Chapter 3
Dylan knew he was not acting like himself. All his life, he could never recall begging a girl for her number. His insides seem to do a strange flip flopping when she was around. It had been a while since she'd been sitting beside him at the pool, but he could still smell her hair, it smelled like fresh toasted almonds. He'd die for just a
second of running his hands through that black silk, letting his
mouth graze those pouty, naughty looking little lips, and he had to
catch himself, his body was beginning to feel taught with craving.

"So you got her digits, nice work," said Ant high fiving him.

"Why would you say that man?" said Dylan raising his eyebrows. Ant
saw everything in terms of scoring. This got old after a while.

"Because, she's really hot, and now, you might get to find out how
hot she really is," added Ant winking at him.

"You know when I first saw her on the tube, I wondered how hot she
really was. But now since I've talked to her, I'm kinda seeing that
she's a really cool girl, smart, feisty, funny. So maybe I might
just wanna talk to her. Maybe I don't see her like a conquest,"
added Dylan softly.

"Bro what's this I hear about you getting all Samaritan all of a sudden," chuckled Larry.

"I'm not getting all Samaritan all of a sudden, I'm treating a woman
how she should be treated. I know a thing or two about that, unlike
the two of you," said Dylan sharply.

"He's all in a huff," said Larry playfully.

"He's clearly in love," teased Ant.

"Not in love, just friends," he said knowing that he was lying, and
he was sure his Cheshire grin was giving him away.

"Listen man, I gotta bail," said Dylan, high fiving his band mates.

That pretentious dude from Garage was far from showing up, and
anyway, he had more important matters to tend to.

He wondered how long he should wait before calling Khrystine. He
didn't want to appear desperate, but if he waited too long, he would
appear uninterested. Never before had he worried about the mores,
manners, and protocols of dating. He just met chicks that he thought
were cute, hooked up, and slowly severed things before they got in
the way of his life, his gigging, his playing, his creating.

So why was he concerned with what was "right" when it came to
Khrystine? He didn't know but as he sped down the LA freeway on his
Harley, the only exciting thought he was having was what it would be
like to have Khrystine behind him. Usually the twists and turns were
thrill enough for him on the motorcycle ride. He had a feeling he
would be daydreaming about the raven beauty frequently.
**

After having mingled with the industry execs and the up and comers like herself, Khrystine could tell that the party was beginning to die down. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the limo ride home with JaQuon, but if he could keep his hands to himself and not flirt, she was sure she would be fine.

She was escorted to the limo, and she got inside, fiddling with her gold heart shaped locket while waiting for JaQuon to get in so she could go home. She was beginning to feel a little depressed. No matter where she went, she always wore her locket, and it was a two edged sword, she knew someone she loved was always watching over her, but she also knew that it represented something in her life she could never touch again.

She fought with the tears that threatened her lashes, blinking them back slowly. She bent down, reached in the refrigerator, pulling out a diet coke and chugging hard, gulping more than she ever would in front of anyone else, unmannerly to Khrystine. The cool liquid seemed to wash away some of the lukewarm, bubbling hurt that was foaming up in her stomach.

In the distance she could see the pool and her thoughts returned to Dylan. She wondered where he was now. He was such a funny, down to earth guy. She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone as real as Dylan, he was a very WSIWYG kind of guy, what you saw was definitely what you got. He seemed very relaxed around her, and he had an easy going smile and the most beautiful hazel eyes, they could have belonged to a doll baby but they were balanced beautifully by his rugged handsomeness, that olive skin tone, and the beautiful, curly, unruly brown locks of hair. And those hands, they looked weathered and gentle and she wondered what they would feel like cupping her face.

Would he call? If he did call what would she say to him? Though she was wildly attracted to him and thinking of him made her shift her bottom on the seat, she truly thought he was the anthesis of her lifestyle, and her world. Even as a performer, he fit into a “working class” image. She’d never been working class, she didn’t know what that was like, and she was pretty sure he might not like her because of that.

Daydreaming about Dylan was the last thing that she needed to do. She had to stay focused on the task at hand, her white-hot career, tomorrows photo session and interview, and rehearsals for her upcoming world tour. She had time for a friend. Not for a romance. She’d had time for a romance before, and it blew up in her face. She tugged at her locket, and then reached over to the wet bar, pouring herself a glass of chardonnay.

***

Back in his apartment, Dylan threw his worn leather jacket on the couch. He promptly went to his fridge pulled out a Budweiser, and went over to his easy chair. Popping the top of the cap with his teeth he took a long swig. He reached into his lampstand drawer and pulled out his little black book. He flipped through hurriedly looking for the M’s and he very carefully transcribed Khrystine’s name and telephone number in the section. The M’s were blank. Strange that he’d never dated any woman with a last name that started with M. Well Khrystine was special, and he was glad she was the only one in that section. He never called anyone in the other sections anyway. After a while, finding new conquests made him feel more of a void, instead of patching up a feeling of aloneness.

