Somewhere in California Read online

  The waltz couple performs in the acceptable range; the hip-hop duo is downright dynamic. Jade and her partner appear next, doing the foxtrot.

  Jade’s in a dress that makes her look like one of those jewelry box dancers that spins when you open the lid, wearing pink so pale it’s almost white, sparkles scattered all over it.

  The guy she’s with is the size of a barn door, but as the music gets going, he’s definitely got some moves, handling her with panache... but I don’t like the way he keeps that big ham-hand on her waist a little too long.

  “Zoom in on camera three,” I bark at my assistant. “I want some costume detail.”

  Her dress has rhinestones scattered all over the clear net arms and up the torso, and Hal Surrey, her partner, keeps his hands technically in the right place for foxtrot—but there’s definitely a little something extra going on between them. I check the other monitors. They’re looking good—a spin, turn, slide, glide, quickstep and more.

  Of the two, Hal is stronger at this step, but Jade is trying hard, throwing herself into it. Her smile up at her partner is so bright it could be a toothpaste commercial.

  I feel a nasty little curl of something. Could it be jealousy? Nah. Just indigestion.

  They end their session with a terrific move: Jade is lifted overhead and spun by Hal. She looks like a little pink Tinker Bell, held aloft by a big blocky Peter Pan in a tux.

  Their finale is met with strong applause. I let out a breath as they go backstage.

  “Got a lot more to go,” Kerry, my assistant, says. “Take a load off, Boss. You’re stressing too much. Everything’s going great.”

  I certainly hope so. These next days are going to be a marathon of dancing for the contestants. We film the whole show in a blitz to keep studio and filming costs down, using the studio audience and random sampling for voting, then parcel out the shows weekly.

  We have at least five standout stars from the first round by the end, and sad to say, Jade isn’t one of them. Hopefully she’s stronger in some other dances, but with fast-stepping Side o’Beef as her partner, she’ll probably be able to move to the next round.

  We open the phone lines for voting as Alan yells, “that’s a wrap!” I check the seats below, looking for Pearl and the rest of Jade’s relatives. I had the tickets delivered to their different addresses using an expensive messenger service.

  No one is seated in the row reserved for the Michaels family. Twenty-four hours probably was not enough time to get here to Los Angeles from wherever they are on the East Coast.

  I check that everything’s on track with the editing, and head for the hotel gym to work off the stress of the last few hours.

  Jade

  In the voting appeal section at the end of the show, I get to see a clip of Hal and my best move, the lift, where he spun me. I have my arms out and toes pointed, like Baby in Dirty Dancing. It’s a great note to leave in the viewers’ minds as we both smile, appealing for viewers to call in and vote for our numbers—and I flash my digits in American Sign Language.

  “What was that?” Hal asks as the pulsing eye of the camera moves on to the next couple.

  “ASL. Couldn’t hurt to help me stand out a little.”

  “Can you teach me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now? I kind of need to unwind. Why don’t we go to the Jacuzzi, and you can teach me my numbers there?” He wiggles his brows, making it sound naughty.

  “Not tonight, Hal. I’m exhausted.” Which is perfectly true—only I’m wired too. I need to figure out a way to come down from all the adrenaline. A hot bath might work—but I’m not ready for that, either.

  “Well. I thought we were good together.” Hal slides his hand down my arm, spreading his fingers wide on the small of my back, pulling me close. “I really like you.” He leans in to kiss me. “Mmm, strawberry,” he murmurs against my lips.

  I stay with the kiss, even though it feels weird—not at all like the other night with Brandon, and that instant flare between us when he touched me. But, this is only the second time I’ve ever been kissed. I want to see how it stacks up to the first time.

  Not well at all.

  I can’t get into it. I feel like a wooden doll in Hal’s arms, stiff and awkward. He’s moving too fast, sliding his arms around me, and grabbing my butt. His tongue invades my mouth.

  Ew. Way too many germs!

  I take his thick wrists in my hands and remove them from my waist, pulling away. “I liked dancing with you, Hal. We have good chemistry on the floor. But I’m sorry, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I think we have chemistry off the floor too!” He pulls his mouth down in exaggerated disappointment.

