Close to the Vest

By JL Paul

“If you would have done as I suggested and just read the article, you’d see that there is nothing degrading or demoralizing in it,” she said.
“If you would have done what I suggested in the first place about not writing some article about my friends, then I wouldn’t be here,” he said, his eyes narrowing. It made him even sexier.
“Well, damn it to hell,” she said. “Next time I’ll remember to put the security chain on the door or just not answer.”
“How about you just stop writing trash?” he asked.
“Not all of us are talented guitar monkeys – we don’t have it made.”
“Maybe you should find another job,” he said.
“And maybe you should read the article before you come over her complaining and whining,” she said, a fire lighting in her chest. “You’d save yourself a lot of embarrassment. “

Sometimes it takes all you have to keep your patience...
When a tabloid reporter clashes with a rockstar, sparks fly – in more ways than one.
Parker Milten is frustrated with the tabloids. His band had to deal with them when they split, and now, when one of the band members has a baby with a popular actress, the paparazzi is parked outside again. He does what he can to keep that little baby’s picture out of the rag mags, while protecting his own secret.
Logan Rogers gets her story, no matter the cost. But she doesn’t believe in lying or embellishing just to sell a magazine. She does have morals.
When the two meet, tempers flare and tensions rise – and that’s not all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JL Paul
• Release date: Jan 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310547379

JL Paul

I've been writing for years mostly as a hobby. I read constantly, although I'm pretty particular about what I read. I do not have a website for my work yet (yeah, I know, what is wrong with me, right?) but once I do, I'll post the link here.

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Close to the Vest

JL Paul

Copyright 2013 JL Paul

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this ebook may be copied or sold or distributed or posted to any website without prior written permission -- if you have this file (or a printout) and didn't pay for it, you are depriving the author and publisher of their rightful royalties.

All characters in this book are entirely imaginary and any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.

Republished 2013

Chapter One

Parker Milten whistled a low tune as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets, preparing to exit the warmth of the hospital to step into the bitter January wind. He scrunched down in his heavy coat, burying most of his face in his scarf, and hurried past the small group of reporters who’d braved the biting cold in the off chance that they might get a peek at Ren, Dalia, or little Addison.

Ever since the big scandal broke and the entire world found out about Ren and Dalia’s secret affair, they couldn’t sneeze without it making the tabloids. So horrible was the paparazzi that they’d had to wed in secret and kept their lips mum about the pregnancy. Few people knew about the abnormal relationship Dalia had been in – everyone just saw her as another spoiled actress, flitting from one lover to another.

Ren Wilken, being a member of a very successful band, was already a target of tabloids. Young, good-looking, and single (at the time), his face often graced teen magazines, totally humiliating him. Of course his older brother, CJ, another member of the band, thought it hilarious and never wasted an opportunity to razz him about it.

Then Ren met Dalia and things changed. They went through hell to get together and had finally found a bit of happiness.

Parker’s scarf hid the amusement radiating on his face as he thought about the tiny, wrinkly bundle who had already severely wrapped Ren around her little finger. Of course, little Addison had all the Wilken boys under her spell and she hardly weighed more than a wet pair of jeans. It was ridiculous.

Ah, he whispered to himself as he crossed the parking lot. She is cute – for a jelly bean.

Without withdrawing his keys from his pocket, he hit the unlock button and hurried toward his car. The sky was threatening snow and he wanted to be home, tucked into his house with a hockey game on the television and a plate of hot wings on his lap.

Parker Milten!

He snapped around before his hand could even graze the door handle and squinted in the overcast light at the minute human being rushing forward. The figure scurrying toward him was dressed in a black, puffy down coat with a bright yellow beanie covering its head. He’d thought the voice sounded feminine but he couldn’t be a hundred percent certain that the figure was female – it looked more like a pre-adolescent skater boy.

Sorry, kid, I ain’t doing autographs today, Parker mumbled, hoping the kid didn’t throw a fit or cause a scene. He usually tried to have a bit more patience with the younger fans but it was too damn cold today.

I’m not looking for an autograph, the figure said - and the voice was definitely feminine. I was wondering if you’d take a little time out of your busy schedule to have a cup of coffee and answer a few questions.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but be amused by the tiny person before him.

I didn’t know reporters came in miniature sizes, he quipped with a touch of laughter. And let me tell you, my friend, you must have nads of steel to invite me to coffee.