So how long should he wait before calling her? He didn’t hook up too often, and when he did, it was generally within hours of meeting someone. He took another long swig, and tossed the book into the drawer. He shouldn’t even put her name in the book with the other girls. What was it about Khrystine that made her so compelling? That perfume, or her beautiful smile? Was it the untouchable element, or the uncontrived grace that surrounded even her laughter? Or was it that unstoppable determination toward her own success story that riveted him when he was in her company?

All he knew as he continued to down the beer bottle was that he wanted to know more about her, what were her fears, dreams, and hopes? What were the little quirks and admirable qualities that separated her from every other beautiful woman on the planet? Why was she open and relaxed around him one minute, and reticent and wary the next? He’d only wait until tomorrow evening to call. He knew he should probably wait a few days, but she was simply to intriguing and beautiful for him to abate his desire much longer.

That settled, he went upstairs in a flurry. He was glad to be away from the craziness of the party. Now he could concentrate on writing, and he hoisted his cherry red guitar in his lap, only picturing for a second what Khrystine would look like with it strapped around her neck in seductive attire before shaking the image.

***

Khrystine turned and peered out the window, fiddling with her champagne flute. She looked frantically at her Cartier watch. Where was JaQuon? Didn’t he know that she had an early morning photo shoot tomorrow? She was tired and she started to stretch out on the seat and nap when she heard the other side door open. Finally, he had arrived. The door opening brought with it the humid and warm air of the summer LA night, and she was glad. She’d been freezing to death inside the limo.

“Where have you been? I have been waiting, and waiting. Come on Ja, you know that I have an early morning photo shoot, and it’s late, and I’m tired,” whined Khrystine.

“You know Khrys, you are cute all the time, but when you whine like a little girl, it brings it to a whole new level of cuteness,” he teased.

“Cut it out JaQuon. Its too late to flirt, even for you,” she moaned.

“It wasn’t too late for you to flirt with Dylan. I saw you all in his face,” he added, turning to her.

He looked at her so coolly that Khrystine was compelled to turn away, before she added.

“I wasn’t flirting with him. We were talking. And so what if we were flirting? You aren’t my father,” she demanded.

“Maybe I’m not. But someone oughta start acting like him, since Mr. Morgan can’t keep an eye on you. Don’t you know that guys like Dylan Taylor get young starlets off track every minute of the hour,” added Dylan.

“Okay Jaquon. Two things. Number one, you don’t own me. I can talk to whom I please. We aren’t husband and wife. We are songwriting partners. Number two, who says that I was flirting with him, it was just an innocent conversation,” added Khrystine, frustration coloring her voice.

“I can’t believe you’d give me the brush off, and we’ve been working together for over a year, and you give the shopping mall hair rockstar a chance, but you’ve only known him for five minutes,” demanded JaQuon.

“I think you better watch yourself. I wasn’t hanging all over him, I wasn’t flirting with him, we were having a good conversation, and you don’t manage my life, you are my songwriting partner” shouted Khrystine.

The noise of the argument was getting loud, even to her ears.

“I may not manage your life, but you know, Mike, your manager was staring at you. You know that he has a certain image he wants to project for you Khrys and this Dyl-“
“Hold on, my life isn’t just an exercise in Public Relations. I am a person Dylan for crying out loud. You can’t censor who I talk to,” she said turning away from Dylan in a huff.

“An innocent and friendly conversation so you claim? That’s more than I can get out of you. Make sure that Mr. Innocent and Friendly doesn’t just want one thing out of you. Make sure it doesn’t end up topping the tabloids in a few days,” he added vehemently.

Khrystine felt as though he’d just taken a knife, pierced it in her chest and twisted it. Her eyes filled with water and she spat out:

“You watch your back. Maybe we could get more work done around here if you weren’t always watching mine, and trying to force me into a love affair,” she added hotly.

“Yeah well if you weren’t always so sour maybe we could,”

“Sour? Sour? I’m hardly sour to anyone. You know I don’t know Dylan, but I sure know you and I know you are acting like a sour and spoiled brat and I almost wonder if you aren’t the one upset that you aren’t getting the one thing you claim Dylan is after,”

“Ha. Whatever, Khrys, I’m just trying to look out for you. You are one of music’s fastest riding superstars, and I’m riding the road with you. I don’t wanna see you screw up. We don’t have time to nurse a broken heart,” he said as the limo pulled up to Khrystine’s condo.

“No one has to nurse me. I do fine at taking care of me. Just show up on time in the studio, and play your part. You just make sure you are mindful of the fact that we are songwriting partners, not lovers,” said Khrystine, flipping back her long mane.

She grabbed her purse, wrapped the towel securely around herself and sashayed out of the limo, and into the condo. Anger boiled through her veins, and she knew the only thing that could make her feel better at this point was a steamy shower and a glass of Chardonnay.

- posted by Mahogany @ 3:24 PM