Supporting Her Troop

I awoke to a sliver of light in my eyes, which made me rub them with a groan. My head pounded harder than that time I’d bounced off that trampoline on the set of The Boss of Me eight years ago. I’d sworn that was the last time I would ever do my own stunts, so what feat led to this massive headache?

Cotton mouth and an empty Jägermeister bottle poking my arm revealed the culprit. Happy twenty-first birthday, Violet!

I looked up from the foot of the bed to observe my rented room. Splash marks sullied bits of the white wallpaper and its little gold hotel emblems, and one of the two paintings among them lay in a pool of shattered glass before the white dresser. Las Vegas’ finest digs had taken a beating because Mel had insisted on celebrating this milestone “properly”. If I didn’t love—and need—my agent/publicist so much, I would’ve had to fire her.

My breath caught in my throat when I noticed my red lace panties draped upon the widescreen T.V.. Ms. Wang’s latest lay on the arm of the nearby leather sofa like a murder victim, my bra on the cream carpet beneath it like its puddle of blood. Oh, if the remainder of my fans could see me now!

An abrupt noise nearly made me jump out of my skin—which was as bare as my world premiere, so to speak. I crumpled the bedding to my chest.

A lump twisted under the same sheet before settling with a deep breath.

I trembled while scanning my foggy brain to recall who that lump would be. A black set of clothes on the floor right under me reminded me of its wearer’s tight embrace, which would’ve made me smile if I could remember his face. There was no denying it; I was going to have to look under the sheets.

I pinched satin and slowly lifted, hoping not to rouse my anonymous dalliance.

A set of chiseled abs—and his yummy anatomy—made me tingle, as did flashes of our wild ride all over the room. But who was he?

I gently peeled the sheet away from his head.

He was about my age and ruggedly handsome. Strong cheekbones with mildly prominent brows matched a light brown patch of hair atop his head, the rest shaved off. His broad shoulders and powerful arms bulged like those of a superhero. Well defined pectorals, too. Someone ate a lot of red meat.

And pizza, I remembered as the phantom taste of pepperoni filled my mouth. He’d had a very nice smile while we’d shared some in the casino.

I slowly turned away and stepped on something cold. Still clutching the sheet to me, I reached under my foot and pulled up a necklace of metallic beads bearing two flat metal objects lined by black rubber, which barely made a sound. Their matching embossment told me his name: TELFORD, LEONARD DAVID.

Military dog tags, I realized, matching a few sets I had seen while shooting Albert Goes to Afghanistan thirteen years ago. This guy was either a soldier or wanted to be.

I started reading the rest of the tags when a sharp cawing of seagulls burst through my ears.

My guest stirred with a grunt.

I grabbed my phone and slipped right off the bed. I stabbed the green button to make the agonizing ringtone go away, but the display made me smile. “Mel?”

“Good morning, Vee,” that high-pitched little mouse voice rattled off from the other end. “You need anything, or are you still, um, entertaining?”

I glanced over the bed, where my guest had sat up facing away from me. I ducked back down and whispered, “Not exactly. Who is this guy?”

“You don’t remember? You were the one climbing all over him last night.”

I suddenly remembered giving the mountain in question what could’ve been considered a lap dance while he played a slot machine. I peeked again and watched him lumber toward the bathroom with his hand on his head, trying not to stare at the definition of his delectable lower half. And failing.

“Vee?”

I waited until he closed the door behind him, and then I lumbered through the room to gather my clothes while silently begging my head to stop pounding. “I vaguely remember parts of a really good time. How drunk did you get me?”

“I got you two shots, Ms. Lightweight. Everything after that was all you. If I’d have known you’d be this wild, I might’ve gotten you better publicity from it.”

I hated to say it yet again, but, “Tabloids don’t always equal the kinds of jobs I want.”

“You’re killing me, Vee,” she said louder than I would’ve liked.

I groaned. “This hangover’s killing me.” I sat on the bed and labored to don my shoes, which felt two sizes smaller. “What am I going to do about this guy?”

“You want me to get rid of him for you?”

My chest seized in panic. Some parts of me wanted her rescue, but a few longed to know more about him. I wasn’t quite open to another ride right now, but—

“Morning,” a deep voice greeted me from behind, startling a gasp out of me.

I hung up the phone but couldn’t do much else, frozen in terror. What do I do?

