Bodyguards: A Twin Menage Romance (Mandarin Connection Book 9) Read online

  I listened, stifling the sobs that were just below the surface.

  “Cheryl, you’ve got ‘it.’ That undefinable thing, that everyone thinks they have. Ron thinks he has ‘it,’ but he’s full of shit, and no one in this part of the country is going to let a fag like him make it. I don’t care how much dick he sucks…That doesn’t really matter,” he stopped.

  I held my breath. What was he saying to me?

  “Once you get out of there, and sincere congratulations on getting there, I really mean that,” he said.

  “Thank you, Tom, I really appreciate that,” I whispered, my heart in my throat. My chest ached. I missed the band! I missed all of them so much!

  Tears began flowing down my cheeks.

  “Hey. Don’t do that. Be strong. You’re gonna make it big, Cherry. Don’t doubt it. I’ve had hundreds of people come through here. I’ll be all right, and ‘The Dukes’ will go on to have some decent gigs. They’re middle of the road, so they won’t ever worry about making a living. Unless Ron… but never mind that,” he said.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did what you had to do. Your parents are doubtless very proud of you. And, Lois is a cast iron bitch, but she cares about making sure you don’t get fucked over. That’s good to have in your toolbox, kiddo,” Tom added.

  “I don’t know what to say, Tom,” I whispered.

  “Tell you what, Superstar, when you get that big concert, get me some passes for old times sake and we’ll call it even. By the way, I am not supposed to tell you this, but we’re settling. It’ll be in the blogosphere next week. Take care, Cherry!” Tom finished, and hung up before I could say anything else.

  I just sat there, in my dorm, crying into my pillow for hours. For my losses.

  My mother. My childhood. My team…

  When the tears dried, I promised that I would get those passes for Tom, one way or another.

  Chapter Five

  Two Years Later

  I’m in a limo outside of the offices of Hackthorne and Burns, in Nashville.

  Lois is sitting next to me, primping and putting on a bit of pancake makeup. She’d had some things lifted, but Daddy apparently didn’t care, one way or the other.

  I sense there was some distance forming between them.

  Lois had insisted on accompanying me to this.

  I’m glad she is here, honestly.

  After the way she’d handled The Dukes, I had new-found admiration for her skills.

  Daddy had told me that, even though the settlement was confidential, they were lucky to be even playing Bar Mitzvah’s or kids birthday parties.

  I didn’t know what she’d done, but Lois had neatly excised me from that contract.

  “Thank you,” I blurt out.

  “For what, dear?” Lois says, as she wipes an invisible speck of lipstick away. She smacks and puckers her lips, and then snaps shut her compact.

  She places it in her clutch, a very expensive Gucci.

  I’d never figured out Daddy and Lois’ financial arrangement.

  They had moved into some larger accommodations, and Lois always traveled by drivers these days, but this was the first time she’d shown any signs of being ostentatious.

  “It’s all for show, dear,” she insisted, when I’d protested the limo.

  I look at the limo driver, who is a handsome, dark man, with gleeful eyes, short black hair, and a handlebar mustache. He wears the typical uniform for the company.

  I smile at him.

  “Thank you for the smooth ride, sir!” I say.

  “Not at all, Miss Walker! My pleasure!” he smiles back.

  “You know me?” I reply, surprised.

  “Everyone knows you, after that show you did last month on Saturday Afternoon Alive! It was breathtaking! Such music!” he gushes.

  I think he might be slightly starstruck, when he brings me back down to Earth.

  “Do you know, earlier today, Mr. Brett Ghent was my passenger!” he brags.

  Lois gives him a look that would freeze an iceberg.

  “Are you always so indiscrete, name-dropping like that, Mister…Bloom? Is it?” she says evenly.

  The man turns pale.

  “Umm…Of course, I meant no disrespect, ma’am, but Mr. Ghent is the owner of ‘Pecker’ and since Miss Walker is a presence there…” he stammers.

  I can see him actually begin to sweat.

  Lois regards him, as if he were something in which she had accidentally stepped, and acts annoyed.

