"You forgot her birthday?" Adam’s bodyguard shook his
bald head with incredulous pity.
Adam didn’t need Tyrell to tell him he had blown it. He
already knew he would be in trouble. Carley was the one
woman in his life that only expected one thing from him,
and that was a card on her birthday. Just a card, nothing
else. He’d failed to remember only one birthday in the four
and a half years she’d been running his ... well, his life.
It was two years ago, but he’d never forget how she’d made
the following week hell on him. She deliberately "forgot"
his dry cleaning, and sent emails to three different women
inviting them on a date for the same night. Even Carley’s
husband joined in, and called to harass him. God, he didn’t
want to go through that again!
Adam scowled at the big man sitting across from him in
the limousine. Tyrell might intimidate everyone else with
his Mike Tyson look, but it sure as hell didn’t scare
Adam. "I didn’t forget; I was busy."
Maybe he did forget. You can forget a lot of shit when
you’re falling over drunk. Adam and Tyrell had just
returned from New York. After the last stop on his Karina
Live tour two weeks ago, he made a whirlwind publicity
drive with a stop at each of the late-night talk shows,
followed by his stint in hosting Saturday Night Live. He
was only a day late, and he had been out of town for
Christ’s sake. Maybe she’d understand. He ran his hands
through his hair. Already he’d have to listen to her
bitching about the debacle in Florida.
His stomach churned. It would take him years to live
down that night in Miami three months ago. He never knew
four beautiful women could cause so much damage to one
hotel room. He couldn’t even explain how the curtains
caught fire, but he suspected one of them, Brandi, if he
had to guess, had been lighting her crack pipe while
already half passed out on the floor. He never used that
shit himself, but he could just see how easily drugs could
get linked to his name in the papers, with his less-than-
sterling reputation. Thank God he had people on his payroll
to cover that shit up.
He rubbed his stomach as it rolled again. Who the hell
was he kidding? Nothing gets completely covered up. He
wasn’t allowed back in that hotel, so he couldn’t keep that
a secret. Even his band members were smart enough to
separate themselves from him on the road. His publicist
called two days later to ream him a new asshole. "Thanks to
that bullshit, you lost two shows in the bible belt. Your
career is going into the crapper, because you’re acting
like a goddamned fifteen-year-old left home alone." He was
right. No wonder the press loved to hate him. It wasn’t
until the morning after that ass chewing, when he woke up
alone and hung over, that he realized how much he deserved
it. He had to think hard to find a solid day in the four
months before that night where he was completely sober.
His mother would be ashamed, which meant the first ass
he’d have to kiss would be Carley’s. He was pretty sure his
mother paid her to chew him out when he acted like he did.
He would really be asking for it if he went into that
spanking without so much as a birthday card.
"There ... there ... pull over." Adam knocked on the
window behind his driver. The tiny flower shop on the
corner looked out of place in the middle of the deserted
street, almost as if it was placed there for him to see at
this particular moment. He released his seat belt and
reached for the door handle.
Tyrell blustered, "Hey ... let me..."
Adam cut him off with a dismissive wave. "No one’s
around. I’ll run in and out." Adam barely waited for the
car to stop rolling before he hopped out. Out of habit, he
shot a quick glance up and down the sidewalk before going
into the shop to an electronic "ding-dong" signaling his
entrance.
"I’ll be right with you!" a woman’s voice came from the
back room, behind a set of wooden louvered doors that
reminded him of the old west saloon on the set of the video
for "Not Tonight", his first hit single five years ago. He
had been recording, touring or filming videos almost non-
stop since then. Now, he had some time to himself before he
went back into the studio to record next year’s release,
Firestorm.
And he was going to use every minute to relax, recharge
and repent. No one would know what to think of the new Adam
Nash.
