“I doubt he’ll have any experience with the glowing green stuff oozing out of it.”
“Oh.Ohhh!Need any help?” Maggie flung the blanket off herself and jumped up, quickly realizing that was a bad idea, and collapsed back into the couch cushions.
I knelt beside her. “You okay?”
“Yeah… I… just stood up too fast.”
“Why don’t you sit this one out, Mags. It’s probably just a residual acting up from Graham’s possession. Nothing a quick dousing of Holy Water won’t fix.”
“Yeah… I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Take it easy. I’ll send Katie over with some breakfast.”
“No—don’t. I’m not ready to explain everything to her just yet.”
“Come on… she needs to know. She cares about you too, you know. Don’t push her away.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What, you think she’s never done anything embarrassing before?”
She let out a defeated breath. “Fine.”
“Okay, Hunter’s probably in the basement. Got some mud on his pants.” I turned to leave.
“Hey, Derek?—”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” Her voice faltered, and tears welled behind her lashes. She looked smaller than she had any business looking, curled into that couch like the blanket was the only thing holding her together.
“Mags, it’s going to be okay.”
chapter 5
THE OSCARS OF PORN
Graham
Ah—fuck…the things I did for her.
Not in a million years did I think I’d be stuffed in this fucking monkey suit playing bodyguard at what was probably the second largest adult video award ceremony in the country. Or that there was the slightest possibility that I’d share the bedroom with another man for her.
But there I was, on the streets of Downtown Boston, dressed like I had more money than I could count and contemplating whether or not risking bumping dicks with another man was worth it just to be with her.
I parked the Shelby in a parking garage a block over and made my way to the entrance of the casino. Workers had already rolled out the black carpet, set up the velvet ropes, and made sure everyone knew there was a porn award ceremony happening tonight.
The glass doors banged open, and a woman in a glittering pantsuit stormed through, clipboard clutched tight under her arm. “Tony! Hey, yo, Tony!” she barked, heels clicking like gunfire on marble. “That van better be gone insixty seconds or less! Markowitz, Devereaux, and Chenille are rolling up in ten, and you know they don’t do blocked entrances.”
The carpet was already a battlefield—paparazzi circling like vultures, staking their corners with tripods and light stands, media crews jostling elbows, testing angles. Everyone waited, hungry, vibrating, cameras twitching in their hands, ready to explode the second the first limo pulled up.
“Hey, you. Big guy.” The woman zeroed in on me, sequins flashing as she jabbed her clipboard my direction. “You workin’ tonight?” She flicked her eyes down the entire length of my body and back up to my eyes again.
“I’m security for Devereaux’s girl.” God, I hated the way that tasted in my mouth.
“Great. Then make yourself useful until they show. See those yahoos over there?” She angled her clipboard toward a pack of fresh-faced paparazzi jostling for turf. “That’s The Hollywood Reporter’s section. Move ‘em.”
I just stared at her.