“I got something for you,” the voice said, prompting a lewd mental image of what my unfortunate slight might think would entice me right now.

I turned to meet my fate and found a fully dressed Mister Muscles handing me a glass of water with a smile. “Thanks,” I said before taking and sipping it. The cool water soothed my parched throat instantly.

“You want some breakfast or something?” he asked with his hands behind his back, watching me with sweet chocolate eyes.

“I can call room service,” I replied to be polite. “What would you like?”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty much game for anything.”

“I’ll call for a Continental,” I said while reaching the courtesy phone from the nightstand, but knocking split my skull again. My palm slapped my face and kneaded my eye with a groan.

“I’ll see who it is,” he said, his fading voice telling me he was already on his way. “Just take a load off.”

Hardly in a position to argue, I breathed through the pain between sips.

The door opened and I slowly turned to find my partner-in-crime’s pixie face grinning at him, her light brown eyes looking him up and down mischievously. “You’re even better looking in the morning.”

Mount Hunk flinched. “Um, thanks. Mel, right?”

Mel flashed him a flattered grin and her business card. “Melantha Dean, agent and publicist extraordinaire to none other than—hold your applause until the end, folks—the Violet James.”

Mister Muscles’ eyes filled with recognition. “Callie from The Boss of Me? Greta from Greta’s Family Reunion?”

I nodded as faintly as pain would allow.

“Wow,” he said softly. “Now I feel bad I didn’t recognize you before.”

I frowned. “I never told you my name?”

“Just Vee,” he replied with a shrug, but his eyes bore concern. “Last night a little foggy?”

I didn’t want to admit that was the case, but the floor show came to mind quickly enough. “I remember meeting you, Leonard.”

“Leo.”

Close enough.

“Well, now that we’re all acquainted,” Mel said as she somehow swung him around and out the door, “thanks for coming, and have a nice day.”

My stunned guest started to speak when the door slammed in his face. I felt bad for him, but not as bad as my throbbing head.

“What did you two do last night?” my rescuer asked while beholding the place with a wide-open maw.

“Still piecing that together,” I lied while kneading my eye, which squeezed forth even more images of the passionate wrecking ball my beefcake and I had formed while making our way to the bed. “You didn’t have to kick him out like that.”

Mel waved off the door and sat beside me. “He’ll live. Probably call a tabloid or post something on social media.”

That jarred me hard. “Omigod. What if he taped it?”

“You know I can spin it,” she said as she sat beside me with the exuberance of an eight-year-old. “Right now, I just want to help you feel better.”

My eyes narrowed, and not just because of the throbbing. “And get details from me.”

“And get details from you,” she parroted with a flash of her brows, those big teeth of hers beaming at full power like the famed Cheshire Cat. “I do want to stay ahead of anything that guy might sell to the Blender, and I am going to have to smooth things over with the hotel manager after what you two did to this place. Spare nothing.”

I raked my hair back, tugging whatever details I could grasp. “I remember he came up to us at the floor show during that Elvis impression.”

Mel shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“I thought she did a pretty decent rendition,” I said with a soft shrug, even if I also wanted to cringe. I focused on the next steps I’d taken. “We went to the casino, had a few more drinks, bet on a couple of slot machines.” The flashes became broken, harder to recall. “There was pizza in there somewhere. Then what? Right to the hotel? No, that doesn’t sound right.”

“All I know is you insisted you were good as you two left me at the bar. Being in the next room, I thought I’d hear trouble if there was any.” She looked around again in awe. “I was clearly mistaken.”

I thought harder, and a few more images flashed before my eyes. I rubbed my temples to knead out more. “I remember us going outside for some air and—”

“Is that what I think that is?” Mel asked, her soft brown eyes as wide as her open maw.

I frowned and dropped my hands into my lap, but her stunned gaze followed them. I looked down and saw it large as life: a gold band on my left ring finger. I nearly hit the roof, my heart racing harder than any audition I ever had in my life. “Omigod!”

“Did you marry that guy?” Mel asked, the latter half squeaking out.

I stared at the legal shackle like it was a wart on my nose. Right before my long-awaited comeback, too! I nursed my splitting skull again with a whimper.

“Just breathe, Vee,” Mel said as she rushed off and returned with another full glass of water and rubbed my neck. “We can fix this. You know I’ve got you.”

I drank my water and let my head fall onto her shoulder. I really wanted to believe her, but this was a mess I didn’t need right now.