He was the only customer in the place, and his shoulders
dropped in relief. He looked around, and realized that he’d
never actually been inside a flower shop. Any floral
purchases were always done over the phone or through
Carley. One wall was lined with shelves and every
conceivable spot was filled with vases. Glass, porcelain,
crystal and even wood. There must have been hundreds of
vases on that wall. He walked around the huge coolers full
of floral arrangements that dominated the center of the
space, and into another corner of the room where a plethora
of teddy bears sat piled on a tri-level table. One was
about to fall off the side, and some strange compulsion
made him reach down to adjust it.
"Sorry about that. I was covered in baby’s breath."
He straightened and spun around. The owner of the voice
stood before him, wiping her hands on a terry-cloth towel.
She wore a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged her shape
and rode just below her waist. Her body was compact but she
had just the right curves in just the right places. She had
a canvas half apron on, green handled tools poked out from
the pockets. His eyes moved up the pink polo shirt, with
the florist logo above her left breast--at least that was
his excuse for allowing his gaze to linger for a fraction
of a moment, a thirty-four C, if he wasn’t mistaken, and he
rarely was. Continuing upward, he took in a long graceful
throat and a delicate-shaped face. One that reminded him of
a painting he once saw at ... who? Well, someone’s house.
Reddish blond hair was pulled into a thick ponytail at her
nape, but curling strands fell free and brushed the
flawless skin of her cheeks and neck. Jesus, she was
beautiful! When he finally met her pale green eyes, he saw
that she was regarding him curiously. He had taken too long
to respond, and she was probably getting nervous.
"I ... uh, need some flowers." Great Adam. Mr. Suave
superstar with a brilliant opening line. It did make her
smile though.
Her eyes twinkled prettily. "You’re in luck. I have a
few on hand."
He smiled back; his famous pin-up poster smile, the one
that won him a sponsorship contract with the toothpaste
people. He waited for the recognition in her eyes, and
braced himself for the myriad questions he knew he’d have
to face before actually getting a vase full of flowers and
leaving.
"Anything in particular, or should I just throw
something together?" Her expression didn’t change. Either
she didn’t recognize him, or she wasn’t impressed by his
fame enough to comment.
That was puzzling. Everybody knew who Adam Nash was. He
cocked his head to look at her more closely. She didn’t
look stupid. She didn’t sound like someone who wasn’t in
touch with reality. Why wouldn’t she recognize him, and if
she did, why didn’t she act like she cared that he was in
her little shop?
"I don’t know." He looked around the room. "I’ve never
actually been inside one of these places. I thought all
flowers came from some phone number in cyber space."
"I understand." She laughed, a sexy throaty laugh that
sunk through his clothes and into his skin. "Why don’t you
tell me the occasion, and I can give you some suggestions."
She turned to walk back toward the counter, and Adam was
left admiring her round little derriere. Very nice. He’d
barely snapped his attention back above her waist when she
turned to face him and he realized she had expected him to
follow. He did, on feet that suddenly seemed very large and
heavy. Good God, he was acting like a bumbling idiot!
She was smiling at him again. Or still. With the color
of her hair, he expected to see tons of freckles on her
skin, but it was flawless. Smooth and clear. Oh wait, there
was a dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose. That’s
cute. Most women he knew would slather on a thick coat of
makeup to cover those. Come to think of it, she wasn’t
wearing lipstick either. He let his mind wander into
thoughts of what those lips might taste like. When was the
last time he’d kissed a woman who wasn’t made up to walk
down the red carpet?
"Birthday? Anniversary?" Her voice shook him back into
the present.
"What?" Why was his heart pounding?
"The flowers. Is there an occasion, or did you just want
to surprise her for no reason?"
Ah, so that’s why she didn’t show any interest. She
didn’t want to move in on another woman’s territory. He
didn’t pause to think about how her lack of recognition
fell into second place behind the fact that she wasn’t
attracted. "How do you know I’m buying them for a woman?"
He raised an eyebrow in that sexy way video directors
loved.
Her smile faltered for only a second. "I’m ... sorry, I
didn’t mean to assume." She covered his fingers on the
counter with her soft hand, and gave them a quick
pat. "Does your boyfriend have a favorite flower?"