The woman scoffed as she tugged the collar of her coat tighter around her face. I don’t know whether to feel insulted or complimented so I’ll just let that little comment slide, huh? And I’ll extend my invitation again. Hot coffee?

Nope, sorry, he said, highly entertained in spite of himself. If you’re looking for some sort of scoop on the newest member of the Wilken clan then you’re barking up the wrong tree. Try calling the studio and asking for Lindsey Preston the PR woman.

No thanks, the woman said, her eyes narrowed in disgust. She’s just about as arrogant as the rest of you rock star types, if not more so.

Parker shrugged and yanked the door handle. Sorry about your luck. Guess you’ll have to go hang out with the rest of the vultures.

She lifted a brow and took a step forward, alarming him for a second. What if she had a gun tucked in the deep pockets of that coat? Sure and why don’t you go hang out with the rest of the sloppy drunk, guitar-playing, brainless monkeys?

He drew back, stunned, and could only blink stupidly at her. Brainless monkeys?

She gave him a salute as she started to walk backwards. Hey, you want to stereotype, buddy – I’m just playing the game. Thanks ever so much for your time.

She turned around and headed toward the hospital entrance, a slight bounce in her step. She was humming fairly loud and, although he wasn’t quite sure, he thought she was humming a … boy band tune?

He shook his head, dismissing the strange confrontation from his mind, and got in his car. He started the engine, locked the doors, and gave the car a second to warm up as he flipped through the radio stations. He was glad that Dalia and the baby would be released from the hospital in the morning so he could visit them at home if he so chose. He hated hospitals to begin with and the horde of vultures surrounding the doors wore on his nerves.

He rubbed his forehead in hopes of staving off another headache – this one induced by the women in his life and not the usual sinus problems. Deidre had taken to calling him again just as he’d finally managed to move past her and start playing the field. He’d even talked Lindsey Preston into accompanying him to studio functions on a few occasions. That had taken a lot of guts as he’d once suspected that Ren had actually had a thing for her before Dalia. But he’d dismissed all his worries when he arrived at the function, Lindsey on his arm, and Ren barely noticed. His eyes had been only on his pregnant wife. The boy was turning into a lovesick fool.

As he put his car into gear, he glanced at the group of reporters huddled near the hospital doors and grinned. Drunken, guitar-playing monkeys! Now that’s hilarious.

***

Logan Rogers stormed into the apartment and ripped the yellow beanie from her head, slinging it in the direction of the coat closet. A tall, reedy girl with a mop of strawberry blonde hair wandered into the cluttered living room, a bowl of steaming Ramen noodles in her hands.

Hard day, love? she asked, her brow quirked.

Not really, Logan admitted. Just the same old, same old.

Do you know what you need? the girl asked.

Yes, Logan said with a wry smile. I need Blackhawks season tickets that include all I can eat hot wings and all I can drink beer, a date with a cute hockey player, a hot bath, and a new pair of sneakers – preferably purple.

The blonde rolled her eyes as she folded her long legs gracefully onto a frumpy chair. I was going to suggest something along the lines of a new job, but I guess you know what you need better than I do.

You’re so right, Amy dear, Logan said as she hung her winter coat on the knob of the coat closet. Any more of those noodles left?

Yep and plenty of soup, Amy said. Get it while it’s hot.

Wonderful, Logan said as she strolled into the kitchen and fetched a bowl from the cupboard. She poured the remainder of the ‘soup’ into her bowl, added a fistful of crushed crackers, and stirred it all together. She returned to the living room and plopped on a lumpy sofa. So, how was your day?

Amy shrugged, her eyes glued to the talk show host pacing slowly in front of her audience, pleading the case of some downtrodden woman on stage. Oh, class was a drag, Mark asked me out, and Val and Trista are arguing again.

Mark asked you out again, eh? Logan asked and Amy nodded absently. Did you break the poor man’s heart?

Amy rolled her eyes and sighed as she set her bowl on the scratched up coffee table in front of her. Yes, I turned him down, if that’s what you’re asking. While Mark is a sweetheart, he just doesn’t do it for me. I’d like a real man – you know, with a six pack, not the two liter Mark tries to show off.

Ah, maybe, but it’s extremely important that we keep Marky nice and happy, Logan said as she spooned the last of her soup into her mouth. My health and well-being depend upon Mark’s happiness.

