Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4 Page 3

  After having some quiet words with his family—terse words it seems—he approaches the reporter’s area with a stiff grin that never reaches his eyes, though none of these reporters care. They accept him any way they can get him, even in his misery.

  Moving forward from behind pizza man, I shift closer to the front. From here, I can just make out Casper through the thick sea of people.

  “Casper, today was a great run.” The first to start the questioning is a guy that really should be on a diet, and paying for Hair Plugs for Men. His pasty, thinning hair sticks to his oversized forehead as sweat breaks out in rivulets down his face. To boot, the asshole is so pungent, I can’t deal with staying put much longer. Shifting over, I almost forget to turn the camera towards the sexy Crown in front of me. Switching it on quickly, I record what little I can see from here. Jason was right, this will be shaky as shit.

  Watching Casper step forward to address the crowd, he plasters on an even bigger fake smile as he leans on his winning ride. “Thanks, Charles. It was a good run.” His voice is contained, with very little emotion. He’s certainly not expressing an ounce of joy from winning for the third time, but Casper is known for his contained, canned comments.

  “When the spectator crossed the barrier, and you were coming up on him, what was going through your mind? Were you worried about hitting him? Did it scare you to think you could have ended not just his life, but your own as well?” Markus asks. Turning, I see him and Jason shouldering their way to the front, literally pushing everyone out of their way. With a wide grin, Jason turns and winks. Fucking pricks. Slimy, greasy pieces of shit. If it wouldn’t cost me my job, I’d kick their teeth out.

  Ignoring them and turning back to the task at hand, I watch through the lens. Casper’s stance is rigid, and he’s pissed off. He’s either ready to leave, or punch someone out. But, he answers the question with a sense of decorum and poise, acting composed and unaffected.

  “Markus, I had to make a split-second decision. If I changed course and adjusted the speed, I wouldn’t have known exactly where to go. All I could do was hope for the best. It was blind luck. He took not only his life and mine into his hands, but he took those of the people close by as well. I feel sorry for him. Truly.”

  I listen as the same type of questions are asked. They’re all looking to poke the bear instead of congratulating him for his win. It’s crass. Casper Crown deserves to be commended, not condemned. This is fucking shitty.

  I feel sorry for him. Bet or no bet, I need to say my peace. Markus had his opportunity and so did the rest, and if these dumbasses don’t want to approach this right, I will.

  Knowing it’s probably the only chance I’ll ever have, I steel my nerves and yank up my big girl panties. Putting the camera down, I speak. “Circe Maco, affiliate to KKCO, Wales. I have one more question before you leave, if you don’t mind.” My voice trails off as every eye turns to me, including Markus’. I guess I win that bet. He looks pissed, so I shy away slightly.

  “Step forward, please.” Hearing Casper’s gravelly voice directed at me, I curse myself for speaking up. “I’d rather address a lady than this blatant show of male posturing.” I’m sure you would.

  Markus motions for me with a wave of his hand to step forward. Grimacing, I attempt to back away as he says, “I can’t fuckin’ wait to tell Kingston this.” His nasally voice and snide smirk scares the shit out of me.

  I move forward as the other reporters make room for me. Reaching the front, the only thing between me and the champ is a flimsy folding table, of which I almost collapse as I lean on it.

  “Siren, I’m not planning on staying with these wretched blokes much longer. Give me a reason to stay,” Casper whispers low enough for only me to hear. Siren? A reason? How about I want to lick you from stem to stern. Is that good enough? I think to myself.

  Relaxing my breathing, I compose my thoughts. “Mr. Crown, my question is this. When you crossed the finish line, did you think of this as your last time on the TT? Or, is this just a building block for another record in the annals of motorcycle racing?”

  The hardcore interviewers think my question is trivial and a waste of time. They scoff and titter among themselves like children, but I concentrate on Casper, ignoring the idiots.

  Giving me his full attention, I find his gaze unnerves me. Being this close to him gives me the shivers, and it makes me dangerously aroused. My stupid body doesn’t get it. Turning around to look at the others, I see Markus sneering at me.