"No ... oh God ... that didn’t..." What’s wrong with you
Nash? "No, I’m not gay. The flowers are for a woman, I was
just trying ... futilely ... to give you a hard time." He
tried the smile again. Maybe she’d recognize him if he
threw in a wink. That trademark wink made the audience on
Oprah scream wildly.
Nothing. Nothing except another pat on the hand, which
was nice...
"How about lilies? She probably gets enough roses." The
statement ended more like a question.
Damn. In the years he’d been in the public eye, this had
to be the first time a woman didn’t fall all over herself
to either flirt with him, or barrage him with questions
about one song or another. Hadn’t he wondered what it would
be like to walk into a public place and be treated like
every other Joe Schmoe off the street? Well, here it was,
and now he couldn’t actually decide whether he liked it or
not.
The electronic tones announced another customer walking
through the door. Adam glanced over his shoulder and saw
Tyrell step inside. Adam gave him a pointed look, and used
only his eyes to gesture for him to leave. Tyrell knew his
stuff. He gave one barely perceptible nod, and left as
quietly as he’d come in.
Adam watched him stand against the door, folding his
arms in his typical bodyguard stance.
"Well, that was weird."
Adam turned back to the woman, whose eyes were narrowed
on Tyrell’s outline on the glass.
"Kind of creepy," she continued. "Maybe I should
call..."
"Nah, he’s probably just looking for someone." He
couldn’t help smiling. Was this woman for real? How could
she not recognize Tyrell for what he was ... a big bald
black guy, wearing a dark suit, opaque sunglasses, and arms
crossed over his huge chest, as he practically blocked the
shop door?
"I think I’d like to see those lilies," he said quickly.
He wanted more time alone with her. A part of him wanted to
enjoy the anonymity, and another part wanted to see her
face when she finally recognized him.
"Alright." She smiled again. "Let me put something
together, I’ll be right back." She cast another glance at
Tyrell before pushing through the louvered doors and out of
his sight.
Adam crossed to the door in three strides. He couldn’t
open it to speak to Tyrell, or he’d trip the motion
detector. He knocked on the window to get Tyrell’s
attention, and waved him away. He barely made it back to
the counter before she emerged.
Her smile was beautiful. "What do you think?" She had a
crystal vase filled with a half dozen white lilies and
three lavender-tipped pink roses. The blossoms were
interspersed with thick dark green leaves.
"Did you ... just do that?" He didn’t know anything
about floral arrangements, but it looked damn good to him.
"Well, no, I was working on this when you walked in.
I’ve been trying to fill the cooler all morning."
"It’s perfect. I’ll take it."
She seemed pleased. "And the teddy bear?"
"The wha ... oh." Clenched in his hand was the teddy
bear he’d been straightening. "Yeah I guess the teddy bear
too." She typed into the aging register, which sounded like
it was on its last leg. It even had a shrill bell when she
hit the total button and read him the amount.
He pulled out his wallet. Did he give her a credit card?
She’d recognize the name ... or would she? No. This was too
fun. He had to keep playing this up. He handed her cash,
and purposefully brushed his fingers against hers during
the transfer. Was it her skin that tingled against his, or
did his tingle against hers? Adam figured she felt it too,
because she pulled her hand away immediately.
"Are you always here alone?"
She glanced at the door, and he noticed a fleeting look
of relief when she saw that Tyrell wasn’t still standing
there. "I’m not alone; I’ve got help in the back room."
She was lying, but he didn’t blame her.
Oh yes, he was coming back. The next time he saw her, he
knew she’d figure out who he was, and she’d be embarrassed
for today...
"Thank you for your help, Miss..."
She looked at his outstretched hand for just a second,
then back to meet his eye. "Jade," she said softly, and
laid her hand in his.
Her fingers were cool, probably from working with
refrigerated flowers and water. Cool, soft and ... tingly.
