Power Play Page 7

  Going to a lunch date with someone who was intent on pissing her off didn’t sound like a good time to Sydney. Still, Ian was effectively her boss. Turning him down now would just be a stupid move on her part. “Okay.”

  “Meet me at 3121 in about an hour. Is that enough time for you?”

  “Yes!” Sydney wrote down the restaurant’s name. “I’ll see you there in an hour.” She hung up before checking a text she’d received from Dean.

  How’s my favorite girl? Missed you at the game today.

  Sydney smiled and replied. Doing better now that I’ve heard from you. Did we win today?

  Of course we did. I would’ve scored more goals if my lucky charm was there.

  Next time, babe. Definitely next time. Anyway, I need to get going. I’m meeting Ian for lunch. We’re going over my art.

  I thought you just met with him?

  I did but he says he wants to get inside my head and see what makes me tick, whatever the hell that means. So, I’ll be there. I’ll let you know how it goes later tonight.

  Sure thing. Love you, babe.

  Love you!

  ****

  Dean stared at the text conversation. The boiling rage of jealousy threatened to spill out of his mouth until he took a sip of beer to quiet it. “He wants to get inside her head?” He quietly whispered to himself. “More like he wants to get in between her legs.”

  “Problem?” Rebecca asked.

  Dean was so focused on his conversation with Sydney, he truly forgot Rebecca was still sitting across from him. “No, not at all.”

  “Well, well, well…look do we have here?” Kyle stopped at Dean’s booth. He was accompanied by a tall, skinny blonde with a perfect tan. “May we join you?”

  “Sure!” Dean scooted over.

  “You know what? Why don’t you two have this seat and I’ll just sit next to Dean over there!” Rebecca scooted out of her seat and sat next to Dean.

  “Thanks,” Kyle sat in the booth and his date joined him. “Dean, Rebecca, this is my girlfriend, Kylie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kylie.” Dean shook her hand.

  Rebecca sized up the younger woman. She was probably a cheerleader or fitness model seeing how lithe she was. Was she a size 4? Or was she a size 6? No, she was definitely a size 2. Strawberry blonde hair dyed to Clairol perfection. A mouth full of perfect veneers. Lips that weren’t given by God but by the injection of Beverly Hills’ finest. Khloe Kardashian’s twin if she were skinner. Fake, fake, and more fake she was.

  It was a gift that Rebecca was even faker. “Hi Kylie!” She beamed.

  “Hi,” Kylie gave a heartwarming smile. “Dean, it’s so nice to meet you. Kyle has told me so much about you!”

  “All lies, all of them,” Dean chuckled.

  “I hope not!” Kylie giggled. “He told me how wonderful you are and how much of an inspiration you’ve been to him. Nothing but great things!”

  “Well, I try. I’ve had some mentors look out for me and give me some really good advice so I try to give back.” Dean nodded as a server brought over another beer and took everyone’s food orders. “Just doing my part.”

  “And your fiancée, Sydney!” Kylie beamed. “I’m just such a huge fan of her work! That one picture she drew? I think it was called 17 Days?” She shook her head. It was a painting of a young woman looking out of a window, holding a yellow ribbon and the dog tags of her boyfriend. To the right of her was a calendar that marked how many days she had left until his return. “Just incredible. That really touched me.”

  “Yeah, that’s one of my favorites. I hope it’ll go into the gallery soon.” Dean replied.

  “Gallery? She has her own gallery now?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, the Ferguson family took an interest in her and well, she’s going to do a small exhibition for them.”

  “The Fergusons?” Rebecca asked. “As in the Ferguson Gallery?”

  “That’s the one,” Dean nodded. “So, she’s super jazzed about that. She’s about to meet with –”

  “Wait a minute,” Rebecca interrupted. Her mind was trying to catch up with the ridiculous news she’d just heard. “Why would the Fergusons be interested in Sydney?”

  “Why are you shook?” Dean’s eyes narrowed at her.

  “Shook? Shook?” Rebecca grinned. It was bad enough Dean listened to all of that hip-hop crap but he didn’t have to go as far as speaking the lingo. American English was a perfectly fine language in Rebecca’s book. “What does that mean?”

