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“I’d love to let you young folks get to know each other better, but Frank’s got a job to get to and Mason, don’t you have practice later? So we’d better get going and get married,” she laughed merrily. “Come on kids, let’s do it.”
With exaggerated courtesy, I offered my arm to Janie. My new stepsister smiled and took it with exaggerated acceptance and we strode behind our parents into the room where the ceremony would take place.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed sideways, shooting daggers at me.
I smirked.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, looking at her from the corner of my eye. God, she was gorgeous. I could see down the front of Janie’s strapless dress and the creamy flesh was already driving me crazy. But then I ripped my eyes away, scolding myself. Down boy, I thought. She’s your sister now.
With an obligatory air, we took our places next to our respective parents, but not before Janie shot me one last warning look. Then, the ceremony began. It was fast actually. It only took about five minutes, and the magistrate was brief and to the point.
“Do you, Paula Phillips, take Frank Bowen as your true and wedded husband?” he intoned.
“Yes,” murmured my mom.
Then Frank was asked the same question, and it was done. My mom was now Mrs. Frank Bowen and Star, I mean Janie, was my new sister. Ohhh shit. This was going to be a wild ride.
10
Janie
Mason knows me as Star but I’m actually Janie in real life. Star is just my alter ego. She’s someone whom I become when I’m on stage so that I can get the job done without any guilt. Although I admit, I’ve been Star more and more lately.
“So are you going to tell your dad about your job?” growled Mason, looking at me from behind the wheel. He was driving me home after the ceremony, and I tried to pull my skirt down a little, cursing myself silently. Why hadn’t I put on something more appropriate? Oh right, because it was my father’s fourth wedding.
“For your information, Frank doesn’t know,” I said haughtily, refusing to look at him. “I’ve been supporting myself for a while now because Frank’s business is okay, but it’s not gangbusters. So I dance, okay? It’s not a crime and I make a ton of money.”
That made Mason laugh out loud, showing off his movie star smile.
“Honey, I know you make a lot of money,” he rumbled. “In fact, I contributed to your uh … salary, shall we say?” he stated. “But is the Blue Light Special something you do regularly?”
I didn’t know what to say at first. After all, I’ve slept with other guys on stage before. It’s part of my job, and the truth is that I love it. I love taking a man’s hardness in me in full sight of an audience, with all the rest of the guys wishing they were the lucky one. But there was no way to say it straight because the truth was just too shocking.
“Listen,” I said huffily. “I do what I do, and I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“You don’t,” Mason agreed. “But let me ask you this: why not dance somewhere nicer, Janie?” he asked reasonably. “It would mean a lot more money,” he said.
That statement surprised me because obviously, Mason didn’t judge me for dancing. If anything, he thought that I should be making more by working at a better place with big-time customers.
But the sports star wouldn’t understand. This was Mason Phillips after all, and he probably made millions from his sponsorships alone.
“Because I don’t want anyone to recognize me,” I said in a stiff tone. “I want to keep my regular life and my dancing life separate. I’d never see a customer from the Donkey in real life. Besides, why were you there, Mr. Olympics? You should have been at a high-class place yourself.”
That made Mason frown, his knuckles suddenly going white on the wheel as his jaw tensed.
“You’ll never understand,” he growled, refusing to look at me. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh yeah? Try me,” I taunted, wriggling my hips while trying to pull my skirt down again. I was about to snap out another retort when I saw his eyes glued to my thighs hungrily, like he wanted to bury his head between my legs right then and there even if it caused a car accident. Ah ha! So he wasn’t all Ice Man. Mr. Olympics was turned on.
But he was a man of iron control because with a low growl, Mason clenched his jaw and drove on with his eyes fixed on the road.
“Life as an Olympian is different, okay?” he ground out. “You’d never understand.”
“Try me,” I coaxed, willing him to look at me. “Believe me, dancers understand a lot more than you think.”
