
“It's not like that, Claire-bear. I've changed.” The sincerity on Chance's face was so damn convincing. The wounded part of me screamed out to say yes, to take him back again and make that pain go away. “I did some soul searching and—”
“You are so full of shit.” That wounded part of me wasn't in control anymore.
I thought about Maynard. How he made himself vulnerable in front of hundreds of important people when he appealed to his sister. Then how he publicly announced his charity plan. Maynard wasn't doing that to please anyone, he wasn't looking to use that gesture to exploit something. Words followed by deeds, that was how a man changes.
“Babe, don't throw away what we—”
“There is no we.” The word rotted in my mouth like bile. “Your sugar-coated words won't work on me, not anymore.” I had no idea if there was anything real between me and Maynard, but I did know that I was completely done with Chance.
It was time to go back to the party.
A hand clamped tightly around my wrist, the pain was instant and intense.
“Don't you dare walk away from me.” The mask Chance wore was gone now. His eyes were dull and angry. The scowl on his lips made his handsome features take on a nasty edge. He looked dangerous. “I won't lose you to some rich cocksucker.”
“Is that all I am to you? A trophy? Your damaged pride wont give me up, because you can't handle that someone else is better than you?”
“Fuck him. You think he's so great because he's fucking millionaire, or whatever. He's obviously overcompensating.” His anger diffused into disgust. “I never realized how shallow you were, Claire. I thought you were better than that.”
Chance was just being cruel, but that didn't stop his words from stinging me. We were together for months, he knew my insecurities far too well. “I guess not.” I spat the words. “And Maynard has a bigger cock than you.”
“There you are.” Maynard casually walked up the hallway toward us. How on earth did he find me! “I went to ask you for a dance and you were gone. And you,” He addressed Chance. “You need to leave.”
“Fuck off, pal.” Chance released my wrist and walked toward Maynard, shoving a staff member out of the way. “You don't even own this place anymore.”
Maynard checked his watch. “For the next ten minutes, I do.” Maynard looked at me to see if I was hurt, there was actual concern on his face. I rubbed my bruised wrist, but otherwise I was fine. Maynard turned back to Chance, everything drained from his strong face, except anger. “Leave. Now.”
“I'm not afraid of you, rich boy.” Chance got dangerously close to Maynard. “What are you going to do about it?”
A sharp smile flashed briefly across Maynard's face, then there was a blur of motion. My heart lurched into my throat as I watched both men move. Chance went for a shove, but Maynard's punch was too quick. Heavy knuckles struck Chance's jaw, dropping him.
“Jesus!” I gasped. Maynard stepped over Chance, rubbing the impact from hand. “Are you OK?”
“Better than him.” We both looked at Chance, laid out on the floor. Wetness spread over the front of his pants. Chance was only unconscious until he hit the floor, but that momentary lose of control caused him to piss himself.
Good, serves Chance right. Try to hide behind your cool-guy mask with your pants soaked through with urine!
“How'd you find me?” This place was way to big to just stumble across someone.
“When I saw you leave, I had the staff keep an eye out for you.” Maynard had one of the startled waitstaff call for the security guards and a few minutes later three men ran over and got Chance to his feet. “When I heard you were talking to some prick demanding mixed drinks in the back hall, I figured I should check it out.”
“Did you get jealous?” I couldn't stop the smile from creeping across my lips.
Maynard licked his teeth and put an arm around my shoulders. I didn't move to stop him. “Yes.”
The blatant admission made my ribs quiver. I looked away as he led me back to the party, so as not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my smile eat half my face.
What did it say about him that he came after me when he thought I might be in trouble? Was he just returning the favor of me going to him at the balcony or was it something more?
“Maynard, your hand!” It was only when I felt something wet through my shirt that I realized he was bleeding. He quickly pulled the hand away, but little red dots had already ruined my white shirt. “Do you you have an EMT here?”
Maynard looked at it, but didn't seem to concerned. “It's just a scratch. I have a first aid kit upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” The word slipped from my mouth like smoke. In his home? Was this his invitation? Would I get that tour he teased about earlier?
Maynard looked through me with those thunderstorm eyes. His smile was beckoning. “Come with me.”