Ripped
Page 7
“You two look like nice girls. Well, at least one of you does.” Lionel smiles benignly at Melanie, then takes in my Angelina Jolie attire before scowling and adding, “Look, we can put you both in jail. Even a day can haunt you. Is that what you want?”
“Pan, don’t even listen. Grey will make sure—”
“No, Melanie, this is my problem.” I shake my head stubbornly. It’s not like her boyfriend and I get along that well anyway. Hell, I’m not on good terms with any man, so fuck that. I don’t need rescuing. I’d rather stew in jail for a couple of nights. At least before my mother officially kills me.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the twin with the tattoo says—Jax, I think. “Just tell her the deets, Leo.”
“No, thanks,” I interrupt before they can even say what they want. “I’d rather do jail time than do him.”
A muscle works angrily in the back of Mackenna’s jaw as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s assuming you could turn me on.”
“Kenna, shut up,” Lionel growls, then he turns to me again. “We’re currently filming for the Crack Bikini movie. Did you know?”
“The whole world knows. I’m just glad you’re not filming now.”
“We were filming during your little shenanigan.” He gestures at Mackenna’s ripped chest. “We’re wrapping up at Madison Square Garden, and now that your existence has been revealed . . .” He looks accusingly at Mackenna, then at me. “Now that we know that there is, in fact, a human Pandora whom our lead may have based his lyrics on, we want you in the movie.”
“She’s not going within an inch of those cameras,” Mackenna grits out as he charges toward the door.
“Jones, listen to me. This is brilliant. People will eat this up with a fucking spoon!”
Mackenna angrily swings the door open. “I’m not interested, so you might as well leave her out of this.”
“Like you left me out of your stupid song, huh, jackass?” I suddenly explode. “And I’m not interested either!”
“I’ll pay you enough to interest you,” Lionel calmly tells me.
Mackenna stops at the threshold, and that glittering serial-killer look in his eyes makes me want to agree just to spite him. God, I hate him. So much so that I feel spikes in my stomach from my rage. But it doesn’t feel like his glower is for me. It almost feels as if it’s for his manager.
Who continues on with building his case. “Look, you two can fight or not, I don’t care. All I care about is that at the final concert, when Crack Bikini performs, you two will be up there and you’ll kiss in tribute to our number one hit—‘Pandora’s Kiss.’”
Mackenna laughs, the sound making me feel like someone just crawled over my fucking grave. All the little hairs on my arms are standing on end.
“Lionel, we’ve got this. We don’t need her. The fans want us, not her.” He points at me, then runs his hand all the way through his head to the back of his neck in sheer frustration. Then he storms out through the door, calling with deadly authority, “Leave her out of this or I promise someone will have hell to pay, Leo!”
I don’t know why, but I don’t like him having the last word.
I don’t like feeling as if he’s protecting me from the cameras.
I don’t like any of it, and before I know it, my voice stops him. “Ha! Like your promises ever mean anything, dickhead!” As I speak, I tear free the ring hanging from my necklace and chuck it at the open door.
Time stands utterly still.
Deathly slow, Mackenna steps back into the room to where the ring lies on the floor.
He looks at the small white-gold band with the sparkly diamond resting at his feet, and his expression changes from surprise to anger, then to something I don’t comprehend. He lifts it and looks at it for the longest moment of my life, then he lifts his head and stares at me with an expression that wrecks me on the inside. He clenches his jaw, turns around, and slams the door shut.
I’m trembling.
Battling with the urge to run after him and . . . and what?
I hate that I can still feel the warmth from his hand when he used to hold mine. I hate that the memory of his mouth on mine still wakes me in the middle of the night. I feel a dull ache at the loss of the ring I’ve been hiding under my tops, and I ache at the sound of his voice and the sight of his face, and I hate that I don’t know how to stop it.
When I press my lips to my talisman bracelet as I try to hold myself together, fighting for those in the room not to notice how easily Mackenna gets to me, Lionel steps forward and takes my arm. “Dear, you wanted his attention?” he asks me, both amused and confused.
“I don’t want his attention. I don’t want anything from him!”
“You’re getting a lot of him, whether you two want it or not.”
I yank my arm free. “I’m not for sale. There’s nothing you can say or do to convince me to do this.”
“How about . . .” He leans over and whispers a very long, very big number into my ear.
TWO
THE WITCH FORGOT THE BROOM BUT NOT THE FUCKING TOMATO BAG
Mackenna
“She’s doing it, Kenna. You’ll be surprised to know it didn’t take all that much. I tell you, these new college grads will work for shit these days.”
