Fiona Love (4 page)

C
hapter three

“So, what about this part?” Netty asked.

Fiona was up to her neck in hot water and lather so thick globs of it hung suspended from her finger. She usually bathed in plain, warm water, but Sugar had found some all-natural shit on the Internet that smelled deliciously of figs and didn’t irritate
her skin or nether regions so she was indulging.

Daney had finally gone home,
and boo, everyone swooped down on her like a gaggle of screeching geese. Her boy Natty was bugging her to come into the studio to listen to something he was working on. He didn’t fool her. They hadn’t said more than Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas in almost two years. Suddenly he wanted her opinion about music? He wanted her to sing, and since her throat was fucked up, she felt like making him wait. Plus, Cleo, as bad as she was at doing what she was told, had ignored her cousin’s vacation edict and scheduled a bunch of meetings.

“I’m tryna earn me a
commission,” she said when Fiona griped.

Annoying as she frequently was, m
aking her cousin her manager had been one of the best things she’d ever done. Since Cleo had stepped into the role she’d made more money and enjoyed more success than ever before in her career. She even looked better – thanks to ceaseless nagging, waist watching, and endless on pampering – and she was busier than ever, regularly had her privacy made mockery of and had become a household name.

It all happened quick too. After years of working her ass off and just doing pretty good, of scrapping and taking shit left and right to get the breaks others were handed like candy, suddenly everyone wanted a piece. The still seductive rush of pow
er that came with celebrity had her feeling ballsy enough to demand this time off. She’d even made some admittedly vague plans to do yoga, maybe plan a couple of in country trips – Savannah looked cool thanks to the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil – but apparently it was over. Everyone was insisting that she work on vacation.

“You guys are assholes,” Fiona
said. “I haven’t decided yet. It’s a hot little part, but there’s not too much to it. I’m mostly arm fluff until the end, then I have two back-to-back great scenes.”

“Kiss?”
Netty asked.

“Of course. I’m a vamp.
A supporting vamp, but a vamp.”

“Bells and whistles?”

“Trainer and trailer. Not the big one I had last rip, though.”

“Still won’t be bad.”

“Nope. It’ll be catered, special diet a la nutritionist.”

“Yeah?” Netty laughed.

“A month in New York. You know how neurotic they are. Everyone’s Woody fuckin’ Allen. But they’re putting me up in a Manhattan apartment. A big one. Right, Cleo?”

“Huge,” Cleo agreed, and Netty turned to find the tiny
, kimono-covered beauty lounging in the doorway. “Apparently it’s on the Upper East Side, and we are just going to absolutely love it,” she said slipping into a deadly accurate New Yawk imitation of a woman from the production company. “But you two share a bathroom.”

“Oh, man,” Netty said, thinking of
Sugar’s zillion beauty bottles with disgust.

“A
nd a bedroom,” Cleo added.

“Bull shit,” Netty said.

“I haven’t accepted yet,” Fiona soothed. As the water ran out of the tub she motioned for Netty to hand her the bright pink pot she used to bathe with. She ran more hot water and squatted to test it before she gave herself a last rinse.

“
But you’re going to,” Cleo said. “This director is not to be missed, and I have a feeling this script is gonna do a sweep at the festivals next year.” She laughed at Netty’s expression. “Come on, girl! Take one for the team! It’s a huge airy white loft space. You’ll love it.”

“New York
, huh? We could probably pick up some interesting stuff for the house, and there are a few shops I’d like to check out,” Netty said.

“It’s not a lot of money.” Fiona put in,
patting her skin dry.

Cleo snorted. “
Small, independent film. That’s why they’re doing all that other shit for you. The producer’s called in every favor he owns in three burroughs. I’m gonna call and give ‘em the good word.”

Someone came in the front door. Everyone but Fiona padded from the bath to investigate and found Sugar struggling wi
th stuffed brown paper bags from her monthly pilgrimage to the apothecary. She managed to dump everything on the counter and chuff dramatically.

“Peace,
” she lisped.

“Peace.”

“What’s all this shit?” Andrea wanted to know.

Sugar eyed her and turned to Netty. “They finally got
the right cocoa butter sticks.”

“
What?” Andrea said.

“Look at this,” Sugar said to distract her. She wasn’t about to launch into yet another discussion of black hair or skin care. What Andrea didn’t know could fill an encyclopedia. She spread out People magazine and held up a picture of her new boss. “She’s wearing faded, raggedy ass blue jeans and a wife beater, yet every eye is on her walking d
own, what is this? Oak Street?”

“Yeah, that was a couple days ago. We got facials at Claudia’s. And that’s not a wife beater. It’s a cashmere tank top that I ordered off the
Internet,” Netty said.

“Where was I?” Sugar wanted to know
. Facials were part of her job.

“Last-minute decision,” Cleo told her, appearing briefly to show Netty a slip of paper. Netty nodded at whatever she saw, and Cleo told Sugar, “Don
’t trip,” as she left the room.

“Nice. She looks like she doesn’t even notice
the paparazzi.” Andrea said approvingly, though she’d seen the piece the minute it came out.

Sugar shook her head. “It’s that
star quality some people have.”

“You are such a fuckin’ fan. It’s not sta
r quality. She seduces people.”

“Even women?” Sug
ar looked at Netty skeptically.

“Especially women. Look at her and Cleo work it together sometime. It’ll scare you. Shit
. Look at her and Cleo period.”

Sugar looked shocked. “Cleo’s her cousin.”

Netty snorted. “She’s also her co-dependent, can’t live without a constant cycle of manipulation manager. If Cleo had been born a man? Fiona would have fucked him. Cousin or not.”