  “Mister Bloom,” she says archly, “We do not appreciate either gossip or your attempts to impress us with your ignorance of decorum. Be assured, your company will be informed of your impropriety!”

  The driver slumps down in his seat, as if his balls have been cut off. It was the exact effect Lois tried to achieve. I feel badly for him.

  “It’s now time for our appointment, Cheryl dear, so let’s not dawdle. Driver, the door, please! Lord have mercy! If you were any slower…” she trails off, gathering her things.

  The driver quickly exits the limo, and opens Lois’ door.

  She gets out, muttering awful things about his behaviors, his ancestry, and the likelihood of his needing to find suitable employment in the very near future.

  “Thank you for the ride,” I say quietly, when he opens my door.

  I lean close to his ear.

  “You have your boss give me a call, if anything happens, okay? She’s just nervous,” I whisper.

  “Thank you, Miss Walker,” he says earnestly. I can tell he isn’t too hopeful after Lois had flayed him like that.

  “Cheryl! Come!” she barks.

  “See?” I wink, as she twirls on her Jimmy Choo’s and walks into the lobby of the offices, another doorman already at her beck and call.

  “Indeed, I do!” says Mr. Bloom. He smiles at me, and I love how warm and good-looking he is. I blow him a kiss, and he gets back into the limousine, chuckling.

  I feel happy I cheered him up a little, and make sure to remind myself to check he isn’t fired because Lois had a bug up her ass for a few short minutes.

  “A four-year contract with Aerial Vista Productions?” Lois asks.

  She is looking at her perfectly manicured nails. Her hair is coiffed immaculately, and her tan business suit is regal, and perfectly offset by the pillbox hat she wears.

  The lawyers and the C-suite players sit around the large, mahogany table. It’s been polished to a smooth, clear sheen, and each one of us has a silver pitcher of water, and a crystal glass, on a linen napkin, carefully positioned to hand.

  I am excited and scared!

  This is big league stuff!

  Lois has a team of attorneys on our side of the room, sitting behind us.

  They all attentively lean forward in their rich leather chairs, eager to get into the fray with the opposing lawyers.

  Lois sighs.

  “You did see Miss Walker’s performance last weekend? That Saturday show? And, her trending numbers, from, what is that abysmal sounding – thing? ‘Pecker,’ is it?” she asks.

  A cute blonde woman, from NLS Holdings, leans forward.

  “NLS has analyzed the current numbers from FaceLook, Pecker, Tweets and ImageYour and Miss Walker is trending with Keefer Suburban, Garth Snook, and Reva. That puts her in the ninety-ninth percentile of country-western performers by followers. Her financials, of course, are not as strong…” she recites.

  “Hold it! That’s enough!” Lois says, holding up her hand.

  I look a bit embarrassed. Those numbers are pretty impressive, at least to me.

  A dark-haired man, sits at the back of the room, dressed impeccably, steepling his fingers and looking at me. His powerful gaze leaves me weak in the knees.

  He nods at the blonde woman.

  “Vic?” he says, clearly. “Proceed.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Stone,” the woman replies.

  Lois bristles, but holds her tongue. At least for the moment.

  “Miss
Walker’s receipts have underperformed in her last four venues. Our analysis is that she is under-capitalized, and would benefit from an infusion of seventeen point four million dollars, to be broken into advertising campaigns over a seventeen-month period, starting in Q3 of this year. Our ROI projections, should she accept, will gross at 118%, with a capital gain exclusion on reinvestment of just over twenty-two and an eighth,” Vic says.

  A lot of the heads at the table are nodding, including my stepmother’s. It’s all way over my head.

  The man named Stone looks at Lois.

  “This is all pre-benefit and remunerative considerations, of course. We anticipate, based on Miss Walker’s not inconsiderable talents and the projection of some proprietary information we have obtained, that a compensation package for the administrative cohort will initiate at one-hundred million, with three points on acceptance, a prescribed bonus payout for main principals of one-half point per venue, depending on receipts, and a severance consideration of between eight and ten million. Each. Does that interest you, Mrs. Walker?” Stone asks.