  “It means surprised,” Kyle chimed in, “or in your case, Rebecca, jealous.”

  “Jealous? You think I’m jealous of her?” She was met with shifting eyes and silence. “Why would I want to be jealous of her?”

  “Well,” Kyle took a sip of beer, “you’re sitting next to one reason.”

  ****

  3121 restaurant was located in the heart of Santa Monica, near the pier. When Sydney pulled up, the valet greeted her with kindness, a drastic change from the one at The Sentiment.

  She walked inside the restaurant and the maître’d greeted her with a bright smile. “Miss Walker?” He asked. “Mr. Ferguson is waiting for you. Right this way.”

  Sydney followed the slender man as they walked through the empty restaurant. With sweeping ocean views, the restaurant was located in a little nook of Santa Monica. Polished hardwood floors, dulce de leche wall paint, and wall sconces gave the restaurant a sophisticated feel.

  Sydney immediately felt out of place. She briefly glanced down at her tweed grey skirt, her choice of cream sleeveless blouse that showcased her right tattoo sleeve, and the overly-worn pumps she’s had for many years. Maybe it was time for a makeover.

  “Sydney,” Ian got up and greeted her with kisses on both cheeks and a warm hug. Sydney’s heart warmed upon feeling Ian pressed against her. Dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and sleek navy slacks, Ian looked like he belonged on a yacht – probably his – than meeting with a relatively new artist in an expensive restaurant. “I’m glad you were able to make it on such short notice.”

  “I was in the middle of painting when you called,” she admitted, “so I had to quickly put on some clothes and come here.”

  “You paint naked?” Ian inquired.

  “No,” she admitted. “I wear a bikini.”

  “Nice. You should try painting naked. It might be freeing to you.” He suggested. “Shall we order first and then get to business?”

  “Sure,” Sydney picked up the heavy, leather-bound menu. When she opened it, it listed only food and not prices. It was then Sydney knew she was in a restaurant she couldn’t afford. “Wow.”

  “Did you want me to order for you?” He suggested, sweeping his eyes over her attire. “I can pick out something if you’re confused.”

  “Um, sure. That’ll be great.” She admitted as she carefully put the menu down.

  “I won’t order wine because I’m sure you drove here,” Ian kept his eyes on the menu, “and I need to know what your tolerance is before I see you drink in public.”

  “My tolerance is pretty good,” Sydney admitted, “I can have a glass and be fine.”

  “I don’t care if you have five glasses and be fine,” he emphasized, “I don’t want you in a position where you will harm others. Most drunk drivers will tell you they were fine when they got into their vehicles and right before they killed someone else.”

  Sydney stiffened. She saw where Ian was getting at but she did not tolerate his smug asshole tone. “Fine,” she mused, “I’ll have water.”

  The server came by, took their orders, and quickly left. He returned with two glasses of sparkling water. “You’re not drinking?” Sydney asked.

  “I tend not to drink when I have to drive,” Ian replied, “what I said about you also applies to me.”

  “You take a very strong stance,” she noted, “not many do.”

  “When your mother is killed by a drunk driver, you’re forced to take a stance.” He woefully admitted.
<
br />   Sydney felt as big as her pinky toe. She felt silly getting upset at Ian when his concern ran deeper. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I was a teen when it happened and too young to understand how stupid the laws are about it.” Ian shrugged off the insurmountable pain that was hidden in his voice. “But as I grew older, I made sure to contribute to awareness as possible.”

  It all began to make sense to Sydney. She recalled the Fergusons were huge supporters of Mothers Against Drunk Driving or M.A.D.D. and didn’t think anything of it other than they were just generous. She now had a newfound respect for the family. “I’m glad you were able to turn tragedy into triumph.”

  “That’s why I’m putting you into Lula Jean,” Ian referred to the gallery that bared his mother’s name, “it’s a room we reserve for special exhibits and it’s all for you.”

  Sydney felt her breath become lodged in her throat. She remembered how big that room was and it was easily the size of Dean’s spacious living room. Now she needed to deliver and fast. “Thank you,” she pushed out the words.

