Thanks for the awesome reviews on the last chapter, you guys! :) You guys have this talent of like, making my day every time I post up a new chapter. And I know it's taken me the freaking longest time ever to update anything at all, but I swear—I promise—that I will try to update this one as frequently as I can.
It might be a bit suckish, considering how long it's been since I updated. Sorry; but maybe you'll enjoy it anyway? :)
Massie Block
-x-
It took a couple hours to get to New York from Hawaii—because of a delay due to bad weather it took even longer. By the time the plane had stumbled to a halting stop in New York's central airport, I had dowsed off and was just fluttering my eyes open.
"Miss Block?" The airplane stewardess asked quietly, her eyes wide. "Uhm, the plane has stopped, and your agent has asked us to let you off first…"
"Yes, yes," I said a bit impatiently. "Ashley tends to do stuff like that. Can you get someone to get my suitcases down? I'll be waiting outside—I really need some sunlight after all this… airplane-ness."
She looked a bit taken aback and offended, but quickly recovered and hastily nodded. "Oh, of course, er, Miss Block. I'll get someone on that right away."
I raised my chin curtly at her. "Good," I said, then grabbed my crocodile-skin Dior purse and walked down the aisle as if it was a runway in my five-inch heels. I avoided eye contact with any of the staring people or the airplane attendants on my way down the stairs and outside.
As soon as my heel touched the gravel, I whipped out a pair of oversize aviators from my purse and slipped them on. It wasn't like I wanted to seem like a bitch—it was just a habit. When you lived the kind of life I did, and were mobbed by hundreds of fans each day, it was safer—for both your physical and mental health—to stay distant from anyone except those you knew you could trust.
"Finally," I breathed when a struggling blonde staggered down the steps with my six suitcases. "That took you long enough."
"Sorry, Miss Block," he gasped, then dropped half of the suitcases down on the ground. "It was a bit of a hassle—"
I had already grabbed the handle of two and was walking ahead to a waiting limo near the airport's crowded parking lot. "Can you grab the other four? It should be lighter now that I took some," I said over my shoulder.
He sighed, looking dejected. When he saw the purse of my lips, however, he straightened up and grabbed the suitcases and hurried after me. "Yes, Miss Block. Whatever you say."
-x-
The hotel, Harrington Plaza, looked shockingly familiar. As soon as you stepped in you were overwhelmed by the tall gold pillars, the deep magenta and mauve color of the stretching walls. It was grand. I shrugged the thought that I had been here before away, then turned the platinum-blonde receptionist.
"Hello there," she chirped, her voice high-pitched. "My name is Olivia Ryan; you can call me Liv or Olivia or even," here she let out a giggle, "Miss Ryan."
I wanted to ask her how old she was—four? I assessed her from behind the lenses of my dark sunglasses, frowning. She looked about twenty, the same age as me. "Uhm, I'll stick with Olivia. I'm Maciara Block, but if you don't know that then you might as well get out from the rock you're hiding under. I want to know which room I'm in, and call a bellboy or someone to get my bags, would you?"
"Oh, of course, Miss Block." She giggled again. "I'll get Josh right on that. Hm, and you are in…the penthouse. Just go to the top floor, and you'll be there!"
"Thanks," I said dryly, shooting her somewhat of a genuine smile. I glanced over at my fur-lined suitcases beside me. "Now where is that Josh bellboy?"
"Present," came a deep voice, and I turned to look behind me. Josh, the bellboy, certainly didn't look like what I expected him to look like. He must have been twenty or twenty-one, but his cut and chiseled chin made him look older. He had dark brown eyes, sparkling with good humour, and tan skin that made his muscles pop out even more from under his white t-shirt.
"Well, hello there," I shot him a dazzling smile. "Are you Josh, the bellboy?"
"Call me whatever you'd like, ma'am," he winked. "But yes, I guess I am."
"My bags are over there," I pointed to the suitcases. "If you wouldn't mind…"
"Oh, not the slightest," he bent over and easily picked up four of the suitcases. then strapped the other two on the suitcase-holder that he was lugging behind him. "The penthouse, I'm assuming?"
"You know it," I said, then sashayed over to the elevator, knowing that the bellboy's eyes were on me, and only me. The last thing I heard before I got in the silver elevator was Olivia's spiteful mutter—
"What a slut," she frowned to herself. "But I guess when you've got a job that is equivalent to the one of a prostitute's, I guess you can't expect anything else."
I pressed the penthouse button on the elevator so hard I think I broke a nail.
Derrick Harrington
-x-
"Oh, Derrick!" I heard the sound of Olivia's heels hitting the marble floor of the Harrington Plaza. "Derrick—"
"Hey, Liv," I turned around and grinned. "What's up?"
"Not much," she giggled. "I just wanted to warn you about that supermodel you were supposed to 'personally care for.' Her name's like, Maciara Block and she's a skank and a bitch. Stay away from her, 'kay?"
