Shameless Kisses: 3:AM Kisses 18 Read online

  My stomach wrenches at the thought of her doing those things alone.

  “Sounds good.” I’m okay with the lie so long as she answers the questions to my inquisition without realizing it. “Did you tell your friends you’re in town?”

  “Nope. I don’t have any friends in New York. Everyone’s off to college somewhere, and I don’t know anyone at Columbia. My dad is usually here, but he’s in Hong Kong on business, so it’ll just be me all by my lonesome.”

  The cab stops at the Howard Hotel at Midtown, and I help her out with her bag just as the cab pulls off.

  “You just lost your ride!” She belts out a laugh, but the look on her face suggests she actually feels sorry for me.

  “No worries. I’ll help you get settled.” I nod toward the building, and we head on in. It’s ritzy inside, and the air is cool and scented with Harley’s sweet perfume as I trail her with her bag and mine. A throng of people crowds the interior, and that alone isn’t anything to bat a lash at in New York, but it just so happens this crowd has a very particular look about them.

  Harley grimaces as she inspects the masses. “What in the fresh hell is happening here?”

  Standing before us is a thicket of nearly nude bodies, sky-high heels, big hair, glitter and latex galore, chaps for the men and lingerie for the women. There are more plastic parts on these girls than in FAO Schwarz—hell, in every toy store in the country combined.

  I spot a banner hanging over to our right and nudge Harley with my shoulder. “Looks as if the mystery is solved.”

  She sucks in a breath as she reads it. “Welcome to the porn fest yearly awards convention?”

  I lean in. “Don’t look now, but there are about six dudes who are seriously checking you out. Hey? I think you might score a gig before you ever leave for your big meeting.”

  She swats me on the chest. “That’s disgusting! I can’t stay here with all the debauchery going on. It’s going to spike my anxiety, and I’ll tank once I meet Ashley Grayson.”

  A small tremor of a laugh runs through me as she says my aunt’s name.

  Harley turns to me abruptly, those long lashes of hers batting up my way. “I’ll have to stay with you and your aunt.”

  “What? No way.” I’m enjoying this little charade for as long as I can. “She’s funny about company. How about this”—I scowl at the partially undressed masses—“I’ll book a room in the hotel, and I’ll be your bodyguard for the weekend. As long as my aunt has a quick bite with me today and tomorrow, she’ll be more than content with that.”

  “Fine.” She storms off to the customer service counter and quickly checks in. Once it’s my turn, I’m told there’s no room at the coital inn.

  “What?” Harley squawks as if they just told her there was no hope of scoring a manicure in this lifetime. “You can’t possibly have every room booked. This is a hotel. Having an available room is what you do.”

  The redheaded man taking the brunt of Harley’s rage blinks over at her. “I realize that. But large blocks of the hotel were reserved months ago for a private event. And in addition to those attending the convention, their fans have come out of the woodwork.”

  “Eww.” She turns my way, her face clearly distressed by this latest lewd tidbit. “They have fans,” she mouths the words, and I struggle not to laugh.

  The redhead lifts a finger. “Your room comes with twin double beds. Your friend can always bunk with you.”

  I lift a brow her way. “It’s your call, Kitten. I’m game for whatever.” My heart thumps wildly as if it weren’t capable of playing it nearly as cool as I sound. I don’t think my heart has drummed against my chest this hard for a girl since—since Lauren. And that right there is a mood killer. But if I’ve learned anything from my tumultuous past, it’s to compartmentalize my feelings.

  “Fine.” She snags her keycard off the desk, and we’re off.

  We dump our bags in the room, and Harley takes a moment to reapply her lip-gloss and shake out her wild dark mane.

  “Those beds are awfully close together.” I can’t help but tease her.

  She turns my way, looking every bit like walking, talking perfection.

  “If you so much as burp, snore, or pass gas in the night, I’m making you sleep in the hall.”

  “Same goes for you, Kitten.” A crooked grin breaks loose on my face, and she lets out an exasperated huff.