  “I just don’t think it is a good idea to get involved with another contestant. There are lots of pretty girls on the show. You’ll meet someone who feels differently.” I pat his shoulder. “Can we just be friends?”

  “I guess. Want me to walk you to your room?” He cocks his head with a grin.

  “What, so I can fend you off at the door? No thanks. See you tomorrow at the results show.” We get new partners and start new routines tomorrow.

  He sighs in exaggerated disappointment. “Okay. Friends it is.”

  “It’s a deal.” I wave goodbye, going straight to the locker room where I wash and brush my teeth, changing out of my dress into some ratty old workout wear. In the cafeteria, I join one of the tables of celebrating contestants, enjoying the laughter and camaraderie of completing the first challenge.

  Done with dinner, I still don’t feel ready to go up to the room—there’s a good chance Alex is up there partying with Ernesto, and I just don’t feel social.

  I took the rhinestone pins out of my hair and peeled the brilliants off my cheeks, but I still have way too much makeup on. Oh well, nobody cares. I’ll go to the gym, jog on the treadmill a little, then go to the steam room. By the time I do that, I’ll be limp as a noodle and ready for bed.

  The gym is practically deserted by almost nine p.m. as I push open the door. Only one woman’s on the Stairmaster, and I hear the clash of dropping weights over in the weight area that’s hidden by a tasteful screen.

  I head straight over to the treadmill, hop on, and set it to a slow jog. I put on my headphones and turn on my Walkman, set in radio mode. After twenty minutes of Top Forty music and mindless jogging, I feel myself come down out of that jacked-up place. I’m ready to zone out in the steam room.

  The hotel supplies towels, and though it’s a unisex gym, I’m pretty sure I’ll be the only one in there. In the women’s dressing room I strip out of my gym clothes, hop in the shower for a quick rinse, and then wrap in a large bath towel. I grab a second, smaller towel to wrap around my hair.

  The steam room has an automatic button and steam setting on the outside of the door. “PUSH FOR STEAM” a carved plastic notice directs.

  I push the big red button and go inside.

  As I hoped, it’s empty, but I can’t be sure it will stay that way. I spread the big towel I had wrapped around me on the tiled, shelf-like bench and lie down, covering myself with the other, much smaller towel. Steam begins to vent out of the walls.

  Clouds of warm, slightly eucalyptus-smelling mist engulf me as I undo my hair. The crown-like braid has been stiffened with hairspray, and it gets stickier and stickier as the steam dampens it. My fingers tangle in the mass of strands.

  “Damn.” The steam is now so thick I can’t see my hand in front of my face.

  The door opens—I can tell by the swirl of steam escaping, and turning my head, I can see a man’s muscular calves in the slightly thinner vapor close to the floor.

  I freeze, one hand tangled in my hair.

  “Anyone in here?” A familiar voice. Blood rushes to my face. My whole body tightens, my pulse hammering. What the heck? It’s Brandon.

  “Yes,” I squeak, in a high-pitched voice. He can’t know it’s me over here.

  “No worries, I’ll stay over here.” I see his
legs disappear as he lies down on the bench along the wall opposite me.

  My hand is still tangled in my hair. I have to enlist the other hand just to get it out of the mess, and let out an inadvertent yelp as I pull too hard.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I squeak, but I’m not fine. Seriously. I’m lying naked under a towel, with the man I lust for six feet away.

  I should leave my hair alone, but I can’t seem to. Part of my OCD, probably, but I’ve never been able to leave something messed up alone, be it a hangnail, a knot, or a dangling thread. I shut my eyes since I can’t see through the steam anyway, trying to breathe and relax, trying to undo the knots by feel.

  “I can hear you over there. Something’s wrong. Are you having a health emergency?” I can tell by the change in his voice that Brandon’s sitting up. “Want me to call the hotel staff? Do you need assistance?”

  Dear God, he thinks I’m a little old lady having a heart attack. Anything is better than that. “It’s me, Brandon. Jade.”

