Hollywood Princess (Hollywood Royalty 2)

“Then I’ll buy it, and you can pay me back.” He holds out his hand, waiting for me to fish out my ID. “I’ll put your ID in my wallet.” I huff, getting my wallet out and handing over my ID and my black AmEx card, but he hands it back to me.

I hold the card in my hand, and I might have pouted. “But.” He just shakes his head as he slides my ID in his wallet with his. He tucks his wallet into his back pocket, then grabs his own leather jacket and slips it on. Picking up his aviators, he slides them on, and I have to say he looks like he just got off the runway. How he isn’t a model, I have no idea.

He holds his hand out to me. “Let’s see what Chicago has to offer, Kellie.” His voice comes out smooth. I look up and can’t see his eyes, but I see the side smirk and place my hand in his while my own smile fills my face.

Chapter Sixteen

Brian

I’m going to make sure she sees everything in Chicago she wants to see. When she started watching Shameless, I got an idea to take her around Chicago, and I was going to run it by Cori, but when she pulled out and took another bus, leaving just the two of us, I knew I had the perfect time to do things.

“Let’s see what Chicago has to offer, Kellie.” I look at her, and a smile fills her face. Whatever happens, I want to make sure she can be just plain old Kellie today. I hold my hand out for her, and she places her hand in mine. The smoothness of her soft, delicate hand fits perfectly in mine. I pull her toward the door and walk to the elevator with our hands linked together. I press the elevator button down, the button lighting up, and my eyes go to our hands still together. I should let her hand go, but instead, I hold it a touch tighter, hoping she doesn’t notice, and when the elevator gets here, we walk in. A couple of people come into the elevator, all saying good morning, but no one recognizes her.

When we walk out of the lobby, the light wind hits us right away, and I turn left, going to our first stop. We walk down the street till we get to the light. “So tell me, what is one thing you have always wanted to see in Chicago that you haven’t?” We stand at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.

“A blues club.” She answers right away without even thinking about it. Just bam, out with it. “The smoky kind that they had back in the seventies.”

I throw my head back and laugh at her. “So not what I was expecting you to say.”

“Really?” She lets out a carefree laugh, and we walk across the street with the other pedestrians as we make our way to our first stop. “I mean, what is Chicago best known for?” I look at her as we walk side by side, facing the wind blowing at us, her long hair flowing back in the wind. “Wait a sec,” she says. Stopping, she lets go of my hand and reaches inside her jacket pocket. She takes out her sunglasses and puts them on. “That’s better,” she says, turning back. I’m not expecting her to grab my hand, but she does, and we continue walking down the street. “So a smoky blues club, sitting down and just letting the music flow through you.”

“Okay,” I tell her, thinking in my head where I could take her. There are two places off the top of my head I could possible swing.

“What about you?” she asks, looking over at me. “What is one thing you want to see in Chicago?”

“You smile.” The words come out before I can hold it back. They came out before I could stop them. But between the wind in her hair and her hand in mine, I just couldn’t stop it. She stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk, causing people to have to walk around us. “I mean …” I start saying, and I can’t see her eyes. I only see my reflection in her glasses. “What I meant was I want you to experience it without the other half of your life.”

She tilts her head to the side, and I wonder if maybe I should just stop talking. “I mean, I don’t want you to have a worry in the world today. I want you to be able to walk where you want to walk and do what you want to do.”

“I want that, too,” she says softly, and I look around as people look at us.

“We need to start walking, or people are going to recognize you,” I tell her, hopeful that it changes the way this is going. She doesn’t say much; she just turns, and we walk down the street, pointing out different things to each other. She shows me the store where she spent seven hours being fitted for a gown for the Oscars. “See that window over there?” I point at the highest window in the building in the corner. “I once was with a certain Hollywood Prince, and he spent four days on a sexcapade.”