  “Not a problem,” Ian removed his black frames and casually glanced out the window. It was a beautiful and warm, sunny day in Los Angeles. He felt ridiculous being stuck inside a restaurant when he should’ve been outside working on a tan. “Let’s move this meeting to the patio,” he suggested.

  “Patio?” Sydney looked around.

  Ian snapped his fingers and two servers immediately arrived at their table and removed everything. After Ian carefully watched them, he turned to his muse. He stepped closer to her and Sydney immediately smelled his musky cologne. She really hate how wonderful he smelled. He smelled like the woods. He smelled like earth.

  Ian smelled like pure, unbridled sex.

  She felt her adrenaline shot up and took small, deep breaths to calm it. Ian was perfect in every way and Sydney felt guilty for entertaining a small schoolgirl crush on him. As long as she looked but not touch, it was fine.

  It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine.

  “After you, milady.” He instructed. Ian and Sydney followed the servers where they quickly set up a table outside. “Perfect. Thank you.” Ian nodded to them.

  “First-class service,” Sydney commented. “They know you personally.”

  “They should,” Ian lifted his ice water glass and took a sip, “I own this restaurant.” He set the glass down and turned serious. “I’m going to put a lot of effort into your art, Sydney. That means I need your full attention and cooperation. I need your best focus because a lot is riding on this.”

  Sydney swallowed hard. “I understand.”

  “Good. After lunch, we’re going to get you all of the art supplies you need and maybe a few that you want. Money’s no limit. You’ll use my Silk card.” Ian casually mentioned the exclusive Coutts Silk card that only boasted of 100 members and reserved for the ultra-rich. “I also need you to clear out your calendar for the next several months in preparation for your debut at the Ferguson.”

  “Next several months?” Sydney repeated. The only major plan she had was the biggest day of her life. Her stomach knotted and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. “I’m getting married in six months.”

  “Congratulations,” Ian smiled, “I hope I can attend.”

  Sydney was confused. The man just told her to cancel all plans before he invited himself to her wedding. “You don’t want me to cancel the wedding?”

  “Why would I suggest you do that? You only get married once or if you’re like my father, and I certainly hope you’re not, you get married a few times.” Ian bit his lips as he emphatically shook his head. “I meant canceling all other art-related gigs until you make your debut. I’m sure your fiancée will understand.”

  Sydney wanted to say yes. The epic fight they had the other day gave her pause. It was one thing if Dean was jealous of Roman but it was another ball game to be jealous of Ian. It was a side of Dean Sydney didn’t like. “Yeah, he will.”

  Ian noticed her hesitation. “Does your fiancée challenge you?”

  Sydney’s brows furrowed as she contemplated the question. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s one thing if he supports you, and I think every person should support their partner. But does he challenge you?” Ian’s eyes focused squarely on Sydney. “Does he make you hungrier for more ideas? Does he inspire you? Does he make you want to get up and draw?”

  Ian stared at Sydney with such intensity, she felt her breathing become shallow and a small tingle pierced in her spine. A slight clench in her stomach traveled down to the vee of her sex while her thighs quivered with anticipation. “Well, of course,” she defended, “Dean’s been very instrumental and inspirational to my career and goals.”

  “Good. I hope it stays that way.” He nodded. “I’ve seen too many artists who become complacent in their relationships and as a result, complacent in their art.”

  Sydney slightly swung her head, causing her brown locks to flow with the breeze. “You sound like Dean’s going to be a problem?”

  Ian noticed how sweet and innocent Sydney looked when the sun hit her face at the right angle. Her lips were painted with a soft nude color and looked delectable. She truly looked angelic and her light brown eyes narrowed in on his, giving him her complete attention. He’d already imagined sucking on them, and in turn, watching them suck on him.

  He couldn’t tell if Sydney was naturally sexy or if she was subtly trying to seduce him. What he could tell was the immediate reaction he had in his slacks. “I don’t care if he supports you. I truly don’t care if he doesn’t. I do care, however, that he won’t get in the way of your art. If he gets in the way, then yes, Sydney,” Ian’s eyes became serious, “he’s going to be a problem I will quickly solve.”