That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? Amy asked as she pulled a throw blanket off the back of the chair and draped it around her shoulders.

Mark has fabulous connections and that Zylan Records Showcase is coming up right quick. I need a ticket or else my editor will have a coronary, Logan said.

A ticket into the door isn’t going to get you backstage, you know, Amy reminded her.

Of course I know that, Logan replied, her brown eyes glittering like an evil genius about to reveal his master plan. All I need is to get in the door – the rest is no problem-o. I can get backstage in a flash.

Amy groaned and sank further into the chair. Logan, you utterly distress me. I just know one of these days some official in a uniform is going to knock on that door and say that I need to pick my roommate up either from jail or the morgue.

Logan cackled as she rose from her chair and scooped up her roommate’s empty bowl, stacking it on top of her own. Oh, who cares, huh? As long as I get my story!

She skipped out of the room, toward the kitchen, humming random tunes under her breath. Once she rinsed the dishes, she popped back into the living room and snatched the remote from the coffee table. You don’t mind if I change this, do you?

Yes, I do mind, Amy said. You’ve some nerve, woman.

Logan laughed as she was reminded of her earlier confrontation. Do you think I have nads of steel?

Amy frowned, her brow dipping deeply over her eyes. Nads? Do you mean….testicles?

Yes, Logan said, giggling. Nads! Testicles, balls, nuts, grapes, the sack – whatever the hell you want to call the nasty little things. The question is, do you think I have nads of steel?

Honey, I don’t think you even have … nads and if you do, maybe we should rethink the whole roommate situation, Amy replied.

Logan fell back onto the sofa and snorted with laughter. Someone accused me of having nads of steel today. It was so funny!

Who? Amy asked.

Logan sat up and grinned. Parker Milten. He said I must have nads of steel for asking him if he wanted to go grab a cup of coffee. She rolled her eyes. I need a new line or something because he knew instantly that I was going to try to wheedle info on the ‘hottest couple’s’ newest addition out of him.

Well, duh, Amy said matter-of-factly. You were hanging out at the hospital.

It doesn’t matter, Logan sighed as she flopped back on the couch. He won’t ever help me now. I called him a sloppy drunk, guitar-playing, brainless monkey, or something to that effect.

Amy groaned and pulled the throw blanket over her face. Logan…

He started it. He called me a vulture. All’s fair in love and war, darling, Logan said as she sprang to her feet and yanked the blanket off of Amy’s face. I have to do some research. Are we doing anything later?

Val and Trista want us to check out a club with them, Amy said.

I thought they were arguing? Logan said, pausing in the kitchen doorway.

They were arguing over which club we should check out, Amy said. Val wants to go party and have fun but Trista wants to find a husband. You know how the two of them are.

Logan shrugged and checked the tacky Clydesdale clock hanging on the wall. Fine, whatever. I have to finish up a paper and do a little research then I’ll shower and get ready. She spun on her heel to head to her room then stopped. Oh, and if Mark calls, be nice to him! She tossed a smile over her shoulder and skipped to her room, singing the chorus of The Boyz’s Let’s Rock It, Girl from the top of her lungs.

Chapter Two

So, bro, Parker said as he watched Ren carefully ease the wailing baby out of the bassinette and onto a receiving blanket draped on the sofa. Are you and Dalia going to this new club tonight?

I’m not sure, Ren said around a grimace. Man, I never thought little baby girls could smell so bad. Damn! And all she eats is breast milk.

TMI, Little Brother, Parker said as he suppressed a smirk. He had to admit he was actually enjoying himself watching Ren change smelly diapers. How come Robby hadn’t thought to put stuff like this in their new video? The female fans would love it!

Come on, man, Ren said as rolled up the soiled diaper. It’s natural. Why do you think women have breasts? Oh, wait – scratch that question. I’m not sure I want to hear your answer.

Parker laughed and gently took the freshly diapered baby from Ren. His face softened as it always did whenever he looked at the sweet expressions on the baby’s face. He, too, was succumbing to her charms. Don’t listen to your daddy, sweetheart. Uncle Parker is an angel!

Ren snorted as he took the smelly diaper to the kitchen to dispose of it and to wash his hands. Parker cradled the baby close to his chest and rocked her the same way he’d seen Dalia do and sure enough, Addison quieted. Her little lips smacked together and he was once again amazed at how utterly cool little babies were.

