The Princess and the Porn Star (18 page)

With Taylor’s disastrous history, critics have been skeptical about her comeback. Musically, she’s reclaimed her status as the princess of pop music, but skepticism remains about the longevity of her return to the stage.

“[Taylor] has so much talent and the potential to become one of the greatest musicians of the twenty-first century,” says
Wavelength Magazine
columnist Errol Daniels. “It’s heartbreaking to see her destructive personal life lay to waste that talent and potential.”

Famed producer Chris Merrit laments, “When [Taylor] first appeared on the scene as a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old with an amazing voice, she was compared to Whitney Houston and Amy Winehouse. I do hope the comparison ends with the music, but more and more, I fear she’ll follow in both their footsteps.”

Though the pop star hasn’t yet shown signs of renewed involvement with substance abuse, those around her worry it’s only a matter of time, especially if the rumors—and photos—of a fling with the adult film actor are confirmed.

Taylor was seen leaving Buck Harder’s Los Angeles condo just before nine yesterday morning, keeping her head down and refusing to acknowledge photographers as she got into an unidentified vehicle. Harder, star of such numerous pornographic films such as
Skanks & Scrubs II, Nasty Cheerleaders II & IV
, and
Buck’s Bitches
, emerged from the condo an hour later, attempting to stay incognito in a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. It’s not clear when the pair arrived at Harder’s residence.

Representatives for either party could not be reached for comment.

Sighing, Lee set his phone down on his kitchen counter. “So much for keeping it on the down-low.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not your fault.” He took my hand. “Neither of us had any idea there were photographers hanging around outside.”

I blew out a breath. “Any move we make from this point on, the media piranhas are going to be there to sink their teeth in.” I gestured outside. “They’re probably swarming as we speak.”

He ran his hand back and forth along the back of mine. “You have more at stake than I do. Tell me what you want to do.”

I avoided his eyes. “What I want to do and what I should do aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

“Either way,” he said, his voice gentle, “it’s up to you. Whatever you want to do.”

What did I want to do? Looking into those beautiful green eyes and listening to my heart beat the way it did only when I was around him, it was easy. I wanted to be with him. See where this could go. Find out if this spark between us would amount to anything outside the bedroom.

Except he was a porn star. And I was touring. And my record label was breathing down my neck. And that should have made the decision easy too—we were absolutely
not
doing this.

I met his eyes again. Nothing easy about this.

I took a deep breath. “The label’s putting a lot of pressure on me. Especially after the video didn’t go over as well as they thought.”

“Can’t imagine what they thought the public would think of it.”

“Right?” I sighed. “So with all the changes they’re making to my image, and as much as they’re losing their shit over this”—I gestured at his phone—“I don’t imagine we can… I just don’t see how… God, Lee, I am so sorry about—”

“Rachel.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. “This isn’t your fault. And I understand.”

“You do?”

Lee nodded. “You’re living in a fishbowl, and your livelihood depends on keeping everyone looking in happy, and if dancing with me in a video didn’t keep them happy, you and I both knew dating me wouldn’t go over well.”

I managed a grin in spite of my disappointment. “Not even if it’s fun?”

He laughed. “Not even if it’s fun.” His humor didn’t last long, and he squeezed my hand. “I think we both know what has to happen.”

My shoulders dropped. “I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

He cupped my face tenderly and kissed my cheek. “It’s better we do this now, anyway. Before feelings get involved.”

“So, no hard feelings?”

He shook his head. “None.”

I blew out a breath. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He touched my face. “Our careers are what they are, and sometimes we have to roll with it.” He lifted my chin with his fingers. “And you can always hit me up on the Xbox if you want to blow off some steam.”

I laughed halfheartedly. “I might take you up on that.”

“Well, either way.” He smiled and caressed my cheek. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“Yeah, it was.” I give him a coquettish grin. “Any objections to one more for the road?”

Lee pulled me into his arms. “Absolutely not.”

“Didn’t think so.”

OLIVIA TAYLOR IS BACK!—What’s a Little Music Video Controversy When Your Tour is Sold Out in 87 Cities?

Looks like Olivia Taylor is putting her music video scandal behind her.

“Back At You”
remains the number one single on the Billboard charts for six consecutive weeks, while her surprise comeback album,
Battle Cry
, is expected to go gold well ahead of original predictions. As she charges into the second week of her
Battle Cry
tour, 87 of 120 remaining tour stops are already sold out, and tickets are selling rapidly for the remaining cities. Additional dates are being added to keep up with demand. Risen Star Records declined to confirm, but rumor has it Taylor plans to head to Europe to promote the album as well.

In response to the controversial music video’s widely negative reception, Taylor’s entire tour is said to have undergone a major last-minute facelift. Provocative dance numbers were apparently toned down. Costume designers in Los Angeles confirm expedited orders from tour producers for “more conservative apparel” for Taylor and her fleet of backup dancers and musicians.

“There definitely won’t be as much skin on stage as there was in the video,” says one of Taylor’s dancers. “It’s still sexy but not quite as sexual, if that makes sense.”

The sudden image shift comes as no surprise, especially on the heels of rumors of a tryst between Taylor and her “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet” co-star, adult-film actor Buck Harder. The pop star and those around her steadfastly decline any kind of romantic involvement, and the two have not been seen together since the morning Taylor was spotted leaving the porn star’s LA condo shortly after the album and video were released.

“There is absolutely nothing going on between [Harder] and Olivia,” says an unnamed source close to Taylor. “They looked hot on camera, but they are not together.”

