Goodbye my love
Goodbye my only friend
I want to reach through the screen and rub my thumb across her pouted lips.
I know this song is about me—about us.
Rolling my shoulders, I try to shake the past away. Peyton is getting married, and maybe making her dream a reality, can be my gift to her and the closure we both need.
Hitting play, I move on to the next contestant.
Next up is another contender, J.J. Reese, a good ol boy from Texas. He’s got a good deep voice; he’s the strongest male contender by far. It could be interesting to see him go head to head with Fancy in the end. I might be getting ahead of myself by putting the two of them in the front running so early on, but they feel so comfortable with their abilities. They have that spark about them.
Peyton has always stood out. Always had star quality even of the rest of the world couldn’t see it I could. I always knew. She never needed me. All she need was to believe in herself.
Moments later, I am joined by Harvey Grant and his people to talk potential judges. “Jameson, my boy, I have a list here of other artist chomping at the bits to get in on this show. Of course, I have the final say, but if there’s a name that sticks out to you, let me know. We need to sign the others on soon. I’d like to begin filming in time for fall sweeps. The plan is to do a few prerecorded shows, but once voting starts we are going live.” Harvey reaches me a list of names. He’s a gruff son of a bitch, a real tough old bird. Everything he touches is a hit so I have no doubts that the show will take off.
Harvey starts talking figures, budgets—things I don’t have a clue about and don’t need to worry about. I skim over the list of names. There are some fresh faces and some real pros. The show could use a good mix. “What are your thoughts on Jace Cyrus? He’s got some great connections and he’s been in the business for years.”
“We have been in talks with his manager. You’ve got a good sense to ya. Anyone else?” Harvey gives me a grunt of approval and lights up his cigar.
I look down the list again. One name in particular catches my eye but not in a good way. “Fucking she devil,” I mutter to myself, glossing over Viola’s name. Skimming further down the list, I find a good one. “What about Gwen Owens, she’s young, fresh and really popular right now.”
“I like the way you think. I’ll be in touch in a day or two. Oh, and I’m sure I don’t need to stress this, but no dating your costars, that goes for the contestants as well.” He laughs to himself as if he knows that he’s just challenged me to prove I can keep my dick in my pants.
“Yes, sir.” I smirk, as I make my way back to the elevator. He didn’t say anything about anyone else on the set. But my thoughts keeping going back to one voice, one face — Peyton.
Monica, perky tits number two steps into the elevator with me. Her perfume is a little strong but she’s still a looker. As soon as the elevator doors close, she rubs up against me like a kitty looking for a good scratch behind the ears. “I’m a huge fan, Mr. Lewis. I’d love to get your autograph.” She licks her lips and cocks her head to the side, giving me an invitation, as she slides a pen between her breasts.
“Um, sure,” I take a step back from her. I’m used to fans being forward, but I’m not used to such pushiness in this setting. She hits the emergency stop button, and the elevator comes to a halt. I let out a deep breath as she drops her dress to the floor. I’ll admit she is stunning, standing before me in her matching black lace bra and panties. “Aren’t there cameras in here?” I would hate to see her fired or better yet, security passing the tape around or it hitting the tabloids.
“This is Mr. Grant’s private elevator, no cameras.” She places a finger over my mouth and gives me a shush sound as she goes down on her knees. Tugging on my belt eagerly she says, “Here at Pure Country we aim to please, Mr. Lewis.”
Bending down I take her by her elbow and bring her back to standing. “Monica, I’m flattered, honestly. But this isn’t the time or place.” I reach around her and push the button, restarting the elevator. She appears wounded, but she will recover. I don’t need the problems that can arise with fucking the boss’s mistress. How do I know she fucks Harvey? Number one, she was wearing enough perfume to choke a horse — trying to cover the strong odor of cigar smoke. Number two, she was a little too comfortable getting down and dirty in the elevator.
Don’t get it twisted, I never turn down a good time, but even I have my limits. And hell, I’ve been known to be stupid, but even I’m not that dumb. And there's this nagging thought in the back of my mind that Peyton would be disappointed in me.
Sex has always come easy, it’s when feelings are involved you really get fucked.
I smile thinking about, my first time with Peyton. I had lied and told her that I had done it lots of times. I was an idiot and for some reason I thought that would impress her. It seemed to hurt her more than anything.
I was sixteen and she was fifteen.
We were kids and thought we were in love.
Maybe we were.
Flashback
“How long before anyone gets home?” I ask, my fingers roaming over Peyton’s stomach.
She chews on her lip thinking. “I th
ink we have another two hours before bingo ends.”
Her grandparents play a lot, but sometimes they come home early.
My palms are sweaty. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but I want to do it with Peyton.