As I step out of the shower, grabbing the plush terry robe and sticking my body inside it, I find Lionel in my room, beaming at the news.
“Pan, don’t even listen. Grey will make sure—”
“No, Melanie, this is my problem.” I shake my head stubbornly. It’s not like her boyfriend and I get along that well anyway. Hell, I’m not on good terms with any man, so fuck that. I don’t need rescuing. I’d rather stew in jail for a couple of nights. At least before my mother officially kills me.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the twin with the tattoo says—Jax, I think. “Just tell her the deets, Leo.”
“No, thanks,” I interrupt before they can even say what they want. “I’d rather do jail time than do him.”
A muscle works angrily in the back of Mackenna’s jaw as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s assuming you could turn me on.”
“Kenna, shut up,” Lionel growls, then he turns to me again. “We’re currently filming for the Crack Bikini movie. Did you know?”
“The whole world knows. I’m just glad you’re not filming now.”
“We were filming during your little shenanigan.” He gestures at Mackenna’s ripped chest. “We’re wrapping up at Madison Square Garden, and now that your existence has been revealed . . .” He looks accusingly at Mackenna, then at me. “Now that we know that there is, in fact, a human Pandora whom our lead may have based his lyrics on, we want you in the movie.”
“She’s not going within an inch of those cameras,” Mackenna grits out as he charges toward the door.
“Jones, listen to me. This is brilliant. People will eat this up with a fucking spoon!”
Mackenna angrily swings the door open. “I’m not interested, so you might as well leave her out of this.”
“Like you left me out of your stupid song, huh, jackass?” I suddenly explode. “And I’m not interested either!”
“I’ll pay you enough to interest you,” Lionel calmly tells me.
Mackenna stops at the threshold, and that glittering serial-killer look in his eyes makes me want to agree just to spite him. God, I hate him. So much so that I feel spikes in my stomach from my rage. But it doesn’t feel like his glower is for me. It almost feels as if it’s for his manager.
Who continues on with building his case. “Look, you two can fight or not, I don’t care. All I care about is that at the final concert, when Crack Bikini performs, you two will be up there and you’ll kiss in tribute to our number one hit—‘Pandora’s Kiss.’”
Mackenna laughs, the sound making me feel like someone just crawled over my fucking grave. All the little hairs on my arms are standing on end.
“Lionel, we’ve got this. We don’t need her. The fans want us, not her.” He points at me, then runs his hand all the way through his head to the back of his neck in sheer frustration. Then he storms out through the door, calling with deadly authority, “Leave her out of this or I promise someone will have hell to pay, Leo!”
I don’t know why, but I don’t like him having the last word.
I don’t like feeling as if he’s protecting me from the cameras.
I don’t like any of it, and before I know it, my voice stops him. “Ha! Like your promises ever mean anything, dickhead!” As I speak, I tear free the ring hanging from my necklace and chuck it at the open door.
Time stands utterly still.
Deathly slow, Mackenna steps back into the room to where the ring lies on the floor.
He looks at the small white-gold band with the sparkly diamond resting at his feet, and his expression changes from surprise to anger, then to something I don’t comprehend. He lifts it and looks at it for the longest moment of my life, then he lifts his head and stares at me with an expression that wrecks me on the inside. He clenches his jaw, turns around, and slams the door shut.
I’m trembling.
Battling with the urge to run after him and . . . and what?
I hate that I can still feel the warmth from his hand when he used to hold mine. I hate that the memory of his mouth on mine still wakes me in the middle of the night. I feel a dull ache at the loss of the ring I’ve been hiding under my tops, and I ache at the sound of his voice and the sight of his face, and I hate that I don’t know how to stop it.
When I press my lips to my talisman bracelet as I try to hold myself together, fighting for those in the room not to notice how easily Mackenna gets to me, Lionel steps forward and takes my arm. “Dear, you wanted his attention?” he asks me, both amused and confused.
“I don’t want his attention. I don’t want anything from him!”
“You’re getting a lot of him, whether you two want it or not.”
I yank my arm free. “I’m not for sale. There’s nothing you can say or do to convince me to do this.”
“How about . . .” He leans over and whispers a very long, very big number into my ear.
TWO
THE WITCH FORGOT THE BROOM BUT NOT THE FUCKING TOMATO BAG
Mackenna
“She’s doing it, Kenna. You’ll be surprised to know it didn’t take all that much. I tell you, these new college grads will work for shit these days.”
As I step out of the shower, grabbing the plush terry robe and sticking my body inside it, I find Lionel in my room, beaming at the news.