  “Ground rules. If I’m going to let you ogle me while I sleep, the least you can do is gift me a better nickname. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no kitten. I happen to have a little bite to me.”

  I close my eyes a moment, trying to come up with the perfect moniker for this spicy minx. “Angel.” I can’t help but frown at that one, and she frowns right back.

  Those golden eyes narrow in on mine. “Try again.”

  “Demon.”

  “Ha! I’m scarier than that, and you know it.”

  “You got me there. How about Snowflake? Since every time you turn around I seem to offend you.”

  She considers it a moment. “I’ll take it.”

  “I’m not calling you Snowflake. I refuse to insult you each time I see you. You’re a kitten and I’m sticking to it.”

  She clucks her tongue, her pink lips set in a perfect pout. “Kittens are docile, vulnerable, and all they do is sleep.”

  “Clearly you have never had a cat. Kittens are rambunctious, on the defense, and all they live to do is claw your eyes out.”

  She snaps her purse up off the bed. “Ooh, I think I do like that.” She gives a quick wink. “I’m off to Garden Towers.”

  “Cool. My aunt works right around there. We’ll go together, Kitten.”

  Harley lifts her brows and grins. “I’m a girl who likes to get her way, Gates. Even if it means making your idea mine.”

  “That’s okay. I like a girl who cares enough to keep me on my toes. Remind me to stay one step ahead of you.”

  “We both know that’s impossible.”

  I have a feeling she’s right.

  * * *

  Garden Towers, twenty-first floor, is exactly where my aunt has her office. I tag along with Harley, and she’s chattering a mile a minute on the elevator ride up, I seriously doubt she realizes I’m following her.

  “Wish me luck.” Her voice trembles as the elevator spits us out to Global Media Management and Talent Agency.

  “Good luck, Kitten.” A wry smile comes and goes. “You’re going to slay it.”

  She sucks in her bottom lip a moment, her eyes expanding twice their size.

  “Thank you, Eli. It means a lot that you believe in me.” She wraps her arms around me abruptly, and her chest presses against my own, soft, far too soft for any part of me to ignore. “Not many people do. This is my one thing that scares me for the day and, believe you me, I’m terrified.”

  She takes off, and I let the secretary, a girl about my age named Sandy, know that I’d like to see my aunt after her next appointment, and she jots it down with a smile before letting me know she’s been waiting to hear from me all day.

  About forty minutes later, Harley bounces out, surprised to see me, but she goes with it.

  “It was fabulous!” She lunges over me, and I spin her just to keep from falling over myself.

  “That’s great. I knew you’d kill it. So did she take you on?”

  She gives a frenetic nod, and her dark hair vibrates along with her. “She said to come back next weekend. She has a top-secret ad campaign that she knows I’ll be perfect for!”

  “That’s amazing. I guess you have another trip to the city coming right up.”

  She pulls out her phone and checks it. “Correction, Gates, we have another trip to the city. Harper isn’t letting me come alone. Besides, you’ll be able to spend more time with your aunt. It’s a win-win! I gotta run downstairs. There’s a cold call audition that’s thankfully in the same building.”

  “Cool. I think I’ll head to the restroom.”

  “I’ll
text you when I’m done!” She dives into the nearest open elevator and waves as it swallows her whole.

  Sandy nods me in, and my aunt meets me outside of her office with a giant bear hug. That’s always been her signature hello, and I’ve always appreciated it.

  We head into her office, and I take a seat, still warm from Harley. The scent of her sugar sweet perfume greets me like an old friend.

  My aunt is a tall redhead with a smile as big as her face. She looks every bit like my father, sans the hair, but judging from her roots, she shares my father’s dark locks.

  “That was one hot chick who just left your office.” I can’t help but shed a wide grin. I’m about to have a little fun with my aunt, and I don’t mind a bit.