Taylor herself told
Carson and Baxter in the Morning
, “He’s a nice guy, and we did spend some time together after the shoot. We’re not dating, though.” Laughing, she added, “I think my mother would kill me.”

The adult film star did not return calls or e-mails when asked to comment. Taylor and Harder have not been seen together since Taylor was spotted leaving Harder’s residence.

Taylor’s nearly sold-out Battle Cry tour continues this Friday in Richmond.

I rubbed my eyes and sighed into the silence of my otherwise empty tour bus. The article should have brought a smile to my face. Risen Star had taken a huge gamble signing me again, and that gamble was paying off. Maybe I really could do this again.

But here in the silence of the bus, ears still ringing from tonight’s show, I couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm. Even the post-concert adrenaline rush couldn’t keep my spirits up after reading that article. It didn’t help knowing that for the foreseeable future, every article, no matter how positive, would be tainted with snide comments about Lee and me. It was infuriating to begin with, but it was also frustrating because it reminded me of him. It reminded me of every night I’d spent alone since “one more for the road”.

Guilt had been eating at me for the past few weeks. Lee had to understand, right? He knew what this business was like, and he’d said himself we didn’t have much choice. Still, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d used him. Just a few hot nights, and then,
See ya, I have a career to run
.

I grimaced at my own thought. That hadn’t been my intention. Not at all. But we both knew I’d worked my ass off to get back into Risen Star’s good graces, and even spectacular ticket and album sales didn’t give me the right to stop walking on eggshells. Not yet.

Besides, what was the point? I wasn’t going to get into a relationship with a porn star. That, and a casual sexual relationship was fine and good, except it was kind of pointless when I was away more than I was home. Not to mention when the press was lurking in the background, waiting for an incriminating shot. It was like being a paranoid teenager listening for her parents to come home before she and her boyfriend finished; the clandestine crap got old fast and could be a hell of a mood killer.

I sat on the edge of the bed, then lay back across it. My muscles ached and my joints throbbed. Business as usual after a show. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Kind of like the feeling that followed a vigorous workout: a good pain that said
I did something
.

It wasn’t unpleasant, that was, with the notable exception of my ankle. Red-hot razor blades burrowed into the joint, and every muscle and tendon was on fire. I’d taken off my shoes the instant I was back at my tour bus over an hour ago, and I had taken a few anti-inflammatories, but the pain hadn’t receded much.

Then I remembered the topical Lee had given me. I dug it out of my toiletry bag and sat on the bed again to put it on.

The smell was a pungent combination of herbal and medicinal. Even a bit minty, which must have come from whatever ingredient made the ointment so cold.

And all it took was one whiff of it to send me right back to my dressing room. Right back to sitting in a metal folding chair, constricted by tight leather with an ankle in three times the agony it was now. Right back to my heart beating faster every time Lee looked up from smoothing the cool substance on my skin.

I tried to mimic the way he’d rubbed my ankle, following the contours of bone and muscle exactly the way he did. It wasn’t the same, though. It relieved the pain, but it intensified another ache that didn’t want to be ignored.

Between the scent and the coolness and the motions of my hands, memories flooded my mind. A silent movie played in my head, blood pounding in my ears as I saw Lee, leather-clad Lee, focusing on my foot. Looking up at me. Laughing at something one of us had said. I pulled in a deep breath through my nose, and the ointment’s scent made the silent movie’s colors richer. More vivid. More real.

I screwed the lid back on the jar. The scent faded, as did the pain in my foot, but the memories didn’t.

I didn’t get it. What was it about him that kept me tripping over my own feet? It had been weeks since I’d seen him, and time hadn’t even begun to take the edge off.

God. I’d dated rock stars, for crying out loud. The kind of charismatic men who made pyrotechnics dull by comparison and could bring a hundred thousand screaming people to their feet. I’d always been drawn to that kind of man. Always.

Lee didn’t have that same charisma. What he had was a subtle but unmistakable magnetism. An aura that quietly drew my attention, held it and wouldn’t let go.

And tonight, he still hadn’t let go. Twenty-five hundred miles away, weeks after the last time we were in the same room, he still had a hold on me.

Everything that man did was sexy. Of course it was. He was paid to be sexy, but they didn’t hire him off the street and teach him to be that way. A presence like that wasn’t something a person could learn. Maybe someone had taught him to do that thing with his mouth, and maybe he’d learned somewhere how to tilt a woman’s hips just right to hit… Oh, God, just the thought of that made me shiver. Yeah, that kind of thing, he could have picked up along the way.

But that air about him? The way he gave off a sexual charge even when he was still and silent? That was all him.

I opened my eyes and let my gaze drift toward the cabinet currently closed over the television. The television, and my Xbox. Gnawing my lip, I glanced at the controller and headset on the tiny counter that served as a bedside table.

Oh, what the hell? I put in the game and, once everything had booted up, scrolled through all my gamer friends—only three or four of whom knew who I really was—to one name in particular.

Bucktacular1
.

He was online. Possibly already in a game, but online. That was a start.

I highlighted his name.

Press A to Invite.

My thumb hovered over the button.

Then I tapped it, and held my breath as the message flashed onto the screen:

Waiting for Bucktacular1 to respond.

No response.

Another minute or so.

Still nothing.

I let a few minutes pass, all the while staring at the screen like I could will him to respond.

Nothing. He didn’t decline, but he didn’t accept either.