"I’ll be back, Jade." He scooped up his purchases and
walked to the door.
"Please do. You’ll be a pro before you know it."
He threw another wink over his shoulder, one last
attempt at recognition, but it was futile. She’d busied
herself with a stack of receipts by the register.
He closed the door behind him, and saw a small crowd
around his limousine.
Damn. He didn’t want a scene, especially in front of
that florist.
"What took so long?" Tyrell was beside him in an
instant. "Shit, man, the vultures are circling."
Adam shoved the flowers and teddy bear into Tyrell’s
arms. "Pick me up on the other side of the alley."
"But..."
"Just do it. They only want to see who’s going to get
into the car. Just get in and pick me up." He slid on a
pair of dark glasses and walked down the alley.
His heels clicked on the pavement and echoed off the
tall buildings around him. When was the last time he’d
walked down an alley? Alone? His manager would kill him if
he knew. He was surprised Tyrell gave in so easily. By the
time he reached the other end of the block, Tyrell was
standing outside the open limo door.
It wasn’t until they were both safely buckled in that
the car rolled back into traffic. Adam smiled when he saw
the vase which was propped in a corner of the seat facing
him. Tyrell had wrapped a seatbelt around the vase, and the
teddy bear’s back end stuck out from underneath the
crystal. He laughed, and was about to comment when Tyrell
spoke.
"You wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?" The
man’s voice was never raised. He always maintained the
coarse decibel just above a whisper. The depth of Tyrell’s
voice was what made him even sound dangerous.
"You don’t like the teddy bear?" Adam grinned.
"What the fuck was that all about, Adam?"
"I didn’t want to get in the car with the crowd, that’s
all."
Tyrell nodded slowly. "That part I got. I don’t like you
running down the alleys of the city, but I know where
you’re coming from." He unbuttoned his suit jacket, but
didn’t loosen his tie. Adam had never seen the man in
anything but a dark suit and white shirt. Never, in the
three years he’d been in Adam’s employ, had Tyrell even
loosened his tie. "I’m talking about the shop. Why didn’t
you want me in there?"
"What are you, paranoid? You think we were talking about
you?"
Tyrell gave him the lazy annoyed look that told Adam his
questions didn’t merit a response. "The woman didn’t
recognize me."
Tyrell narrowed his eyes in confusion. "You’re shitting
me."
"I’m serious. She stood there talking to me the whole
time. Not a flicker."
Tyrell leaned back, and stared at Adam, as if he was
trying to see if he looked any different today than he did
two months ago at the Country Music Award Ceremony. "Maybe
she’s ... not all there."
Adam shook his head. "She’s perfectly sane.
Intelligent." He shrugged. "The only thing I can think of
is that maybe the thought of Adam Nash coming into her
little flower shop was too outlandish to believe."
Tyrell considered this. "You know, not everyone in the
world is a country music fan. There are even country music
fans that wouldn’t know you. It’s not like you’re Tom
Cruise or anything."
Adam ignored him. "It was weird, you know? Remember how
I wished I could just go somewhere normal without being
Adam Nash--superstar?"
"Uh huh."
Adam raised his hands. "This was it. She didn’t even ask
my name."
"So was it all you thought it would be?" Tyrell grinned,
his white teeth shining bright against his dark skin.
Adam didn’t answer right away. He’d be lying if he said
he liked it. It was different, that was for sure.
"I think it bothered you more because it was a beautiful
woman."
Adam glanced up at Tyrell. He was all but laughing at
his boss. Adam thought about it, and realized he was right.
If it had been a man, he wouldn’t have thought anything
about it. It wasn’t as if he gave her his name and she was
unimpressed. Maybe she was just busy. Distracted. Yeah,
that’s it.
The rest of the ride back to his mansion on the hill was
made in silence. Adam couldn’t help wondering if giving her
his name would have made a difference. Wouldn’t that be the
ultimate blow to his ego if she didn’t even recognize it?