  “Jade? What’s the matter?” His voice goes tight with alarm. He slides off the bench. He’s approaching. One hand is stuck in my hair again but I plaster the towel tightly against me with the other.

  “I’m fine. Just having a little hair situation.”

  He emerges suddenly out of the gouts of steam like a djinn from a bottle, looming over me, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Is your hand stuck in your hair?” Brandon’s concerned expression changes to a wide grin. “That is a hair situation.”

  “The damn hairspray. The braid. The steam.” I finally untangle my hand, eyes stinging with frustrated tears. “This was supposed to be relaxing.”

  “Let me take a look.” He kneels beside my bench on the tile.

  I shut my eyes. I’m too mortified by the situation to do anything but cross my arms over my breasts to hold the towel down. His fingers reach gently into the tangles, and my heart beats so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

  Chapter 10

  Brandon

  Here I am, kneeling next to Jade with nothing on but a towel, hot steam billowing around me, trying to undo her messed-up braid.

  I came to the gym to avoid having to run into her! I stuck my head backstage on the way here and was just in time to see that slab of a guy pull her into his arms and kiss her—though to be fair, she took his hands off and pushed him away.

  Not that I have reason to care.

  “Ow,” she whispers, as I accidentally tug too hard.

  “This is really bad. I need better light.”

  “Never mind. I’ll just ask Alex to comb it out back at the room,” she says.

  I don’t like the idea of Alex being able to do something I can’t. Gay boys aren’t the only guys with hairdressing skills. I’ve helped models with hair and clothing malfunctions lots of times on shoots. I trained to be an engineer—this snarl is child’s play. I lean in, getting closer to see, sorting with both hands.

  Jade’s breath hitches, her arms tightening protectively over the towel.

  She’s not wearing anything under that towel. I can tell by the smooth swell of her breasts, the unbroken line of her belly, hips, and thighs disappearing into the steam. I have to press my hips against the cool tile of the bench as my groin reacts to this mental newsflash. I hope my towel is on tight enough to hold the erection down.

  Her body is amazing.

  Of course it is. She’s a professional dancer.

  Knots. Hair. I need to focus.

  I gently pull the tangled skeins loose, teasing them out of the twisted mass.

  Jade’s eyes are closed but she breathes quickly, her cheeks pink. Sweat beads up on her skin. The pulse in her throat beats frantically.

  A dove flew into my apartment window in Boston—it stunned itself and fell, landing on the fire escape. I opened the window, picked up the bird, and held it for a few minutes to make sure it was going to recover. Its tiny heart fluttered just like her pulse. Stunned. Vulnerable.

  I bend closer, my breath stirring the tiny hairs near her ear. “Almost got this bit here.”

  Goosebumps rise on her arms in spite of the heat. She’s trembling.

  “This must be so uncomfortable,” I whisper. “I’m almost done.”

  Her eyelids flutter, her lips quiver. They’re so pink and full, with a curl to them. Her lashes make spiky shadows. Tiny pearls of moisture collect in the hollow of her throat.

  I lift her hair gently out from under her neck and head, trailing its length down the tile as I draw my fingers through it, sorting the last of the tangles. I won’t do anything more to touch her, but I want to see if she’ll reach out to me.

  After she ran from me the other night, the next move has to be hers.

  All of her hair is hanging free now, a long stream down the side of the bench. I stiffen my fingers and rub her scalp in a gentle massage, and she moans in that breathy way she has. “Oh, Brandon. That feels so good.”

  “You worked hard today.” I lean close and say it against her lips. Her mouth opens for me; her head tips up. I almost give in and kiss her, but the next move has to be hers.

  Jade makes a tiny whimper of disappointment when I move away. She sits up suddenly. “Your turn.”

  She forgot to hold the towel on—and it falls to her waist. Her breasts are small, perfect rounds, scoops of vanilla ice cream with a pecan on top. My mouth actually waters gazing at them.

  She gasps, reaches for the towel—and glances at me. Sees that I’m frozen into immobility. Though her cheeks get pinker, she doesn’t cover up.