  “Are you kidding?” She puts on a pair of readers with narrow dark frames. “That girl is a walking goldmine.” She thumps her finger over a bright blue file marked J.B. “I’ve got a job for her next weekend that would make every other model in the city fall to their knees just to beg me to have it. Joel Barber, the new boy wonder every girl under thirty is drooling after, is putting out a line of perfume. He’s asked for a beautiful brunette, and he’s getting more than he bargained for. That girl”—she flashes an eight-by-ten glossy of Harley’s face my way with her bio attached to the back—“she’s about to kiss a pop star in Times Square for at least eight hours straight. They’re both so adorable they’ll probably fall madly in love.”

  “It takes eight hours to film a commercial?” The thought of Harley making out with Joel freaking Barber for eight hours straight makes my blood boil. That kid is probably riddled with diseases. I’ve seen his videos. He’s got girls crawling all over his junk. No thanks.

  “We’re doing print, too. But it could go all day. Eight hours would be a dream. We’re most likely looking at ten. And I have a feeling once Joel gets a look at this girl, he’ll want to kiss her for a lot longer than a day. It’ll be cold, though. I hope she won’t mind the chill.”

  “So, minimal clothing, I’m assuming?” I can’t help but glare at my aunt a moment.

  “Less than that.”

  “Like in their underwear?”

  “Oh heavens no. We film nude. We do the hand bra thing to conceal her up top, but that’s about it.”

  “Hand bra?”

  “You know…” She lifts her hands and covers her chest. “With his hands, of course.”

  Crap.

  “His hands, huh? Wow, Joel Barber just got a little bit luckier.” There is no way in hell that dude is holding Harley’s tits for ten hours while shoving his tongue down her throat. One of us will be dead before that happens, and I’m betting it’ll be him.

  I note another blue file sitting at the edge of her desk marked E.Z.

  “What’s that one for?” I nod over to it, and she wrinkles her nose at it.

  “Easy Go. It’s a commercial for constipation. It’s good money, but a lot of the newbies I deal with reject it. They think solid work will actually end their careers. I’m giving it to one of my regulars. She really knows what side her bread is buttered on. In fact, I’m giving her an entire package of undesirables. Trust me, Olga Kerchoski does not mind. New York is a pleasure palace compared to the desolate village she’s from in Russia. And as a reward, once she’s finished with the constipation, vaginal itch, and deodorant ad trio, I’ll reward her with my next big job. That, my friend, is how you work your way up in this business.”

  Harley’s ruthless grin bounces through my mind. “Sounds like the golden girl didn’t have to work her way up.”

  Aunt Ashley laughs, a hearty belly laugh that reminds me a lot of my father and makes me miss him all the more.

  “Believe me, Eli. The golden girl will eventually pay her dues. It’s not all Joel Barber and Times Square. Eventually, they all have to sit on the toilet.”

  We wrap up our reunion before her next appointment is due, and she picks up the files just as the next girl walks through the door.

  “Ooh.” She shoves the files my way. “Would you mind giving these to Sandy out front? Hey? Maybe we can do dinner with your friend?”

  “Not tonight. But I’ll be back next weekend. How about we do it then?”

  “I can’t wait.” She catches my gaze and holds it there. “And Eli, if he tries to get in touch with you, don’t close the door this time.”

  I let her words swirl around the room for a moment. “We’ll see.”

  But we won’t see. I’m all for closed doors when it comes to the right people. Or in this case, the wrong people. I make my way in the hall and stare down at the files. The thought of Harley kissing anyone in the nude for ten hours makes me want to blow a hole through the wall. Without thinking, I pull out her bio and switch it with Olga’s. Good old Olga is going to have the time of her life next weekend. And Harley? Well, she might want to add some roughage to her diet. I have a feeling this news isn’t going to sit well with my new little kitten.

  I shed a wide grin as I drop the files off at the front desk and don’t look back.

  Full of It

  Harley

  A week flies by, and Eli and I find ourselves right back at the Howard Hotel, sans the porn convention. Every dicey individual has been replaced with a dignified yet somewhat boring and unassuming dentist as evidenced by the new convention signage. But I’ll take boring and unassuming any day of the week in lieu of talks of kneepads and rim jobs. Yuck and yuck. I’m not a prude, but I certainly don’t want to hear what you had for dinner—especially if it’s another person.