  For the first time in my entire life, I see Lois smile. Really smile.

  It’s frightening.

  “I see now, Mr. Stone, why you came so highly recommended. Mr. Ghent’s attorney, Mr. Freiberg, assured me you were a ‘good investment,’ as he put it,” Lois smiles. She extends her hand to the man.

  He stands up, and crosses the room to her.

  He moves like a lion, regal and sure of himself.

  Lois remains sitting, and he takes her hand and presses it to his lips.

  “A true gentleman, as well,” Lois says, and she almost seems to blush.

  Lois Walker! Blushing!

  I can’t believe my eyes!

  “Call me Noah, Mrs. Walker,” he says.

  “And, you may call me Lois, Mr. Stone, umm, I mean, Noah. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance in the flesh!” Lois says. She’s almost gushing! She takes back her hand, slowly, as if not wanting to end the physical contact with him.

  The rest of the room looks to Lois.

  “Are your documents ready for signatures, Mr. Hackthorne? Mr. Burns?” she asks, still watching Noah. She turns slightly to acknowledge two rugged, older men, seated at the head of the table opposite her.

  “Good job, Ms. Bishop!” Noah whispers to the blonde girl.

  Vic is smiling broadly.

  I can tell what she is thinking, because I was wet as well.

  What power! What presence! The man looked like a wild beast, but reserved, all pushed into the finest clothing possible.

  Noah returns to his seat.

  “Gentlemen, I believe we have a deal!” he smiles.

  The room erupts into applause, and Lois rises. I am still spinning as she takes my hand and escorts me from the conference room.

  “Everyone in that building just made a boat load of money, dear,” Lois says, as we ride along in the limousine. “Not the least of it, yourself, you know,” she purrs.

  The final numbers were staggering.

  I am contracted to put on seventeen shows during a two-year tour, with stops in Japan, Singapore, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Berlin, Moscow (how they are going to pull that off I have no idea!), London, Amsterdam, Sydney, Paris, Madrid, Rio de Janiero and even Johannesburg! There are even four shows in the United States! Madison Square Garden! Anaheim! Honolulu! And finally, Las Vegas, Nevada!

  The expected ticket sales for each show were projected to be between fifty thousand, for the smaller venues, up to over two-hundred thousand in Moscow and Shanghai!

  There had been some talk about Dubai, but Noah had brought his reservations about that part of the world to the attention of everyone else, and it was decided to table that for a second world tour!

  A SECOND WORLD TOUR!

  My mind blows up with the possibilities!

  I Gaggle Noah Stone on the web as we enjoy the limo.

  I blow out a breath as I read his wiki.

  NLS Holdings is huge, and Noah Stone is infamous as a mover and shaker in New York and London. His firm moved higher and higher in the social and financial hierarchies over the past decade.

  NLS Holdings guaranteed their investors a pre-tax gross of almost fifty percent, year over year. It was unheard of, and many people in the know felt it was only possible if he were dabbling in money laundering or other illicit activities. But SEC, IRS and Interpol investigations into his activities turned up no evidence to suggest he was involved in shady dealings.

  In fact, Brett Ghent, the founder of ‘Pecker’ had personally vouched for Noah Stone during Congressional hearings, and impressed the Senators and other politicians by exposing, with Noah’s permission, some private conversations that related to underworld activities.

  He also pointed out that Noah rescued his daughter, Ava, from one such situation, at great personal and financial risk. Ava Stone was now wed to Corban Winthrop, the former billionaire playboy. Noah had also been instrumental in financing some operations for a clandestine operation involving MI-6, the DEA and the infamous Alpha Team, in the Caribbean.

  Noah’s bona fides are impeccable.

  Several other articles in financial magazines and newspapers cement just how far-reaching Noah’s influence extends.

  One pundit had drily commented that Noah had flooded all the world’s markets with pots of gold at the ends of his company’s rainbows.

  I smile, noticing some tabloid pictures of Noah in the company of a beautiful young woman, very much younger than he.

  “Tinsley Whittaker,” I murmur.

