The Redemption (7 page)

Suddenly I have a bare midriff with a temporary tattoo of gold hearts circling her belly button pressing against my shoulder as one of the girls pushes in. She’s trying to get closer to Dex… as if I’m not even here. When I turn, my head jerks back. I get more than an eyeful of breasts because of her low cut shirt. I lean closer to Dex to get away from her, but she presses in even more.

Jealousy wells up inside and I shake my head, trying to rid myself of it. It’s ridiculous I feel anything remotely close to that emotion when it comes to him. This is Dex. He’s a free man. Our flirtations were harmless, just hanging out like we have for years. Then I realize we haven’t really hung out like this before. Sure, we’ve partied many times in the same group of friends and I’ve gone out a million times with the band, but this is different. This is me hanging out with Dex specifically… and Lara and Tommy, of course, but I know deep down I wanted to spend time with Dex.

Lara taps my shoulder. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

We slip out of the booth and with the girl vying for Dex’s attention, I’m not even sure he notices we’re leaving, which bothers me.
Ugh.
I follow Lara to the restroom where girls line the hallway, waiting impatiently.

“What’s going on?” she asks. “You seem upset.”

I lie. “I’m not upset.”

She looks at me and then bursts out laughing. “So that girl hanging on Dex’s every breath doesn’t bother you at all?”

Tweaking my lips to the side, I say, “Nope.”

We move up a few spots in line. “Okay, keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll start to believe it.”

“I’m not lying to myself. Dex is Dex. I’ve known him for years and he’s definitely not someone I should get involved with.”

She stands on her tiptoes and looks ahead. Only two more people until we’re at the front of the line. When she spins around, she says, “Look, you mention him all faux-casual while shopping the other day. Now we’re here with him tonight. I saw how you watched him during the show and how he looked at you backstage. If you guys aren’t attracted to each other, then I have no idea what’s going on. But if you ask me, you have feelings for him. I know you feel guilty for having them, but your heart doesn’t feel guilt. That’s all in your head. You aren’t doing anything wrong. If anything, you’re doing what’s right.”

“So follow my heart?”

Shrugging, she says, “Beats letting the guilt win.”

The line moves and my boldness peaks. “You’re right. I may regret this in the morning, but I’m ready to see if there’s more between us.”

“He’s also damn sexy. You were right. That haircut is making him even more irresistible.”

When we walk out of the bathroom, I’m feeling determined. The only thing that holds me back, stopping me in my tracks is the girl who has slid into the booth next to him taking my spot. She’s so close with her arm around the back of him, and I detour, letting Lara return without me. I stop behind a column and peek back, not spying, just checking to see if it’s safe to return. Lara’s looking for me and Dex downs his drink.

“Couldn’t hide his stripes for long.” Chad is next to me, both of us watching Dex from afar. “Dex may not be snorting his fortune anymore, but he’s still the same guy, Rochelle.”

“Not now, Chad,” I say, starting to walk away.

He stops me, by taking my hand in his. “Hey, I know you’ve had a hard time the last few years, but Dex isn’t the answer. He’s the problem. You deserve better—”

Rolling my eyes, I retort, “You mean someone like you?”

He laughs. “I’m not perfect, but at least you know what you’re getting with me.”

His arrogance is getting on my nerves, but his cockiness still fascinates me equally. “And what is that exactly?”

Rubbing his chest with pride, he says, “The rumors are true.”

“The rumors? And which rumors would those be?”

“I’m the best fuck in Hollywood—”

“What did you just say, Spears?” Dex startles us, his body hard against my back, his breathing jagged.

Chad stands, his ego making him brave. “Fuck off, Caggiano. Go back to your whores and hookers. The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation here.”

“You’ve always been such a fucking prick, but now you’re just a sad asshole too.”

“This sad asshole gets more pussy than you can dream of.”

Dex looks at me and if I’m not mistaken, I see disappointment residing there. “C’mon, Rochelle. I’m ready to leave.”

Taking my own stance on the matter, I say, “Maybe I’m not.”

His eyes narrow on me, puzzled. “You want to stay here with him?”

“Beats being the third wheel over there.”

My words shake him, taking him aback like a slap across the face. He leans down, eye-to-eye with me. “You could never be a third wheel. Not to me.” My breath catches from his intensity and he adds, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I reply, believing the truth I see in his eyes.

“I will always treat you how you deserve.” With promises swirling around us, Chad and the other girl are forgotten and our own world seems to form. “I want you to come with me,” Dex says, sincerity on his face and heard in his words.

I take his hand and we leave together not knowing where this will lead to, but knowing that right now, tonight, this is right.

Dex puts two fingers in his mouth and blows, hailing a cab.

“You sure are good at that considering you’re a Cali kid,” I say, giving him a smile. The way his hand is possessively around mine suddenly feels like we’re more than friends. And I like it.

“I’ve spent enough time in the city, enough to learn how to get a cab when I need one,” he says.

The cab pulls up, the door opens, and we climb inside. “The Bowery,” he tells the driver as he sits back. Our hands drop to the space between us.

“Why did you want to leave, Dex?”

He looks at me with all the confidence in the world backing him. “Because I want to be alone with you.” He nods as if that’s all the response needed, and suddenly it is. It’s good enough.