Dude, if Dalia catches you settling her down that quickly, she’s liable to recruit you for babysitting services, Ren said as he plopped on the sofa and scrubbed his face. Now, what were you saying about the club?

That new club that opened downtown – I forget the name, Parker said. Robby told me that the owner sent him a special invitation. He said the opening tonight was special invite only so just a select few would be there. Parker grinned. No press. Plus, he thinks it will be a good promotional move, or something like that. You know, we just announced that we got back together and all that.

Sounds good, Ren said around a yawn. I’ll ask Dalia but since the baby is only two weeks old, I don’t know if she’ll want to leave her.

Well, I know your mom is dying to keep the baby for awhile and so is your dad, Parker said as he carefully set the sleeping baby back in her bassinette. He talks about her all the time.

I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house for a bit for something other than work, Ren admitted.

CJ said your dad was dying to get ahold of that baby, Parker said.

I’ll ask Dalia, Ren said as the door opened. Dalia crept into the room a few minutes later, smiled at the men, and then leaned over the bassinette to touch the baby.

Ask me what? she whispered once she adjusted the blankets.

Some new club opened and Zylan Records was given a special invitation, he said as he leaned forward to grab her arm and yank her next to him on the sofa. He kissed her cheek. How do you feel about leaving Addison with my parents for a couple hours and going out for a bit?

She frowned thoughtfully and lifted a brow at Parker. He gave her his most winning smile. Well, she said. It would be nice. But do you think your mother would mind?

My mother had four boys, Ren reminded her. Certainly she can handle a sweet little baby girl.

I would like to go but I don’t think I’d last more than a couple hours, she said. I’m still a little … sore, she said, shooting a quick glance at Parker. He pretended that he hadn’t heard her as he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to know exactly where she was still sore. And he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know where she was still sore.

You don’t have to stay long, Parker said. And the best part is that there won’t be any press so you don’t have to worry about some tabloid reporter taking your picture and reporting that you’re an awful mom or something.

Dalia gasped and looked at Ren. Maybe it is too soon to leave her.

No it’s not, Ren said as he glared briefly at Parker. And it’s not like you’ll be boozing it up. You’re breastfeeding and you can’t drink alcohol.

Well, she said, gnawing on her lip as she gazed at the bassinette. As long as it’s only for a couple of hours.

I promise, Ren said as he kissed her. And if you feel like you want to leave before that, we’ll leave.

Okay, she said, caving in his arms. What time are we going?

Everyone is planning on going around nine, Parker said and once again Dalia frowned.

Hey, Ren said, reading her like a book. We’ll have Mom and Dad come over here and watch the baby that way we won’t have to take her out in this cold weather.

Okay, Dalia said.

Great, Parker said as he stood, clapping Ren on the shoulder. He kissed Dalia’s cheek and headed for the door. I’ll see you two later.

***

Mark is a complete angel to get us in here, Trista Mills said as she wrapped her coat tighter around her body.

Then marry him, Amy grumbled as she stomped her boot-clad feet on the snow-packed sidewalk.

I would if I could, Trista sighed, her blue eyes glowing. But he’s so stuck on you!

Ladies, ladies, Logan said trying to stave off a tired argument. Yes, Mark is an angel and yes, Trista loves him. But, unfortunately, he loves Amy who, just as unfortunately, does not return his affections. Let’s move past it and have a good time tonight.

Where the hell is your coat? Amy asked.

Logan shrugged and rubbed her arms viciously, attempting to create warming friction. I didn’t want to be bothered with it tonight.

Sure, Amy said looking snug, and not totally unlike a model, in her long, black wool coat. Her usual mop of blonde hair was gelled and shaped and straightened into a sleek, elegant style while her own blue eyes were highlighted with just the lightest touch of makeup. Her long, thin body was sheathed in a tight red dress that halted mid-thigh and had an open back. Logan couldn’t wait to see the male reaction once Amy hit the dance floor.

Logan, sweetie, what time did Mark say he’d be here? Trista asked. She was just as pretty with her light brown hair flowing down her back. She wasn’t as tall as Amy but she still towered over Logan’s four foot, eleven inch frame. Trista wore a black dress that was nearly as short as Amy’s but had a back and long sleeves.