“Th
at is so nasty,” Sugar laughed.

“But it’s true
. Don’t sleep. Cleo’s like our in case of emergency Fiona fire blanket.”

“What are you talking about?” Fiona asked, appearing like a genie in an eye-catching robe
of black, green and blue silk.

“That’s a pretty gown.”

“It’s a robe.”

“Oh.”

Fiona ate one of Sugar’s salt ‘n’ sour potato chips, chewing slowly. She ate another one. “Telling secrets about me?”

“No. Sugar, take those away from her. It’s not snack time y
et,” Netty eyed Fiona narrowly.

Sugar obe
yed and laughed when Fiona threw up her hands in disgust. “We were just discussing your philosophy as it pertains to Daney’s sudden appearance on the scene.”

“This is a small ass town,” Fiona grumped. It had been a long time since breakfast. “You bump into every fuckin’ person from the scene every five minutes. You can’t escape it. If you sleep around, you’ll see those people over and over. I don’t, and I can still remember one night I had three dudes I’d fucked
over the span of like 12 years at the same party. And somehow, they all knew it! Thus, nowadays, you damn near have to be photographed in the paper holding my drawls before I even think about gettin’ down.”

Andrea laughed.
“You fucked Daney the first night you met.”

Fiona nodded, unashamed. “Models are different. You know that. Eve
ryone knows what that’s about.”

“What
?” Netty asked, though she knew very well.

“Sex.” Fiona said, undulating her hips gently as she spun in
a sultry, knee-dipping circle. “Did my lil’ creamsicle call?” she asked, poking her head into the fridge. She emerged with a bowl of potato salad.

“You can’t have that,” Cleo said, appearing just in time to take the bowl and replace it with a bag of salad. “Here. We’re on our way out to eat.” She said, when F
iona turned on her begging eyes.

“That’s hours away
. I’m starving! Just a little.”

“No. You can have a
nice dinner at the restaurant.”

“A little, come on.
I read bagged salad gives you gas.”

“No. I hear they specializ
e in healthy food preparation.”

“A tablespoon.”

“No.”

“A t
easpoon?”

“No! Eat the fuckin’ salad.”
She fetched a fancy bottle of flavored vinegar from a cabinet for the dressing and handed it to Netty.

“You’re such an ass.”

“Yeah. Probably. But I’m also the reason your fat ass isn’t bigger.”

Netty just laughed, but to appease a crabby Fiona when Cleo left she grated a little cheese over the romaine and stood guard while she snuck a
tablespoon full of potato salad.

******

It started as soon as he walked in the door.

“Dan
ey’s dating a little pop tart.”

“Buck,” Dane
warned. “Fuck off.”

Buck laughed as he followed his stripping brother into his bedroom. “Sensitive? From the man who buried us alive in this town so he could stay
close to his new chippy? You gonna date out of your race you better be prepared for a little teasing, kid.”

Dane looked up surprised. “You didn’t mention race. I was responding to the little pop tart remark.
She’s not little; she’s 5’9,” and she’s perfect. And she’s not a pop singer. I looked it up. She’s considered soul and R&B with a little bit of rock and roll,” he laughed. “And you call her a chippy again, I’ma crack open your head. We’re goin’ back to New York tomorrow.”

“What’s your problem?” he asked his manager who had come in from New York, ostensibly to monitor the appointment Dane w
as currently rushing to get to.

“D, Fiona’s a Grammy-winning recording artist and a fairly acc
omplished actress,” Paul began.

“Could you stop co-signing his shit for like five minutes?” Buck asked Dane’s manager of nine years.

“Hey, I’m on your side,” Paul said. “We just don’t want you to get distracted, D.”

“Bull
shit,” Dane laughed. “When has a woman ever kept me from making money? You’re just starting your perennial campaign to keep me single early because I spent the weekend out.”

Buck snorted, but Dane noticed his l
ittle brother didn’t deny it.

“Don’t fuck this up, Buck,” he warned, having laid out fresh clothes and shoes in preparation for his meeting in minutes thanks to years of quick changing. “I’m not kid
ding.”

S
omeone from the Chicago branch of his NY agency wanted to meet with him to say hello while he was in town. Apparently the New York people read the Chicago Tribune. Now that he’d paired up with Fiona Love they thought he was perfect for this, and might be a shoe-in for that. Why argue? He’d need some cash to squire his new lady around.

He lasered his brother with a g
reen-eyed glare. “I like her.”

Buck had run off more than one woman Dane had liked in the past few years. Run off wasn’t the right word. More like he orchestrated things so Daney saw them in a fucked up light and got turned off. He didn’t
want Buck anywhere near Fiona.

She was the most beautiful, sexually exciting woman he’d met in years. He’d spent the weekend making love to her every which way he could think of, had only been apart from her for a little over an hour, and was already suffering withdrawal. His dick refused to get all the way soft because she refused to get out of his head. Yet he was beyond sated. The phrase ‘well fucked’ came to mind. If he hadn’t had to work, he’d have been
snoring in her arms right now.

“Did yo
u find me a gym to go to here?”

Buck nodded, pouting the way he had since he was a toddler
not getting enough of his older brother’s attention.

Dane eyed his brother dispassionately. “You’ll meet her when I introduce you, and not before,” he told
them both, and went to shower.

******

“Fifi,” Fiona answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo boo.”

Dane grinned. He could he
ar Fiona smiling. “I miss you.”

“Yeah? It’s only been like
three hours since you saw me.”