  Seven

  It was tiring being a gossip blogger.

  It was always a fight to get the exclusive. And when one got the exclusive, sometimes it was as juicy as a rice cake. Sometimes, Seren Jones was outbidded and sometimes she had just enough money and clout to make a lot of friends and frenemies. She wasn’t a friend to anyone and she was sure she landed on a couple of shit lists, already.

  It didn’t matter, however. She looked sweet and endearing enough and that’s all that mattered. She was the girl next door, the sweet best friend, and the sista gal all wrapped up into one delicious gossiping package. And that package was making her a rich woman.

  Seren quietly sighed as she sat at the local café, calmly sipping her iced blended mocha. She had a lot to do and wondered where she was going to find the time.

  Her exclusive expose on Rebecca boasted her into the international spotlight, garnering interviews from Good Morning, America, Today, and even the celebrity gossip blog she loathed, TMZ. Seren made more than enough money to pour all of her energy into blogging and quit her part-time job at the mall.

  Now, it was time to keep her foothold at the top.

  First, she had to interview an upcoming R&B singer about her new single. Seren wanted to be honest with the ingénue and tell her heavily auto-tuned single was a generic song that anyone could sing and it probably wouldn’t chart well, but Seren needed to play fair. It was better to keep her mouth close with the possibility of more opportunities open than vice-versa.

  Then, she had to go over her notes with a popular TV network drama actor who was recently in some legal trouble and had an open relationship with a known escort. Seren almost asked him if the CDC had flagged him but she decided to be nice.

  Finally, she needed check out a source regarding a popular athlete. The source was the boyfriend of said athlete, who’s made some very interesting anti-gay marriage statements. Seren yawned. Always the ones who protested the loudest had the most to hide.

  Before she could dive into the cubic zirconia lives of celebrities, Seren needed to relax. It’d been a whirlwind few months since her expose of Rebecca and the exposure of Sydney. Sydney’s art had catapulted her to instant stardom while Rebe
cca became a fixture on the Real Housewives franchise, being the second-highest paid star on it.

  Amazing, Seren shook her head. A woman can blatantly lie and steal from someone else but because how she looked like, she would be given a pass. Rebecca was tall, blonde, and had the right complexion for the protection. Sydney was also tall, brunette, and biracial, with a café au lait skin tone.

  Society, she thought, the groupthink and monolith qualities are strong.

  A notification on Seren’s phone told her she had an e-mail and shee quickly checked it. On her blog, she stated anyone could give an anonymous scoop and she would protect them.

  Now, someone gave her a juicy one she couldn’t resist. If he’s engaged, he surely isn’t acting like it.

  Included in the email was a picture of Dean and Rebecca smiling at each other as two other people smiled towards the camera. Seren quickly opened her computer to get a closer look at the photo. She didn’t know who the other two people were but she definitely knew who Dean and Rebecca were. He was looking down at her as she gazed up to him. It wasn’t just a couple of friends getting together for a cozy pic. If Seren didn’t know better, she’d assumed Dean and Rebecca were back on.

  Crazed fans coined them as Lunabec, a play on his nickname and hers. Seren raised an arched eyebrow and rolled her eyes. She slowly shook her head and sighed. “Why settle for a good girl when you have crazy punani waiting for you?”

  She let out a small sigh and contemplated her actions. If she sat on the story, it was only a matter of time before another gossip blogger picked it up and ran with it. If she published the photo, she would run the risk of ruining a yet-to-happen friendship with Sydney.

  It was time to contact Sarah.

  ****

  “Oh!” Nancy Walker stepped inside Dean and Sydney’s palatial home. A tall and regal woman with golden blonde hair, Nancy exuded class no matter what she wore. Her go-to pairings was always a red lip and her classic pearls. “This is nice.”

  Sydney carried her mother’s Louis Vuitton luggage inside the home and set them down in the foyer. The three-story home was already nice before Sydney moved in but when she added her personal touches to it, even Dean clamored about it. “This is a home now. It’s not a place for my bros.” He wrapped his arms around her and planted a big kiss on her temple. “It’s perfect just like you.” “Isn’t it?”