  “Hmm?” asks Lois.

  “Oh, yes. She was in my Pilates class, back in Manhattan. Lovely woman, very striking,” she says.

  “You do know she’s Noah’s woman? According to these articles at least,” I point out, tapping the screen on my smartphone.

  “Yes, yes. You didn’t know that, dear?” she replies.

  I shake my head.

  “She looks – regal,” I whisper.

  The limo stops.

  We arrive at our hotel, as guests of the Ghent organization.

  Mr. Bloom walks around, and opens my door, and then Lois’.

  He looks as though he is opening the gates to Hell itself…

  But Lois surprises us both.

  “My dear Mr. Bloom. I beg your forgiveness for my inexcusable behavior, earlier. I have no idea what came over me! I suppose it was just nervousness. In any event, here is a small token of my appreciation, a gesture far inferior to show my apology to you!” she says and hands him a wad of bills.

  The man’s mouth opens; his eyes wide. There is likely ten thousand dollars in that stack!

  “Th-thank y-you, Mrs. Walker! I don’t know what to say. I behaved poorly, and your admonition and advice will serve me well in addressing the needs of my clients in the future,” he replies.

  “Nonsense! You are just being kind to a foolish old woman! Now, I have called your boss, and made arrangements for you to take a week off, with pay, to vacation with your family at a resort called Ocaba Bien. Please accept both my apology and this small token of my appreciation for your selfless service!” she says, and turns to me.

  “Come now, dear! We have reservations for dinner, with the Ghents! And, I have heard they have a special guest, from the network! Brian Cox!” she gushes.

  We walk into the hotel, the doorman holding the door for us as we enter the most opulent lobby I have ever seen.

  As the door closes, I glimpse Mr. Bloom, excitedly talking to the phone in the limo.

  I feel happy for him!

  And, suddenly, very hungry!

  Chapter Six

  It’s been a roller coaster tour!

  I can’t believe how my life has changed. It’s like a dream come true!

  In Las Vegas, the crowd goes crazy over my cover of “Hurt.”

  Backstage, I meet an older gentleman, who requests a few selfies, and a short video.

  My security guys tell me he’s been vetted. He�
��s from some obscure blog, but it’s all fan love for various female singers. With a nod, they let him come over to where I am having a drink of water.

  I notice he’s already filming, which is a tad annoying, but I smile and extend my hand to him. He takes it and introduces himself.

  “I’m John Cage!” he says, smiling.

  He looks a bit creepy, but I try to ignore it. He’s overweight, and balding and his teeth could use a bit more attention from a brush.

  But, at least he’s not too pushy.

  “For your fans, would you mind a couple of staged shots?” he asks, a bit nervous.

  I sigh. I figure he’s just going to whack off to them later.

  But he surprises me.

  “Just hold your head, a little higher, that’s perfect!” he says, and takes a couple of shots with his smartphone.

  He has me do one sitting down, and another with a leg on the chair. It’s all pretty silly, and I can’t see how he’s going to get off, unless he’s got a fetish for blue jeans.

  When he’s finished, he gets a couple selfies, with me smiling and him shooting a peace sign, and another where he does the okay sign.

  He shows all of them to me, and that makes me feel better, because at least he did that.

  “Do I need to sign a model release?” I joke.

  He makes a sudden face, but it’s gone almost instantly.

  “No, ma’am. These are on a fan site, or personal use, and you are a public figure. If you want, I can explain it again to your PR people?” he says, and smiles.

  “No, no, that’s fine,” I say. I’m ready to get out of here.

  He thanks me, and the security team escorts him off premises.

  I’m glad that’s over.

  There was something a bit off about that guy.

  He never took off his shades…

  I feel like dying inside!

  I stare at my face, on the phone, as I suck a huge black cock that shoots cum all over my face. Then, I hit the replay, to watch the hideous thing again, for the hundredth time.

  I’m sitting backstage in Vegas, and a black guy walks up to me. I put down my water bottle, and unzip his pants. Then, I lick the tip of his monstrous penis, and tug on it.