When we arrive, we don’t talk or hold hands. I’m sure we don’t even seem like we’re together as we walk through the lobby of the hotel and take the elevator up. Trying to appear normal to the outside world, like things aren’t about to get heated in a sexual way is harder than it seems. I try to avoid eye contact but we catch each other’s in the trim of the door. “Where are we going?” I ask, whispering though we’re alone.

“My room.”

“Why?” I ask to be clear.

“I already told you. I want to be alone with you.”

“Why?”

A smirk appears. “Good question.”

The elevator doors open and he walks out without further explanation. Reaching back in, he takes my hand again and pulls me out of the vestibule. “Come with me.”

It’s not like I’m going to say no or anything, but still…
Why?
He holds the hotel room door wide, letting me enter. Looking around, it looks very similar to my room, but larger. The door slams shut and I’m spun around. My face is taken between his hands as his lips meet mine. Two beats pass before I close my eyes, relaxing under his touch, and return the kiss.

“I want you,” he whispers. “All of you this time.”

“I’m yours. With you, Dex,” I reply between kisses and caught breaths.

His hips press against me as my body finds purchase against the wall. Hands move with speed and diligence, finding the backside of my bra as warm breath covers my skin and his lips cover my neck. I slide my fingers up his back and into his hair, holding him there as my body squirms from his touch.

Just when I think we might have sex against this wall, a female voice scares us in the dark. “I wanted to surprise you… guess I’m the one who’s surprised.”

“What the fuck?” Dex is in front of me, his hand on my hip, holding me protectively behind him.

The lamp on the nightstand is turned on and a woman I recognize not only as one of Dex’s ex-girlfriends, but also as a popular lingerie model, stands next to the bed. I’ve never met her before, but saw the tabloid stories. She’s dressed in a red lace bra and matching g-string, and her hair rivals Bridgette Bardot’s sex kitten do. I try to swallow down the fact that she makes me look like I just got rescued after being stranded on an island for six months with my mismatched underwear and my messy hair.

With her hands on her hips, she looks offended by our intrusion. “Dex? Who is she?” Her accent is thick—Eastern European, I think.

“How’d you get in here, Alexia?” he asks. His tone firm but tinged with an authority that makes me take a step back, closer to the door.

She points at me while looking over his shoulder, making me feel short and unattractive compared to the supermodel standing before me. I’m usually in jeans and my hair is messy most days. She wears skin-tight dresses and her locks always look professionally styled. “I’m here,” she says with a stamp of her high heel. “She can go now.”

I take another step toward the door. “I’m gonna leave.”

“No,” he says with authority, turning to face me. “She’s leaving.” His expression is stern, leaving no room to argue.

I need to escape this fiasco though. “I want to,” I add with a little less strength.

“I don’t want you to.” He lowers his voice and says, “Stay, Rochelle. I want you to stay with me.” He reaches for my hand, but when we hear
her
demand his attention, he looks back and I reach for the door.

“Dex!” We turn to see her arms crossed over her chest and a look of determination on her face. “You told me to come here, so I’m here.”

“That was when we were together. We’ve been broken up for months. So I want you out, Alexia. I want you to get the fuck out right now.” When he turns back to me, his tone softens again. “I’ll come to your room after I settle this.”

With three quick nods, I leave the room. The heavy door shuts behind me and I remain leaning against it for support while I right my senses. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.” Then I push off the wood and head down the hall to my room.

Once inside, I lock the bolt and flip the safety slider over. Now I’m pissed. I can’t compete with a supermodel. These are the women he’s dated… dates. Not a five-foot-three mom of two young sons who eats salad for lunch six days a week to keep most of the cellulite at bay. I flip on the bathroom light and lean forward. My brown hair is in disarray, the colors of summer not yet affecting it. My skin is more pale than olive these days and my eyeliner is smeared from the gropes in the dark. The alcohol sloshes around in my stomach, rattling my thoughts and self-esteem, or maybe it was the glamazon lying across his bed in nothing but lingerie like a gift being presented to Dex that has me shaken.

There’s a soft knock on the door and I look down, trying to collect my thoughts back together. With a deep breath, I turn and go to open it. I unlock the bolt but leave the slider in place. Three inches of visual is all I’m allowing in the state I’m in. The offense is caught in his expression. The subtle message that he knows this is going nowhere is now obvious.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

“I’m gonna go to bed.”

“What about we try this again?”

I shake my head, looking away from him. “I’m tired.” My heart pounds but I know what’s best for me.

“Roch—”

“No, it’s too much. It’s… it’s just not meant to be.”

“Bullshit. You’re scared.”

I don’t deny that. I can’t. I am scared. Looking at him, I try to hold the eye contact that will tell him I’m strong, not weak, how I really feel inside. “I had a good time, but I’m tired. I think it’s best if we both just go to bed. Goodnight, Dex.”

I start to shut the door, but his palm goes flat against the thick wood, causing a loud thud. “No, don’t do this. I don’t know how she got in. But she wasn’t there because I wanted her there. Don’t let this ruin something good,” he says, his free hand signaling between us.

After a deep sigh, all reality hits, and I respond, “She can’t ruin what’s not there. We’re an illusion that’s never supposed to be real.”

“Don’t do this, Rochelle. Please.” I see the desperation in his eyes, a panic and sadness. Maybe disappointment in me. “You’re convincing yourself that I’m the bad guy, that I don’t care, and you know that’s lies, lies you’re telling yourself to avoid anything that might actually be real.”