  Eli and I take a cab to Acosta Studios just below Midtown.

  “What are you going to do today?” I gently nudge his foot with mine. “You seeing your aunt for lunch?”

  “She’s working.” He glances out the window at the buildings engulfing us from every side. “I thought I’d check out the neighborhood and find myself a decent pizza while you film. I’ll stay in the area in the event this commercial you’re filming morphs into a porn flick. Keep your phone handy.”

  “Very funny. But Ashley Grayson would never book me for smut. She’s a class act all the way. Word on the street is she has an entire campaign booked with Joel Barber. Joel effing Barber!” I jump in my seat just as the cab stops abruptly. Eli pays up before I can get it, and we tumble out into the brisk fall air, the grimy scent of the city warming my nostrils. “This is it.” I stare up at the seemingly endless tower ahead of us. “Why don’t you come in? That way you can rest assured I’ll be shooting something clean and wholesome.”

  “Sounds good.” We head inside and take the elevator up. “So what are you shooting today, Kitten?” His lips twist in that obnoxious way only his can. Eli definitely has an arrogance about him as if he had all the answers—as if he already knew what I would be filming.

  “I don’t know. It said sundry. The info said I’d only have to memorize one line and that they’d give it to me once I got there. And newsflash, I’m not freaking out, so I’ll have to find something else that scares me to check off my Eleanor Roosevelt checkbox for the day.”

  “Maybe it will be kissing Joel Barber.” His chest bounces with a laugh. “You never know. You could end up kissing him in the nude for ten hours. That’s enough to scare anyone.”

  “Please, that would be heaven on earth.” The elevator dumps us out, and we quickly make our way to the back where I head off to hair and makeup. But instead of glamming me to new heights, the makeup is kept to a minimal, and my hair is brushed back into a ponytail. I’m given jeans and a flannel to put on before I meet with the director.

  A man with a goatee who looks to be in his thirties steps up and hands me a script. The studio is filled with young girls and guys about my age, and I can’t help but note it looks as if a frat party is about to break out.

  “This looks like it’s going to be fun!” I laugh as I introduce myself. “Harley Shelton.”

  “Harley”—the director looks to his notes—“ah, yes. You’re the lead! Congratulations. We’ll start in five.
” He takes a step away before backtracking. “And it’s refreshing to see a lead with this kind of role have such a great attitude.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m thankful for whatever Ashley Grayson books for me.”

  “You’re a dream to work with. I can tell we’ll get along already. Let’s do the walk-through.” He claps his hands, and the crowd congregates to the set. “Walk-through!”

  I glance down at the script. LEAD: Why am I always so constipated?

  “What the heck?” I give a quick glance around at the party scene breaking out on the tiny stage made out to look like a dance floor. Next to it is a brightly lit room with a pink bath rug, a faux sink, and a—

  “Holy crap.”

  A toilet.

  A strong, some might say aggressive, woman by the name of Nicole walks me through the door before briskly tossing me out into the faux party.

  “Now you say your line,” she barks.

  “Oh—” I give a nervous glance at the crowd before scanning the periphery and, sure enough, Eli offers an obnoxious smile my way. Shoot me. “Um”—I clear my throat—“why am I always so constipated?” I say it below a whisper, and my cheeks burn with heat.

  The man with the goatee pretends to slit his throat. “You gotta project your voice, honey. Make sure everyone in the back of the studio can hear you. You’ll be miced up in a second, but the music will be playing, and as soon as you shout out your line, the music stops abruptly, then everyone at the party will turn to stare.” He waves at the crowd. “You hear that? You stare at this girl right here. Then we’ll hit the toilet scene.”

  “Toilet scene?” I turn to burly Nicole as I shudder in fear. “You don’t mean—”

  She lets out a maniacal laugh. “That’s right, toots. You’ll squat in the next room. Your pants will have to come down, but you can keep your panties on. No lines, just act like you’re pushing one out.”