Olivia Ryan was the receptionist at Harrington Plaza, the hotel that my father owned. I would be the successor, and therefore spent most of my days getting acquainted with the high and mighty of the world. This, unfortunately, also included pretending to be friends with the receptionist. Olivia was a nice girl; she liked shoes and purses and would help an old lady cross the street, but she was so clueless her head might as well be empty. I was forced to put up with her all day, every day.
"Yeah, sure thing, Liv. Don't worry about me," I assured her, and she smiled smugly. She, like the rest of the female population in New York, thought that my heart belonged to her. Ha—fat chance. My heart belonged to myself, pretty much, and it would never belong anywhere else.
"Okay, then. Well, Maciara's up in the penthouse. Josh just went to help her unpack her suitcases and stuff. He's such a manwhore," she rolled her blue eyes. "It's disgusting, watching the two of them flirt with each other. You better put a stop to it before I puke, 'kay, Derry?"
"Sure, Liv," I tried not to wince. 'Derry' was the nickname that my mother had given me when I was four, and I had dropped it a week later. I couldn't believe that Olivia had the same taste as my mother. I almost shuddered at the thought. "See you later."
I took the stairs to the penthouse three at a time, my strides long and sure. Going up and down the stairs of a hotel was enough to keep me in shape, although I went to the gym four times a week anyway. When I reached the top floor, I rapped on the door with my knuckles. "Maciara?"
There was some fumbling inside the penthouse, and then some girlish laughter and a low chuckle. Finally, the lock clicked from the inside and the door opened. Standing in the doorway, lo and behold, was Josh Hotz, the bellboy of Harrington Plaza. And he wasn't wearing a shirt.
-x-
I tried not to puke my guts out right then and there. Not only was it disgustingly gross that Josh, the bellboy, was practically going to third base with a internationally-famous supermodel, but he didn't have the decency to put on his shirt when the boss's son came to check up on said supermodel!
"Yo, Hotz," I grinned. "As much as I appreciate you deflowering our guests, I think it would be best if you let me handle Miss Block, comprendo?"
"Comprendo, sir," Josh shrugged on his shirt. Josh and I had been friends since forever, and when his father left his mother, he had been in need for money. I talked to Dad, pulled a few strings, and had gotten him the job. But if this was what he did with the suitcases he brought up, I might have to get into the matter of replacing him.
"See you later, Maciara," Josh threw her a lavish wink, and she giggled. He stepped out the door, raised an eyebrow at me, and was gone.
I turned to the brunette on the king-sized bed. She was lying down on her stomach in a loose, silvery dress, her head buried in one of the feather pillows.
"Uh, you okay?" I walked over to where she was. "Sorry about that, Miss Block. Sometimes Josh gets out of line… I'll talk to him about, no worries."
She sat up. "Oh, no; that's okay." She smiled at me. "This happens a lot more often than you'd think—and it's usually my fault."
I hadn't noticed how beautiful she was until then. She had large, golden eyes that sparkled with mischief when she spoke. Her hair was very, very light brown, streaked with blonde, and completely straight. Her skin was pretty tan and glowed with health. "Uh—" I couldn't talk. "Uh, yeah. Okay."
She laughed. "Am I making you nervous? Sorry." She jumped off the bed and straightened her dress unabashedly. She beamed, stuck out a manicured hand. "I'm Maciara Block."
Suddenly I remembered the ad in the men's magazine from a couple days ago, and the color of the model's eyes. Amber. "Hey—I know you. You were in that one ad…"
"Hm, maybe I was. I'm in a lot of ads," she said, grinning.
"Yeah, sorry about that. That was really, uh, stupid of me. I meant to say that I saw you in this ad in a magazine, and your eyes…" I trailed off, swallowing. Damn, why did this one supermodel make me so nervous? There were dozens of celebrities, even more famous than her that I barely smiled at. "Your eyes are really awesome."
"Really awesome? Thanks, I guess. I haven't actually heard that compliment before," she giggled and sat back down on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.
"Yeah…" I ran a hand through my blonde hair. "Well, I'm not exactly the best with compliments. Anyway, I'm Derrick Harrington—my dad's the owner of the hotel, and I'm usually stuck with the job of introducing myself to everyone. So if you need anything, got any questions, you can just ask Olivia—I think you've met her—for me."
"Oh, I've met Olivia," she said. Her face turned blank for a split second, and then she smiled again. "Thanks, though. If I have anything to ask I'll definitely ask for you."
"No problem," I said.
"Now," she got off the bed again. "If you don't mind, I have to unpack my stuff, and that might be a bit…personal." She shot me a flirtatious smile.
"'Course," I grinned, backing off and opening the door. "Ask for me if you need anything, remember."
"Will do!" she chimed, and I closed the heavy glass door.
"Really awesome," I heard her whisper to herself in the penthouse, and then a peal of her giggles rang through the air. "I like that."
I grinned when I ran down the stairs. I liked that, too.
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--Chantal :)