  “Well, Ms. Circe Maco…” Casper pauses. Wandering close to the table I’m leaning on, he picks up a loose throttle before he continues. “I’m a predator, and I’m not ready to give up my position in the pride. If someone wants to try to tip me off the pedestal, they’re welcome to try.”

  He looks me straight in the eyes as he finishes. We’re only inches from one another, so close I can see the small scars on his face, the white lightning streaks in his irises, and the slight stubble on his face. It’s hot as fuck.

  “Does that answer your question, Ms. Maco?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, thank you,” I stammer, thrown off by his closeness. I’m normally more articulate, but I can’t think straight.

  Casper winks at me before turning to the rest of the crowd.

  “I’m tired from the race. I really need a bit of a rest before tonight’s party. Good afternoon, everyone,” he says before leaning on the table, focusing again on me. “I’m sure I’ll see you again—soon.”

  Smiling, Casper moves off towards his ride, ignoring those vying for more of his attention. As he turns, giving the crowd his backside—which is such a very nice view—I watch his retreating form, unable to pull my gaze from his tight ass. Once I do, I spin as fast as I can and hand Jason the camera as I rush back through the slack-jawed dinks, and away from Casper’s powerful magnetism. If I stay here any longer, I’ll say or do something utterly stupid. Or, I’ll hear Markus tell me there’s no use in me going back to work, ever.

  Soon? He’d said it like he expects to see me again.

  Fuck.

  My toy is getting a workout tonight.

  CIRCE

  I make it back to the station trailer in under ten seconds. Running up the stairs, out of breath and completely unhinged, I walk inside. No one else is here but me, my unease, and my insecurities.

  As I’m clearing up my station, Carli, my other associate and only friend, wanders in. Bouncing gleefully, jacked up on her ninth or tenth coffee of the day, she’s the girl that makes me smile, makes me step out of my comfort zone (more than I’d like), and makes me be something I thought died long ago. I was something more then, but not now.

  “Interesting day, huh?” Carli asks me as she sets herself up in the chair I vacated less than an hour ago.

  “That and more, love.” Sweeping up my purse, I gather up my phone, half-finished bottle of water, and the granola bar I left behind. Carli’s the complete Memoirs of a Geisha stereotype, albeit modernized. With her China doll complexion, bright blue eyes, mocha colored hair and infectious energy, she’s hard to ignore. Carli is radiant. The first time I met her, I was enamored by her no-nonsense attitude and carefree personality that was just so ‘in your face.’

  We met at college where I was quiet, reserved, trying to hide out. She was the one with an enthusiastic need to know me; the hiding-at-the-back-of-the-room girl. Carli repeatedly yanked me into her insane orbit. I tried to shake her, but it was no use. Once she latched on, she was like a fat tick looking for lunch, and I was the meal. That was ten years ago, and now, I couldn’t see my life without her. She’s the yin to my yang. She’s the dark-haired beauty, and I’m the redhead. We both hide our secrets, and we accept each other the way we are—aloof, crazy, and sometimes shut-off from others.

  I wasn’t always this way, though. I had hopes and aspirations. Those were, unfortunately, crushed in a split second.

  No, that’s a lie. Those dreams were squashed flat, like a bright ladybug on a windshield.
Sometimes, I miss that girl. But, that carefree, loving, and adventurous girl is gone, and I’m who replaced her.

  It’s funny how everything can change in the blink of an eye. I used to be like Casper, revelling in the roar of the crowd. The pure rush of pushing your limits, trying to best yourself. It was an aphrodisiac, and that was what I yearned for. Now I blend in, becoming unnoticeable. A no one, sitting quietly, allowing the world to pass me by.

  “Are you coming to the awards ceremony with me? Or are your plans the usual?” Carli asks without turning. Pushing and pulling on the various levers and switches of the board, she adjusts it to her needs. “Hiding out like the psycho cat lady you envy?”

