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“But are you?” I do not like his question, and I inhale, long and slow. “Please be careful with her. She’s clearly a sweet kid. I know she is not in showbiz, but I’ve seen many a sweet girl fromsmall towns, arrive in LA and NYC. Then get eaten up. Most leave soon after, and they are never the same.”
My jaw clenches, and I do not appreciate a lecture, from anyone. I am also handling her with care.
“I won’t damage her!” I say, wanting to crush the crystal glass in my hand.
My closest friends, and I exchange glances.
I watch Storm and Anastasia laugh freely above us now in the kitchen. They are looking at dresses laid out on a table, and they’re in a passionate conversation.
“I fucking love her,” I say, before turning back to my friends.
“I can see,” Ryan says, before smiling, and resting a hand on my shoulder. My friends nod slowly getting it, and realizing it’s my first time.
“So, onto other things,” Ryan says, breaking the energy. “When does your poetry book come out, and your range of candles?”
I double blink and Ryan runs fast. He has to.
I streak after him. “Son of a bitch!”
The guys behind me, laugh loud, and I chase the playful Hollywood star up his marble stairs.
Upstairs, he is smart enough to run behind Anastasia, Storm and the large table of costumes, and dresses.
The girls squeal at the chaos, and I slow, and shake my head.
“What gives?” Storm asks.
“You!” Ryan says, out of breath.
“Nothing!” I say embarrassed.
Our eyes meet, and Storm knows it’s not nothing. She steps closer. “Is it about sex on the boat up the river, with the monkey? It was, wasn’t it?”
Before I can say anything, Anastasia screams with laughter. We all shake our heads, and Anastasia looks between Storm andme. “I like this one,” she says, “You need to keep her. At all costs.”
Storm and I look back at each other, it suddenly just got more complicated.
The next day is relaxing,and Storm and I travel through Los Angeles, and top shopping districts in Beverly Hills. I borrowed Ryan’s Ducati motorcycle, and Storm and I have fun racing through the city.
We drop by Dante’s fashion shoot, because I want Storm to get a feel for what we do.
I like that she’s not part of our strange businesses, because I’ve seen it tarnish people’s souls.
I’ve also seen it change people, and I’ve seen people create huge egos. I love that she has a more normal day job, even if she wants to push deeper into graphic design.
The fashion shoot is large, it’s for a new hotshot fashion designer in Dante’s stable. There are cameras on various cranes, and they are on a large, blocked off LA street.
Catwalk models in all kinds of clothing, and cars are lit up, the fashion is edgy and fresh.
Storm watches in awe, and I’m happy she’s starting to understand what me, and some of my friends do.
After peeling away, leather clad on the Ducati, I have a meeting with one of the entertainment banks I deal with. Storm meanwhile enjoys a city art gallery.
I pick her up from the gallery, then drop her to where Anastasia is consulting, at a large movie studio head office in Beverly Hills.
The girls aim to go over clothing, hair and make-up for tonight, and I agree to meet them at the event. As I climb nervously back onto the Ducati, I feel like I need to make sure she’s alright. “Look, are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Of course.”