  “Your turn,” she repeats, deliberately.

  “For what?” I can barely speak, staring at the perfect line of her breasts. They form a triangle with her navel, a delicate shell shape set in a waist so small I could spread my fingers and reach from one side to the other.

  “For a massage.”

  This won’t compute. My groin is throbbing because I’m pressed so hard against the tile. “Massage? What?”

  “Your turn for a head massage, silly. Turn around and I’ll do you.”

  “There are so many places I want to go with that sentence,” I manage to say. She laughs. I hear delight in her voice, a sexual vibration. She’s enjoying her effect on me.

  I turn around, keeping my hands at my waist to hold my towel on, and sit with my back against the bench. There’s a rustle behind me as she sits up. Her legs slide down beside my torso to touch the floor on either side of me. My pulse pounds in my pelvis at the thought of her, naked, sitting behind me.

  Her thumbs drill into the tension at the back of my neck, and my head falls forward as I groan. “Oh. Don’t stop.”

  She laughs. Her strong little hands work my tight neck and shoulders and then back up to my head. Her fingers rub deep into my scalp, sending shivers ripping down my arms, raising the hairs on them—and then she leans forward and bites my neck.

  I jerk in surprise as she latches on, sucking the side of my neck like a hot little vampire. “Are you giving me a hickey?” I yelp.

  “Yes.” I can hear the smile in her answer even as it’s muffled by her lips on my skin. “You taste delicious. This spot right here is mine.”

  Okay. She made the first move.

  I spin around and grab her off the bench, pulling her onto my lap. She laughs, and then we’re kissing, just eating each other up. Wonderfully, her towel has fallen off entirely. I’m able to get my hand on one of those perfect breasts and roll her nipple between my fingers. She moans against my mouth. “Ohhhh.”

  I hold her close with one arm, putting her head against my shoulder, and with a bit of a wriggle, I can bend enough to get my mouth on that tender pink nipple. Talk about delicious.

  “Oh!” she cries. “Oh!”

  She’s so responsive. Everything I do seems to turn her on. Touching her is like playing an instrument that’s uniquely tuned to me. I explore her satiny skin with my mouth and hands. I can see more clearly that the automatic steam has turned off and begun to c
lear, and I give a happy grunt of satisfaction as I sit her back up on the edge of the bench and part her legs.

  “Oh my God!” Her face is flaming, her hands tug my hair, but I persist, prying her wide. I relish the sight before me, even as she tries to cover herself.

  “Just relax. I promise you’ll enjoy this,” I whisper.

  “Oh no—the germs...”

  “Germs are a beautiful part of life. I love germs.” I get down to business.

  Jade tastes like peaches. In fact, that’s the perfect analogy for her entire body—she has tender velvet skin, a delicate and easily bruised ripeness paired with abundant fragrance and flavor. I could explore her all day.

  It doesn’t take long for her to respond. She falls back on the bench. The sauna echoes with ecstatic whimpers as she finds release.

  I settle back on my heels, grinning in satisfaction at how she lies there limp, knees a-sprawl, hair damp and tumbled. She looks like a Titian painting. “Told you you’d like that.”

  Jade sits up. Her green eyes are almost black in the dim light, hazy with satiated desire. “I had no idea what that was like...”

  “That your first time?”

  “For anything.”

  She’s a virgin. That explains the fascinated, semi-horrified stare she’s giving my equipment now that my towel has fallen off. “Um—do you have a condom?” she asks with forced sophistication, pushing a handful of hair out of her face as she covers herself with one of the damp towels.

  “Not on me, no.” Definitely not going to have her first time be on hard tile in the sauna room of the gym. I’ll have to plan the whole thing so that it’s a truly memorable experience. I realize what I’m thinking and shake my head. This encounter was totally random…but now I’m going to take it to the next level?

  “It’s your turn. Get up on the bench,” she says.

  “It’s okay. That’s enough for tonight.” I reach for my towel.

  Jade frowns. “Oh no. You got me all crazy. Now I’m going to make you crazy, too.”