Nine-thirty, Logan said, frowning at her own apparel. She was more of a casual girl, though she did enjoy dressing up for the occasional night out. But even though she’d left her coat at home, she wasn’t crazy enough to wear a dress. She wore her newest pair of black skinny jeans with a wonderfully fluorescent lime green sweater that clung to her curves. And on her feet, an equally wonderful pair of lime green sneakers.

She peeked into the dark window of the club but only spotted her reflection. She frowned, wishing for once that she was as tall and lovely as her friends. Her eyes were a boring shade of brown and her face pleasant enough. She supposed her hair was her best feature as it was an unusual shade of brown – more like a dark chestnut – and really thick and shiny. She usually threw it in a ponytail when she was in class or working but had decided to let it fall to the middle of her back that night.

Hey, ladies, Mark said as he jogged up to them, a plume of mist rising from his mouth. He smiled shyly at Amy. You all look lovely.

Thanks, Marky Mark, Logan said as she looped her arm through his and yanked his ear to her level. Play it cool with her – don’t push it.

Mark winked at her and kissed her cheek. Sure, toots, whatever you say. He straightened and handed out tickets. Tad is coming – I gave him his ticket already.

Cool, Logan said as she accepted her ticket and headed for the door. Now, remember, all of you, don’t gawk at the celebrity in the room. And if any of you take pictures with your phones, I get dibs!

We know the drill, toots, Mark said. You just remember that it’s my ass on the line if anyone finds out that you’re with the press.

Logan grinned, batting her eyes at him. Wouldn’t think of it.

Mark draped an arm over Logan’s shoulder and stopped her before she could open the door. This opening is by invitation only and the theme is some sort of 80’s rock so be prepared. Also, he paused to smile big at Logan. I have a source who says that Zylan Records graciously accepted their invitation and have quite a few of their artists attending. Also, he held up a finger – Mark loved drama. That new record company, Windy City Hits, they can’t be outdone so they’re sending a few of their people to schmooze.

Mark! Logan gasped and jumped up to plant a kiss on his cheek. You are amazing!

I know, Mark said, glancing furtively at Amy. Let’s go before you turn into a lime green Popsicle.

The overwhelming heat was the first thing Logan noticed as a small sigh escaped her lips. She handed her ticket to the gorilla-ish bouncer, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let her pass – and stepped into the dome-like club.

The walls were covered in what looked like blood red, crushed velvet. Intimate, black tables were lined up near the walls while larger tables were positioned closer to the pulsating dance floor that lit up and changed colors a la Saturday Night Fever.

A steel railing wrapped around the balcony that overlooked the main room and more black tables were set up next to it so occupants could watch the club goers below.

But the bar was amazing. It stretched across one entire wall, a mirror behind it. The mirror had hand-painted images of various music legends from the Four Tops to Elvis Presley to Rolling Stones. There was even a small mural of UpDown, Parker Milten’s recently reunited band. Of course, since it was a Chicago club, the Chicago based artists were the most prominent.

The waitresses scurrying through the maze of tables were dressed in leather minis complete with fishnet stockings, suede boots and big 80’s hairstyles.

Too cool, Logan said, smiling appreciatively. Way too cool.

I love it! Trista said as she clutched Logan’s hand. It’s so retro.

Let’s find a table, Amy suggested as she removed her coat and handed it to the coat check girl.

Over here! someone shouted over the music that hadn’t reached club level decibels yet. Smiling, Logan waved at a broad-chested, blond man with spiky hair sitting at a table close to the dance floor.

There’s Tad, she said. Let’s go.

They settled around the table and ordered drinks. Logan casually scanned both levels of the club and spotted a couple of the newer, lesser known artists that had recently signed with either record company. She was none too impressed with them and knew her editor wouldn’t give a damn about them, either, unless they did something really stupid.

Come on my little sprite, Tad said with a smile as he took Logan’s hand. Let’s tear up the dance floor.

Fine you big oaf, she said as she allowed him to drag her through the crowd.

There were plenty of people testing the floor and Logan recognized a few as local socialites but her role at The Scene magazine was to cover the local music industry. Ever since Zylan Records opened a Chicago branch, spurring the inception of Windy City Hits, and several other record labels, the music scene exploded. Musicians flooded the city, settling down in the better, uptown neighborhoods