  “I don’t envy her, per say. I’m her assistant, and I don’t do litter.” Carli turns and swats my arm, smiling deviously. I know that look. It spells trouble for me, like restraints and flashing lights, trouble. “Car, honestly, I’m not sure. I’ll probably curl up with a book and a beer in the hotel room.”

  “Oh, sweets,” she says sadly, but in a fake way. Pulling away from the blinking lights, she levels that look I’m so used to. It’s the one that clearly tells me I’m in for a heap of insanity.

  “You need a life, and hell, you need fun while we’re traveling. My segment ends in two hours, and I’ll be cleared out of here likkity split. Meet me back at the room, and don’t think I’ll take no for an answer. We’ll go out for the dick-swinging, boob-sizing, and all around male posturing exhibition. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” I say back, but with less conviction.

  “Yes, and that’s final, Circe. I won’t leave you to hide out. You’re going to engage in humanity.” Knowing Carli, if I don’t engage in the party, I’ll be subjected to weeks and weeks of moaning, groaning, and constant reminders of how I’m more of a wet fucking blanket than a friend.

  “Fine.” Placing my granola bar in my bag, I throw away my now empty water bottle into the trash. “But, you know I didn’t bring anything dressy, so don’t expect a miracle.” Carli rolls her eyes at my comment before waving me off. With a smirk, she adjusts the headset over her ears and returns to the control board, leaving me no room to argue. I’ve been dismissed.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The two of us have been back here in our room for about an hour. I skipped away through the crowds around Casper’s caravan as fast as I could, racing to the sanctuary of my hotel. I’ve already had two beers, been schooled by Carli, and packed up most of my things. If I’m going to be fired, I might as well be ready for a quick exit with my head held high. She thinks I have it wrong. Carli turned on the US news, showing me the damage I caused by opening my mouth.

  “That was the sound bite of the week. Fuck, the month! Every affiliate has played that back for two straight hours on repeat.” Carli tunes into entertainment shows out of New York, where the anchor is talking about nothing else. “God, Circe. Casper looked like he wanted to eat you.”

  Carli’s grinning from ear to ear as I look at the footage. Taking in the amazing and gorgeous Casper Crown as he grins, Carli flicks through the channels and I watch each show, where it’s all the same thing. He’s smiling at me. I’m like a deer in headlights, and he leans in close with that word soon.

  “Look, dark darling. I tell you about every encounter, every sordid detail of my escapades and you accept it. Circe, you’re like a sponge absorbing all my quirkiness. This was cool, and wickedly amazing. Everyone is going to want to know about you, and how you got him to show some sliver of emotion.”

  It’s true that most of his interviews are very concise and to the point. He gives very little of himself away, but today he was relaxed and informative—sweet, even. I don’t normally do that type of thing. I try to be non-existent so that no one asks questions. Now? I have the feeling my past may catch up with me.

  “I don’t think it’s that spectacular. It’s not like he told me what position he likes in bed,” I say as the vision takes shape in my mind. His naked form, elbows deep into the mattress, as his beautiful face hangs above me with a look that would melt a glacier.

  What would it be like? I haven’t had a lot of partners like Carli has. Carli’s lineup would take a week to write down. Mine? Two seconds. I’ve only had two, horrible sexual experiences, and both I had to finish off in the shower after they were already snoring. Despicable and unfulfilling is how I’d describe them. Now, I’m a lone wolf with my pinkie toy.

  He’d be a great one-night stand if I could ever bring myself to do it. Thing is, I’m not a pushover when it comes to letting guys get under my thick armor. It normally takes me a few months to warm up enough for anything more than kissing. In all honestly, I’m a prude. Casper, obviously, isn’t frugal with his partners, and if today was any indication, I’ll be damned if I’d become a notch on his bedpost. I’m no one’s dirty moment.

  “Circe, you got close enough to find out what’s under all that bravado. That little tidbit was simple, yet it caught Casper’s attention.”

  Had Casper hit on me? Or was it just to pull the attention away from the other reporters? Was he trying to deter them from asking further questions about the guy on the track? Maybe.

  Honestly, does it matter? Not really.

  Sort of.

  Yes. No?

  Fuck!

  Who am I kidding? Him being so close was panty-melting awesome, but scary nonetheless. At this rate, I’ll need a few moments alone in the bathroom.

  “Don’t you understand what it was you did?” she beams, poking me in the side, trying to drag me from my musings.

  “No, I don’t. It was spontaneous, and totally not rehearsed. Why is it so…so—”

  “Apeshit?” Carli interjects, popping a sticky toffee bar in her mouth.

  “Yeah, I don’t get it.” All I see is that if I had let him leave when I knew he was about to and kept my ass in the shadows, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  “You don’t see yourself, do you? God. How often do I have to explain this to you?” She looks exasperated with my apparent ignorance. “You are a knockout. One, I might add, who got a reply from the undisputed bike god today, Circe.”

  Giving her the meanest eye roll I can muster, I flick through channels, seeing wave after wave of the same reports and those amazing eyes. I’m mesmerized by those eyes.

  “Casper totally called you out. He had you move up to the front, then eye fucked you. Everyone saw it. I can’t believe you didn’t.”

  “Oh, I noticed. I’m just deciding on the best way to avoid it. I’m not his kind of girl. I don’t spread my legs for a wink and a nudge. I’m not someone with fancy style and perfect hair. I’m not even close to Casper’s type. I’m the hot mess, not the hawt mess.”

  Carli is entirely too happy about this whole thing, while I’m fucking scared that this can get me in some shit. I’ve worked too damn hard to get on Jim and Jackie’s show as an assistant. One impromptu moment with Casper and I’m on the chopping block.

  “Okay.” Smacking her hands together, Carli rises from the couch. Turning off the TV, she tosses the remote down and stalks over to me. “So, tonight you have two choices. One, blend in at the party. Hide out in the back, get your single drink, then sneak out after fifteen minutes. You’ll be leaving me alone, again. And Circe,” Tilting her head side, she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows and shakes her head, “I know you sneak out on me every time. Don’t lie.”

  “I—”

  She tsks me, then continues on to her second point. “Two. If you dressed better than a tomboy out of the eighties—”

  “I don’t dress—” I start again, and she tosses an empty candy wrapper at my head.

  “Circe, you’re fucking gorgeous. You need to get your funk on. You need sex…with another human being.” Sorting through her luggage, she flings a dress at me. I duck as she attempts to behead me with the beaded ensemble.

  “Let me doll you up. Nothing as crass as the groupies, but classical
ly beautiful. Go hunting. You look like a homeless Raggedy Ann.”

  “Damn, Car. Evil much?” She grins, laying a purple dress in my lap. “This is no more than a hanky. Come on, Car. Give me something with more than ten stitches.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Fine…here.”

  Pretty, expensive, and exquisite dresses are not bought from my bank account now. That was the old Circe.

  Carli and I don’t talk to each other about our pasts. I don’t know a great deal about hers, but I can smell old money from a distance; she’s swimming in it. Not that she flaunts it, but her style, and the pieces she wears shows that she’s been trained to understand beauty.

  I lift the soft material and inspect it. “I guess I could dress a bit less like a—”

  “A lost Madonna wannabe that lives on the streets with a mangy dog named Fart?”

  “Ouch! Yeah. Okay, I get it.” I know if I don’t resign myself to her ministrations, she’ll keep this up all evening, and I won’t get a moment’s peace until she gets what she wants—me, as her project runway.

  “Look, Circe. You’re a gorgeous girl and no one sees it under all that.” She waves her hands up and down my body, sneering at my current attire. “You really need to come out of the proverbial shell. Eyes turn your way, because damn, you’re a fuckin’ looker. I’ll even assist with keeping the ogres at bay, okay?” I laugh at the visual of a green Mike Myers’ monster finding me attractive.

  “Fine. I give you permission to doll me up, but nothing excessive.”

  She jumps up and down, crossing her fingers across her heart. “Light Fairy Godmother magic only. Promise.”